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Chapter Three: To talk of many things.

There are many nice ways to wake up.

Someone shouting that you’ve just won loads of money is a great one.

The smell of freshly baked bread in also great, or fresh coffee.

The combination of the freshly baked bread, bacon and coffee matched with a beautiful girl slowly and gently bobbing her head over your cock has to be the greatest ever, Harry thought. He relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed the situation. After less than a minute of the talented Veela's ministrations, he came. There had to be some serious volume left in those balls, he thought, as he heard her repeatedly swallow before she took him all the way down a few times for good measure.

When she was finished, she looked up at him with a luminous smile.

“Good morning, Master. It's almost eight o'clock and your breakfast is served. I just had mine,” she giggled.

“A very good morning it is, Love,” he smiled back. “That has to be one of the greatest ways ever to wake up. Look, you don't have to call me Master for my sake, you know that, right?”

“Yes I do, Master. I just enjoy the sense of belonging. Now, forgive me if I have ideas above my station,” she said as she propped the breakfast tray up over his lap, “but am I your servant, mistress, concubine or even Consort? I know I assumed that I would be your Consort last night, but that's not something that I can decide. This is your decision completely, and whatever you decide, it will be my pleasure to abide by. There are different protocols implied, and I would like to behave properly around you.”

“Anything you do is all right by me, but let me think for a second.”

He focused, and tried to remember Gabrielle's memories. He couldn't, so he tried to remember everything he knew about Consorts. The information bloomed in his mind, and it was clearly Gabrielle’s.

Consorts, he found, were a little less than wives but more than mistresses. A Consort's child would automatically be recognized, and have inheritance rights. The Consort would enjoy Family Protection, even the family name in some cases. It wasn't really common, but not quite rare in France, and at least legal in Britain. Since marriage was out of the question for loads of reasons, making his Bonded a Consort would be perfect. She would have legal protection, and an official say in matters regarding him. He also remembered through her that Consorts wore medallions instead of rings, and that many old families had such medallions among the heirlooms. Definitely Gringott's.

He opened his eyes, and saw his Consort-to-be kneeling by the bed with her eyes downcast. He could sense her nervousness and anticipation, so he just smiled at her and spoke in stern tones.

“Servant, stand up.” He could feel her disappointment, so he decided not to go on with the game too long.

In a fluid motion, she stood up with her gaze firmly on the floor. He got up from the bed and stood in front of her.

“Servant, will you be loyal to me and mine for as long as the Bond lasts?” She nodded.

“Will you do what you can to please me?” Another nod.

“Will you love me and our child?” A very fervent nod.

“Will you, Gabrielle Delacour, please consent to become my Consort, and take my name to your own?”

Her head snapped up, as she met his eyes with a bit of disbelief. Seemingly unable to stop herself, she jumped him, and engaged him in a kiss that might have gone down in Passion History, had such a thing existed. After almost a minute, she released him, and breathed into his ear.

“Yes Master. I am your Consort, and I will do everything, absolutely everything to make you happy. I would be honoured to become Gabrielle Potter-Delacour. Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.” She seemed a bit excited, as she covered his face and hands with kisses. As nice as that was, he had things he wanted to do today besides Gabrielle. He pushed her off with a warm smile.

“Once we get to the bank, I will see if there are any medallions there. If you want to wear one, that is. If there aren't any, I'll have one made.”

“Of course I want to wear one, on a choker if possible. I want to show the world that I'm yours. On that note, do you remember I mentioned my magic had changed?” She pushed him down on the bed again, putting his breakfast tray back and motioned him to eat.

“Vaguely. I think I was distracted by something wonderful.”

“That would have been me then,” she smiled. “It's nice to be appreciated, but what I meant was when I said that I could feel my birdform even when I'm calm. Do you remember?”

“Yes. You called a blue fireball.”

“That's it. It's called Passionfire, by the way. Now, watch this.”

He watched with great interest as white lightmist, very similar to the Allure, billowed from her body, rising up, enclosing her in a shining silvery pillar. He blinked, and the mist disappeared. Now he saw Gabrielle's face take on more and more avian features, and he saw her shrink. It was like a very slow Animagus transformation, which led to the moment when in the beautiful girl's place was a beautiful falcon-like bird. It looked like a Peregrine, but the markings on the chest and wings were blue and the head was silver. He found it eminently fitting.
“You are beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. Of course, I prefer your normal shape, but as birds go, you are one of the two most beautiful ones I've ever seen. Can you call Passionfire in this form?”

