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Harry Potter
and the
Midnight Sun

Chapter four
Of shoes ,and ships ,and sealing wax


Harry Potter, the boy-who-fell

by Hieronymus Cosh

Our hope, our hero, our saviour Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, fell yesterday.
Under attack from more than thirty adult assailants, aided by large numbers of werewolves, banshee's and dementors, his magnificent defences failed.
All hope for our hero's survival was crushed by the Ministry Aurors, who arrived fashionably late to the horrifying scene.
The Aurors confirmed that the shattered remains on the scene was indeed Harry Potter.

This is the reason the Daily Prophet is as thin as it is today. We, the employees at this fine publication, are asking ourselves the very same questions that you, dear Readers, are.

What will we do now?
What will we do now?


Nymphadora Tonks sat quietly at he desk at the Auror Headquarters. The people around her gave her a wide berth, knowing that she had actually been friends with Potter and also had been the one to gather up the remains after performing the Identification spell, confirming that it was indeed Harry James Potter they were dealing with. With the additional evidence of Potter's broken wand, identified by Mr Ollivander, no one had questioned her findings.

She was an Auror, and one of the best. She had been trained under the Fudge administration. Of course she knew all the tricks when it came to tampering with evidence. Anyone who cast the standard identification spell on that pile of half minced cow would find that it was indeed Harry Potter.
She knew very well that she could lose her job over this, maybe even go to Azkaban, but her choice was already made. He had wanted to disappear, and she had chosen to respect his wishes.

“Wherever you are, Harry, I hope you are having the time of your life. I hope it was worth it.” she whispered to herself. She decided to take an early leave today. Maybe morph into something blonde and busty and get drunk and laid. She knew it wasn't a very good plan, but she liked it.
Harry owed her now. Big time.

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Unfortunately for Harry, the biggest thing about him was his headache, and his knowledge that something had gone very, very wrong.
Wherever he was, it was no inhuman Shangri-La, no Sorcerer's boot camp and certainly not a very good place to get laid.
He was on his back in a forest clearing. Most of the conifers in the immediate area had been cut down, leaving a thick carpet of needles. He distinctly felt a couple of hundred of those. After a quick check, he surmised that something had gone wrong with the portkey.
If it had worked properly, he would have landed upright, concious and his clothes would not have been reduced to tatters hanging around his waist like a very bad kilt.
He would also have had his wand. His quick inventory led him to an inevitable conclusion: This sucked.

He tried to stand, just to realise that his shoes were also missing.
He stood up anyway, and saw a track no more than ten feet away. It was rocky and muddy, but much better than those needles.

The forest was quiet. His headache was subsiding, and he was beginning to feel better even though it was a bit chilly.
It wasn't really cold, but being mostly undressed is sort of chilling in it's own way. He wished that he still had that heavy cloak that Gabrielle had... transfigured... for... him.

Feeling very stupid, he tried to summon the feeling of Sorcery at work, and tried to Will his clothes back together. They fluttered a bit, but stayed stubbornly apart. He changed approach, and tried to focus on conjuring a pair of boots. Lightning flashed, and a pair of boots appeared. They were good boots, sturdy, heavy soles and high shafts. They even fit him decently enough. If they hadn't been faintly pink, they would have been perfect.
After a couple of tries, he managed to change the colour to a nondescript grey. He chuckled as he remembered Jenny Thomas' advice. If he could, he would have brought them along to show her. The laces were still purple, but they weren't soft enough to tie properly. Harry was very happy that he had imagined them laced but untied. On the other hand, he sure hadn't imagined them pink, so maybe flawed imagining wasn't the problem.
He made a few attempts at making himself a cloak or a robe, and when he projected a mental image of a cloak on a pile of branches, lightning finally happened and he had a cloak.
It was a very strange cloak, though. It looked like it was made of a wizarding photo of a forest, but shimmering in a way that made it hard to look at.
The main points in Harry's mind though, was that it was soft and warm and covered him up nicely. After some more fairly draining attempts, he had made himself a strictly utilitarian outfit in grey. It didn't really fit him very well, but good enough would have to do.

He had barely registered the scream before he was running flat out towards it, odd cloak billowing behind him and ex-pink boots pumping. A woman was in danger. Damsel in Distress and all that. Someone needed a Hero! As he ran, it struck him that he was doing it again. He was rushing in half cocked, head first into danger. He stopped abruptly, and noticed that the urge to rush to the unknown woman's aid was very strong.
He blinked, and looked around with his Sorcerer's sight engaged. The red tendril of light that was affecting him was easy to spot. A half-baked notion made him try and grasp the tendril. He couldn't, of course, but he did get a fair idea about where the woman was, and also that she was in real danger, and was terrified

He picked up the pace again. After a few minutes, he stopped by a small hill. He could hear two men laughing on the other side. As he also could hear muted sobs, his temper flared. A quick look gave him no doubts about what was going on.

