HPF81-90

Chapter 81

At the end, the goblin came through a small batwing

hip-height door and, with another gesture, had Harry

follow him through a full height door. As he did so,

Harry felt the effect of 'Fool's Downfall' wash over him,

stripping away his glamour.

Two guards and the teller goblin, stood just out of his

reach but well within reach of the two long halberds

the goblin guards were bearing as they stared back,

impassively.

"Well, Mister Potter," said the goblin. "You are who the

blood identifying ritual said you are. Follow me." And

the goblin spun about and continued to walk down the

long corridor.

Hurrying to catch up, Harry said, "Now that you know

who I am. May I have the pleasure of

knowing your name?"

There was another slight hesitation as the goblin

seemed to consider whether or not Harry had an

ulterior motive for asking. Then he almost grudgingly

replied, "Its Ripclaw, Mister Potter."

"Then I am pleased to make your acquaintance.

Well-met, Teller Ripclaw," Harry politely said. It was for

this sort of moment that Harry was grateful for the

long hours of chatting he had with Griphook at Shell

Cottage in the old timeline. If it wasn't that Griphook

was also curious, he doubted the tricky old goblin

would have told him anything about goblin society and

modes of greeting. He was using that knowledge now.

The goblin stopped and turned to him with a look of

combined suspicion and respect. Eventually, he said,

"Well-met, Mister Potter," before he continued on his

way.

Almost suddenly they stopped at a normal door, similar

to ones he'd already passed. Affixed at about chest

height was a small gold plaque. On it in engraved black

lettering was a single family name - 'Potter'.

'Sweet Merlin!' thought Harry, as Ripclaw rapped his

knuckles smartly on the door. To have your own

Account Manager demonstrated beyond any other

symbol just how rich and important the House of

Potter was to both the wizarding world and the goblins.

That simple plaque represented so much.

There was an almost growling bark sound from beyond

the door and Ripclaw opened it, leading Harry inside.

Stopping about five feet short of the single desk within,

with an older goblin sitting behind it, Ripclaw gave a

short bow and said, "The Heir Potter."

The older goblin looked up at him as Ripclaw left and

barked, "And just where in Grognuk's name

have you been, Mister Potter? Time and again we have

sent you requests for you to come and visit us, and you

have ignored each and every one of them!"

Calmly, Harry said, "Before you start ripping strips off

me and rendering them down for potions ingredients,

perhaps you should first start by telling me who you

are."

Pausing for another furious glare, the old goblin used a

slightly lower volume to growl, "I am Senior Account

Keeper Sharpclaw. Now, perhaps you can explain to me

your actions."

Spying the single chair sitting before the desk, Harry

indicated it and asked, "May I? I have somewhat

distressing news to impart to you."

Sharpclaw gave a short sharp nod but continued to

glare at Harry as he calmly made his way to the chair

and sat down.

"It will distress you to know, Senior Sharpclaw, that my

owl mail... contrary to my prior knowledge until a

couple of days ago... has been redirected away from

me," Harry calmly replied. "A couple of days ago, and

immediately after I forced him to do so, I had Albus

Dumbledore show me to where my mail has been

redirected by him. It is all, currently, stored in one of

the abandoned parts of the Hogwarts castle. In a

storeroom there, there are literally thousands of items

of my illegally undelivered mail sitting on shelves

waiting for me to go through. That includes all mail

sent to me from Gringotts."

Staring back with an almost murderous look at Harry,

Sharpclaw asked, "Do you mean to tell me that Wizard

Dumbledore has been intercepting your mail and

redirecting it to a different location against your

wishes?"

"I do," Harry calmly replied. "However, he had himself

recognised as my magical guardian by the Wizengamot.

And he told me he feared those with ill-intent towards

me may have attempted to use owl mail as a way to do

me harm. However, while his stated intentions are

good, his execution of those intentions... shall we say...

leave a lot to be desired."

"It is both illegal under wizarding law, and a breach of

treaty, to intercept Gringotts mail!" Sharpclaw barked

back, furious all over again.

"And barking at me like a mangy dog might make you

feel better, but accomplishes nothing!" Harry shot right

back.

Sharpclaw stared back at him with a look of shock for a

moment, as Harry matched him stare for stare, before

he burst out laughing. "Well reasoned, Heir Potter," he

finally, and lot more calmly, stated. "I take it you have

remonstrated with the old fool, and we can now expect

you to receive your mail?"

"You may. However, I'm going to ask... until I'm sure

the mail redirection has been removed... you send all

correspondence to me care of a Miss Hermione

Granger," Harry calmly replied. "And, now that you've

vented your spleen at me, perhaps we can get on with

both why you've sought my attendance, and why I

came in. Time is money, after all."

"That it is," Sharpclaw said, looking back at Harry with

something akin to awakening respect.