The falcon made a shrill cry, and blue flames ran along the front of its wings. As the flames vanished, Gabrielle resumed her original form. She looked very proud.

“Master, when we go to Gringott's, may I ride on your shoulder?”

“Of course you can if you want to, but why?”

“Because I don't have a medallion yet, and if I ride on your shoulder as the falcon, everyone will see me as your pet. I'd really like that.”

Harry couldn't help but laugh at her eagerness. He reached out and caressed her firm backside.

“Are all Veela this submissive, or is it something of yours?”

She blushed again.

“All Veela are somewhat subservient, but I've been dreaming of being yours for so long, I just want to scream it from the rooftops.”

“Good,” he said with a smirk. “You get to tell your parents.”

He had expected her to cringe a bit, but she straightened her back, looking proud and defiant.

“Then I will tell them that the first Veela to bond with a Sorcerer for five hundred years is me. Master, I'm proud to be yours, and I will never ever regret it. Now, let's get you showered and dressed. We have to get me a medallion.”

He asked her to let him shower alone. She had looked a little hurt, but when he explained that it was because, otherwise, they would end up fucking the day away and never get her that medallion, she regained her sweet disposition.

When he got out though, she had insisted on drying him, which ended in a very quick but enjoyable blowjob, and once again she took him all the way down when he came. After flashing him a brilliant and satisfied smile, she got him dressed in clothes that she had skilfully transfigured for him. The first thing she made him wear, though, was a bracelet covered in what looked like Norse runes, and he understood that it was the portkey Tom had mentioned. Then he continued donning the clothes.

At first he thought he looked ridiculous, but the wide black robe with the deep hood grew on him. He was still hiding from the Order, after all. When he saw the extra four inches of soles that she had equipped his shoes with, he understood that she certainly hadn't forgotten.

When he was dressed, she cast a few glamours on his face, making his nose appear broken and his eyes deep brown. He had wavy brown hair that covered his bloody un-disguisable scar, and once he donned the full outfit, he didn't look much like Harry Potter.

He decided that his name, if asked, would be Caradoc Pritchard. He couldn't quite remember where he had heard the name, but he figured he could borrow it for a while.

Gabrielle changed into the beautiful falcon and settled on his shoulder. She really should have a name, he thought, with a rather confused internal debate about her beauty being too great for just one name. He thought about, and discarded, many nice names until he thought of Guinevere.

When he asked her if she liked it, she pressed her cheek to his, and he felt her approval through their link. The falcon was a little lighter than Hedwig, who he hoped would be all right with Hermione for the summer. When he let his friend borrow his feathered friend, he mostly considered it a measure to finally make her and Ron talk seriously to each other, and stop this bloody orbiting around each other. It was beginning to make him dizzy.

He got a startled look from Tom when they walked by, but it was soon replaced by a grateful smile and a nod and Caradoc Pritchard and his falcon Guinevere went to meet Diagon Alley.

He was prepared for anything. One thing he was completely unprepared for was nothing. No one seemed to notice them as they made their way through the busy street. Perhaps people gave them a wider berth than they gave others, but they were half way to the bank before he noticed that people were studiously ignoring him. He stopped abruptly and considered what they saw. They saw a man in a black robe with a hood that at least partly concealed his face, a face unknown by all even in the tiny Wizarding world of Britain. This unknown man moved with a confident and stately stride and had a clearly magical bird of prey on his shoulder. That his movements were caused by four unfamiliar inches on his shoes was nobody's business. He had to admit that he must make an intimidating visage.

Suddenly , the most outrageous thing happened. Someone was tugging at his robe. He looked down to see a small, dark-skinned girl’s face peering into his hood. The little girl seemed very familiar, even though he was certain that he had never seen her before. He blinked, and again he perceived the world in the lights and colours of the Sorcerer's Sight, even though he didn't know the word. What he did know, however, was how much this girl's presence felt like a dorm-mate of his. A dorm-mate who, he recalled, had a sister, about five years old and according to her big brother she was also way too forward for her own good.