When two men slowly walks up to a girl who is lying on the ground with what looked like a twisted ankle, the possibilities are quite few. When the girl, while in obvious pain, still tries to crawl away and the men are loosening their belts, there are no good options left. Sometimes you just have to jump in. As his anger rose, so did he, and the men barely had time to turn around before they were flung against a couple of trees, petrified, secured with thick ropes and, finally, stunned. Harry was close enough now to realise that the two were no older than him, even if they were a good deal larger. It made him even angrier. Slytherin goons wherever you bloody went! He turned to the girl. She was staring at him, with fear in her pretty yellow eyes. He realised that he must be a sight, in his strange cloak, boots and the remains of the rest of his clothes hanging like a peculiar grass skirt around his waist.
He didn't know that his eyes glowed in Sorcerer's blue, and that lightning still flashed around his hands. He was a sight indeed.

As he walked up to her, something stirred in his memories. He chose to ignore it for the time being, as the girl needed help.
She tried to scurry away from him backwards but as he held up his hand, she froze.
Acting on instinct, he took her ankle in his hands and felt it through with his magic. As he could feel several things that weren't as they should be, he made his magic correct them.
The ankle had been broken, not twisted, but in his hands, the bone set and healed itself. The damaged tissue and muscles repaired themselves, as a soft blue light shone between his hands. Now, he allowed that memory to surface.
To his great surprise, it was one of his own. It was a page from The Monster book of Monsters. The description of a Norse magical predator, the Huldr.
Shaped like beautiful women, the feral Huldr supposedly preyed on young men, preferably magical. The signs to look for were their yellow eyes, the large cavity I their backs and the tail.
They also had other beastly traits and signs, but those could easily be missed by the casual observer. They were considered dangerous, but the book allowed that not all varieties were lethal.
The smaller the tail, the more dangerous the Huldr, apparently. The Foxtailed Huldr was the exception, as they were considered very dangerous because of their powerful and dangerous magical abilities, but still had a large and disturbing tail.. He also remembered that they were supposed to possess near-human intelligence.
In his book, that made them People, and that he should ignore the book.
The girl in front of him had large, beautiful and terrified eyes. From what he saw of that tight, red wool vest, he wouldn't mind examining her back, as well as associated areas.

He quickly pushed that thought away. The girl was just almost raped, her green skirt was torn and very dirty, and the white blouse she wore under the vest was ripped and stained with blood. He extended his magic over her, checking for injuries.
She closed her eyes and shuddered, but it wasn't the kind of shudder he had expected, the one of discomfort. He could sense a cracked rib, and he reached out and put his hand on her side, just under her breast. Her gasp, when he channelled the healing sorcery into her had absolutely nothing to do with pain. Last, he had sensed a large bruise on her arse, and an injury he could not identify, but it was painful.
When he asked her to turn around, she seemed very surprised, and said something he didn't understand. Apparently, he was not in Britain any more.
“Huldr?” he asked, and the girl suddenly looked crestfallen, and a tear actually made it out of her almond-shaped eyes. She seemed to sag as she nodded, and tried to take a submissive stance, while sitting on the ground.
He gestured instead that he wanted her on all fours. That unknown injury must be to her tail.
He was regaining his headache, and he was actually beginning to feel a bit queasy. He barely noticed that she was crying softly as she turned around.
To his surprise, she pulled her torn skirt up over her back, and pulled her obviously tailor made white knickers to the side. Burying her face in her arms, she just waited. Harry, on his side, was absolutely stunned. He had known about the tail. He had been prepared to see something odd. He had not been prepared for something so incredibly beautiful as this wonderful thing, extending from her back. Yes, she had a nice arse, badly bruised or not, quite comparable to Gabrielle's, and the hairless little quim was sort of tempting, but the incredible, thick, soft, white-tipped foxtail just blew his mind. If anyone had asked him, he would not have thought that he would be turned on by a tail, but there he was. He couldn't help but stroke it. He sensed the injury, and healed the sprain without further ado. She shuddered again, and as he moved closer, she tensed up.
As he put his hand on the large bruise, she jerked her head up, and looked at him in surprise.
He released the Sorcery, healing the bruise, and probably some other stuff as well, since lightning crept all over her body.
He had actually forgotten about the cut on her arm, but the lightning took care of that for him. He noticed some sparks travelling along the tail, cleaning it and brushing it out, until it looked even more luxurious than before.
When she was healed, the small bolts seemed to converge on her quim, sending her into a forceful orgasm, powerful enough to actually make her squirt. Harry had never seen such a thing before, and felt immensely proud of it.
His headache and nausea overtook him again, and he almost fell down. The girl spun around, catching him with surprising strength. She looked at him with those lovely yellow eyes, with her surprise still evident. After a while of what seemed like looking for the words, she spoke.
“You know Huldr?”