Over the next hour Sharpclaw provided Harry with a

folio of recent account statements for his three vaults,

spoke to the quite substantial Potter investment

portfolio - and his plans for it - and a listing of Potter

property. Of course, Harry couldn't access the two main

Potter vaults until he was emancipated. And he

couldn't tell Senior Sharpclaw his emancipation would

occur in only a matter of about six weeks. So, that had

to wait.

He did inform the goblin that he suspected he would be

emancipated 'on or about' the 1st of November. And

that that particular information was in the highest

confidence. "It is my intention at this time," he told the

goblin, "that I will be visiting you again on the 1st of

November, or very soon afterwards. At that time I

expect to have been emancipated. And I further intend,

at that time, we fully activate the Potter holdings,

vaults and all."

"You know something," the old goblin accused.

"Names for the champions for the upcoming Tri-Wizard

Tournament will be drawn on the evening of the 31st of

October," explained Harry. "The Ministry have made

the determination that only 'of-age' witches and

wizards may take part in the tournament. I believe my

name will be selected as a champion. If the Ministry

demands I compete, I believe they will have effectively

emancipated me. I intend to make use of that."

Chapter 82

Sharpclaw looked back at him with shrewd respect. "So,

you will come in here, fill out the emancipation

acknowledgement documentation... which I will, of

course, have prepared for such an eventuality... and

have me immediately submit them to the Ministry

through our normal channel of communication."

"Precisely," Harry replied, glad the old goblin

understood. "Plus, I am in the process of securing the

services of a law firm. I have a meeting with one such

individual this afternoon. That man, or woman or

another, will be providing legal counsel that can be

used to assist."

For his part, Harry had both Daphne and Hermione

'keyed' in to accessing his accounts, and asked for a

recommendation for a jeweller who was discreet. He

told the goblin he had every intention of placing

betrothal rings on the fingers of both his bondmates

the next Friday.

And, finally, he donned the Head of House ring for

House Potter; and immediately disillusioned it.

"This doesn't make me a Lord or anything, does it?"

asked Harry, a little worried.

With a very human-like snort, Sharpclaw replied, "Of

course not. From wherever would you get such an

idea?"

With a shrug and wry smile, Harry replied, "Just a

suspicion."

"No, Mister Potter," the goblin said. "Lordships and the

like are something the muggles do; not witches and

wizards."

Harry nodded back in acknowledgement before he

continued, "Now, there is one final matter I wish to

raise with you concerning what I suspect is a dark

magic item of the highest calibre being stored in one of

Gringotts's vaults. It is not in one of mine – and I had

neither control over its creation, or over it ever being

placed within your vaults; nor any control over it even

now. However, I'm aware that Gringotts, in general, will

be most distressed to learn of its existence - even more

so that it is within goblin holdings."

With a wary look back at Harry, Sharpclaw asked, "And

what and where would this dark magic item be?"

"The item is the personal potion chalice of Helga

Hufflepuff. It is known as Hufflepuff's Cup," Harry

further explained. "However, a wizard by the name of

Tom Riddle... and also known by the pseudonym of

'Lord Voldemort'... used it to convert it into a horcrux;

or, soul container.

"As for where it is; I'm led to believe it's currently in

the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange... here, at Gringotts."

"It's what?!" roared the old goblin.

Harry just cocked an eyebrow back, unflinching.

Sharpclaw jabbed a finger down on what appeared to

be a rune on his desk and barked at it in the 'Tongue' of

the goblins. Momentarily, there rapidly entered a

couple of minor level younger goblins.

Sharpclaw rapid-fire barked at them in the Tongue for a

few moments before they both looked quite angry and

shot back out the door. The old goblin then swivelled

his head to stare hard back at Harry. Harry sat with his

eyebrow still cocked and the barest hint of a smirk on

his face, calm as can be.

With a wary glare back, Sharpclaw asked, "And how did

you come to learn of this... abomination, Mister Potter?

Or, that it resides in one of our vaults, contrary to

Treaty?"

"Alas, I cannot... not will not... cannot say, Senior

Sharpclaw," Harry calmly replied. "I am bound not to.

Nevertheless, I know my information is accurate, as we

both shall soon learn."

A few minutes later, one of the two younger goblins

from earlier burst in through the doors. He ignored

Harry and, with a growl in his voice, said something to

Sharpclaw. Clearly, it was information confirming

Harry's 'bombshell'.

The two spoke for a few moments before the younger

goblin again departed and Sharpclaw, once more,

turned his attention to Harry.

"Your... information has been confirmed, Mister

Potter," stated Sharpclaw with disgust. "As punishment

for the witch who did this, the entirety of the vaults

will be confiscated. You will be awarded a ten percent

cut of the value of the contents as 'finder's fee' for the

information."

"Once the Cup has been 'cleansed' of the foul taint

upon it, I want possession of it," Harry quickly stated.

