chapter 8

There was a lingering silence to the air as Harry stared at the waiting gates of Hogwarts and felt a sense of trepidation he could only remember feeling once before in association with the school.

It wasn't quite fear. Not fear like he remembered experiencing when he was a child. This time it was more of a resigned wariness.

Albus Dumbledore was not the pseudo-grandfather figure he remembered. This Dumbledore was still twenty years younger and twenty years less experienced. This Dumbledore hadn't lived and fought through ten years of Tom Riddle's war.

This Dumbledore most decidedly did not like Harry.

And if he was honest with himself, Harry wasn't sure he particularly liked this Dumbledore. The look on this face when he'd placed himself between himself and Riddle, it sparked something in Harry, something deep, angry and very ugly.

He rolled his fingers lightly about the handle of his wand and considered his approach as he tried to center himself. So far he hadn't had too terribly much luck with it. His thoughts were too wild, too charged with emotions for him to form a coherent train of thought.

It was home. But, at the same time…

He glanced around and so very much was different than he remembered it. The castle was, of course, much the same, but the grounds… there were trees that weren't, a minor decorations here and there. Some plants that he couldn't ever recall.

Enough of a distortion faced him that his memories insisted quite adamantly that this wasn't real.

Sighing softly, he shook his head only a moment before finally steeling his nerves and setting forward. He had faced things far worse than an annoyed and ill-tempered Albus Dumbledore. Though he had to admit, in some ways they were even worse.

A younger but still surly Argus Filch stood at the gates, glowering at him as his fingers tightened on the cool metal. "Well? Hurry up then! I don't have all day!"

Apparently even as a young man Argus Filch has been neither pleasant nor well mannered. Another distortion that his memories protested again, leaving him to wonder for the umpteenth time why he was doing this. And still, every time the same answer waited for him: because he had a job to do.

Harry just shook his head at the man's antics. This was not what he wanted to be doing right now. Being in Hogwarts, dealing with Dumbledore, when he could be hunting down Riddle.

Unsuccessfully, probably, he admitted to himself, but still it would've been less frustrating than what he had a feeling he was about to have to deal with.

The familiar doors came and went and, once inside, most of the incongruities had faded into the background. Hogwarts, for all intents and purposes, did not change as easily as the rest of the world did. But still he didn't feel the comforting embrace of his childhood home when he stepped in.

No, the air was uncertain, alien and wary.

If it stayed this way, he wasn't sure he'd be able to actually do the job anyway. Coming home and finding home wasn't… It wasn't really home, he knew, not his home, but still.

And he could feel his heart starting to beat, to pound as the adrenaline ached to course through his body. With a sharp force of his will he pushed it back down. This battle wouldn't be one he could win that way.

Instead he schooled his features to some form of neutrality as he worked to order his thoughts. Occlumancy still alluded him, his thoughts, reactions and considerations too much of a chaotic mess that had managed to work themselves into an efficient battle awareness. Trying to organize that mess would have taken years to get working.

Instead he stood there, staring at the familiar stone gargoyle with Filch at his side, staring at him suspiciously. Some things never changed.

When the gargoyle moved to the side, the familiar voice came from the top of the stairs. "Thank you, Argus. That will be all."

Filch cast him one more distrusting look before turning and moving away in a way that Harry could only seem fit to describe as skulking.

There was a beat before the voice continued, reluctantly. "If you would please come up, Mr. Potter."

Steeling his spine, Harry nodded unconsciously before starting to rise up the steps of the office until he found himself facing a rather… unamused Albus Dumbledore.

"Please sit, Mr. Potter," he stated a bit more briskly than was polite.

The chair he was directed to was rather comfortable looking, so Harry simply inclined his head in agreement and then carefully took a seat, watching the man warily. "Headmaster Dumbledore."

They sat in silence for a moment, Dumbledore looking over him as if trying to take his measure. Harry, in turn, simply looked back at the man with a calm, expectant look and the arch of a brow. Finally the headmaster sighed and leaned back in his seat.

"So, I am told you will be the new Defense against the Dark Arts professor." Dumbledore stated as he looked resignedly at the young man in front of him.

That made Harry blink before his brows knitted and he looked back at Dumbledore, almost in confusion. "I was under the impression that was your decision to make."

Dumbledore snorted softly and almost seemed to glower resentfully at the man. "Typically that would indeed be the case, however, after your little display at the interview, and my own apparently ill-advised actions, if I would attempt to block you from the position, I would find myself facing less than pleasant counter from a variety of different fronts that have not, classically, allied."