“A little, yes.”

“You cut not. Why?”

“What?”

She took on a shy and hopeful look before continuing.

“You like... tail?”

“It's lovely. So soft and beautiful.”

“I take you to Father. Father talk England ... English.”

She stood, pulling him up without much effort. Her fear and weakness seemed to be completely gone as she led him through the forest. His head was pounding, and she turned a few times and looked at him with concern. Every time he felt like stopping to rest for a while, he would be struck by how great her arse was, and the movements of the tail under the skirt became more pronounced. After a few times, she turned to face him.

“Sorry. I use Huldr pull to move you on. You sick. Must go to Father. I use trick to help. Come now. Soon close to carry, far yet.”

He followed her while trying to figure out what she just said. She was using some kind of Allure to help him move along, and she did it to get him to her father. She saw that he was ill. It was still too far for her to carry him. That had to be it. It was a very effective help, since he really liked that tail. He battled the increasing waves of nausea and the headache was incredible, but not quite as incredible as her backside. He trudged on in his ex-pink boots and weird-looking cloak.

Later, he could never quite remember how he got to the smithy. He could vaguely remember a bald man, and the Huldr girl he had followed talking to him rapidly in a foreign language. He remembered the bald man look him in the eye, saying in heavily accented English, “Thank you, sir, for my daughter's life. Rest. She will care for you. We will talk when you're better.” After that, it was dark.





Hi Hermione

How are you? Yes, I know it's an awful question right about now, but I couldn't come up with anything better.
Actually, I have a serious question, and it's even more horrible, since I don't have any kind of idea of your answer. I've dreamt up so many schemes to figure it out, but I think it's best to just ask.
Are you interested in my brother Ron?
Because if you are, I suggest you change your mind. Here's the picture. Mum and Dad are mourning a son, the twins a brother, I for a good friend and loads of Might-have-been's, but Ron has completely lost it. Between having his brains scrambled by those things in the DoM and the loss of Harry, he's gone around the bend. He is talking to himself, making strange lists and he actually reminds me of Kreacher, the way he carries on.
You'd better sit down now.
He is blaming Harry for most things that has gone wrong in his life. He feels that Harry is finally “out of his way.” He's treating me with a weird respect, calling me Widow, and the two of you will get married on graduation day. You will be pregnant already. You will have had lot's of practice, because he will visit you in a few weeks and you will “put out” without prompting. I have copied a list that I'm sending with the letter, and I'm prepared to swear that it's real, and made by Ron. It's not a joke. I doubt he will even think of asking you about anything. Note that on the schedule, you are supposed to find a really simple way to kill Voldemort that can only be used by redheads named Ron, proving that he was the Chosen One all along.. He's absolutely certain he will be rich as well, since Harry “naturally” left all his money to him. Dad actually checked that. Caradoc Pritchard is Harry's sole heir. Do you know anything about him? All in all, if my brother contacts you, run.
Please write back. If I'm out of line, please tell me. I need friends right now, and you and Luna are the only ones I trust.

Love
Ginny.


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Dear Ginny

Thank you for the warning, but I had already surmised that something was wrong. I wish I could show you the note he sent me, informing me that we were now going out, but unfortunately it made me so angry that I accidentally ignited it. Let me hasten to assure you that you don't need to order any bridesmaid's dress on my account.
I am not really grieving at all, frankly. I have been birdwatching.
When Harry disappeared, I was calm because Hedwig was. You know how close Harry and Hedwig are. She's his Familiar after all, and would certainly know if something bad happened to him. Her mood has gone from calm to happy and excited over the last few days. She hooted at the time of his “death”, just once. I believe Harry is still alive, because Hedwig does. I am beginning to suspect that he has had this course of events fairly well planned out for some time, and that this was the reason for him letting me borrow Hedwig. In order to keep highest possible secrecy, he could not tell anyone straight out, but he might have assumed that I would figure out the clue in Hedwig.
I had to focus on something other than your brother's note. Honestly, the very idea that I would “put out” to him! The Cannons will win the championship before that happens. The Muggle Ice Hockey world championship.
We all need friends, Ginny. Why don't you come over? I will invite Luna, too. Just to make this abundantly clear, your brother is not invited. Yes, maybe I should pity him for going obviously insane, but I'm just too angry to care just now. Please suggest to your parents that he's taken to St. Mungo's. He has been known to “prat out” now and again, but this is not normal. I will not come near him again without a clearance bill from a certified mind healer.
Love, Hermione.


