Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Chieftain


by solunvar 23 reviews

After hearing the prophecy, Harry realizes he has three options: join Voldemort, be Dumbledore's pet or be himself, an individual. It all begins with a package of letters, an invitation of King Rag...

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: R - Genres: Action/Adventure, Erotica, Romance - Characters: Harry, Salazar Slytherin, Tom Riddle, Other - Warnings: [!!] [?] [V] [X] - Published: 2007-02-04 - Updated: 2007-02-04 - 5831 words

The Chieftain
Chapter One - Individuality

It was breakfast on Saturday the twentieth of June in 1996 and excitement ran through the Great Hall. Only a couple of days were left of the school year and many were planning on spending the coming lost days near the lake, while some, the braver types, would dare to lounge near a tree of the Forbidden Forest.

O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations were finally over, which left almost all of the fifth and seventh year in anxious peace. Peace, for the exams were finally over, they didn't have to learn any more. Anxious, because of the nagging question: how many did you get?

Yet some people, certain individuals, didn't bother to even feel a tingle of nerves when it came to their grading - a rather important thing in a wizard or witch's career, wouldn't you think? No, those people had only a couple of days ago escaped the safety of the castle and went off for a Threstral flight to the Ministry of Magic, where a known figure of theirs was supposedly held.

Of those six students, one in particular was disinterested in acting social. After the fight with a dozen Death Eaters and the death of his godfather, Harry Potter had temporarily lost his common sense and ran after the (in)direct cause of the death. And he had run with a vengeance. For the first time in his life, he had tried to consciously cause pain on a human being. While not really thinking straight at then, he had noted Bellatrix's comment about his failed casting of the Cruciatus Curse, one of the Unforgivables.

After that, things went remarkably fast. He had a brief encounter with Voldemort, only to watch how Dumbledore interfered and started dueling with Voldemort. Just remembering the shift casting, the advanced charms, spells and hexes, the level of transfiguration, made it clear that if he ever were to kill Voldemort, he would need a greater magical vocabulary.

And the prophecy made it quite clear what Harry had to do. Though it came as a bit of a surprise, an unpleasant one that is, in his heart Harry had known it all along that he would have to kill him. There were just too many coincidences for him not to.

It might have been only days since the Department of Mysteries was crusaded by youngsters, but already he felt more tranquil than he ever had in his life. It was written in the stars, his destiny, even if the prophecy had an open ending.

How this was possible, he didn't really know. He supposed it had to do with a lot of time to reflect on life, the universe and beyond. His friends of course would say he was brooding. He didn't think he was brooding. He was carefully thinking about his options. I boiled down to this:

He could join Voldemort, an offer that had been made to him on numerous encounters with the mini-devil. Life wouldn't be interesting though. He couldn't imagine himself enjoying the acts of murder, rape and torture. His moral wouldn't allow it.

He could go on the way he was now: Harry Potter, Gryffindor to the bone, strictly 'guided' by Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, possible defeater of Voldemort - if he didn't die along with the bastard that is - more than likely murdered before Voldemort would have the guts to leave the mortal realm.

Which leaved him with becoming an individual, learn magic on his own terms, even the Dark Arts, for how could he possibly counter spells he didn't know existed? He could become a man who accepted his fate and worked his way to victory. Perhaps he still would die, but at least he would stop breathing in the knowledge that whatever had happened, would have been his own fault. And if he was going to become an individual, a knowledgeable sorcerer, what and who would stop him from finding love, any kind of love. Based on equality. Respect, not pity or some mother instinct.

Thus he sat that Saturday morning having breakfast, thinking of a way to start with the most advantages that he could, when the morning mail arrived. No owl swooped down in front of him though. He had stopped buying The Daily Prophet months ago and he wasn't inclined to restart his subscription. There also wasn't any Quibbler in sight. 'Pity that,' Harry thought. Despite the obvious balderdash printed in there by Luna's father, it was amusing lecture. Would help talking with Luna too.