"As it belonged to one of the founders of Hogwarts, I

want to be able to return it to the school, so it may be

placed on display, at a later time."

Sharpclaw nodded back and said, "That can be done.

The value of it will, however, be deducted from the

finder's fee."

"Ninety percent of its value, you mean," mused Harry.

"After all, ten percent of its value is rightfully mine as

part of the finder's fee."

Sharpclaw stared back shrewdly for a moment before

he gave a firm nod of recognition of Harry's reasoning.

"As you state," he replied. "However, you will also be

charged the cost of removing the horcrux from the

object, in return."

Harry smiled and replied, "As you state, Senior

Sharpclaw." Harry then rose and said, "Time is money,

Senior; and I've taken enough of yours."

Not even moving from his desk, Sharpclaw replied,

"That it is, Mister Potter. I shall have the

parchmentwork ready for you by the 1st of November. I

also expect the Cup to be cleansed and ready for you to

pick up, by then."

With a slight bow, Harry said, "Well-met, Senior

Sharpclaw."

With the return acknowledgement in his ears, Harry

turned and left the office, heading back to the main

lobby.

Leaving the bank, Harry redonned his glamour in the

lobby and made his way directly to the address of the

jeweller Sharpclaw recommended. Entering, he

approached the storekeeper and informed her of his

needs.

"Three matching betrothal...?" the witch asked before

her eyes widened in understanding. "You're Harry

Potter!"

"This purchase is on behalf of Mister Potter," Harry

firmly stated. While he didn't lie, he knew the

storekeeper would jump to the wrong conclusion.

"Oh!" the storekeeper said. "And I may call you...?"

"Mister Evans," Harry muttered. Again, not another lie

as she never asked for his name; just a name to call him.

Harry now felt like he was 'channelling' Dumbledore.

"Of course, Mister Evans," she half-gushed. "This way,

please."

She led him over to one of her secured glass-fronted

displays and pulled out a long tray of rings similar to

how they were presented in the muggle way. She then

carried that, plus a second tray, to a counter top.

Chapter 83

With the use of twin bright overhead gaslights, she

held the trays angled up slightly to display them for

him. "These are our usual Ancient House style

betrothal rings," she explained. "Of course, we can also

do custom requests, if that is more Mister Potter's

preference."

Harry gave a light grunt in acknowledgement, and the

sale-witch continued.

"Of course, I know little about... Miss Granger, wasn't

it?" But, without waiting for confirmation, she

continued, "But we know the Greengrass family quite

well.

"If I recall, Miss Daphne has light blue eyes, a light

complexion, and light blonde hair. And I've heard Miss...

Hermione?... has brown eyes, I think, light complexion

and mid to chocolate brown hair. I do not know if we

have any rings that could easily match both ladies."

"That's okay," Harry replied, still looking down at the

trays. "I'm fully aware of what Mister Potter wants.

And he describes Miss Granger's eyes as chocolate

brown, the same as her hair."

Indicating one of the rings, he described, "He wants

something like that one for both ladies. Except he

wants a setting of three small stones of equal cut and

size in a closed shape. Each stone is to be an identical

heart-cut, or loveheart-shaped cut, with the points

pointing into the centre of the symbol so it appears like

a six-petalled flower. And a similar ring in a man's style.

If you have a spare small sheet of parchment, ink and a

quill I can draw it for you."

"Certainly," she said, moving to a small desk and

drawing the three items out of a drawer. She brought

them back and placed them for Harry's use on the

counter next to the trays.

Harry then carefully, drew the shape of three heart-cut

shapes with the bottom tip of each pointing into the

middle. It made a somewhat hexagonal shape of the

three stones.

Once he was completed he said, "Now for the stones,

themselves. For each ring, one each of aquamarine,

sunstone and emerald. For Miss Greengrass's ring, the

aquamarine stone is to be centre top; for Miss Granger,

the sunstone is to be centre top; and for Mister Potter,

the emerald."

Harry quickly drew two matching stone patterns and

named each stone according to what he'd just said.

Spinning it about so the witch could see what he meant,

he asked, "Is that clear enough for you?"

Bending over to look closer at the three designs, the

witch was frowning and replied, "Yes - yes, I believe it

is. You understand, of course, the stones will be a little

on the tiny side and it will still be expensive?"

"I do," Harry replied with a gentle nod. "These rings are

to represent the uniqueness of their three-way soul

bond, and to show one and all that they are genuinely

committed to one another."

"Yes; so it would," the witch said, now clearly

understanding what she was looking upon.

Looking back at Harry, she explained, "This will be

quite the unusual, if not unique, project I have ever

undertaken. Now, what metal do you want for the rings,

themselves?"

"White gold," he said. "I've been told their bonds

glowed silver with a slight pearl hue when they were

initiated, so that sounds like the perfect metal for the

ring."

"That it does," she smiled.