Harry stared at the man for a moment, genuinely confused as he processed the statement. "… Wot?"

This time it was Dumbledore's turn to stare back at the man with no small amount of incredulity. "Really, Mr. Potter, do you truly understand so little of politics?"

And he earned a snort in response. "I'm not a politician. Never have been, bloody never will be. I've spent too much time actually going out and getting my hands dirty to ever be comfortable being the person behind a desk sending people out to do it for them."

Wearily Dumbledore leaned back into his seat. "I have been advised to let you have the position without a fight." There was a pause, before he continued. "I have also been advised that it was perhaps time for me to take a sabbatical this year."

"Ah." Harry looked at the man oddly for a moment. "If you don't mind my asking… why?"

"Because I do not want my students recruited to join a war." Dumbledore stated bluntly as he gave the man a look.

This time, Harry stared at the man incredulously before snorting softly. "Are you truly daft?"

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore demanded in a cool, chilly voice as he looked back at Harry in a truly condescending manner.

"Your students are most likely already being recruited. And if they're not, they will be soon." Harry stated bluntly. "By their families, by their friends, by the promise of power, prestige and a cause, it doesn't matter. They're going to be recruited. Whenever war comes, the young, the idealistic, the easily swayed, they're always recruited."

For a moment Dumbledore frowned, looking as if he were about to dispute what he was saying, before he finally settling back to look at Harry with a look of ill-disguised displeasure. "And I am to take this as a reason for me to allow you to do the same? They are children."

"We were all children, once," Harry stated quietly as he looked back at Dumbledore. "And in our youth we often allow ourselves to believe that the paths we should follow are the ones that play to our egos. If no one shows them that the difference between what is right and what is easy involves, then they will often be more easily lead down a path that they never know isn't the best one for them."

"That does not give you the right to convince them to fight in a war that can and will get them killed." Dumbledore stated with a slight glare. "They are the future. If we do not protect them, there will not be a future for the rest of to fight for."

"And who has more reason to fight than them?" Harry asked as he looked back at the man. "It is, just as you said, their future. You think that by trying to treat them as if it's none of their concern, nothing they need to worry about, that you're protecting them?"

"They should not be involved!" Dumbledore snapped back as he stood up, slamming his hands down on his desk as a sudden surge of magic swam into the air around him.

"No one should be involved in this!" Harry agreed as he stood up himself and met his gaze unflinching, ignoring the swell of Dumbledore's magic. "But that doesn't mean they aren't already! You think Voldemort will just roll over and leave them be because they're children? You think that he won't send his knights after them and their families just because they don't follow him?

"That future you talk about? That is their future!" Harry's own magic came to bear, and Dumbledore found that it was not lacking against his own. "That means it's our jobs to make sure they live to see it! And if that means that we have to teach them to defend it? To fight for it? That is our burden to bear! If we don't, that means that many more of them will die, cowering in fear and helpless!"

"You can't expect them to survive against fully trained wizards! They…" Dumbledore began as he glared back at Harry.

"Without having it drilled into their heads? No, I can't," Harry agreed with a nod of his head before looking at Dumbledore with a hardened gaze. "But I've seen a handful of school children hold off a group of fully trained wizards and witches intent upon ending their lives long enough for help to get to them. All of them living through it."

Dumbledore wavered for a moment, his outrage and magic dying off as he looked back at Harry with suddenly sullen eyes. "So that they can become like you? Killers?"

Harry sucked in a breath as he clenched his fingers back into his hands and his eyes started to burn. "… I would train them so they didn't become like me. Make no mistake, Albus Dumbledore, I am not how I am because I was trained to be. I am not whom I am because I was brought up to fight, to kill, or to destroy."

He shook his head at that and glared back at the headmaster, a small spark of hate in his eyes as he strangled down on his emotions. "When I was at the age of when I was in school, it was run as you would have a school run. When war broke out, we were told it was none of our concern, none of our business. They came for us, targeted us, and we were told we were children, and it was not our place to fight."

Then his fist slammed down on Dumbledore's desk like a crack of thunder, causing several things to jump. "But we still had to fight! Wishful thinking and good intentions didn't prevent us from being attacked. Wanting us to have our childhoods didn't stop us from watching our friends, our classmates, cut down in front of us!

