Alternative Justice

Walking up to the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, Harry passed through the opening behind the statue without breaking his stride as it jumped aside upon hearing the password he had given. Upon knocking on the door to Dumbledore's office, he entered and sat down across the aging headmaster.

Dumbledore looked more tired than usual today. His hand was as black as ever. But he still smiled as he gestured for Harry to sit down in front of him. Harry kept his face blank as he eyed the Pensieve that was rightfully his sitting on the headmaster's desk.

'You've had a busy time while I was away,' Dumbledore remarked. 'I believe that you witnessed the accident that happened in Hogsmeade?'

'Not really, sir,' Harry corrected. 'Ron and Hermione were the ones who saw everything. I completely missed what happened since I was in the Three Broomsticks.' He paused for a moment before resuming, 'What exactly happened, sir? There are rumours that Sally-Anne has perished in the hospital...'

'Miss Perks is definitely alive at the moment,' said Dumbledore reassuringly. 'Although, it is not known if she will make it out alive. The healers at St. Mungo's are doing the best they can to ensure her survival. However, she has been in significant contact with the curse, so their hopes are dim.' He finished grimly.

'I don't know why anybody would want to kill her,' Harry said. He did not remember much about the girl, except that she was in his year till her fourth year when she had been held back because she hadn't done that well in her exams. Still, he felt the need to say something of that fashion.

Dumbledore debated with himself for a moment whether or not to give Harry additional information 'I do not believe that the cursed necklace Miss Perks was given was meant for her,' he finally said, looking at Harry with his clear blue eyes.

'So it was a necklace then?' Harry sat forward at this.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'A magnificent piece with some truly stunning opals set into it. I would have shown it to you, but the Dee Em El Eay is currently studying it hoping to counter the curse. I am told by the main witnesses that it was last seen in a shop in Knockturn Alley going by the name of Borgin and Burkes. I am sure that you are familiar with this establishment.'

'Really?' Harry raised an eyebrow at this. 'And what else did Ron and Hermione tell you?'

'Well, they had quite an interesting little theory that Draco Malfoy was the perpetrator of the attack,' remarked Dumbledore casually.

Harry rolled his eyes at that. He couldn't believe that those two had shared that theory with Dumbledore.

'What do you make of that sir?' Harry asked respectfully, not letting his thoughts show.

'To paraphrase what Minerva told them when Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger shared that theory with her, Draco Malfoy was at that moment in a detention supervised by her. So he has a credible witness to his whereabouts.'

Harry smirked at that. There was no way Malfoy was behind this. 'I had a feeling that Malfoy wouldn't have done that,' he said. He did not voice aloud how typical of Malfoy that plan was in its sloppiness seeing as he had been victim to similar plans in the past that in hindsight were rather blatantly sloppy and obvious.

'Indeed,' agreed Dumbledore. Harry noticed the headmaster's voice was faintly troubled, but did not remark on it.

After a few minutes of silence Dumbledore spoke again, 'well let's get cracking shall we? I think we should carry on with our lesson without haste, lest we end much too late. Last time we had learnt that Merope Gaunt had ensnared the village squire's son who only a few months later had returned to his senses where he abandoned a pregnant Merope Gaunt now Riddle.' He paused to collect his thoughts.

'I have learnt later on that Merope was left alone in London, abandoned by Tom Riddle and shortly expecting a baby that would one day become Lord Voldemort. How I know this is because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke, the co-owner of Borgin and Burkes, the store we had discussed earlier.' With that he extracted another phial and poured the memory inside the Pensieve. He then started swilling the contents, looking very much like a gold prospector sifting for gold.

Out from the silvery mass came the figure of a little old man, his feet disappearing inside the Pensieve, his hair covering his eyes.

Harry watched as the man boasted of managing to buy a priceless artefact for all of ten Galleons. He shook his head. To think that a descendant of the famed Salazar Slytherin, the one personification of what it meant to be cunning and ambitious was swindled out in such a fashion by the proprietor of a seedy store. It looked like Salazar was right in having taken precautions against Morag Gaunt's offspring. Who knows what would have happened to the Slytherin family fortune had they enjoyed full access to it.

'Caractacus Burke wasn't known for his generosity,' remarked Dumbledore lightly. 'So we now know that Merope Riddle was in a desperate situation. So great was her desperation that she was happy to sell a priceless artefact for a pittance. I am guessing that her husband abandoning her caused her to give up on using her magic as she no longer wanted to be a witch. So great was her depression at being abandoned that she did not raise her wand to even save herself when she was at death's door.'

'She couldn't be bothered to save herself and live on for her own son?' Harry said with a light sneer in his voice.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

'Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Voldemort?'

'Not entirely, no,' said Harry. He did not mention that he did feel sorry for the boy that was Tom Riddle. 'But Merope had a choice to stay alive for her son, who clearly needed her. Not like my mother.'

'Your mother also had a choice, Harry,' said Dumbledore gently. Harry snorted at that. 'Oh yes, either she dies now, or a few minutes later after Voldemort finishes me off. Yeah, that's a great choice,' he said sardonically.

'I do believe that Voldemort had given your mother a choice to step aside and live or die defending you,' said Dumbledore mildly.

Harry snorted at that. 'Yes, because Voldemort is very well known for keeping his word,' he said sarcastically. Then, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. 'How did you know about what Voldemort said to my mother anyway? I don't recall telling you anything about it.' Realising whom he was talking to, he hastily added, 'sir.'

'I heard it from Remus, in your third year,' said Dumbledore calmly. Internally he was cursing himself for the slip. He was glad that Remus had actually said that, as it made it easier to use the misdirection. Otherwise, it was close to revealing Severus's secret. Something he didn't want to happen. He truly wished that Severus would just come out, let go of the bitterness and be frank with Harry. He knew that Harry would forgive the man for his past mistakes.