After getting a promise of discretion for the work and

who ordered it, a promise of a rush on the order - once

Harry offered a fifteen percent bonus if the work could

be done and delivered within a week - and an

advanced payment of the total amount of just over one

thousand galleons, Harry left the store with a bit of a

skip in his step.

His next stop took him down Knockturn Alley. Just as

he entered he raised the hood of his cloak and placed a

second glamour over his face that would give it a type

of blur and make his voice sound a little deeper and

menacing.

With an air of supreme confidence he made his way

down the Alley. Other witches and wizards, recognising

the stride of someone powerful, stepped out of his way

as he passed.

Finding the store he wanted, he entered.

At the counter, he pushed the little bell to summon the

store owner to the front of the store.

"Yes, sir?" asked the store owner, a wizened old man,

coming from behind a set of shelves behind the short

counter. There were no other customers.

"I need six auror-capable minimum quick draw wand

holsters," Harry firmly stated.

"Such are somewhat illegal," said the proprietor. "Ol'

Jimmy can be in lotsa troubles with the DMLE, if he

sells such a thing to you."

Leaning forward and speaking a little quieter but just as

firm, Harry said, "The Dark Lord will soon return. He

will reward those who have been of service."

The old man's eyes widened a little before he stuttered,

"O-of course, sir! O-one moment, please."

He quickly ducked back between the shelves and

returned with a plain unmarked small crate. He placed

it on the bench, quickly looked around, and removed

the lid.

Inside, Harry could see at least a dozen such holsters

rested within. He then reached inside and removed six

at random. "They are all in good working order?" he

demanded.

"Of course, Sir," the store keeper replied. "Hit Wizard

level and quality."

With a grunt, Harry asked, "How much?"

"O-one hundred galleons each, Sir," the man said.

Harry could see the man clearly did not believe his own

pricing. He snapped his hand out with his fast

Quidditch reflexes and grabbed the man by a fistful of

his robe lapels before dragging him hard against and

slightly over the counter.

"When I asked how much I did not expect to be so

insulted. Try again," he snarled. And shoved the man

back away again.

"Y-yes, sir; sorry Sir," the man stammered clearly

frightened. "Just a test, Sir. I-I'm sure you understand.

Harry just stood there silent and trying to look

menacing.

The old man nervously wet his lips and said, "F-Forty

galleons each, Sir."

"Thirty," Harry snarled. "For your insult."

Looking a little pained, the old man begged,

"Thirty-five, please, Sir."

Harry stood glaring at the man to make him sweat a

little more before he grunted in the affirmative. He

pulled two hundred and ten galleons from his pouch

and dropped the coins on the counter top. He hesitated

a moment before dropping another ten galleons on the

counter and said, "For a jar of holster polish and your

trouble."

Chapter 84

Quickly, the little old man reached under the counter

and pulled the required jar out, placing it on the

counter next to the six holsters.

Gathering the holsters and jar up, Harry dropped them

into one of his large inside pockets. Then, just before

he swept out of the store, he snarled, "I was never

here."

After he'd gone, the old man relaxed and muttered,

"Who was never here?"

Back out in the alley, Harry wended his way back to

Diagon Alley, stripped the second glamour away and

dropped his hood. He ducked in to Flourish & Blott's to

set up an account for both of his ladies. Then did the

same next door at Madam Malkin's and next door,

again, at Madam Primpernelle's. At each he also sought

to be placed on mailing lists. Thinking about it a bit, he

also added Twillfit and Tattings, the Owl Emporium and

a couple of other stores. Finally, he headed back to the

Leaky Cauldron, and Floo'ed back to the Three

Broomsticks.

Once in Hogsmeade he headed to Gladrags and created

an account for himself and both girls to use, then

ducked next door to Scrivenshaft's and did the same. In

both, he also sought to be added to their mailing lists,

too.

Once he was satisfied he'd accomplished what he

wanted to accomplish, he headed to the Shrieking

Shack, entered through the same rear window he used

to exit earlier, and took the hidden passage back to the

Whomping Willow.

A quick whack on the knot and he donned his

invisibility cloak to walk back to the castle.

Once inside, he found an empty alcove where he

removed the cloak and the glamour and made his way

back to the apartment.

Stepping inside, both witches grapple-hugged him with

soft cries of, "Oh Merlin, we were so worried! You're

okay, aren't you?"

"I'm fine," he calmly replied. As they backed off him,

and he made his way to collapse onto one of the

couches, he asked, "Now, what did I miss?"

"Nothing that we know of," replied Daphne. "We were

getting worried because it's almost lunchtime and you

weren't back."

"So, what happened?" Hermione asked. "Where did

you go? Did you get everything done you needed to?"

"I went into Gringotts where I got yelled at by the

Potter Senior Account Keeper for ignoring his mail to

me. I explained to him about the mail redirections and

asked him, just in case, to send everything to me care

of you, Hermione. And started the prep work for my

emancipation that's going to occur when my name

comes out of the Goblet.