"I have seen where good intentions like yours lead, Dumbledore. I have seen the good lives it costs. I have lived through the suffering it encourages. Ignorance is not going to save them; it will only leave them brittle and easy to break when they come from them!"

Harry took a slow deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, to rein in his emotions as he continued to glare at the bewildered and flustered man in front of him. "What I want for them is for them to be able to survive, without having to become like me. And if that means I have to fight through your well-intentioned, stubborn stupidity, I will beat it into your head until it finally sticks."

Dumbledore sat there, staring up into burning emerald eyes and he couldn't help but stare. In them he saw something that truly made him pause.

Conviction. It was not the kind he'd seen in Gellert's eyes, with the lingering impurities of doubt and remorse, leaving it weak and vulnerable to the right angle. It was not the kind that he had seen in Tom Riddle's eyes, even before he'd inadvertently allowed his escape from the man before him, that one had been a fire, raging and roaring without direction or control. That was a conviction that eagerly, greedily consumed everything it touched simply to keep feeding itself.

No. This was solid, icy steel, forged by pain and suffering, and through it, tempered into wisdom instead of bitter hatred and anger.

And it left him feeling a great swell of emotions he couldn't begin to quantify.

Before either man could speak, a sudden melody filled the air, a warm rush of sweet notes that seemed easily into their pounding hearts and soothed frayed tempers. Above them, flying in a small, lazy circle, Fawkes, the phoenix, had apparently had enough of the pair's bickering and had decided to intervene. For a moment the bird merely sang, a soothing, gentle melody, before finally he fluttered down and came to rest on Harry's shoulder, looking every bit as if he belonged there and gave the younger man a look.

In that look… Harry couldn't quite quantify it. There was sadness, understanding, comfort and hope, all mingled together in a way that suddenly left him feel so very, very tired.

With a slow, almost boneless, collapse, Harry sat back into his chair, looking suddenly so very much older than Dumbledore believed him to be. "My parents were murdered by a dark wizard whom called himself a lord when I was a baby. What was left of my family were dead before I even had a chance to graduate. I lost friends and classmates of my own dealing with the way he waged 'war.'"

He reached up and gently stroked against Fawkes' feathers as the phoenix preened slightly beneath the attention. "People kept trying to keep me in the dark about as much of the 'bad things' as they could. Because I was a child. Because I shouldn't have to be worried about it. They came up with excuse after excuse to try and shelter me. They wouldn't fight, they wouldn't let us fight; they just reacted."

"But you are still here," Dumbledore pointed out as he looked back at the man. "Surely…"

"I am here in spite of it, not because of it," Harry corrected quietly as he stared back at Dumbledore. "And I didn't win out of skill, or power, or because adults took responsibility for the mess that had been created on their watch. I lucked out. I tricked him into killing himself. If I hadn't? If he had changed his mind, if he had used something else? He would have won."

"I…" Dumbledore began to speak.

"If I can stop it, I will not let the world rely on luck or fate to keep it surviving." Harry stated quietly. "I will not allow others to have the weight that was pressed on my shoulders be pressed on theirs. So, yes. I will teach children. I will teach them how to move, how to think, how to survive. Beyond that? If they want to learn how to fight, I will teach them."

He paused a moment before slowly continuing. "And I will make sure they understand just what kind of damage they can do if they don't take it seriously. I want them to grow up into men and women whom have the strength and the strength of character to do what is right instead of what is easy, Headmaster. And if I can teach them that one lesson, above all others? Then I will have done my job. Because the darkness lives where the light will not tread, because it is not so easily reached."

As Albus saw what he could only take as a smug look on his familiar's face, he leaned back. "I… see. I believe, Mr. Potter, we have both let our emotions run away with us enough for today. Shall we continue this another evening?"

Wearily, Harry nodded his head as he looked back at the Headmaster.

"Very well. I will have our transfiguration teacher, Minerva McGonagall, show you to your quarters," Dumbledore stated simply before looking at Fawkes. "Though I would appreciate the return of my familiar."

"… Wot?" Harry stated with a blink. "After that?"

"I told you earlier, Mr. Potter. You are the only acceptable choice I can make in the current climate," Dumbledore stated simply. "Thus, you are hired. The lesson plans of your predecessors will be made available to you and I will ask for your own lesson plans by August 15th at the latest. Any changes you're making to the book list will need to be made as soon as possible, so I urge you to look over them all."

"Right," Harry repeated as he then stared back at Dumbledore for a moment, before groaning lightly as he rubbed at his face. "What the bloody hell am I getting myself into?"