“Yes, Milady?” he said respectfully, trying hard to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“Sir? Who are you? My Mummy looks scared of you, and she's not afraid of anything.”

“You must be Jenny Thomas.” At her surprised nod, he crouched and continued. “My name is Caradoc Pritchard, and this is Guinevere,” he said, lowering the falcon so the little girl could see.

“You are very brave, Miss Thomas. Most people fear what they don't know. I am very unknown here, and the fact that you came forth and asked puts you among the bravest of the brave, just like your brother Dean.”

“Do you know Dean?” she asked, eyes wide.

“I know of him. We have a friend in common, and he has told me that you can always count on Dean if you're in trouble, because if he can't help, he'll know someone who can.”

“But why is Mummy afraid of you? You are nice, and you have a really pretty bird.”

“Your Mum is afraid of me because she can tell that I'm powerful, but she doesn't know whether I'm a friend or not, and I don't look very friendly.”

“No, you really don't. You should wear more pink. It makes anyone look nice.” No power in heaven or on earth could have stopped the guffaw that broke out. He did his best, though.

“It is an honour to meet such a courageous young lady, and if you ever need help, ask Dean's friend Harry to call for me. I will definitely look at the pink robes the next time I'll go shopping, but I don't really think it's the colour for me. Have a nice day, Miss Thomas.”

As he stood up from his crouched position, he saw through the corner of his eyes how little Jenny ran to her mother, telling her all about the strange wizard Caradoc Pritchard, who had said that she was brave, and that he had known who she was.

He also received a stream of images through the Bond, images of children at his knee, laughing and joking with him, their father. He also received such feelings of love and desire that he had to ignore them, or risk stumbling in his elevated footwear.

Obviously, word about him spread faster than he walked, as people began to come out to ogle him. For once, he found it funny. They weren't looking at him, after all. They were staring at an unknown warlock, who liked kids. A thought came to him. Establishing the persona of Caradoc might be useful later on, as well as provide a great excuse in case he had to do things he really shouldn't.

He was passing by the entrance to Knockturn Alley at the time. He reached for the blue Sorcerer's lightning on a whim, and made his eyes flash with it, as he stared down into the gloom of the darker district. He could never quite explain how he did it, but through the blue haze, he caught sight of a Dark Mark on a man hidden in the dusk. He raised his hand, and a flash flew from his fingers, striking the man who screamed and clutched his arm. Shocked, he just turned away and made his way to the great white building and practically fled inside. Character building or not, that had been freaky.

He asked a familiar-looking goblin where he could find the one called Bentpick. He got a set of directions, which he barely managed to remember, and also received a second shock. He could understand Gobbledegook. Not perfectly, but enough to know that the supposed “title of respect” the goblin bestowed upon him meant “Potterer with magic face”. He located Bentpick, and once he had delivered the peculiar codephrase, he had the horrifying experience of seeing a Goblin dance with joy. Once Bentpick had recovered, he answered the inevitable question with a simple,

“It has begun. The storm is finally upon us, and we will see who will bend and who will break before you.”

Harry had been slightly worried about where this recent torrent of events would lead him, but now he was downright terrified. He felt a bit like he was standing on a log, heading for a waterfall, but the best choice right now was to stay on the log anyway.

Gabrielle turned back to her normal self to get in the cart that Bentpick showed them to. She spent some time kissing him over the incident with Jenny before they settled for the sense-defying voyage into the depths of Gringott's. Bentpick left them on a ledge, illuminated by a single torch. As Harry's eyes quickly adapted to the dark, he saw a door, almost perfectly hidden in the rock face. He also noticed something moving on the other side of the abyss. Two dragons of an unknown variety were watching them intently. He bowed to them, which seemed to surprise them, but eventually they returned the bow. Gabrielle looked at him questioningly, but he made a “later” kind of wave, since he heard the hidden doors in the rock swing open.

As they entered, the doors swung shut, and candles lit around them in a large circle.

A loud and serious voice boomed through the cavernous room.

“Welcome, young Old One. Welcome to the Circle and the Way.”

The candles around them winked out, and as more normal torches lit up around the room, they saw a very old Goblin female climbing down from a kind of podium to greet them.