"Oh, and as per one of my tasks, alerted them to the

Cup horcrux in the Lestrange vault. For doing so, they

awarded me ten percent of the contents as, what the

goblin called, 'Finder's Fee'. As part of that, I get the

Cup once they remove the horcrux from it. I should be

able to pick it up on the 1st of November."

"You didn't tell him how you know that's going to

happen, did you?" asked Hermione, a little worried.

"No, of course not," he replied. "I just implied I knew

my name would be selected. I did not tell him why I

knew.

"I then did a bit of shopping for things that'll be

delivered during the week. And set a few accounts up

at some stores. Then, I simply came back here, making

sure I wasn't recognised or spotted for the whole

time."

Both girls then looked relieved.

"What store accounts did you set up, Harry?" asked

Daphne.

With a smirk, he replied, "Well, first I set up my

Gringotts accounts to give both you ladies access. You'll

need..."

"You what?!" both girls practically shouted.

With a wince at the shout but still smirking, he

explained, "I set up my accounts with Gringotts to give

both you ladies access. We're bonded and we're going

to be married. This was the right thing to do."

"But, Harry," whined Hermione. "We can empty you

out; spend all your money; send you broke."

"For starters, he explained, "No, you can't. At least, not

right away. You only have access to the same vault I

currently have access to. And that's my trust vault.

"When my emancipation is recognised by the goblins

I'll have full access to the other two vaults. At that time,

I'll create individual family member vaults for the pair

of you. When we're married, I'll grant you access to the

rest, except for the specific Head of House stuff.

"As Daphne can attest, this is normal." Looking over at

the other girl, Daphne nodded. "And I'm going to set

up the family member vaults with a substantial

monthly stipend; so, you'll never want for anything. It's

my responsibility to make sure you are both financially

cared for; and I intend to be very good at doing that."

With an initial frown leading to a sigh and nod of

acceptance, Hermione asked, "And what other

accounts did you set up?"

"Well... since you're being so pushy to get the

information... it's something I was going to tell you as

part of your birthday present from me," he offered. "I

wanted to tell you that I'm going to treat each of your

birthdays as if it's also a birthday of the other. That is,

you'll both have birthday presents for Hermione's

birthday next Friday, and... actually, when is your

birthday, Daphne?"

"The 12th of May," she replied.

"Then from me you'll both receive birthday presents

for Daphne's birthday on the 12th of May." With a

chuckle he explained, "It makes it easier for me and I'm

not spoiling one of you over the other, even if it is your

birthday."

"Well, I won't say no to an extra birthday," Daphne

smirked.

"Or more birthday presents," Hermione added.

"Good," he firmly said. "Now, using the time I had, in

Diagon Alley I set up accounts for the three of us with

Flourish & Blott's, Madam Malkin's, Twillfit and

Tattings and, for you two, Madam Primpernelle's. On

my way back, I passed through Hogsmeade and set up

accounts for the three of us at Gladrags and

Scrivenshaft's."

"Wow," exclaimed Hermione, a little shocked.

"Just, wow!"

Daphne came over and plonked herself on Harry's lap

where she proceeded to give him a most intense but

short snog. Pulling back, she said, "What such a clever

and loving bondmate you are."

Not wanting to be left out, Hermione came over and

tapped Daphne on the shoulder. Daphne hopped off

Harry's lap and moved to sit beside him as Hermione

took her own spot on his lap. She, too, also gave him an

intense but short snog. "Yes, you are," she softly

agreed.

Chapter 85

"Alright. What else did you do?" asked Daphne, as

Hermione moved off his lap to sit on his other side.

"I bought birthday presents," he smugly replied. "And,

no; I'm not telling you what they are. Besides, since

some of it involved custom work, I'm not sure what's

going to arrive before your birthday, or not. You'll just

have to wait until next Friday to find out."

Both witches were clearly excited at this news. "Any

hints?" asked Daphne, while Hermione asked "If you

got multiple couldn't you at least tell us about one?"

"No and no," he said. "Besides, one of the gifts was the

access to my trust vault, and another was all the

accounts at the various stores both in Diagon Alley and

Hogsmeade. Do you really think I'd make use of

Madam Primpernelle's? Even though she does?

"No, ladies," he firmly explained. "You've already been

informed of, and given, two of them."

"But, Harry," Daphne mock-whined. "We can't use any

of those until the first Hogsmeade weekend, at least!"

"Ah!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "I knew I was

forgetting something." He reached into his robes and

withdrew a stack of folded parchment. "Ta da!" he

gleefully exclaimed. "Mail order brochures!"

No sooner had the words been uttered when they were

snatched out of his hand by Daphne, who quickly took

them back over to the other couch, lest Harry suddenly

snatched them back.