When all of the regular owls left, a loud screech could be heard. A bird's screech. Like anybody else in the Great Hall, Harry shifted his eyes towards the noise, only to see a majestic golden bird enter through one of the window and head straight for him. Harry stiffened in his place. 'Wonder who sends a creature such as that to me with a simple letter.'

"That's a," Hermione nearly hyperventilated, out of enthusiasm, "Royal Golden Eagle! They're only used by kings and royal families!"

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron said, jealousy and astonishment evident in his voice.

It didn't take long for the bird to land in front of him. Harry surveyed it for a moment. The creature wasn't only coloured gold, it shone gold in the sunlight. It raised its paw, revealing a package of envelopes and a separate letter, written on the finest parchment Harry had ever seen. Politely, he took the load off the bird's leg, releasing it from its carriage, but the bird obviously awaited an answer.

Harry opened the fancy envelope first, aware that every eye in the Great Hall was concentrated on him. As he began to read, his eyes bulged out, only to become calm again once he had read it twice, the gears in his head switching on and becoming active.

Through many formal phrases and words, Harry had apparently been sent an invitation for an afternoon meeting with non other than King Ragnok, ruler of the Goblin Nation. If he read between the lines well enough, Harry could see that apparently something big concerning him and the goblins would happen. Not details were mentioned though. Smiling secretive, Harry folded the letter carefully and put it in one of his inside pockets. Turning to the Royal Golden Eagle, Harry spoke: "You may say that I have absolutely no problems in attending a meeting this afternoon."

To his surprise, the bird answered - mentally or physically, he wasn't sure: "I will say so, young one. May your day be productive."

"Enjoy your trip, old one," Harry softly said, still in awe that a bird could that, as the bird in question took flight, screeched once more and left Hogwarts. Turning to his friends, Harry informed them: "I've just been invited by Ragnok, king of the goblins, for a meeting this afternoon."

"But how will you go to Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked.

"That's what I like to know as well, Harry," a grandfatherly voice said from behind him. Immediately snatching the stack of letters and putting them in another inside pocket, fearing that Dumbledore might get too interested in his mail.

"I'm sure the goblins will find a way, sir," Harry kindly said, not wishing to hear the man speak about the good cause and all that. No, he had taken his decision, he would stand his ground. He had been invited, not Dumbledore.

"Would you care to enlighten an old man about the contents of your letter and the other letters?" Dumbledore asked, even if it sounded more than a command in Harry's ear. Feeling restless, Harry mentally shook his head. 'Never thought I'd see the day that I would agree with Voldemort on something.'

"No, sir, other than the fact that I will probably be gone by noon. Don't worry, I'll be fine. If I read correctly, I will be having an interesting afternoon."

"I'm sure Professor Snape would love to accompany you," Dumbledore suggested.

Harry snorted, loudly, then began to laugh: "No, thank you, I like to avoid another Goblin Rebellion. And, no, Headmaster, don't even think about inviting yourself along. The invitation was quite clear on that. Besides, the form of transportation only allows me." Slightly overstated perhaps, but still acceptable. "Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I have things to do." He stood and left the Great Hall without bothering to look back. If he would have, he would see the calculated look on his Headmaster, mixed with sadness. He would see the death glare given by his Potions Professor, the angry, yet comical face of Draco Malfoy, the looks of worries of his friends, and the intrigued, calculated, interested gazes of two feminine Slytherins: Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis, often forgotten, yet often the best kind of Slyhterin there could be.

As it was, Harry went straight for a spot on the shore of the lake to read in calm the things that had been sent along with the invitation. Something told him he would be needing the information in it before the sun set.

He fumbled a bit with the cord, but managed to open it in the end. What he read on the envelopes made him hesitate. Above was a letter from his godfather, directly beneath it various envelopes filled with lists on inheritances and even two, momentarily strange, rituals. Assembling his courage (deciding to be a strong individual and actually becoming one still required much work), Harry teared the Black seal open.