Harry's eyes flashed green at this. He wasn't sure that he liked people talking about him and his personal matters so openly. He wondered if there was any point trusting adults, when all they were going to do was gossip about his past and personal matters in such a blasé fashion with no regard to his feelings.

'Anyway, where was I? Yes, Merope Riddle chose death over a son that needed her. However, do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She had been greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage. Now if you will stand...'

Harry stood silently, listening with half an ear to Dumbledore talking about the memory that they were going to be entering. He still thought of Merope Gaunt as a weak individual. It was the wretched woman's own fault that she had found herself in this situation. Yes, she had made the mistake of trusting that the Muggle she had ensnared would be receptive to her once removed from under any magical influence she had put upon him, that was acceptable. What was not acceptable, however, was her reaction to her husband leaving her. She should have shown more gumption, in Harry's opinion; she could have used her brains to get money and a good job. At the very least she could have insisted on getting a better price for the locket. Surely, she wasn't so stupid that she couldn't have realised the true worth of the locket that was in her position? And lastly she could have tried to live on and take care of her child. If not for him then for the love she allegedly felt for his father. It was because of her stupidity and bad decisions that Harry was currently in this position, faced with the task of ending the life of Merope Riddle, nee Gaunt's mistakes.

She truly was weak he thought with a great degree of contempt and loathing as he dived into the memory that Dumbledore had extracted.

A few minutes later, he exited the memory full of thoughts. The first of them was that Dumbledore also wasn't above magically manipulating Muggles for his benefit if he saw the need. He had to admire the skill and finesse with which Dumbledore had managed to Charm that Muggle, conjure up the glasses and summon the bottle of gin without so much as drawing a wand. He bet that the gin had a few potions or charms within it too. Surely no one would open up so much after only having a glass or two.

His thoughts were shortly diverted towards the young boy once known as Tom Riddle when Dumbledore started pointing out characteristics he had noticed all those years ago when he had met the boy.

'He also seems to be a bit of a kleptomaniac,' Harry chipped in.

His comment definitely caused Dumbledore's eyes to twinkle in amusement. The headmaster's beard twitched as he smiled, 'I wouldn't call him a kleptomaniac exactly.' He said with amusement, 'but you have a point, Harry.'

'Well he is,' said Harry. 'He likes to collect shiny things and squirrel it away in little hidey-holes, and it takes a lot of effort to get him to part with said trophies. That's kleptomania, that is.'

'Impressive, Harry, you have noticed an important characteristic of Voldemort. He still likes to collect such trophies. Remember this, for it will come in handy.'

Recognising the dismissal, Harry made to get up. However, he seemed to have misread the situation as Dumbledore spoke again.

'Before you go, Harry, there is one other thing I wish to speak to you about,' said Dumbledore.

Half out of his chair, Harry sank back down with typical teenage gracelessness. 'What is that, sir?'

'I heard from Miss Tonks that you had filed a complaint against Mundungus Fletcher?' Dumbledore began delicately.

'Of course,' said Harry calmly. 'I caught him stealing from me! I actually caught him in the act of selling the Black Family heirlooms to the barkeep of the Hog's Head!'

'That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black family heirlooms?' said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, clearly incensed.

'Oh, that is not all,' said Harry to the portrait of his ancestor. 'When I accosted him, he actually had the nerve to snatch back the goods and make off with them!'

His proclamation had all the portraits listening shouting with outrage. 'The nerve!' said the portrait of a corpulent red nosed Dexter Fortescue while another portrait of a gimlet eyed witch said with disappointment and disgust, 'what are times coming to, nowadays? Why back in my day...'

'I hope you have managed to track him down Albus?' said Phineas cutting through the noise being made by the other portraits. Immediately the other portraits quietened as they all trained their painted eyes upon Dumbledore, looking at him expectantly.

'Yes about that,' said Dumbledore. 'I am afraid that with the current situation, I have had to tell Nymphadora to drop the case-'

He was cut off when Harry got to his feet and roared in an incandescent rage, 'what?' which was shortly drowned out by the outrage coming from the other portraits.

Once the portraits had calmed down, Harry quietly, but no less furiously, spoke up, 'what gives you the right to do that?'

'Harry you have to understand, we are at war with Voldemort. The Aurors are spread thin as it is. They do not have the time and resources to find and apprehend a common criminal. Besides, the Order needs him and his contacts. He is too valuable to be sent to prison.' Dumbledore said cajolingly, trying to get Harry to see it from his point of view. 'It is for the greater good. What are a few possessions compared to that?'

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Harry had grown up without anything of his own. Almost everything he owned before he turned eleven was always somebody else's, given to him grudgingly and with contempt. Because of this, he had come to cherish his possessions to an almost possessive level. While he did not mind sharing, he hated it when people treated his things with casual indifference, as if they did not matter.

'I see,' he said waspishly. 'Of course, what are a few possessions when compared to your "greater good"? It really is easy to sacrifice someone else's things isn't it? Especially mine,' His voice shook with restrained emotion. 'I noticed that you did not say anything about trying to even make an attempt at getting my things back from that conniving, filthy thief!'

'Harry-'

'What if I decide to go directly to the head of the De Em El Eay?' Harry cut across before Dumbledore could say a thing.

The headmaster's face closed up, the amount of travelling he had done in the last few days had taken quite a toll on him. This, coupled with the curse affecting him, was leaving him short-tempered and a little irritable. 'Well,' he said with a seeming casualness, 'seeing that as I am the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, and you are a minor, you will find that the case will be dropped. Add to the fact that I am your magical guardian, well, the case won't even see the light of day.'

Harry reared back as if he had been slapped. Dumbledore's tone was light, but he had caught the underlying steel in the older man's voice.