Just as she was sitting down, staring at her prize,

Daphne beckoned Hermione over to join her. Surprising

Harry, she did. And both of his bondmates happily

shared the brochures and talked about what they could

order.

Using the opportunity of their distraction, Harry quickly

ducked into his bedroom, pulled out the bottom

drawer of his chest of drawers, and dropped the wand

holsters within the now available hollow, before sliding

the drawer back. He'd try to talk to Dobby later, in

private, about getting them wrapped for him.

Walking back into the living room where the girls were

still going through the brochures, he returned to his

seat.

"Harry," complained Daphne. "You didn't pick up the

latest catalogues."

"There were catalogues?" he asked. "Well, I'm sure

Hedwig would love the work. Why not send her, asking

for them?"

The two witches glanced at each other for a moment

before Hermione suddenly said, "I'll get the

stationery," and quickly made her way to her room.

Hermione liked to keep her bag on her dresser cum

chest of drawers; while Daphne and Harry both kept

theirs on their personal bookcases in the living room.

After both witches had gone through writing letters to

the various stores and ordering the mail order

catalogues for each, Harry finally managed to get some

answers out of them about the scan of his personal

effects.

"Well," started Daphne. "There were tracking charms

on Hedwig and her cage, on your trunk, on your book

bag, on that small backpack you've got in the bottom

of your trunk, on your second pair of shoes, on your

photo album of your parents and their friends, on your

photo frame of the picture of your parents holding on

to each other, on your comb, and on that funny billed

cap you've got. I think that was it."

"Yes, I think it was," agreed Hermione. "And, I had

tracking charms on my trunk, my watch, Crookshanks's

basket, carrier and collar, my necklace, a couple of my

hair combs and my copy of Hogwarts: A History.

"They've now all been stripped away and stuck on

various fixtures and furnishings about the apartment."

"Between us," offered Daphne. "We're going to be

working on finding a charm that can be affixed to

everything that'll send us an alarm and issue a glow,

that only we can see, if any other charm is affixed to

anything."

"That would be brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. "Now we

just have to find a way to deactivate Twinkles's little

trinkets that are using blood-based magic to track me."

After a moment of shock, Daphne loudly exclaimed,

"He's what?!" Making both Harry and Hermione wince.

"I don't have any proof of it," he replied. "But, I'm

pretty sure he's using blood-based tracking on me. I'm

pretty sure some of those wheezing and whizzing little

gadgets in his office are monitors of me."

"Dobby!" Daphne near-snarled.

With a quick pop, Dobby appeared in the living room

almost frightened. "Yes, Miss Daffy?"

Seeing the state of the little elf, both other teens

watched as Daphne visibly forced her anger down.

Once she seemed to have managed to get control of

herself, she looked back at the elf and said, "Dobby, I

apologise. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry about

something else."

"Miss Daffy apologises to Dobby?" the little elf asked

almost awed and in tears. "The great Master Harry

Potter sir's Miss Daffy is almost as great a witch as

Master Harry is a wizard!" Then he seemed to break

down and cry.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Dobby, please stop," she begged. "I need you to tell

me something important."

With a last few sniffles Dobby wiped his eyes on his

sleeve and asked, "Yes, Miss Daffy?"

"You can track the blood of your master, right?"

"Yes, Miss Daffy!" the little elf beamed. Harry started

to suspect the little fellow had a chronic and severe

case of Manic Depression.

"Excellent," she firmly stated. "The next time the

Headmaster is out of his office and private quarters,

can you sneak in and see if there's any of Master

Harry's blood in there? And report back to us if there is,

and where it is?"

"Dobby can do that," the little elf excitedly said,

pleased to be able to help, as it dawned on Harry just

how simple that was.

"Good, very good," Daphne sighed. "Thank you,

Dobby."

"Yous welcome, Miss Daffy," Dobby replied, before

popping away again.

"That's brilliant!" said Harry, a little in awe of how

smart his pureblood bondmate was. "Lunch?" he

suddenly asked.

"Good idea," replied Hermione, starting to rise.

The three headed back down to the Great Hall.

Chapter 86

As they did the previous weekend, the three were

waiting in the Entrance Hall for the arrival of the

solicitor for their 'interview'.

And, almost on the dot except for being a couple

minutes early, a somewhat middle-aged wizard walked

in the door with a younger woman. Both were carrying

business satchels.

As soon as his eyes alit on Harry, he stepped forward

and offered his hand. "Mister Potter? I'm Stewart

Ackerman, solicitor at law."

Harry shook the man's hand, who then turned to the

woman and said, "And this lady is Miss Margaret

Pentridge."

Harry surprised her by offering his hand for a

handshake. Then, he turned back to the man indicating

his bondmates and said, "And these two ladies are my

bondmates... Miss Hermione Granger and Miss Daphne

Greengrass."

"Miss Greengrass and I have met before," Mister

Ackerman explained. "However, it's a pleasure to

meet you for the first time, Miss Granger."