Dear Harry,

It's the fourteenth of February 1996 right now, Valentine's Day. I don't know why I'm writing this blasted thing now - hell I don't even know whether I'm going to keep on writing, but I need to do this. Perhaps its because everybody's supposed to be happy on this day and all I can do is drink another glass of Firewhiskey.

Anyway, if you get this letter, that will probably mean I will be dead. I hope you're not getting into a depression right now. Harry, don't get lost in memories of time long past. Don't mourn me, don't celebrate me, just don't forget about me when you're stargazing or something like that. Mind you, don't do that when you're on a date, thinking of dead people then just isn't romantic. Got it?

I will be frank with you, kiddo, I don't like the way my life's heading right now. For the past fourteen-fifteen years now I've been going from one prison to another. Mind you, where I was during your Fourth year was marvelous, but it was a prison as well. I don't know whether I should tell you this, but lately I've often thought about a world where I wouldn't live in. You know what the sad part is?

There wouldn't be much difference. I realized this a while ago. It made me feel so pitiful... I... I wanted to die, but I couldn't. You know why? Because I couldn't leave you. You're the only reason I don't become insane in these walls. Now that I'm thinking about it, I hope I didn't die because I got all bonkers and fell off the stairs or something. That would be pathetic.

But I mean it, Harry. The best days I've had during all these years were the days you were here. Granted, you aren't in the best of moods either right now, but considering the pressure that is put on you and the things you'll probably be part of, but that's not what I'm talking about. I enjoyed your company.

Not that I mean I hated being around the others, the Weasleys and so, but there's a difference. They have each other, just like you and I noticed last holidays with the attack.

In a way, I guess we are both outsiders to the world. Me because of the rather obvious charge of being a mass murderer and having escaped Azkaban, you because of the pedestal people tend to put you up and the fact that you can't really deal with that.

Just promise me one thing, Harry, don't forget to live. Times might get hard, it might get scary, it might get horrible, but don't forget to live. If anything don't... let my life be in vain... even if I don't specifically know how I died.

On another topic: I'm going to do you an offer. Consider it well, for it will have significant consequences. Enclosed with this letter you will find the instructions of a ritual. Nowadays it appears to be a Dark ritual, but don't let it fool you, centuries if not decades ago it was a fairly common ritual in times of many a death. It's a blood ritual, so it might cause you a bit of pain. Generally spoken, it will mix a vial of my blood with yours, so you would technically become of my blood, you would become my son.

I know this might not mean much to you now, but if not for me personally, then the fact that you can be emancipated the moment you turn sixteen because you would be the head of the family (too bad the Blacks aren't as old as a family that goes back to the Founders, than magical majority might even be introduced on the age of fifteen). And if that isn't a reason, do it for the Black inheritance.

Not that I'm pressuring, kiddo, it's just that I might hate my family for being biased idiots, but it's still my family. I've got a name to maintain and if you agree, so would you.

I think I will stop writing now, I doubt you're really interested in the emotional ups and downs of an ex-Azkaban prisoner.

Don't forget me and I will never forget you. Wherever I will end up, I will be much happier. I'll most certainly say hello to your old man and Lily for you.

And Harry? Carpe diem.

Until your beard needs fire to be controlled,

your godfather
Sirius Black

Harry sat back, tears in his eyes because of the pure emotions concentrated in this letter. Ten minutes later, a tear occasionally still made its way down his cheek, but it was more stilled, more controlled. He had once again found his inner tranquillity. Vowing to follow Sirius' last words up, Harry shook his head to clear it of the turmoil of his thoughts and carefully put the letter inside his pocket. 'Up to the next letter.'

Opening the seal, Harry saw it was the instructions for the mentioned ritual. Carefully putting it back in his pocket, he took another envelope, opened the seal and felt his eyes bulge out once more. Instead of the standard header of Gringotts, on this parchment a familiar coat of arms was illustrated. The Slytherin coat of arms. He was about to start reading, when he suddenly heard movement behind him. Glancing backwards, Harry was surprised to see Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis heading his way. 'This day surely gets odder and odder,' Harry wryly thought. They sat down next to him, uncaring whether he objected or not.