'Well in that case, I guess this means that the Order of the Phoenix is no longer welcome in my house. I will not have petty thieves in there, so I guess you will have to find another place to hold your little meetings.' Harry growled out.

'I wish you did not do that Harry,' said Dumbledore sadly. 'Unfortunately as your magical guardian, I can still use your house. While I cannot overrule your decision if you were of age, as you are still underage, you cannot make such a decision, as such a decision would rest with me, your magical guardian.'

'Ah, but headmaster,' Harry smiled coldly. 'There is one small issue.' He took a minute to watch the victorious look on Dumbledore's eyes to dim before continuing. 'You see, I am emancipated. The previous Minister so graciously saw to that when he tried to try me as an adult so that he could bring the full force of the Wizengamot to bear. So I am very much of age. And since that decision hasn't been contested for a year now, in the eyes of the Ministry it means that you cannot overrule the decision. Supreme Mugwump or not,' Harry knocked on the desk in front of him lightly after saying the last word.

The boy took a moment to savour the look of surprise and dawning comprehension on Dumbledore's face before continuing. 'Oh and let's not forget that the goblins have declared you an unfit guardian. I wonder what the wizarding world would do when that fact becomes public...' he put on a fake look of wide-eyed thoughtfulness on his face.

Albus cursed to himself inwardly on hearing this bit of information. He knew that there was something that had been overlooked at that trial. However, with the fiasco at the Ministry and the chaos Voldemort had caused once his presence was publicly acknowledged, he had forgotten about that fact. And Harry had somehow found out about it. It looked like Miss Granger was right about one thing.

'I see that reports about you were true,' he said, injecting as much disappointment as he could into his voice. 'Initially I did not believe them because of my faith in you, but I see that I had misplaced my trust in you. I am very disappointed with the way you risked your life by leaving the safety of your relatives' house Harry.'

However, Harry wasn't fazed in the slightest. Instead of the expected look of shame on the boy's face, Dumbledore was very surprised indeed when Harry remained unaffected.

'Well, there is nothing I can do about that headmaster,' said Harry politely. 'After all, it was during the summer holidays, so school wasn't in session. Also you were no longer my guardian by that point, and I was emancipated ever since August of last year. So I am afraid that you cannot do anything about my activities during that period.'

Still smiling pleasantly, Harry continued, 'Anyway, now that we have that cleared up, please do tell the members of your little group to vacate the premises. I am sure that five days won't be an unreasonable time for that to be taken care of.' He stood up to leave.

'Oh, it won't be much of a problem Harry,' Dumbledore replied with equal pleasantry. 'However, there is the small problem of me being your secret keeper. I do not think that you would want to throw the secret keeper of your own house out now, would you? Who knows what could happen.' Albus wasn't happy with taking this route, but he knew he had to do it to rein Harry in. The boy was getting bit of a big head now, so it was necessary. But it still hurt to do so, as he looked at that young face close up, as the boy sat back down on the chair with a look of betrayal in his eyes, before he closed them and hung his head in apparent defeat.

'Harry, I assure you that I will have a word with Mundungus,' Albus said cajolingly.

Before the headmaster could continue however, Harry opened his eyes and said roughly, 'I don't want to hear it.' His voice trembled slightly with the rage and betrayal he felt. To think that Dumbledore had actually blackmailed him like this!

'I should have known that you would take his side. After all, you aren't quite averse to stealing from children now are you? You did steal my childhood from me.' While he tried to keep his tone light, his voice still trembled a bit.

'I don't know-'

Harry laughed slightly hysterically, cutting Dumbledore off, 'Oh please! You know! You know what I am talking about! It's because of you' he pointed an accusing finger across the room at the headmaster. 'That I had a crappy childhood. You are the reason that I had no decent clothes for most of my life until I bought them using my own money! It's because of you that I had to survive on meagre amounts of food ... that I had to live in a fucking cupboard for ten years of my life. AND IT IS ALSO BECAUSE OF YOU THAT I WAS TREATED LIKE A SLAVE BY THOSE FILTHY MUGGLES!' as he shouted the last bit out, his magic swirled, destroying the window.

Breathing hard, he continued at a rapid pace, 'Did you know that they used to throw me in that bloody cupboard without food for a week at the least if I did some accidental magic? Did you? Oh who am I kidding? Of course you did!'

'Harry I swear that if I had any idea-'

'DON'T. LIE. TO ME!' shouted Harry, his face red with fury and his eyes beginning to water slightly as he felt all the resentment he had towards Dumbledore pour out of him. His body sent out another pulse of magic. The delicate instruments in Dumbledore's office, that had been recently repaired, shattered again, along with the vials of memory that had been laid out for the lesson. The contents within pooled out onto the desk before disappearing into the ether. Portraits shouted at the noise this caused and Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix elected to stay out of the fight as he disappeared with a squawk and a flash of flames. It wasn't Fawkes's job to sort through every single fight after all. It was close to his burning day and like all other phoenixes, he was feeling a bit moody.

'You think that I am so stupid as to believe that you didn't know? Huh? Well, I know all about Figg! I know she's been watching me all this time! And she all but admitted that she knew about my home life! Hell, you admitted that fact last year! Wasn't it you who said that you knew what you were consigning me to when you placed me like a fucking bottle of milk on the doorstep of my relatives' home in the dead of the night in November? So don't give me your crap!'

'I also have to wonder why you never told me of my inheritance and why you kept that information, which was my right, from me! I also have to wonder why I had to find that out for myself.' Harry paused to take a breath before speaking what he thought. 'It's because you wanted it all for yourself wasn't it? I bet you were hoping that I would just kick it, that either the cold winter or those Muggles would kill me or that Voldemort would do the job instead. Then you could just swoop in and take it all!'

'Enough!' said Dumbledore standing up, effectively silencing Harry. 'I am not what you make me out to be Harry. Do not for one moment assume that I want you dead to profit from you. I am truly sorry for what you have gone through all these years, and I admit that I made a mistake. However, it is important that you do not become embittered by that.'