"Now," said Harry. "I'm afraid we're all going to have to

trudge all the way up to the seventh floor, Sir and

Ma'am. That's where our apartment is."

"No need to go that far, Mister Potter," replied Mister

Ackerman. "There's a conference room on the second

floor we can use."

"There is?" asked Harry, quite surprised. "Hmm... then,

I guess you'd best lead."

With a nod of his head, Ackerman led the way up the

stairs to the second floor and towards the north tower.

They'd not gone far when Ackerman spied a door and

said, "Here it is!" And pushed it open.

Inside was, indeed, set up as a conference room.

He and Miss Pentridge move to one side of the long

table and set their business satchels on the surface.

When Harry and the girls moved to the other side,

Ackerman drew his wand and began to cast, first,

detection spells around the room, before then casting

privacy wards. He also both locked and placed a

silencing bubble around the room's only portrait, even

though it was currently uninhabited.

When it looked like the two were finished, Daphne

muttered, "Just a minute." And went to the only door.

She first cast a strong door sealing charm with a

password protection on it, before also placing a

silencing bubble around it.

When she turned around she noticed the looks on the

faces of their two visitors. She calmly said, "The

Headmaster has been known to invite himself to any

and all meetings within the castle."

With a nod of recognition, the two visitors waited until

the three teens took their seats opposite before they

took theirs.

"Now, Mister Potter, Miss Greengrass and Miss

Granger," said Ackerman, nodding to each of them.

"Mister Greengrass has informed me you have need of

our services regarding a number of legal issues. He

informed us we would need to provide criminal case

expertise... that's me... and defamation expertise...

that's Miss Pentridge, here.

"However, he said we would need to talk to you, direct,

in order to understand the full scope of your legal

needs. Perhaps it would be best if you were to outline

for us what those needs entail."

"Yes, Sir," nodded Harry. "First, I'd like your

confirmation that what we're about to tell you is held

in confidence?"

"It is," Ackerman firmly replied.

"Good. To the criminal matter first, then. We need you

to, as quietly as you can, organise a trial for my

godfather, Sirius Orion Black," said Harry.

"The escaped mass murder?" Ackerman asked in

surprise.

"No, Sir," Harry firmly replied. "The escaped innocent

man; who was unlawfully tossed into Azkaban without

even a trial or proper questioning."

With a look of complete initial shock, the solicitor

stared back at Harry for a few moments before he

suddenly started to look quite angry. "You mean to tell

me that Sirius Black, the man who has a Kiss-on-Sight

order against him, never even had a trial?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Sir," replied Harry.

"Furthermore, the actual criminal is Peter Pettigrew;

the one to whom they supposedly issued a

posthumous Order of Merlin. He is both alive and is a

marked Death Eater. I've met them both.

"Sirius Black is my sworn godfather. If he had even

attempted to harm me, or cause harm to befall me, he

would be dead. That he isn't is proof, right there, that

he did not betray my parents and me to Riddle."

"Riddle?" asked Ackerman, a little confused.

"Sorry," grinned Harry. "Tom Marvolo Riddle;

Voldemort's real name."

Again, both solicitors stared back at him in shock.

Daphne chuckled and said, "Harry, I think you broke

them."

Ackerman snapped out of his stupefaction first and,

with a somewhat accusatory look, asked, "How do you

know this?"

"As to the first, as I said, I've met both my godfather,

Sirius Black, and Pettigrew," explained Harry.

"Pettigrew is an unregistered animagus; and his form is

that of a common brown rat. Until only a few months

ago, he's been hiding out as the pet of Ron Weasley; a

boy in the same year as us. Until recently Weasley was

both a friend and dorm-mate of mine.

"Sirius escaped from Azkaban because he saw a picture

on the front page of the Daily Prophet that showed the

Weasleys, who had recently won the Prophet's Grand

Prize Draw. Fudge threw a copy of that issue of

the Prophet at my godfather in his cell... while he was

doing his so-called annual inspection... to taunt him

with how the world was getting on without him.

"Instead, my godfather saw Pettigrew in his animagus

form being held in the hand of Ron Weasley, who was

standing with his family in the front page photograph.

Sirius put two and two together and figured out that I

was, at the time, sharing a dorm in Gryffindor tower

with the boy; and, therefore, the rat - Pettigrew.

"Sirius, as my sworn godfather, saw it as his duty to

immediately escape and come to my aid. Which he did.

"So, Sirius Black did not escape Azkaban with the

intention of coming to harm me; he escaped with the

intention of coming to protect me, as he was sworn to

do."

When both solicitors nodded back, understanding, he

continued, "As to the second, how I know Riddle and

Voldemort is one and the same person..."

"Hold it," interrupted Ackerman, holding up his hand.

"We'll get to He-Who... Merlin, V-Voldemort in a

moment."