"So what brings the unknown Slythermin masterminds to this corner of the universe?" Harry asked.

"You, of course," Daphne pointed out. Tracy rolled her eyes.

"Care to be specific, for I'm beginning to doubt what me exactly is right now," Harry said.

"Well, we were just wondering what in the world happened for the Gryffindor Golden Boy to turn his back to the Headmaster and how it comes that someone like you would receive royal mail," Tracy explained.

"Oh that," Harry commented. "Well, it's quite simple, I put my trust in the old coot," he chuckled, "Merlin this is getting awkward, I'm thinking like Voldemort again. Anyway, I put my trust in him and now it appears that all my life has been orchestrated because of his need to control his weapon. Well, after the death of my godfather, you might remember him, Sirius Black, I sat down and thought things through. In the end I decided there were three options I could take: join Voldemort, remain an unwilling puppet, work independent."

"And you're going to become independent," Daphne stated.

"Obviously," Harry said. He scratched his head in thought for a brief moment. "Though I will need some help I guess, lest I follow Voldemort's path completely."

"What's it with you and the Dark Lord anyway?" Tracy asked.

"Well, I basically comes down to this: both orphans, both lousy childhood, I even look a lot like him when he had our age. We're both somewhat gifted with magic, both Parseltongue, both have a less than cheerful opinion about Dumbledore,..." Harry summed up. "Hmmm... I wonder..."

The two girls, professionally hidden their initial surprise at how good Potter knew the Dark Lord and how scarily close the two came to be on a lot things, quickly covered up by inquiring about his sudden thought.

"Well, Dumbledore insisted I didn't tell anyone, but honestly? I don't I care anymore about whom hears what. What do you say, if you tell me what your ulterior plan behind all of this is, than I'll tell you something Voldemort wants to know for over a year now. The reason he wanted to kill me in the first place."

Now, the two girls were stunned. And suspicious. Nobody gave information away that easily.

"Why would you just say it as easy as that?" Daphne asked. Tracy nodded her agreement with the question.

"Because I'm tired of the lies, tired of the manipulations done on my part," Harry confessed. "Now have you decided?"

"Of course we have," Tracy quickly said.

"Well, then, I'm curious," Harry said.

"We just got..." Tracy began.

"Intrigued," Daphne supplied.

"And interested," Tracy said.

"Not to mention, it's a given that when goblins become interested in humans it is more often because they've got a load of money," Daphne added.

"In for the money, I see," Harry noted. "Certainly interesting, yes."

"Why's that?" Tracy informed, confused. This time, Daphne rolled her eyes.

"Because you're being honest about, which basically skips over one thousand steps in my step-to-step trust setup. Besides, I'm glad it's just the money. I think I'd have a heart attack if a Slytherin were interested in me because of my fame," he said. "Especially now that people forgot that I'm a very dangerous Dark Lord in training."

The three smiled at that. Harry, feeling bold today, decided to skip some steps as well:

"So what do you two seek in a relationship?"

"Gee, Potter, are you flirting with us?" Daphne commented.

"Well, I am feeling rogue today, despite my goal of depending more on my Slytherin self."

Tracy snorted. "Slytherin, you?"

Harry scowled. "Yes, I'll have you know the Sorting Hat initially wanted me in Slytherin. It's only because all I heard from Slytherin was that all of the evil dark lords came from that house and Malfoy already got sorted in there and I didn't want to share a dorm with him. Besides," he reminded himself, "if I have it correct, there was something with the Slytherin coat of arms in my papers." He searched his envelopes for a while, before finally pulling it out. "Let's see, because I'm quite curious myself."

Harry unfolded the parchment and started to read, the two Slytherin girls leaned in slightly so they could read as well. When he was finished, Harry groaned and slammed himself backwards on the ground so he would only have to look at the sky.

After a tense silence, for the girls too found the information they found disturbing, yet more mysterious as well, Harry simply said: "Typical."