“I'm sorry about that. When your Mother was here, Mr. Potter, she gave me a set of books by some Muggle author, that I find a highly amusing read, and quite mythically astute, as they pertain to your personal history. I have wanted to say that line to you for almost ten years. Good day, Mr Potter. I am the Keeper of Secrets of this Gringott's branch. My title is the only name I have. Keeper, or Kay for short. And this is?”

The Goblin might be old, but she was quite vigorous, and she spoke in a way that was rushed enough to rival Hermione.

“Keeper, this is my Bondmate, Gabrielle Potter-Delacour. I was advised that I should bring her, to assist my meagre understanding.”

“Welcome, dear. My, aren't you a pretty one. Harry's mother would have approved, I'm sure. Are you his Consort yet?”

“Yes, Keeper. We were going to see if there were a medallion for me somewhere here.”

“There is, dear. With Mr. Potter's approval, I'll send someone to fetch one. There are about ten of them up in the Potter Vault.” Harry immediately nodded his approval.

“So, it was Tom who sent you my way. He was always a great believer in that all wizards need a companion to keep their head on straight. A soppy one if there ever was one. Your mother was a great friend of contingency-plans. There are several ways you could have come here. Poppy Pomfrey for one, Florean Fortescue is another. Now, if Tom sent you here, you already know that you are a sorcerer, and by your attire and those quite excellent glamours, I say you were wise enough to hide on your way here. May I ask what name you would have used?”

“I think I managed to establish an unknown mage by the name of Caradoc Pritchard…” he trailed off as the ancient Goblinesse howled with laughter.

“By Tak, that was great. That name comes from those very same books your mother gave me. That Caradoc was evil and stupid, but nevertheless, it's there. Have you read them?”

“Not to my knowledge, but I find my knowledge lacking more often than not where I'm concerned.”

“Ah well. Now, since I'm rarely used in this country, I guess you don't know what I am. The Keeper of Secrets is pretty much what it sounds like. I keep secrets until they are needed. I am unable to reveal them to the wrong people, and I never forget a secret I'm Keeping. Once I have told you everything I know regarding you, I will forget all about it. I have ledgers and trinkets from thousands of extinct families, and I can also pass on addresses to places kept under the Fidelius and it's forerunners. I have such an address for you, but I will not reveal it to you at this time. You have been given the portkey, right? Good. When you return, I will give you access to some places you might have use for.

“Now, Let's begin. Your mother chose to save several Pensieve memories for you, depending on what might happen to you in your life. I believe this is the one most appropriate. It's the first one, and she always said she wished that you never had to see this one. Not just because it would mean you had a hard life, but because she didn't really make as much sense as she would have liked. I know enough to clarify if needed.”

She led them to a large and ornate Pensieve, and poured a vial of silvery memories into it. She motioned to Harry to dive into it, and he in turn motioned for Gabrielle to follow him.

They fell, and landed in a strange laboratory, that looked like it came straight out of a bad muggle movie. Strange things were happening to even stranger things everywhere, but Harry's attention was immediately caught by the beautiful redhead sitting by a bench with an impressive pile of papers in front of her. He recognized her from the Mirror of Erised, and from the wedding pictures. The wedding must have been about eight months ago, he estimated, since his mother was very, very pregnant. He noticed Gabrielle's longing sigh, and he felt her little hand take his as his mother began to talk.