"Why, the noblest pursuit one can have, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore stated with an innocent smile. "Education."

Harry just knew that, on his shoulder, Fawkes was laughing at him.

-o-o-o-

It was some days later that Harry was seated in the Hog's Head in the nearby wizarding village of Hogsmeade, working through a variety of different scraps of parchment and journals as he would scribble at his own notes, while working to create his own lesson plan. Most of it was adapting the lessons he remembered from Remus, Crouch and, surprisingly, Snape, and then expanding on what he remembered missing out on from his less helpful teachers. So far he'd figured out how to fit most of what he'd wanted to into the various years, but he was struggling to figure out exactly what order he really wanted to present things in.

"Well, you certainly seem to be having a fun time," Charlus' voice cut in as he took a seat across from Harry, a slightly bemused smirk on his lips.

"There will come a time, Charlus, when I will have my vengeance upon you for convincing me this was a good idea." Harry stated coolly as he lifted his eyes and affixed the man with a look. "And when that times comes, you will beg for a mercy you know will never come."

"Charming. Have you been taking lessons from my niece?" Charlus asked with a curiously bemused expression.

"What do you want, Charlus?" Harry asked, his attention returning to his papers.

"I wanted to see if you'd made any… progress." Charlus stated delicately.

"I need the goblin forged blade before I try." Harry answered as he moved to another page.

"And that would be why I am here," a voice Harry didn't automatically recognize cut in as another figure took a seat across from him.

Harry's quill stilled before he looked up and found himself meeting a pair of steely hazel eyes framed by worn, wrinkled skin, and a steely grey mess of hair. "And you would be…?"

"Lucius Potter," the man stated simply as he leaned forward, studying Harry now that he could meet the man's eyes.

"Charmed," Harry stated flatly before resuming returning to his work.

Lucius frowned slightly while Charlus stifled a smirk of amusement. "Head of the Potter family."

"And your point?" Harry asked as he continued writing out his lesson plan.

For a moment Lucius could only stare at the man before his brow twitched slightly. "Normally being the head of someone's family would mean something to someone."

"As I was not brought up in the wizarding world, and as no one bothered to try and teach me anything about why I should care about something like that, your statement means less than nothing to me." Harry answered without looking up from his parchment. "And, as you came here with the bastard who set me up for this lovely bit of hell, I'm even less inclined to care."

Charlus broke into an open chuckle at that. "Ah, but Harry, this is perfect for your needs!"

Harry slowly put down the quill before looking up and affixing Charlus with a look. "No, all I need is a day, two at the most, to deal with the basilisk and then the horcrux. You're the one that somehow convinced me that I should see to all the bloody sprogs' training myself instead of finding someone else suited to it."

Sighing softly, Lucius looked over at Charlus, whom was merely smirking back at him. "Fine. He's a Potter."

Harry sighed and put his lesson plan aside for a moment and then just looked at Lucius. "What do you want? Because, if this is something about filial obedience, you're talking to the wrong guy."

"You wouldn't be a Potter if you were," Lucius stated with a sigh as he rubbed his forehead. "Being the head of the Potter family means trying to be Britain's best cat herder, and failing miserably more times than not."

"Don't you mean kneazle herder?" Harry asked curiously.

"No, I meant cats," Lucius stated flatly. "Kneazles will listen to you if they know you can be trusted. Cats simply don't care and won't listen no matter what."

"What do you want then?" Harry stated simply as he started to slowly reorder the various items lain out in front of him.

"To make sure that my son James grows up to continue being a stubborn, willful man who does not flinch back in the face of adversity," Lucius stated simply. "And that means ending this Voldemort as soon as possible. And if that can't be done, making sure that he, and as many of his generation as possible, learn how to make sure that they have the character to make the choice about which side they're on."

Harry slowly nodded his head and groaned as he rubbed his temples then as he realized he was potentially looking at the man whom had been his grandfather. And he was named Lucius of all things. "I see. You don't really make this easy, do you?"

Charlus snorted softly. "Come now, lad, would you really choose the easy way?"

"One of these days I'd like for it to at least be a viable alternative," Harry answered with a sigh. "Or at least not be the one duped into always having to pick the other way."

"When you're older and wiser and can find the ones to who will do it for you." Charlus stated with a bemused smile on his lips.

"… I was really afraid of that."