'"Sorry"?' laughed Harry, 'You're "sorry"? Oh yes, that makes everything so much better.' He said derisively. 'Why that positively erases all the things you caused to happen. In fact, using your logic, I could go out right now, beat the first person I find within an inch of their life, kill their pet in front of them, and after that, just get away with it all just by saying "sorry".' He sneered at the headmaster, '"Sorry" does not make a dead man come back to life, and it certainly does not erase the crap you put me through. You had a choice to make it right, and you didn't. And I don't care what you say ... you knew what I had gone through!'

'And don't think I don't know about the cloak that you took from my vault and gave to me, while claiming that it was my father who had given it to you!' Harry stood there breathing heavily as the headmaster's face paled somewhat.

'I think we are done here, professor,' he continued in a calmer tone. 'Now I know that you are nothing but a manipulative, conniving, backstabbing old man who likes to steal from orphans and looks out for his own interests. I cannot believe that a person like you ever managed to become the headmaster of a school.' He swiped at his eyes and inhaled deeply to clear his nose. 'Unfortunately, while I would like to do nothing but stay away from you, with the current climate, it isn't that possible. I will be here for the next lesson. But you are deluded if you think that I will ever forgive you.'

With that hate filled statement, Harry turned around and stomped his way to the door. However, when he roughly grabbed the knob, he found it locked.

'Let. Me. OUT!' His face, which was already splotchy from the shouting that he was doing, steadily started returned to a deep crimson, as he turned around to face the headmaster and shouted out those words. His rage, that had been tempered somewhat, came back in full force.

'Not until we have cleared the air between us,' said Dumbledore firmly. He knew that he had to fix this, and fast.

Harry just growled in response, as he clenched his hands into trembling fists, all the remaining control he had slowly slipping away.

'Fine, you want to play this game? Then FINE!' He turned around and put his hand on the doorknob. 'Open in the name of Lord Slytherin' he hissed in Parseltongue, going on a hunch.

He smiled in triumph as the ring in his right hand flared before the door to Dumbledore's office unlocked with a smart click.

Smiling savagely at the shocked look Dumbledore's face, Harry yanked open the door.

'Harry if you walk out of that door, I will put you in detention,' Dumbledore said warningly, playing his last card in desperation.

'If you do that or anything else, then I will take it up with the board of Governors,' replied Harry vindictively. 'I bet that they and a certain reporter by the name of Rita Skeeter will be interested in hearing that the great Albus Dumbledore wishes to keep a student with him locked in his office ... think on how that will look ... old decapentagenarian in a position of power, attempting to lock a young sixteen year old student in his office with threats and attempting to abuse his authority ... I am sure that will go down well with the rest of the world. I wonder what Voldemort would do?'Not waiting for a response, he walked out, slamming the door behind him with so much force that the remaining instruments that had survived the magical assault trembled before they tipped over from their tables to break on the floor.

Dumbledore sighed. 'That went well,' he muttered to himself as he surveyed his recently destroyed office. He smiled when he noticed that one of his inventions had survived the magical assault and the door slam. That smile soon disappeared when the delicate instrument slowly, but with increasing speed, fell apart, taking the table with it.

'Disgraceful,' said the portrait of the gimlet eyed witch as she eyed Albus. 'While I admit that the boy had been far out of line in talking to you, and would, if the situation were any different, richly deserve a good birching for his impertinence, I cannot help but sympathise with him. You have done him a grave injustice, Dumbledore.'

'I agree,' said the portrait of the corpulent wizard. 'If half of what the boy had said and accused you of was true, then he would be well within his rights to file a complaint against you. That he has not done so, despite knowing of what you have done to him for so long only shows his Gryffindor control.'

'Or it shows his Slytherin cunning,' said the portrait of Dilys Derwent. This sparked off a quiet but heated debate with three other portraits near her as to which characteristics Harry Potter showed best, and what house he was in, completely forgetting that the boy was in Gryffindor.

'I cannot believe that you would let a petty criminal get away with this,' said Albus's former employer and predecessor, Armando Dippet. His proclamation was met in agreement by the other portraits, the most vocal of whom were Dexter Fortescue and the gimlet-eyed witch.

Dumbledore sighed. 'I think you may have a point there,' he addressed the portraits at large. 'However, Mundungus Fletcher is the kind of criminal who is capable of disappearing rather well. It would be folly to hunt for him when we have matters of a more dire nature to deal with. Even if a complaint were to be made, the case would be given little importance.'

'You could have just explained that to the boy, Albus,' said another portrait softly. 'Surely he would have understood? After all, you did speak highly of him. You would have saved yourself unnecessary pain and drama if you had frankly told him why you did what you did.'

'I may have forgotten myself,' said Dumbledore slowly. Just now he realised how badly he had acted in the heat of the moment. Something he hadn't done in a long time. 'Alas, I fear that in my tiredness I acted foolishly.' He sat in silent contemplation for a moment, his head in his hands, 'It is going to take a lot of work to mend this fence.' He sighed tiredly. 'Also, I will have to address the issue of the life to which I had consigned young Harry all those years ago. Clearly the lad still has issues ... I have much to atone for.' And he has raised a lot of questions as well. How, for one, did he manage to unlock the door without my permission? The Parseltongue command overriding his wishes had really jarred Albus. He had felt the faint and minute shift in the wards before they had settled back into his control. He hoped that Voldemort hadn't found out this titbit of information. Otherwise he would be marching into the gates of Hogwarts the next day. And he would be completely unopposed.

The ensuing silence was broken by a shouted, 'Hufflepuff!' from one of the portraits engaged in the House Debate. The occupant looked around shiftily and noticing the attention he was getting, cleared his throat and giving a fake yawn, dropped his head on the desk in front of him.