“Hello Harry. At least, I think you're Harry. That's the name you're supposed to have, but you won't really be born for a while yet. Things might have changed, and in that case, I will consistently call you by the wrong name. I can't believe I'm sitting here recording a memory in case I'm dead when you need me, but it's all I can do. Once I get my bearings, I will record other, more personal memories for you, but this one will just deal in facts and basics.
“I'm not prepared to do anything else at this time anyway.
“If everything in this worst-case plan has worked, you are beginning to show clear signs of Sorcery. This will complicate your life, I'm afraid. It's all my fault and I'm so very sorry. My excuse is that I didn't know, and that's not a very good one.
“As you probably know, I'm muggleborn. I doubt you know I'm also an Unspeakable. I'm one of those who meddle in things mankind isn't supposed to know,” she said with a wry smile. “I'm a fairly competent spellcrafter, and I've been working on the Auror Reinforcement Magics Or Resources. They must have chosen the acronym first, don't you think?
“Anyway, I came up with a way to temporarily transfigure DNA.
“If you don't know what that is, I suggest you visit a Muggle library. Anyway, I started to study the DNA of the different magical races, and some of the more interesting things that my department have collected over the centuries. I came up with a way to use Demiguise DNA to become invisible, spell resistance from dragons, strength from… ah, you get the picture, I guess.
“We also found out the sequence for Sorcerers. I have a number of spells on me that keeps me from explaining how, and that should be enough of an explanation. That particular sequence was deemed too dangerous to use, but I kept it in my notebook, just in case.
“I also gathered the best abilities from a number of magical races, added them to the Sorcerer's genes, and made a Transfiguring charm that would install it all for an hour. I never intended to use it! I swear it was just an exercise, just for practice.
“Maybe I did it just because I could. A muggleborn, who could make Sorcerers? Take that, Stalebloods!
“I really should have known better. I made a charm once, in sixth year, that would make anyone's hair blond, curly and always in a beautiful and very feminine style. Unfortunately, it couldn't be reversed, and only temporarily countered by applying Muggle lithium engine grease to the hair. I should have destroyed my notes of course, but I didn't.
“After all, it was a pretty nifty job.
“One day, your father found the charm and, with his normal thoroughness, didn't read it through. At least he says he didn't, and I choose not to question him.
“Anyway, he used the charm on a boy in Slytherin, who now has to wear that curly blonde hairdo for the rest of his life.
“Then again, Severus might just stick to the grease.
“God, I'm rambling.
“Many of my charms turn out bloody hard to counter. Just ask Sirius about that shrinking charm in seventh year.”
She began to grin in a fairly evil way, making him really wish that he could ask Sirius about it. Then she shook her head and actually pinched her own wrist.
“Damn it Lily, stick to subject. Cutting a long and tedious story short, some of my stale-blooded workmates decided to “prank” me by faking a Death Eater attack on the department seven months ago. They expected me to hide in a closet or something, but I panicked much worse than that.
“I used the bloody Summus Charm.
“Yes, that's what I called it. The pranksters didn't have a very good day after that.
“Using that charm was really cool, but I learned that there was more to being a Sorcerer than just loads of power and wandless magic.
“The day after was the day I learnt I was pregnant with you. Being as nosy as I am, I made a test, to find out your gender, health and other stuff. That's when I learned that you had retained my transfigured DNA. Since then, I've been working my expanding backside off trying to find out what this will do to you. I have found that it won't activate until you have reached adulthood. It seems to be sexual, but I'm not absolutely sure. I did add a safeguard, but I'll get back to that. On second thought, just ask Kay. She knows more about Thoughtwards than anyone alive, since I am apparently not. Now, your body will be very adaptable for a while. Your magic will make all physical problems or defects disappear. This means that if you try to lift something that's a bit too heavy, your magic will help you with the work, and as soon as possible, your muscles will grow. Your memory will be better, you will heal faster and all that. Now I'm moving into guesswork, but I'm a really good guesser.
“I think you will be able to see magic in a way that is beyond mage sight. You will actually be able to see spell elements and, again a guess, affect them directly. To affect them, you have an incredible amount of magic at your disposal. Your Core won't even be of the same nature as the kind ordinary wizards have. You will have traits of many magical species. You will have an instinctive understanding of many magical things, because you, by virtue of your Core, will be a part of Magic itself. Here you are, still inside me. Yet I'm talking to you, and I'm about to advise you to do something I would kill Peter or Remus for. Sorcerers in the past used to Bond Veela to them, to help with learning and many other things.
“You're a guy. Go figure.
“I just really hope someone other than Sirius was around to give you The Talk.
“I advise you to do like the other sorcerers did. If you don't have a portkey already, go ask at the Leaky Cauldron. If they don't have it anymore, there's another one, a contingency one, if you ask Mr Ollivander. My plan is… was… whatever, that if you can have a Veela studying the Summus Codex, that's my notes on everything I could figure out about what'll happen to you, while you are away in the Enclave, practising and learning, you will become a full-fledged Sorcerer in very little time. The Enclave, yes. What I know of that place is very little. I know it's an isolated settlement, kind of like a reservation for sentient magical creatures. It is not a school. There will be no lessons, or teachers. There will just be many individuals, with different talents and abilities, who you will be able to learn from. The Enclave is impossible to monitor, due to the immense background magic. There are no sorcerers anymore. The skills are gone, but if there's anywhere that you can begin to recreate them, it's in the Enclave.
“Why? Here's the kicker. My partner at the Job is a Seer. She's a bit random, but I haven't known her to be wrong yet. She has told me that Voldemort wants to kill us. You, me and your father. I have it on good authority that you will survive, and Voldemort too. He will be after you until you finally tuck him in with a shovel. When I learned about it, I realized that my little mishap with the spell might not have been such a disaster after all. This is a worst-case scenario plan, where you are alone, and He is still after you. I'm trying to give you one hell of an edge. You know, the best move is usually one your enemy doesn't know you have.
“Now, I have more memories to record tonight, so I'll end this one. Oh, one more thing. No one knows of this except my good friend Tom, at the Leaky Cauldron, and Keeper who gave you this memory. James doesn't know. Albus certainly doesn't know. I should tell you that Albus Dumbledore, if you know him, is not a person I trust. I believe he's manipulating us, and especially James, for some grand plan. Lauren has made some pretty gruesome predictions where he's running your life, making you jump through his ineffable hoops. I have prepared a legal document that your guardian has to be one that you recognise as standing in Locus Parenti, and that no one is allowed to alter the guardianship but you. Just looking out for my baby, you know. I love you, and there should be other messages for you stashed here and there for various occasions. The Keeper will know when to give them to you. Finding a Veela willing to Bond a Sorcerer shouldn't be hard, so grab that portkey and say Seidheim when you're ready. Have fun with the Bonding too, baby.” She rubbed her belly, where a little boy that would be called Harry Potter rested. “I can't believe I said that. This is Mummy Lily, signing off.”