It was dark when he woke up, too. The darkness faded to grey, and ended up as black-and-white vision, as his enhanced eyes adapted. He began looking for his glasses, when he remembered that they were probably still on his bedside table at the Leaky Cauldron, where he had left them half a life ago.
He looked around the room. Above him were the naked roof beams of a low ceiling. Across the room from the headboard of the bed was a window with a heavy curtain over. To his right, there was a door with the turning plate that indicated a loo, and to his left was another door, that he assumed led to the rest of the house. There were built-in beds in the wall next to the door, but they were empty, except for two bundles of clothes and some things he couldn't readily recognise.
The bed was large, but he still didn't have much room to move.
The reason was not the lovely girl from the forest, lying naked on his left side, and whose long black hair was spread over the pillow like a dark halo of delight. She took the time to look at her. She was lying on her stomach, with her face turned towards him, and a sheet was covering her lower body and, sadly, her beautiful tail. She was very beautiful in a feral, exotic way. Her ears was slightly pointed, and there was a fringe of black fur along the edges and on the back side of them. Her nose was quite small, and her cheekbones were high and pronounced. Her lips were full and very sexy. As they were slightly parted, he could see the slightly enlarged incisors that made her look dangerous and adorable all at once. Black fur grew in a band from her neck down to the tail, black near the head and progressively redder the further down it got. Well, he assumed it was red, anyway. At this time, he could only see it changing grey. Her back was slightly more arched than the human backs he had seen, but there was no trace of the cavity mentioned in the book.
He turned to the reason there was little room in the bed, the unknown girl on his right.
She was also without clothes, and he could clearly see why she slept on her back, even if he wondered how she could breathe. Her breasts were absolutely enormous. There were not enough letters in the alphabet to describe the cup size, and mere cups wouldn't get very far anyway. Her nipples were very large and what he thought could be described as puffy. The top side of those giant knockers were also covered in a light fur. He battled his instincts into submission, and looked at the girls face. She was incredibly cute, and he could vividly imagine her as being sexy as hell. She had a tiny squirrel nose, and slightly large front teeth enhancing the squirrel impression. What truly nailed it was the sight of the large tail that reached all the way up her back. It was decidedly squirrely, and he realised that he was in the company of two sexual predators, predators he really wanted to get to know better.
He also realised that he needed that loo, badly. As he thought about how to get out of the bed, a blue light spread over his body, and he levitated out of bed. He thought that would be a neat trick, if he could learn to control it. He got into the loo and relieved himself. As this took some time, he looked around. There was a largish hot tub in there, with a strange pipe contraption above that he assumed was some kind of shower. He found a toothbrush that seemed new, and freshened up a bit before sneaking back to bed. The unknown girl had shifted a bit and he noticed that the sheet had shifted enough to reveal that she too was hairless between her legs. It was sort of funny that they would be fur clad in unusual places, but bare where you would expect hair growth. He also saw now that she looked a bit worn and tired, even sleeping.
Before he tried sneaking back into bed between the two lovely Huldr girls, he tried to remember everything he could about the Huldr, and also about this illness. He knew he couldn't really expect Gabrielle to have made any progress already, but you never knew. The thing that jumped forth in his mind was a letter, and he remembered it well enough to read it.

Beloved Master

Thank you. I'm home again. I'm afraid I had to give you away a little bit, but Fleur wants to meet you, so she can kiss you silly, and I believe Mama has made similar plans. Poor Papa understands that he really can't understand, but he is accepting. It is hard for him to accept my pregnancy and he went on a bit of a rant about his “little girl”. I think I shook him out of it and his face, when I told him that I would have loved it if you had fucked me exclusively in my arse, as long as I would be permitted to taste your semen, was highly amusing. I believed that I managed to drive home that I am not a “little girl”. I am Veela. I am bonded to a sorcerer I happen to love, and have loved since long before the Bonding. So there.
Enough about me for now.