-o-o-o-

Voldemort hissed in displeasure as he looked down over the corpse-like figure in front of him. It hadn't exactly been easy to perform the necessary procedures but he was rapidly approaching the final step of his new creation. If only the worthless fool would stop bleeding so profusely.

Strapped down to the table before him, the man, a wizard he couldn't be bothered to truly remember the name of, stared up at him with frozen, terrified eyes. His bare chest was cracked open, his heart, lungs and other organs exposed to Voldemort's cold gaze. The smell of blood was mixed with the oily smoke of burning flesh as the bright tip of Voldemort's wand continually, skillfully burned a series of runes down the sides of the exposed ribs, and then onto the still beating heart.

"I suppose I should say something soothing, something reassuring," he stated, the words more out of idle boredom and a desire to break the lull of silence. "Something to let you know that your suffering will be over soon."

His lips drew back into a cold, reptilian smirk as he lightly tapped the man's heart. "It would be a lie, of course. And really, at a point like this…? What do lies matter?"

The chuckle that followed was coldly amused as he then leaned down and brought his wand out of the man's chest and moved it towards his face. "Such a pity, for you, and for them, that I have to resort to such measures. To create something like you… I so much would have them fearing me above all else. But, as I am unlikely to have quite the level I desire any time soon… I will have to settle for their fear of what I bring with me instead."

A cluck of his tongue and a shake of his head as he sided softly. "A shame I can't let you scream, it would be so… invigorating. Alas, the sacrifices one makes for one's work. And, all that thrashing and spitting and spasming… it would make this so… difficult."

And he smiled then. "So, I'll have to settle for ripping them from your mind instead."

He took a moment to revel in the feeling, the sheer terror in the mind of the helpless wizard before him, before he continued his work, burning a series of runes beneath the man's eyelids, then onto his eyes. Once he was satisfied with the work he pulled the man's jaw open, before pulling out his tongue to continue. All over the man's body, the runes were carved, etched into his flesh by the tip of Voldemort's wand.

Finally he sighed and shook his head, almost regretfully. "I'm afraid that it's almost time for this little bit to be finished. A pity."

And with that, he turned away from the table and moved to a nearby cauldron, a simmering, glowing, steaming liquid that looked like liquid silver.

Dipping his wand into it he stirred it only once before pulling it out as it changed from a glowing silver to a pulsing, virulent crimson, clinging to the tip of his wand with a glowing thread. It stretched and grew and grew as he walked back the man on the table, leaving what looked like a string stretching from the cauldron in his wake. Smiling one last time at the man, he calmly lifted up his wand and looked down at him.

"And now… let us see how my brilliance pays off." And with that he promptly flicked his wand and the small bit of the red substance clinging to it came free and fell upon the exposed, beating heart before him.

As the slow glow of red began to seep into the runes and spread, he slowly begin to let his grin grow to sinister proportions.

Yes, this had potential indeed.

-o-o-o-

Bellatrix Black was frowning heavily as she looked over her dresses. None of them would do. They were all heavy, puffy things, for balls and public appearances, or simple daily outings. Nothing for properly enticing a man's attention.

This would not do. Not in the least. How was she supposed to catch his attention if she had nothing to catch his attention with?

"Well, Maeve, all these clothes and nothing right." She almost pouted as she voiced her thoughts and slowly tapped her wand against her lower lip.

"… Do we even want to know, sister?" Andromeda spoke up as she and a nervous Narcissa walked into Bellatrix's room. "What madness have you fallen into this time?"

"… Madness?" Narcissa asked, eyes wide as she looked fearfully at Bellatrix.

"It is simply a figure of speech, one that our sister is taking liberties with," Bellatrix stated with a slight glower, before brightening. "But, now you both can help me!"

"And with what, pray tell?" Andromeda asked with a weary sigh. "Perhaps the destruction of the mound of mail from your suitors? I understand it might be a bit much to simply chuck onto an open flame. I'm not sure the wards could handle that much parchment going to flame at once."

"I need something to wear," Bellatrix stated imperiously before her lips broke into a slightly shy smile. "Something to attract a man's attention."

Narcissa stared. Andromeda arched a brow. Bellatrix took in both reactions and frowned.

"What? Is it so completely unbelievable that I would wish a man's attention?" Bellatrix demanded with a huff.

"I think it is more we were wondering if it would be best for us to warn the poor man to settle his affairs." Andromeda stated dryly. "Whom is the poor soul who has managed to catch your eye?"