Harry was dazed. Kay was quite obviously prepared for that, as she sat him down in a comfy chair, while Gabrielle just held him close, rubbing his back and sending copious amounts of love and comfort through the bond. On some level, he wondered if she was even aware of it. As he relived the memory over and over in his head, he missed just when Kay gave Gabrielle a huge book with a coat of arms on it. He surmised that this was the Summus Codex his mother had talked about. Gabrielle had barely gotten it in her hands when she started studying it. Harry snapped out of his daze and kissed her.

“I love you, my Consort,” he said, making her smile radiantly. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

“Of course, my Master. I live to help and serve you in all ways. Besides, soon, I might need to occupy myself as I grow as large as your mother was in the memory. You will make a great father, my Master, and I will give you as many children as you want, and I will care for those of your children borne to other women as well.”

The thing about that statement that struck Harry as the most outrageous was the collected and heartfelt way she said it, like it was a foregone conclusion that he would have some kind of harem. The thought was very appealing, but so far beyond his horizon that he really couldn't imagine it as a reality. He was brought out of his musings by the return of Kay, who he hadn't even noticed had gone.

In her tiny wrinkled hands she held a small medallion. It depicted the same coat of arms as the codex, a gold lion with a sword on a red field. The banner below said “Audaces Fortuna Juvat”, Fortune Favours the Bold. There was also a smaller banner above and he looked at Kay askance.

“The top banner is for the personal creed of the head of the Potter family, and that means you. Just come up with something. You can change it later.”

He tried to come up with something latinish that would be suitable, when he suddenly remembered several years of Gabrielle's Latin studies. Using her knowledge, he quickly came up with something he liked and instantly, the top banner bore the words, “Non Ini Me. Non Vincet.” Harry felt it might be a bit cocky, but it was a message he wanted delivered. “Don't start with me. You will not win.”

Just to see if he could, he held out his hand and tried to bend his will to making a choker for the medallion, and he was actually surprised when one appeared. As he fastened it around the beaming Veela's neck, the medallion shimmered, and the lion suddenly wore a crown. Gabrielle's hand flew to it, and as she felt the crown she actually squealed in delight.

“Master, I was right. I am pregnant!”

“Congratulations, both of you,” Kay said. “Now, young Veela, You will be just fine as your Master goes away for a little while.”

“Do you know how long I will be gone?” Harry asked.

“I believe it won't be for very long. You will probably be back in time for school. The whole idea is to get a lot done is a fairly small window of time.”

“In the memory, my mother told me to ask you about something called Thoughtwards. Apparently it was used as some kind of failsafe, but I didn't understand.”