Your ruse worked brilliantly, and I believe you have a very good friend among the Aurors. The meat was identified as your remains by a very pretty girl with pink hair. Anyone you know? May I help you thank her? She was very pretty. Britain is in shock, and no one doubts your death, at least publicly. You're safe.
I am a little concerned about your friends, though.
Perhaps I could write them a letter through Miss Granger, since I sense that you trust her discretion. Maybe adding a passus, asking her to thank the pink haired cutie for you?
My presence in Britain was largely unknown, and if I write it anonymously, she would be hard pressed to ascertain my identity. Besides, If she is focused on finding me, she will not be looking for you.
Caradoc Pritchard and his lovely pet bird has made the news as well, so if I would deliver a letter myself as a falcon, I can watch her response if I wait for her answer. The link between you and Caradoc would be well established by then. The reality of that link should probably be best kept secret for now, though.

I miss you, Master. I miss feeling you move inside me, the taste of your semen, and the feeling of it inside me. Please, Master, have sex soon. That's my only release. Fondling myself just doesn't cut it.

I can feel you, and your presence, constantly. If you concentrate, I can see through your eyes. Perhaps you can answer this way. Soon, our link will be strong enough to allow us to talk mind to mind. I know you are ill now. There is nothing to worry about, however. According to the Codex, there will be a few adjustments like this over the next few months, when your magic makes some changes. I believe you will have better concious control over your power after this one, but that's just a guess.
Master, I know I can serve you best by studying for you like I am, but it is hard not to know when I'll see you again. I may be very big with our child the next time. Will you still fuck my arse hard then?

With body, mind and soul I am

Your Gabrielle


Well, that didn't do much for his peace of mind where two beautiful sleeping girls were concerned.
He liked the idea of letting Hermione know, and he concentrated on that, hoping that Gabrielle would pick up on it, and write the letter. He had been a little too busy lately to have time to worry about his friends, and he didn't know how long he had been out of it. If his soft beard was any measure, it had been at least a week, since he could feel the stubble. He knew it didn't grow very fast, unfortunately. For the first time, he noticed that he himself was fully dressed. As he was getting tired again, he slipped out of his conjured clothes, and tried to sneak into bed. He wormed his way up from the foot of the bed, and he thought he had made it without bothering the girls when he saw the unknown girl looking at him.

“Hello,”she whispered. “I'm Disa. You are Hasse, for the time being at least. Let Jorunn sleep if you can. She hasn't left your side for three days. How do you feel?” She was smiling, but the signs of fatigue were even more pronounced when she was awake.

“All right, I guess. Tired, though. How about you? You don't look so well.”

“It's nothing. I was supposed to feed yesterday, but I can wait to tomorrow. You know a little about us, right?”

“Not really. You are supposed to be vicious monsters, who needs to be killed on sight, I think. I don't really believe that book is very accurate. What do you need? Can I help?”

“Squirreltails like me need both energy, like you fed Jorunn, and also material sustenance. To put it bluntly, may I suck you? I don't think you can manage the power you zapped her with yet.”

“Did I get that right? You need semen? Frankly, I'm not sure I can get it up right now, and I'm dead tired. I wish I could help you, though. Hmm. Wait a second.”

He summoned the healing power, and was a bit surprised at how easy it was. He brought the power to his left hand and stroked her tail. Lightning flowed from him along the silky tail, and she tensed up and bit her lips as she shuddered through an intense orgasm. Harry clearly recognised the sweet scent, and surmised that Huldr apparently squirted when they came as a rule. She was almost purring two minutes later as she stretched, basking in the afterglow. Her incredible breasts were even more prominent, with nipples extending a whole inch. He forced himself to ignore them, and made his eyes settle on her face. She was wearing a decidedly feral smile, as he felt her hand slide up his leg. Her eyes went wide as she felt him. Despite his exhaustion, he had risen to full mast, and she appeared transfixed by this. She sat up jerkily, and stared at his crotch.