"I take it Tom Marvolo Riddle is the Dark Lord?" Daphne asked. Harry nodded his assent.

"You know, that's just disturbing," was all Tracy had to say. She couldn't process it yet.

"Believe me, it'll only get more complicated after tonight," Harry said.

"Explanation?" Daphne asked. She was quite surprised at how fast they had become sociable with Potter. Then again, considering the morning's events and the way Potter was heading, it could only explain things better. 'Perhaps,' she mused, 'it would be a good idea to go further with this plan.'

"I'm going to do some blood ritual which will make me some sort of son of my godfather," Harry said, then snorted. "Great, then I'll have three fathers, but none would be worth a damn. My biological father: dead. My godfather: dead. And well, I just don't want to think about Voldemort as being my father. That's just... sick."

The girls hummed their approval. It certainly was a messy situation.

"Now, I suppose it's my turn to get risky, though I get the impression that I can trust you. Oh well, it's a nice enough illusion, knowing that you two pretty girls would..." he wandered off, having decided he was giving away too much information. The girls, however, looked at each other, seemingly communicating about something and then nodded towards each other. They had made a decision. Harry started: "Seventeen years ago, our dearest Divination teacher, made her very first prophecy. It was about a boy who would be born at the end of July and that he would be born with the power to destroy the Dark Lord. That power supposedly would be or is a power the Dark Lord doesn't know of. But what's more important, the boy spoken of in the prophecy, would be marked by the Dark Lord himself.

"Dumbledore heard this prophecy and despite it being my fate he waited until a quarter of an hour after the events at the Department of Mysteries to explain all of this," Harry said. "Anyway, Dumbledore's conclusion of the prophecy is that my greatest power is love." He snorted. "Balderdash. I don't know what love is, so how could it be my greatest strength?" He shook his head. "Personally I think he's hoping that when one of us bites the dust, the other will follow. While that is possible, I doubt it very much.

"My more personal interpretation however is that I wasn't necessarily born with the same magical power as Voldemort, but that I was literary born to be his equal. Up until now, for every bad thing happening to Voldemort when he was our age, there's always something alike that counters the experience. In essence, we went through the same shit, only I turned to have somewhat of a moral, while he hasn't.

"And about the power he doesn't know of, well frankly, if Voldemort doesn't know it, how am I going to know it?"

The two girls sat silently, going through everything Harry was telling them, storing them for further reference. Then, in a whisper Harry spoke of his biggest concern of the moment:

"I just hope the similarity of our lives stops here... I don't want to become obsessed or mad in order to defeat him."

Daphne answered on a brighter note: "We'll just have to prevent you from becoming so then."

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit quick? I mean, you do have a reputation to maintain."

Tracy snorted. "I don't think our reputation in Slytherin will suffer if they know we'd be associating with the Heir of Slytherin, even if it is you."

Daphne nodded in agreement. "Besides, we might take a risk now, but if we do so and see to it that you're going to win, then we'd be in a nice position with a lot of influence."

"Not to mention the workload of money we could operate," Tracy added.

"So what you're saying is you two, the both of you, would like to start a relationship with me so you could one day become my wives and when the war is over, you would like to make use of the financial resources of the Potter, Black and Slytherin family?" He brushed his hand through his hair. "Difficult."

"How so?" Tracy informed.

"The Gryffindor in me would refuse out of nobility and the idea that you can only love one person at the time. But, so my Slytherin side says, I haven't got any real clue of what love is. Not to mention that it would be a win-win situation. I can't handle my fame, I have no clue of finances, I at least need one person that can keep my feet on the ground, you two are quite beautiful and at this moment, I have told more to the two of you than I have told so far to Hermione, Ron, or Ginny, Neville and Luna.

"I'd say yes, but I want you to know that if I do, if your offer still stands, this will be a point of no return for the three of us."