“Thoughtwards are like wards, just that they affect the mind instead of the physical world. If you hadn't treated members of other species and races with respect, I believe you would have been on your own. Lily would never have allowed a bigot to gain power, unless he stopped being a bigot.

“Now, you made a moral stand, so your Thoughtward fell. This enabled you to learn about sorcery. If the ward had been intact, all thoughts of sorcery would have gone right by you. Some of the secrets I Keep are guarded in a similar way. I may not be able to access the secret, but a Thoughtward with a code word activation is about as safe as it gets. Now, I have a feeling you need to get out of here fairly soon. While you were in the Pensieve, I got word from above, that many suspected Death Eaters are converging on the bank right now. I was also informed that your little theatre was quite successful. There have been thirty queries made at the counters about Mr Pritchard. Let's polish off your paperwork. Right now, your legal guardians are the Dursley family, and your magical guardian is Albus Dumbledore. Now, who do you want?”
He smiled at that.

“Would it be possible to list Caradoc Pritchard as my guardian? How hard is it to make a fake identity in the wizarding world?”

“Hmm. Let me think for a moment. Harry Potter has a recorded magical signature, and it is now quite different. If we made a cursory reading of you, we should be able to register the identity of Mr Pritchard as a new one. Since you have had a vault here, the Potter vault, for centuries, we should be able to claim that he has been a customer for many years. Don't worry, I can make it happen. The Goblin Nation is behind you. Goblins in general may not like you, since that would be too out of character for a Goblin, but we will help you.”

“Thank you, Keeper. I am not sure how to thank you, but I'm sure I can think of something sooner or later. I have no doubt we will meet again.”

“Oh, we will, Mr. Potter, we will. Now, let's get you out of here in a good way. Gabrielle, we can arrange for you to cart home. We have a tunnel connection with the Paris branch, and the trip only takes an hour. Mr Potter, you on the other hand, will probably be best suited to leave, as Harry Potter, through the main doors. Your mother alerted me to the fact that you will probably be attacked. Her friend made such predictions, and the convergence of lowlifes certainly gives credence to the vision. Use that bracelet of yours during the battle. There shouldn't be any problem for you to shield yourself, and if you port out at the right moment you will have faked your own death. Wouldn't that be funny?”

“It's worth giving a shot, I suppose. Now, Keeper, would there be some place suitable for a serious Au Revoir somewhere here?”

The Goblinesse chuckled and motioned for a door behind her.

“Sometimes, people's business here takes several days. That chamber should be sufficient.”

Once alone in the chamber, Harry expected Gabrielle to more or less dissolve in tears, but she gently put the Summus Codex down, and flowed into his arms.

“Master, this will be great,” she said, as she was gently but quickly removing his clothes. “We will be apart for a little while, not long, and then you will be back. According to the Codex, there are several races in that Enclave that would make excellent Consorts, and I wouldn't mind if you Bonded two or three.”

“Hey, hold on. You really want me to get more girls?” he said as she tore off her own clothes and kneeled before him. “Aren't Veela supposed to be jealous?”

“Normally, yes,” she said between licking and stroking. “These are not normal circumstances, though. You are a Sorcerer, and I'm very young. If you took other Consorts, I would be able to play with them. Veela are sexual. Not hetero-, homo- or bisexual. Just sexual, and I can sense that you are enough of a typical male to love the thought.” She took him deep a couple of times before standing up.

He grabbed her firm little butt, and lifted her, lowering her on to his rock-hard member. All thoughts ceased as they moved together, united through their Bond and their bodies. After a few minutes, he could sense that she wanted more, so he put his finger against her little ass and willed the magic to flow around his finger as it had around hers at the Cauldron. He felt a tingle, and his finger sank in effortlessly as she gasped and contracted around his cock. He lifted her once again, and positioned her for the new penetration. Face to face, eyes locked on each other’s, he let her sink down his length slowly. He carried her to the bed, and laid her down. His thrusts were slow, and Gabrielle seemed to be stuck in a low-key orgasm. When he finally came, it felt like he poured his soul into her, and he could feel her body absorbing his semen right away, wasting nothing. They stayed connected for a little while, eyes locked.

“I love you, Master.”

“I love you, Gabrielle. Take care of yourself, and our baby.”

“I will. Don't forget to get laid every now and then while you're gone.”