“ I... I need this,”she stuttered. “I need this right now. Please?” Approximately half a second after his nod, half of his length was buried in her mouth. She was incredible. The sheer pressure was almost enough for him to lose it, and she had the most incredible tongue. It felt very long, and was rather coarse some times, and silky on others. As her head bobbed at a leisurely pace her tongue was working overtime. She tried to deepthroat him a couple of times, but he was probably too big. She rubbed her giant boobs against him, and he reached out towards her arse, stroking it and her tail. She responded eagerly to his caresses, and as he pressed his finger against her tight little ass, she actually managed to take him down her throat. She started moaning, and Harry could feel the pressure build. He made the “Veela Back Door Fun-charm” , and felt his index finger slip into her arse. As her whipping tongue carried him close, he sent little bursts of power through his thumb, located on her clitoris, and the index finger in her arse. She shuddered and kept bobbing, taking him deeper and deeper until he came, and as he did, so did she, spilling sweet fluid all over his hand. She swallowed and swallowed, relishing every drop. He smiled at her eagerness as she proceeded to suck any remaining cum out of his cock. She turned to face him, and gave him a lovely, content smile, and without further ado, he fell asleep.


Dear Miss Granger.

Harry is alive.

He is safe, he's happy, but due to circumstances outside his control, he has been separated from his homework. I believe you will agree with Master Pritchard and myself that learning combat- and survival skills may have a greater positive impact on Mr Potter's future than any lengthy essay on the joyous event of Uranus and Jupiter converging, or the shelf-life of the Rosea Arctica tincture.
At this time, no one knows exactly where Mr Potter is. He has some idea of where he is, but not exactly. Neither do I, and the people he's staying with does not know or care about who he is. I know he intends to be on the Hogwart's express in September, so further questions will have to wait until then.
You may share this information at your discretion, but he wishes to keep his continuing good health as secret as possible. The only person who must not be informed under any circumstances is your headmaster. Mr Potter was very specific about that. There may be further missives, either from me, or Master Pritchard. Guinevere has been asked to wait, in case you wish to send a note or two to Mr Potter. As a security measure, he will not get the notes themselves, but he will get to read them. Just don't expect answers until September. On behalf of the House of Potter, I would like to ask you to convey our gratitude to the lovely Ms Nymphadora Tonks. The House of Potter is in her debt. Let me also assure you that she knew nothing in advance, and she knows less than you now, but her ability to think on her feet is truly admirable.


Au revoir

Ms. Anne Thrope.


Gabrielle blotted the parchment, cast some charms to erase any inadvertent magical traces, and folded it up. On an impulse, she unhooked her medallion, applied a dollop of blue sealing wax and pressed the medallion into it. She smiled as Magic shimmered, and the pressed image inverted itself, allowing the fine lettering to be read. She changed shape, and put her talon by the piece of string that tied the letter to her leg on it's own. She took a final look at the map, and set out through the window. This would be a long and interesting trip.




Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk, and sucked absent-mindedly on a lemon drop. The calming potion inside them did little for him at the moment. First had the boy disappeared from the platform without a sound, according to the Order members who had been there. No one knew how, but Dumbledore suspected that he had simply used the floo. Then, an unknown warlock had been seen in the alley, on the way to the bank. A warlock who had been kind to a muggleborn child, barely magical at all, and then burnt out the Dark Mark of an Assassin who had been under an Invisibility cloak. Harry had appeared leaving the bank and the headmaster had toyed with the idea that they might have been one and the same, but the man known as Caradoc Pritchard was simply too powerful, and of course had a different magical signature than the dear boy, and further, there was no way that Harry could have learnt how to handle children. Dumbledore was sure about that. Furthermore, the goblins said that this Pritchard was a long time client, who just wasn't seen very often.
Dumbledore popped another lemon drop in his mouth and bit down with a crunch. The Pritchard character had been able to damage his influence severely. First, He had had Dumbledore's guardianship revoked and transferred to himself, and then this unknown warlock had managed to become the sole heir to the Potter fortune. This would severely limit the headmaster's influence, and it would be almost impossible to make any peaceful changes to the Wizengamot without some financial influence. There was still so much about this that he didn't understand. He kept staring at the same spot that had entertained him for almost three hours this time; the melted puddle of what once was his carefully repaired silver instruments. Blue sparks was occasionally seen over the surface, but the important thing was that the instruments had melted before Harry had died, and the Headmaster could only determine that Harry's magical signature was extinct without the instruments. There was still so much he didn't understand. The unseen observer wholeheartedly agreed. There was much the headmaster just didn't understand.




Author's notes.
I steal other author's names and things without a second thought, but I should at least acknowledge them when I remember where I read it. Jenny Thomas was invented by Jeconais for This Means War. I also got the motto and the coat of arms from there. The Huldr is a real myth, but I have jumbled several different mythversions together to make this take on the beastie. This is an Unbeta'd release, just because. Please review. I sure didn't plan to like reviews, but I find that I do.

Vanir