In all the confusion caused in the wake of Harry's departure, one portrait had not said anything. The occupant within it had watched with shrewd eyes as the boy raged at the headmaster and left the office in such a spectacular fashion. He had noticed a slight pull towards the boy when the child had entered the office for the first time. From experience he knew that it was the same pull a portrait feels towards the current head of the family. It was only because of this initial pull that he noticed the increase in that feeling when the boy had issued that command and made that declaration.

However he had no time to ponder that at the moment, since he had a descendant as well as an heir of one of the Founders to help out. Never mind that he still had no idea how said descendant came about.

Slipping out of his portrait, he passed through several others before he found his target approaching his current location.

Harry swept through the corridors, his mouth twisted in a rictus of anger and rage. He badly felt like causing violence and a small part of him was hoping for an opportunity to carry out that urge on somebody. Hopefully, Malfoy or Snape would turn around a corner soon. Well maybe not Snape. The man did have quite a repertoire of spells. His classes showed at least that much. Harry did not want his arse handed to him, thank you very much, especially not by the one person whom he loathed with every fibre of his being.

Thinking of Snape got him thinking about Dumbledore and how the old man had treated him. That inevitably got Harry's blood racing with even more renewed rage.

Dumbledore, thought Harry with a new sense of loathing, breathing heavily as he stopped walking. It was because of that man that Harry had suffered so. Voldemort might be the reason for Harry's parents dying, and he may be a psycho after Harry's blood, and Harry may hate Voldemort with as much vehemence as Voldemort hated him, but it was Dumbledore that Harry currently hated the most.

While Harry hated Voldemort, he knew where he stood with that wizard. Each wanted the other dead; there was no doubt about that. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was far more insidious. He pretended to have Harry's best interests at heart but at the same time had planned and plotted to make sure that Harry was as miserable as ever. He, unlike Voldemort, seemed to want Harry alive for his plans. Harry imagined Dumbledore sitting in his office, popping a sherbet lemon in his mouth and laughing his head off as he planned on new ways to make Harry's life a living hell. He even imagined the man currently finding new ways to make Harry's life hell for what had transpired in the office.

Harry had no idea why Dumbledore wanted that, and right then decided that he did not care about the why; he didn't care if the headmaster was doing this on purpose, nor if he really had no clue about how Harry's life had been. All he knew was his newfound hatred for that old man. And this time, he found himself reacting to this in a different way.

Instead of raging at the world, and fighting down the urge to storm back into the headmaster's office hexing the man, Harry actually felt in control of himself.

No longer did he feel the white hot rage of justified righteous anger. Instead he felt cool and in control of his emotions as that anger bled away. He realised that he needed time to make plots of his own and level the playing field before he decided to take down the venerable headmaster.

He no longer wished to just finish Voldemort and be done with it. No, he now had two targets if he wanted to get on with his life.

His breathing slowed and his expression soon settled down. He did not even have to put in any effort to lock his emotions away, as he now felt more at peace with himself.

A discreet cough bought him out of his musings.

Looking up he saw Phineas Nigellus Black crowding three very disgruntled witches who looked to be in the middle of making a potion.

'Good to see that you have regained control of yourself, Lord Slytherin. Or is it Black? I'm not so sure...' He lifted an enquiring eyebrow at Harry.

Harry kept a carefully blank expression on his face as he looked at the painting of his great-great-great grandfather. 'I have no idea what you are talking about.'

Phineas just ignored him as he thought aloud, 'Or is it Lord Potter? Then again, I do recall the Potters gaining the titles and privileges that came with uniting with the House of Gryffindor...' he fixed Harry with a shrewd look.

'Any one of the three will be fine professor,' said Harry blandly, betraying a little of his irritation, 'And it will be four ten years from now. Is there anything I can help you with, professor?'

Phineas was impressed with the boy's command of his emotions. Even for a budding Occlumens, such control was hard to obtain. 'No, it is I who can be of help to you.' Upon seeing Harry's surprised look he continued, 'You being the first Lord Slytherin in centuries has already gained some loyalty from me as I was once a Slytherin myself. But on top of that, as the current head of the Black family and my descendant, and I noticed the resemblance to my late descendant by the way - it was perhaps wise of him to magically adopt you into the family, I feel it my duty to help you out in your time of need.' He finished with a dignified air.

'In what manner exactly?' asked Harry, amused.

'In that little pest problem of yours, of course,' seeing that he had Harry's undivided attention, he smirked and continued. 'Back in my day, the old families knew about the true value of house-elves. They were especially useful in tracking down people for us...' Here he trailed of suggestively.

Harry smirked coldly, as his eyes flashed an intense green. 'Why thank you for your help professor Black.'

'Don't mention it, lad. It is my obligation after all to see to the Black family's reputation. And scoundrels such as that thief do not help that reputation. Now I shall bid you adieu.'

'One last thing,' said Harry before Phineas could leave. 'How did you know that I am Lord Slytherin?'

'Are you daft boy?' said Phineas irritably, 'I heard you announce it! The whole room heard you announce it!'

'But I had said that in Parseltongue. I could have said anything really...' Harry defended himself. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. 'Since when do you understand Parseltongue?'

'That was Parseltongue?' Phineas sounded surprised. 'Hmmm ... old Salazar Slytherin must have placed an enchantment on the portraits then ... this bears thinking about...'

'Ensure that the portraits do not tell anyone of my status,' Harry told Phineas' retreating back. The former headmaster only gave a wave in response as he left the portrait, leaving three gaping old witches in his wake along with the occupants of the other portraits.

'Lord Slytherin.' They curtsied as one, followed by the other portraits bowing or curtsying and before Harry knew it, the suits of armour were doing the same.