Andromeda had grown consistently sharper in recent days, her words almost cutting, among everyone save Narcissa. A reaction to the end of their short lived neutrality. Or at least what everyone thought.

"Father has informed me that the newest Hogwarts Professor is one Harry Potter." Bellatrix stated as she looked at one of her tighter robes critically.

"Who?" Narcissa asked in confusion as she looked up to Andromeda for an explanation, only to see her sister's face suddenly ashen.

"… You… you truly plan to see this through?" Andromeda asked, her voice trembling slightly as she stared back at Bellatrix. "He is…" There was a pause before she licked her lips then continued. "He is a half blood, sister. Our family…"

"Our family will be taking his side; you should know this," Bellatrix stated with a slight bite to her words. "The Knights broke our neutrality when they assaulted our father and the head of our family. What did you expect to happen? That we would turn a blind eye to this and fall on bent knee to our would-be oppressor?"

"Yes," Andromeda stated faintly as she stared at Bellatrix, moving to the bed and sinking into it. "I… did not imagine anything could change Father and Uncle's minds. But the Storm Chaser, Bella? Do you understand what that will mean?"

"… The Storm Chaser?" Narcissa asked, her eyes widened and then sparkling. "He's a Potter?!"

"Yes, he's a Potter," Bellatrix agreed with a roll of her eyes at Narcissa before she settled her gaze back onto Andromeda. "What were you expecting, sister? Surely you saw that this was coming? Even I could see that eventually the Knights would violate our neutrality. They were going to become our enemies sooner or later."

"But…" Andromeda stared at Bellatrix, looking lost. "… How did this change? How did so much change?"

"How did what change?" Bellatrix was getting frustrated with her sister. She couldn't understand why she seemed so utterly lost with the situation.

"Our family hates half-bloods and muggleborn!" Andromeda blurted out as she stared at Bellatrix wide eyed. "They hate anyone whom accepts them!"

Bellatrix just shrugged. "Our family is changing, Andromeda. And, based on what I've seen, is that truly a bad thing? All three of the current lords are half-bloods. All three. Not a single pureblood among them. We can either start blindly follow the lying mad man who destroys his own soul in a futile attempt at immortality, or we change and start looking at the bigger world."

"A world that has the man you're lusting after in it?" Andromeda said accusingly.

"Yes," Bellatrix agreed. "Now, are you going to help me find something to wear or not?"

-o-o-o-

"He is not what I was expecting," Albus Dumbledore said quietly as he lightly swirled a glass of brandy in his hand, taking a moment to savor the bouquet before taking a simple sip.

"You knew you were meeting a Potter and you were expecting him to be… what?" Alastor Moody asked with a snort as he sipped at his own flask. "Either belligerently blood thirsty, or wide eyed and impressionable?"

"Certainly not the latter," Albus stated with a sigh of irritation as he affixed his friend with a look. "Our previous encounter had proven that he was not some wide eyed innocent. I was not expecting him to be so… rational. I expected more cynicism, more ruthlessness."

"And that's the problem with men like you, Albus," Moody said sourly as he took another drink of his flask. "You automatically associate being willing and able to kill with becoming a monster."

Dumbledore turned and looked at the man. "What would you call it then?"

"There was a muggle from across the pond that had a saying: 'Those who abjure violence can only do so because others are committing violence on their behalf.'" Moody noted as he sipped his flask. "There will always be those out there who will try to use violence upon others for their own gain. It is only moderated by the presence of people whom will turn that violence back upon them should they do so."

"That offers a desolate view of humanity," Dumbledore responded with a frown before sipping at his drink. "I prefer to think of the nature of men as being something above such a need, so long as they are shown that path does not need to be walked."

"And as the muggle said, the only reason you can even believe that is because there have been men whom have stood between you, your students, and the public at large and those that would do them harm." Moody stated with a hard eyed glare at Dumbledore. "A fact that is so readily forgotten until the next Dark Lord rises up and men like you insist upon restraining and shackling those that would protect you."

"I have already had this discussion with you before, Alastor, I have little interest in continuing it now." Dumbledore said disapprovingly.

"Arrogance is something that betters no one," Moody stated with a slight glare. "You might've accepted him, but you still think yourself his better."

Dumbledore slightly scowled at Moody, before sighing softly. "What do you expect of me, Alastor? I cannot see the world as you see it. I will not see it. Because, otherwise, why did I stand against Gellert?"