"Of course we know that," Daphne said. "And if you must know, when the two of us sometimes thought of our prospect, your name came up regularly. The only problem we used to have was: a) you were far too close to Dumbledore, b) you were the archetype Gryffindor, c) you're much too shy for your own good. But the way you're currently acting..."

Tracy held her right thumb up. "Not to mention that with a small shopping spree, we could definitely make you one of the most handsome boys of the school, if not the most handsome one."

Harry visibly shuddered. "Do I want to know what you're planning to do?" He chuckled. "Never thought I'd see the day that I was dating not one, but two Slytherins. And I also never thought I'd be planning a shopping trip with said ladies. Anything else?"

Tracy perked up. "Get a haircut, because the one you currently have is a bit dull considering you are going to be a leader."

"Nobody really listens to you if your clothing style is poor," Daphne wisely said.

Harry in the meantime thought about the last time he had a haircut. "You know, I'm not so sure whether a haircut will help."

The two girls gave him an inquiring glance.

"The thing is, the last time anybody touched my hair with scissors, I was six," Harry explained.

Another look of interest passed between the girls. Tracy said: "Maybe you have some Metamorphmagus qualities in you?"

"Maybe, but I'm not sure," he said. "I'll see if I can do anything about it right now." His face turned in a look of deep concentration. After two minutes or so, Tracy and Daphne could see Harry's hair retreat in his skull. What was left was an unusual yet nice haircut. The hair on the left and right side of his head was very short so his ears were clearly visible. The hair on top of his head had rearranged itself so that it formed a V above his forehead, thus revealing Harry's lightning bolt scar. The hair on the back of his head had lengthened and was probably meant to be laid in a ponytail. On any other man, it would have looked ridiculous, but on Harry it just fit.

"It worked," Harry said as he opened his eyes. "Neat trick."

Tracy and Daphne just stared at him in awe and envy, if only they could control their hair like that...

"Now the only things I need to do next is try and fix my eyes so I can drop my glasses, in a fight they're only a hindrance. I will also need to look into a method for some of my bones to be strengthened or something like that."

"And the reason would be?" Tracy asked.

"I'm sure that if I hadn't spend ten years of my life in a cupboard, I'd be much taller and less fragile physically spoken."

"Oh," Tracy said.

Changing subjects, Harry said: "All right, now I have to check out the other envelopes I have. He pulled them from his pocket and opened another one. It showed the requirements of the vaults, meaning the rules imposed on the heir before he would be able to enter, and the two rituals mentioned in Sirius' letter.

On reading the requirements of the Slytherin vault, Harry simply had to smile. Tracy and Daphne, being Slytherins, suppressed their smiles, but Harry could see it in their eyes. The reason for this was quite simple: you had to have magical parents in order to claim full inheritance of Slytherin, which wasn't the case with Voldemort, whose father was a Muggle. This meant that whatever was in that vault, Voldemort had never been aware of it.

"I hope the vault contains some books on Parseltongue magic that Voldemort doesn't know of," Harry said. A thoughtful look crossed his face. "Maybe I'll even be able to find a basilisk egg."

Tracy and Daphne stared at him, eyes wide out of disbelief. "Why would you want to have a basilisk?" Daphne asked.

"It would be appropriate, wouldn't it? A basilisk that would protect wherever I will live. I could bound it to the Potter, Black and Slytherin family, starting with my offspring, so that if it is necessary, there might be two descendants to take over control of it."

"And what about the death stare? And what exactly are you talking about when you say binding it to your three families?" Tracy asked.

"Well, on a rare day in the library, I once searched for every information available about basilisks, but let me first tell you about binding it to the family. Salazar Slytherin, when he was still hanging around the school, made the Chamber of Secrets of our second year. When he left Hogwarts, he left a basilisk in the Chamber and bound it to the Slytherin family. For many years it was forgotten and all it could do was dwell in the earth beneath our school. Then some fifty years ago, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Voldemort, opened the Chamber as Heir of Slytherin. The basilisk then killed Moaning Myrtle. After a while, the Chamber was closed by Riddle once more. In our second year, I had to kill the animal. It was too corrupted to be saved and it was working on orders of Riddle.