Harry sighed softly and said commandingly, 'This does not reach the ears of anybody living and that is an order.' He flashed his ring, getting nods of assent and wide eyed looks from the portraits as they too felt the pull towards him.

'Good, now if you don't mind I have some plotting to do.' With that Harry turned around and walked away. Entering an empty classroom, he closed the door and cast a locking charm on it. Making sure that nobody was there, he called for Kreacher.

With a pop the house-elf appeared. His hands were bandaged from the punishment Kreacher had given himself for not telling his master that Mundungus had stolen possessions from the House of Black when Harry had called him the previous day and had angrily asked the elf why he had not been informed about the theft.

'Kreacher, I have a job for you. I want you to find Mundungus and capture him.'

Immediately the forlorn looking elf perked up. 'Master is wanting Kreacher to bring vile thief?'

'Yes, track him down and ambush him when you have the chance. Use any means necessary. Just don't harm him permanently. We do want to know where he has kept the stuff he has stolen from us after all...'

'Yes master,' the house-elf started bouncing excitedly. 'Kreacher will do.'

'Good,' said Harry. 'Put him in the dungeons in Black Castle, and then tell me when you have him. Ensure that I am alone at first, no one else should know about this. Get Dobby or one of the other elves to help you.'

'At once master.' at this Kreacher disappeared with a crack

Harry headed off to the Gryffindor tower, now in a much better mood.

A few days later, Harry was stretching and rubbing his eyes after he put down the second of Slytherin's journals as he thought about what he had learnt of the founder's life so far.

When he was twelve, tragedy had struck Salazar's family.

They are dead! I cannot believe that they have been killed! Mother ... Father ... my little brother and sister ... all brutally murdered!

They had come in the dead of night; sneaking up into the house like the rotten scum they are ... they were let in by our own servants...

It was only because of the fact that I had woken up earlier on to raid the kitchens for some food down in the basement that I managed to escape.

My family wasn't so lucky.

I watched as they dragged my parents and siblings out from their beds and the house, my parents' wands in their possession and my father into beaten and bound into submission. My brother fiercely tried to defend himself, but was overpowered almost too easily. It is no surprise; after all, what chance does an eight year old have against full grown men? When he received that blow, I had thought that they had killed him on the spot.

Oh how I wished that was the case.

The mob had dragged them all to the front of the house and had tied my parents and sister all together on a post set atop a pyre. Then, with my brother watching through teary eyes as he struggled impotently at the hands of his captors, they lit the pyre.

I could not watch any more. With tears in my eyes and only my wand in hand, I ran through the basement passageway out into the wilderness.

I learnt later on that after the screams of my parents and sister had died down, they had broken my brother's legs before setting him on fire as well. As I heard that the same villagers had laughed actually laughed at how my brother tried to run on broken legs before they put him on fire, I nearly lost control.

I will avenge my family. I vow to build a grand castle on the site where my home once stood before those Muggles burnt it down, and I will take pleasure in wiping out the village of Muggles one person at a time as I take possession of the land.

Harry read on about Salazar's initial guilt of having run away and shame of not being able to protect his family melt away, morphing into a burning desire to avenge them. Salazar had then travelled down south, seeking refuge in his father's older brother's house. While Salazar had been born in Grantabrycge (wherever the hell that was), which was the Slytherin family seat, his father had decided to take the family up north to a modest sized home near a village. Harry wasn't sure about where they had gone when this had occurred. For some reason, there were no names mentioned in the journal. All locations and people were just referred to by relation. Harry wondered at that.

Salazar had grown up with his uncle and cousins. At sixteen, Salazar was sent to Greece for his higher studies where after finishing with his schooling there, Salazar went travelling, learning new spells and experiencing new cultures. He had also honed his natural cunning while abroad into acquiring wealth. By the time Salazar was twenty-five, which was where Harry had stopped reading for now, he had swindled, conned, blackmailed and tricked his way into becoming quite well off. Salazar was in other words, quite a successful con artist. And he was proud of it

Harry felt that Salazar had full right to be proud of himself and what he had achieved. All of his victims had been kings, queens, nobles and other influential people of different countries. And none of them had suspected that they had been taken in by the same man. In some cases, they had no idea that they had been swindled at all!

Harry couldn't wait to continue and find out more about Salazar Slytherin's life. But right now he needed to get back to bed. Getting up from the impromptu seat he had made with the mound of money lying in the vault, Harry headed towards the passageway into the antechamber.

Donning his invisibility cloak once he had come out into the Great Hall, Harry used his father's map to guide himself back to the common room. Although, he was slowly beginning to consider using his cloak whenever he was alone whether it was before or after curfew, for that way, the non living yet still sentient components of the castle did not notice him.

When he was with friends or in a crowd, things were normal. However, when he was alone, all the portraits would bow or curtsey with a whispered 'My Lord', the suits of armour would create a major ruckus when saluting and if a ghost was passing by ... well they would just hover there, nod and be on their way. Even the Bloody Baron had taken to nodding at Harry with respect.

Frankly, ghosts aside, the treatment was getting a bit ridiculous.

Of course, revealing himself as the current Lord Slytherin had its perks. Peeves now gave Harry a lot of respect. True the poltergeist used the same oily tones when addressing Harry that he used when speaking to Dumbledore, but the spirit generally stayed out of Harry's way.

Not only that, but the moving staircases would now move in such a way to ensure that Harry gets to his destination in as little time as possible. Harry was sure that the castle had even created a door and an entire passageway once when he was getting late to Defence.

Harry stopped in front of the Fat Lady and uncovered the hood of his cloak. 'Pssst,'

At once the guardian to the common room woke up and seeing him, said softly, 'Yes, Lord Slytherin?'

'Is Hermione Granger asleep inside?' he whispered back. He had noticed her dot in the common room in the map and couldn't tell if she was asleep or studying.

'She's asleep, my lord,' replied the portrait after a moment.