"You stood against him because he had become one of the men whom think that it is their right to judge what is best for the world, and that it is their right to use violence to achieve it." Moody said simply. "You stood against him because good men were willing to stand up against him first, to be the wall that the wave of his armies broke upon, good men that fought and brought violence back against those that would do violence upon them.

"And if they hadn't, how much more death and suffering and violence would've been spread?" Moody capped his flask and screwed it shut before shaking his head as he stood. "This time, though, this isn't an argument of philosophy, Albus. Actual lives are at stake. How many are your high minded ideals worth?"

Turning, Moody cut off anything that Dumbledore could have said in response and moved to the floo. "Lucius Potter just received a goblin-forged sword, commissioned on behalf of one Harry Potter. Might be worth knowing what he plans to do with something like that."

And with that, a pinch of floo powder, and a few quiet words he was gone in a flash of emerald flames, leaving Albus behind in a sour mood he'd become entirely too familiar with of late.

Though, Moody's words echoed in his head. What would someone like Harry Potter need with a goblin-forged blade? With a sigh he set down his brandy and moved to his personal collection of books. It would seem that he had some research to do.

-o-o-o-

"… Why in Merlin's name did you have us meet you here of all places?" Lucius demanded as he warily looked at the entrance to the girl's bathroom as he held the case containing the blade.

"Because it's where the entrance is located, why else?" Harry asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yes, Lucius, why else?" Charlus agreed with a bemused smile on his lips and a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

"… In a girls'… why the devil is it in here of all places?!" Lucius demanded with a huff and a glare.

"Don't look at me," Harry said as he walked towards a specific sink. "I just found it."

"… I am getting entirely too old for this level of ridiculousness." Lucius muttered sourly, but followed Harry anyway.

"But we're still here, now, aren't we?" Charlus stated with a chuckle as he held out his wand at the ready.

"And we're still here." Lucius agreed with a huff.

"Open." Harry hissed to the sink, causing it to transform into the entrance of the chamber.

"… You're a parselmouth?" Lucius demanded, his eyes wide as he and Charlus stiffened in shock.

"I stole it from Riddle," Harry agreed with a nod, causing the men to relax slightly. "And all it means is that I can get some snakes to listen to me. And most of them aren't actually too bad. They'd rather be left alone in peace and quiet. In a nice warm spot."

The two elder Potters simply gave him a look.

"… Moving on," Harry said with a slight grumble. "It's a slide, so best to have a cushioning charm ready to go."

The trip was remarkably smoother than it had been last time. There was only one shed skin and this one was rotted and almost completely decayed. It had been almost thirty years since Voldemort had been there.

When they finally reached the chamber entrance, Harry had turned to them and looked pointedly at the men. "All right, this is as far as you two go. At least until after I've dealt with the basilisk."

"And why is it we're not allowed to help?" Charlus demanded as he gave Harry a look the younger man was unused to seeing on his face, one of childish petulance. "We are both completely capable of…"

Lucius and Harry both just gave him a look, each of them with their arms crossed about their chests while he finally sighed. "Fine. Take away my school boy dreams."

"Happily," Harry and Lucius stated completely in sync before glancing at each other in slight surprise.

"That is mildly disturbing," Charlus noted as he forced himself to regain his typical composure. "Though I still wish you'd let us help."

"I'd prefer to live to at least James' graduation, thank you." Lucius corrected as he opened up the case to reveal the sword inside.

Frowning slightly, Harry lifted out the silvery blade, a longsword instead of the slim, rapier-like blade that was Gryffindor's sword. Taking a few swings of it, he pursed his lips, getting a feel for the weapon.

"What do you think?" Lucius asked curiously.

"It's a sword," Harry stated simply with a nod. "That's about all I really know and I'm just going to make sure I stab it into the snake. What were you expecting? For me to be some kind of sword master?"

"Well, I had hoped you'd at least had some training," Lucius stated with a wince as he watched how Harry handled the blade that had cost just short of a small fortune.

"Nope," Harry stated. "Now, wish me luck."

And with that Harry opened the door and shut it behind him.

For a moment he glanced around, taking in the relatively familiar sights of the chamber. With a slow nod of his head he set to work, his magic flowing out, settling into worn stone and earth that was spread about the chamber from the centuries of decay. Calmly, deliberately, he enforced his will upon earthen pieces, forcing it to grow to his will.