“I bet there's not a lot of guys to get to hear that. I'll do my best, dear.”

~*~

He was more than a little nervous. It was the first time he had knowingly walked into a trap. It was one thing, he mused, to feel cocky about an upcoming fight when you're two miles below ground and in the company of a beautiful girl who wants to rip your clothes off, and quite another to walk out of Gringott's alone, undisguised and with nothing more than a little piece of holly to your name. Sure, he might be a sorcerer, but he wasn't so sure about his ability to use the power consciously as he was a few minutes ago. Yet, here he was, walking into an ambush in order to fake his own death. The past 24 hours had been interesting, to say the least.

“CRUCIO!” The curse hit him from behind, but it caused only a minimal discomfort. He could feel the Sorcerer's lightning flow just under his skin, countering the effects. He turned around to look at his attacker. The voice was ridiculously familiar.

“Good day to you too, Mr. Malfoy,” he said. “Have they installed revolving doors at Azkaban?”

The epitome of the finest families just looked at him. Another curse hit Harry in the back, and his magic flared. Suddenly, curses flew from all directions, and a spherical shield flashed to life around him. Harry had frozen momentarily. He didn't know what to do, but the sight of this blatant attack in the middle of Diagon alley made him angry. Not really at the Death Eaters, but at all the bystanders. They had a dreamshot, damn it. The Death Eaters were too busy trying to bring down his shield, and a couple of stunners would have done a great job decimating them.

He stood there, inside his glowing shield, suddenly feeling very tired. The people of Magical Britain expected him to save them, but wouldn't lift a bloody finger to help. Why the hell should he care?

That was when he saw them. An emaciated werewolf, using the distraction to pick a pocket. The Selkie woman in tattered clothes hiding behind a barrel. Several eyes in strange colours looking out of Knockturn Alley and, remembering the fate that would have been bestowed on his Consort, he made a decision. He would return. He would beat Riddle. He would not do it for the wizarding world. He would do it for the Magical.

He looked at his attackers with calculated rage from inside the sphere. He knew it wouldn't last much longer.

“Come on, Stalebloods. Is that the best you can do? Reducto!” He didn't really fire the curse, since he had no idea what would happen to the sphere if he did, but he enjoyed the contorted face of Lucius Malfoy as the coquettish man did exactly what he had hoped for.

“Avada…” Harry quickly enlarged two bags, one of clothes and one of meat and blood that he had gotten from the goblin slaughterhouse below Gringott's. As he had hidden them in his pocket, they ripped his pants to shreds.

“…Kedavra.” As the green light flew at him, he made the bags explode with a spark of Sorcery, whispered the activation word to the portkey, and disappeared.

“What happens when a defensive shield of wild Sorcery under a heavy barrage suddenly disappears? If the collapsing point is filled with the remains of a powerful, but slightly old travelling magic, that is desperately trying to transport several pounds of flying organic matter?
“The Diagon Flare is an excellent example. As too many kinds of magic impacts several small objects in a confined space, the magic combines unpredictably. The remains of the Portkey intensified the localized magical field, bringing the living power of Magic truly alive. Living Magic reacts badly to the Killing Curse. The following explosion shattered most windows in Diagon Alley, killed several of the nearest people, namely Misters Nott, McNair and Goyle. It also shattered the Magical Core in several others, like Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov, leaving them unable to perform more than the simplest of magics.”
From “Magical Chaos Explained,” by Fenimore Chang, 2109

When the echoes of the blast died down, everybody looked towards the centre. There was torn clothes, lots of blood and unrecognisable pieces of flesh and after a few seconds the last piece of the horrible Still Life that would forever be etched in the minds of the Wizarding world, added itself when something landed on top of the small pile. The burnt and broken pieces of a Holly wand with a Phoenix feather core.









Author's notes: I just realised that Hedwig had fallen down a plothole. I'm making a lame-ass salvage attempt above, but I won't try very hard to make sense of it. Caradoc Pritchard is a stupid agent of evil in Susan Cooper's brilliant books. This choice of name is completely random. Yes, there's no hidden Crossover plot. Sometimes people do stuff just because.
The reduced number of linguistical malfunctions are due to my brilliant Beta, ZZ9PluralZAlpha.
In difference to me, he actually speaks English. Any remaining malfunctions are my fault. He's a great beta, not a God.