'Good,' Harry whispered. 'Swing forward slowly a bit then, don't open all the way. We don't want to wake her.'

Slipping through the crack, he spied his friend slumped over her homework, lightly snoring with drool slowly soaking the parchment. Harry started tiptoeing through the room before he smacked his forehead, and drawing his wand, cast a silencing charm on his shoes.

Once that was done, he walked as fast as he could to the stairs and was out of sight just as he heard Hermione wake up with a start.

Just as he was about to turn in for the night, Kreacher popped in silently.

The only indication Harry gave of his surprise was a slight inhalation of breath. Quietly casting a silencing spell around the curtains, he turned to the elf.

Despite the bags under the elf's eyes and the general dishevelled air he was giving off, the expression on his face was one of accomplishment.

'So, is it done then?' Harry asked eagerly.

'Yes master,' the elf croaked tiredly. 'Kreacher is finding and putting nasty filthy thief into dungeons in Black Castle.'

'Good,' said Harry. 'I'll pay him a little visit tomorrow. You did a good job Kreacher. I am pleased. Get some rest now. You need it.'

'Thank you, master.' The elf gave a deep bow and popped out.

The next day was a Sunday. Harry spent the day at the school as he normally would, seeing to his various duties and mucking about with his mates when he had the free time. Once dinner was done with and the students had turned in for the night, Harry snuck back into the Chamber with his Firebolt.

Reaching the balcony, he flew down to the remains of the cottage and Disapparated from there.

He immediately reappeared in front of the imposing Black Castle. It wasn't as large as Hogwarts, or Windsor Castle, but it was slightly bigger than the pictures of Eilean Donan Castle that Harry had seen. Made of magically enhanced black granite, Black Castle was placed on a smaller island connected to the larger Black Isle via a footbridge that reached halfway towards the castle. A drawbridge that lowered itself when Harry approached completed the bridge.

Entering, Harry immediately proceeded to the dungeons. The contractors that he had hired to take care of renovations to the interior of the castle had done a good job from what he could see. The exterior didn't need any repairs due to the nature of the material used to build the castle.

Leaving the opulent rooms, Harry descended down towards the dungeons.

Opening the door of the dungeons, he sauntered towards Mundungus's cell. The stench of tobacco and spirits was rather overpowering in the closed quarters.

An Air Freshening Charm did away with most of the stench as Harry approached Mundungus who started stirring at the sounds of approaching footsteps.

Mundungus Fletcher was not having a good couple of days. It had all started when Harry Potter had found him selling stuff from Sirius's old house in Hogsmeade. The way the younger wizard had accosted him was frightening. Since even full grown wizards were normally not used to fighting dirty, Mundungus normally wouldn't have had a problem brushing Harry off seeing as he was a sixteen year old schoolboy. However, he had felt the magical aura coming from the lad when the boy had realised what Mundungus had been selling. What was worse was the maniacal glint he had seen in those killing curse green eyes. Mundungus had once seen Bellatrix Lestrange when he was being led to his cell in Azkaban many years ago when he was serving a short term on the prison. That was one of the witch's more saner moments, and he had caught her eyes. He would never forget that glint that he had seen in those eyes, and looking into the Potter boy's eyes only served to remind him of that.

As soon as he found an opening, he had scarpered as fast as he could, he did not want to find out what the boy would do to him. The burn in his jaw was painful enough, and that was with undirected magic.

The next few days were spent in hiding. He daren't go out in public, magical or Muggle beyond buying himself some rations. He knew that Dumbledore would have been informed almost immediately, and would find him as soon as possible. Hell, he was expecting a full blown Auror search as well. He hoped that Dumbledore never sent Mad-Eye on his trail. He had a good dose of respect and a greater dose of fear for the retired Auror.

He had only stepped out of his heavily warded hovel a few days later, thinking that the coast was clear. He felt that if he sold the items he had pilfered from Sirius's house as soon as possible, he might be able to deny having them. While he did not like stealing from the dead, or from the man's godson, a man still had to make a living. Besides, the boy was rich; a few trinkets wouldn't matter to him. He would just have to ensure that he never saw or met the boy ever again.

Just as he had lined up a potential client to sell everything, which was yesterday, things had gone pear shaped.

As he was reaching his hideout, he heard the recognisable crack of Apparation. Since he was in a back alley in Muggle London, he knew that it could probably be trouble. Perhaps an Auror had managed to track him down. Perhaps it was Mad-Eye Moody!

Acting on that sudden fear, he quickly turned around drawing his wand as fast as possible. However, before he could do much, he felt his leg being grabbed and he felt the squeezing sensation of Apparation as his unknown assailant magically dragged him from London. Depositing him in the cell that he now found himself in and leaving while he was still disoriented.

Mundungus had spent the whole of today looking for a way to get out of the dank and dismal cell. While he had a window, any and all sunlight seemed to stop a few inches into the dungeon he found himself in. The place was so reminiscent of Azkaban, that he half expected a Dementor to come visiting.

So when he heard the creak of the door opening and closing, he readied himself behind the door, waiting for his captor to come in. He would ambush the person, and get the hell out of there! He might even leave his captor inside the cell in revenge, so that his jailer could see how it felt to sit in a cell all day without food or water. Then he would run like hell, and as soon as he got out of the anti-portkey wards that he had sensed around the place, he would portkey out of there!

Harry sensed the incoming spell as soon as he opened the door and stepped through. Using his recently ritually enhanced speed and reflexes, Harry sidestepped the stunning spell with ease, turning to the corner just inside the door and snapping of a quick overpowered and silent Disarming Charm at the crook lying in wait there in one fluid motion, sending Mundungus crashing into the wall behind him before he could do more than gape. It was only because he was so close to the wall that the man was still conscious, if still disoriented.