This time there were no slithering wyrms burying into the ground to explode up at a moment's notice. Instead a hulking brute took form, carved into a rough parody of a man, with huge club-like fists tipped in jagged talons. From the earth he created a sleek creature, a mix of cat and serpent that calmly formed around the silver blade.

With the remaining stones and earth a slim, snake-like length slipped up and draped itself over the mouth of the statue that held Slytherin's basilisk. Rough spikes, positioned like spikes pointed in, and the creature went still. Taking a moment to survey the scene, Harry nodded his head before positioning himself behind one of the columns, hiding himself from the sight of the snake and speaking.

"Speak to me, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

There was a great creaking yawn as the statue opened, just as it had before. Then, with a slow, almost tentative motion, Harry could hear the hiss filling the air. "Master? Have you returned for me, finally? Is it time for me again?"

Giving no response, Harry kept his eyes closed, keeping a feel on the magic he'd set out soaking into his creations. Slowly, tentatively, the basilisk stuck its head partially out, its tongue flicking out. Then another pause before it continued.

"No. You are not Master. Who are you, who thinks he can command me? Speak! Or I will end your miserable existence!"

When it received no answer it slowly began to slip more fully out of the hole. "So be it…!"

As soon as its head had fully slipped out of the statue's mouth, the creature looped around the hole tightened up, driving its stony spines into the basilisk's hide as pulled the snake into a ligature. Small swelling pools of blood grew around the noose as the snake hand its head pulled against the roof of the hole. While the attempted strangulation was straining the basilisk, the hulking brute lumbered forward.

With a sudden rush it grabbed ahold of the snake's snapping jaws, attempting force them open and wide.

Primal, wild panic flooded the basilisk and it shoved forward, ripping through the wrap about its throat and smashing into the brute Harry had created.

For a moment, the golem-like creation held its ground, but then slowly it began to bend, creaking groans easily heard as stone began to crack and break before the force of the snake's push. Wild, snapping bites struck against the stone, its wild, thrashing force tearing the creature's fingers from its frame. Finally it snapped at its waist, falling back as the basilisk surged forward trying to escape.

Harry fought down a swearing breath as he focused. His golem's arms snagged hold of snake's neck and weighted it down. The broken lower part of its body fell back, legs reshaping, then clamping down, locking around the basilisk as well.

Unfortunately there was simply too much room for the monster to thrash its coils about as it hissed with wordless fury and tried to escape the stone holding it in place.

With a barely repressed growl Harry sent the sleek creature he'd created running forward at high speeds, straight towards the basilisk. The restrained beast did the only thing it could; it snapped down on the creation as soon as it was in range, swallowing it almost whole. Inside of the basilisk's mouth, the creature pushed itself deeper and then suddenly hunched forward, revealing the goblin forged blade erupting out of its spine.

Sinking hooked nails into the soft flesh of the basilisk's sensitive tongue, it waited as the snake's jaws flung open, tongue flailing about, before snapping shut. And, as soon as the mouth closed, the creature froze in shock as it could feel the thick, long blade penetrating up into the soft flesh at the back of its mouth, into its brain. When the still-twitching basilisk collapsed bonelessly onto the ground, Harry almost sighed in relief before concentrating on the remains of his humanoid brute and having it continue crushing the basilisk's throat, tighter and tighter.

When he was finally satisfied that the creature was well and truly dead, Harry let the sight escape his lips and made a gesture. The earth around the sword almost melted away from it, flowing out of the snake's mouth, before moving over each of the basilisk's eyes, covering up the deadly gaze. One of these days, he really was going to stop doing things this bloody stupid.

Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be today.

-o-o-o-

Groaning softly Harry carried the case containing the blade, now imbued with the venom of the basilisk, to his room, ready to call it a day. He'd had to promise Lucius and Charlus a return trip to see about harvesting the basilisk and exploring what was left of the chamber. Now, though, he just wanted to wash off the feeling of grime and grit that simple cleaning spells would not remove.

And stow the blade somewhere safe.

That would be what was important.

As soon as he opened his door, however, he found his wand in his hand and pointed straight towards a wide-eyed looking young woman staring back at him.

A dark eyed, dark haired beauty, dressed in a tight, elegant looking dress that would be borderline scandalous for the wizarding world. A beauty with her hair done up, her face artfully made up, and the press of cleavage presented around a rim of black lace. Unfortunately, he also recognized this particularly beauty.

Bellatrix Black stared back at him for a moment, before lightly licking her lips and nervously pressing them together. "… Hello, again?"

Harry had a feeling this was going to be a long day.