It's only fitting that I replace the family snake, isn't it? Besides, if I first bind the basilisk to the family and take care of it well enough, then I won't have to fear the famous death stare. The magic that's behind that one doesn't work on the family it is bound to. So if you'd eventually marry me, you two and I would be able to stare it in the eyes. If it would ever come to the point of us having children, they too would be immune to its stare."

"So that basically means another reason for us to marry you, right?" Daphne commented. Harry blushed slightly.

"I guess so," he said. "You know, it's really strange, but now that I'm getting used to the idea of having you two as girlfriends, I find it easy to visualize the idea of getting married." Daphne and Tracy smiled. "I'll have to ask your parents first though." He paused. "That might prove to be more difficult than killing Voldemort." They laughed.

"Now," Daphne said, "is the time to indicate the start of our arrangement." After which she leaned forwards to Harry and kissed him on the lips. Harry, inexperienced as he was, found the instinct within himself to love and caress, and returned the kiss with passion. Daphne's eyes bulged out, surprised as she was, she too found the passion within herself and kissed more fiercely. She liked kissing Harry.

After a while Tracy coughed once, tapped on Daphne's shoulder, pulled Daphne off Harry and promptly kissed Harry. She too was amazed by the passion that went into the kiss and returned it with a vengeance. After a while they parted lips. They sat there, dazed of the experience, and stared into the lake.

"That was fabulous," Daphne said.

"Addictive," Tracy agreed. "You aren't a Veela, are you?"

"Not that I know of," Harry answered.

"It bloody blew me off my rockers," Daphne concluded, her language rarely basic.

"I hope kissing isn't the way I have to defeat Voldemort," Harry idly commented. If it weren't for the fact that they were sitting, Daphne was sure they would have fallen over out of disgust. The image Harry's comment brought was just too disturbing.

Harry laid back again and let out a sigh. It sure had been a life-altering morning so far. After a moment, he was joined by his two girlfriends. They laid their heads on his shoulders and, after an awkward moment, each just placed an arm on Harry's belly. They too let out a sigh.

They had indeed reached a point in their lives where they should be nervous, stressed and unsure. But in the warmth of the sun, the nearness of each other was enough to push those feelings away. They had talked, made the decision to live their lives with each other, and found confirmation.

From now on, they, like everybody else, could only go forward.

DrT: Well, if it weren't different, there wouldn't be any point in writing it I guess. Thanks for the review!

Cocoa_girl: In theory, he could have three wives, but two Slytherins and Luna? That'd be pushing things. She'll get her own fic one day though. As for trunks, Pensieves and time-turners... They've become quite cliche, which is all I'll say. Thank you for your review.

jabarber69: Might I point out that there were a lot of grammatical errors in your review as well? I am indeed not a native speaker of the English language, but I try. I learned English from a woman whose English is just embarrassing (my stepmother to be precise) and The Simpsons, I can't help it if it still shows. Thank you for your review.

Gibby: I've written half of the third chapter already, so I'll probably finish this fic. Thank you!

Max: It's the truth. shrugs Thank you!

newdye: I will.

twilliams1797: Thank you.

dmc001: I hope you will like the second chapter too.

Nautilus: I don't like non-passionate kisses really.

Dragn: He could, but he won't have more girlfriends, though I do have a fic somewhere where Harry has all the girls of Hogwarts after him (for the R-rated activities), I could finish that one if you'd like.

anglosaxon: I know Slytherins are supposed to be sly and cunning, but why would they make it difficult if simple works as well?

skwerewolf: I will.

djo: I wanted to avoid Dumbledore-bashing but it will be necessary to a certain extent, I can't have Harry dark and independent and grandfatherly Dumbledore, can I?

plow and AberforthsAvatar: I thank you for your reviews.

theCaitiff: Perhaps, but I'm not the kind of bloke who's able to write much when not much is happening (so usually I've got dozens ideas running). And I am looking for a beta.
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