Easily catching Mundungus's wand, Harry put it in his pocket. Another flick of his wand had Mundungus flying to the ceiling of the cell, the wall on Harry's right and finally the wall opposite the door before the thief was released to come crashing to the floor, a moaning heap.

With a silent Levicorpus sent his way, the thief soon found himself hanging upside down and staring in surprise at his captor.

'Blimey, it's you 'Arry!' said the thief in relief, it was hard to tell who it was in the dim light, but from the green eyes glowing back at him, and the profile, he could tell that it was Harry Potter. 'You come to rescue me, 'ave you? Sorry I attacked you an' all, but I thought you was the one 'o nabbed me! Let me down now so we can get the 'ell outta here.'

Because Mundungus could not see Harry's face clearly, he missed the cold smile on the younger wizard's face.

'Now why would I do that,' Harry's cold and sinister sounding voice clearly registered with the thief though.

'After all, I just spent quite a lot of time having you tracked down and brought here in the first place.'

Mundungus had mixed feelings about this revelation. Initially, he had come to the conclusion that it was a rich pure blood he had crossed who had him captured. He was even expecting Lucius Malfoy to come through the door, judging by the dark and menacing nature of the dungeon he was in. However he dismissed that notion. Lucius Malfoy was in prison and besides, if it was a Death Eater who had captured him, he knew he wouldn't find his wand and backup wand on his person. So he was quite confident that he would be able to overpower his captor. However, Harry Potter was another matter. The boy was clearly powerful. And damn fast too!

'Now I'm going to be a nice person and ask you politely,' Harry began pleasantly. 'Where is my stuff?' He inflected steel into his voice as he asked the question.

'I dunno what you're talking about,' said Mundungus nervously.

'I see we have a bad memory, do we? Well I know just the remedy for that,' having said that, Harry released Mundungus roughly with a silent Liberacorpus.

Sajjeta thought Harry, using a spell that he had learnt from Slytherin's journals. He was rewarded by a burst of lightning funnelling down the shaft of his wand and springing out from the tip to strike the groaning wizard.

Mundungus's body jerked and twitched as it was assaulted with magical lightning that overloaded his nerves. He lasted a whole ten seconds before he was screaming his head off.

When the spell was finally lifted, all Mundungus could do was groan as smoke rose from his body. Harry spent a few moments reflecting on the spells that Slytherin had used. The spells should have been easy to find seeing as they were written in their original script which was so far Latin based. However, either Salazar had a bad handwriting or he was really good at hiding things since the foreign words of the incantation were well hidden.

The acrid smell of burning clothes brought an end to that line of thought as Harry focused on his task. 'Well, do we remember now?' he asked as he dangled Mundungus up by his ankle again. 'No? Well, then a few more doses should do.' With that Harry dropped Mundungus to the floor and shocked him multiple times, causing blue light to reflect off the black surface of the dungeon walls as the criminal screamed and writhed on the floor.

'I-I sold them all! They are all gone, and I don't know who to!' babbled Mundungus as he was hoisted by his ankle again. He hoped that he had put enough of conviction into his voice. Perhaps the boy would let him go on hearing this. Powerful he may be, but he still was a boy.

Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed.

Harry tsked and said, 'You know, Fletcher, I really hate liars. So I am going to have to punish you.' He released the thief causing him to fall to the floor for a third time. 'I think a few days here without any food and a little amount of water should help that attitude of yours.' He turned around and started for the door.

Immediately Mundungus acted on desperate instinct, ignoring the pain, he reached into his robes for his backup wand and pointed it at Harry, sending two stunning spells at Harry's back: One dead centre and the other to the left.

He soon received the shock of his life. The first spell wasn't even halfway across the room when, with an eerie precognition, the teen spun around, and sent off a quick and powerful expelliarmus, and almost instantaneously raised a shield absorbing Mundungus's second stunner as the first one sailed by harmlessly impacting on the wall outside the door.

Harry approached Mundungus's body as he groaned with the latest impact he had with the cold stone floor, the thief's backup wand in his hand. 'Now that was naughty of you Mundungus. Hexing your host like that behind his back in his own dungeon ...' He tsked again mockingly.

'I guess we will have to teach you some proper manners as well.' With that, Harry flicked his wand, causing all the clothes on Mundungus's body and the portkeys he had secreted on his person to vanish, leaving him starkers.

'There we go! Now isn't that lovely?' Harry said in a sarcastic tone. Spotting the gleaming chains, he swished his wand again, manacling his prisoner to the wall.

'There! That should give you the full prisoner experience,' said Harry cruelly. 'Well, I'll see you in a few days!'

'You can't keep me here for long!' said Mundungus desperately. 'Dumbledore will find me!'

'Dumbledore?' laughed Harry derisively. 'Ha, as if! Nobody will find you here Mundungus. You see, the complaint I had made to the Ministry never saw its way to the Auror department thanks to Dumbledore. Besides you are a small time crook. "Small fry" as they say. Nobody will bother searching for you and nobody will suspect that you are here!' he smiled pleasantly at Mundungus, looking very much like a pleased schoolboy. 'Well, I gotta go! I have classes tomorrow, you know ... and McGonagall isn't a Monday person. Bye Dung!' and he practically skipped out of the door.

Once outside, Harry instructed Kreacher to first place an ever-filling jug of water next to the prisoner and then prepare a hot and tasty meal tomorrow evening and place that under a warming charm just outside the dungeon door so that the smell would waft inside, increasing Mundungus's suffering. Kreacher was to repeat the same thing for the next few days, turning the door transparent after an hour or so, so that the thief could watch Kreacher eat the food till Harry got back.

Harry was sure that the thief would be rather willing to talk in five days. While he could have just ripped the location of the pilfered items from the thief's mind, he wanted to do it this way. He really had no set rationale for why though.

Smirking victoriously, Harry Apparated back at Hogwarts and made his way to bed.