Chapter 87

He then opened his satchel and drew forth parchment,

ink and a quill, and set to writing. "I need to get down

the details about Black, first," he muttered.

As he wrote he asked more and more specific questions.

And, once he was finished, he slid the parchment aside

and leaned back.

"So," he began. "Crouch, on the orders of Bagnold, just

threw Black into Azkaban. As far as you know, there

will be no record of questioning, archive of evidence, or

even a record of trial. Black is, in fact, innocent; and,

even if he wasn't, he should still be free because he

was never tried and found guilty.

"You've met the man; most recently last June in the

Shrieking Shack, here, in Hogsmeade. Plus, you also

spoke with Pettigrew when he was forced out of his

animagus form and admitted to being guilty of the

attack on your parent's cottage, and the murder of the

thirteen muggles, and that he'd taken the Dark Mark.

"Further, you've explained all this to the Minister, yet

he still tried to get Black 'Kissed'. On top of that, Albus

Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Remus Lupin also

know this to be true."

"That's right," replied Harry. "As does Hermione, here,"

he continued, indicating Hermione, who nodded back

in confirmation.

"And Ron Weasley," Hermione added.

"The man doesn't need a trial, he needs to be

exonerated!" Ackerman exclaimed.

"No," Harry replied shaking his head. "He must have a

trial, or the best approximation of one. No one will

believe his innocence unless he gets one and

is publicly exonerated. Fudge, as I've explained, will

bury it unless you do. He does not want the Ministry...

or, rather, himself... embarrassed by it coming out that

Sirius was incarcerated in Azkaban for a crime he didn't

commit. He'd rather see the man Kissed so he can hide

it."

"Well," sighed Ackerman. "You've got me on board."

Leaning forward, he said, "I'll need memories of all that

you've witnessed on this. I doubt even Amelia Bones

will aid us without them."

Already prepared, Harry drew a clean phial out of his

robes and drew his wand. Holding the wand to his

temple he drew forth a copy of the memory of the

meeting in the Shrieking Shack before letting it drop

into the phial, and corked it.

Handing it across to Ackerman, he explained, "That's

the entirety of the meeting in the Shrieking Shack. I

believe it's probably all you're going to need,

memory-wise."

Nodding, Ackerman pulled a wooden box out of his

satchel and placed the phial with the memory strand

within it into it. "You're right. That should be enough to

get Bones on side with this."

"But, remember," Harry cautioned. "You need to

careful with this. If Fudge, or any of his lackeys, get

wind of this, he will do all that he can to make sure it

never comes to trial."

"Understood, Mister Potter," replied Ackerman. "Now,"

he moved on. "Perhaps you can tell me how you know

You-Know-Who's name is really this Tom whatever."

"May I have a small sheet of parchment, your ink and

quill, please," asked Harry.

Once the solicitor handed them over, Harry quickly

wrote out I AM LORD VOLDEMORT on one line; then,

about three inches lower, wrote out TOM MARVOLO

RIDDLE. Then he drew lines between both, matching

the letters up. Before he finally spun the parchment

about and slid it back across to Ackerman.

Ackerman took a long look at what Harry had done

before he looked back up at Harry in surprise. "An

anagram!" he softly exclaimed.

"Yes, Sir," replied Harry. "Riddle was a student, here, in

the late thirties and early forties, in Slytherin. He was

given an Award for Services to the School in 1943 for

fingering Rubeus Hagrid for the crime of releasing

Slytherin's monster, a basilisk, upon the school. A

Ravenclaw student named Myrtle Cummings was killed.

She's now the ghost known as Moaning Myrtle. He

then went on to become the Head Boy in 1945 off the

back of that.

"However, it was Riddle who had found the chamber

and released the basilisk, not Hagrid. Riddle's

trademark when he killed people was to set it up so

that another was fingered for the crime. He did the

same thing when he killed his father, paternal

grandfather and paternal grandmother... and memory

charmed his maternal uncle to force the man to admit

to the crime.

"He went on, after leaving school and while working

for Borgin & Burkes, to murder Hepzibah Smith...

pointing the evidence to Smith's house elf, Hokey.

"After killing Smith, he almost immediately took off for

the continent, where he remained for about ten years.

When he came back, he came back as Lord Voldemort.

That was 1957."

"Sweet Merlin," said a passionate Ackerman. "That's

quite the tale."

"Ministry records will contain most of the information

you can check if you want to check my facts," shrugged

Harry. "However, that's not one of my tasks I have for

you and your firm."

"Yes," said Ackerman, recognising the point to get back

on track. "You also wanted assistance with matters

relating to defamation."

"Yes," said Harry. "For what has occurred in the past

and what is likely to come."

"And just how have you been defamed, Mister Potter?"

he asked.

"You know all those books? - Harry Potter and the... -

for a start, not one of them is true. Plus, no one has

ever approached me for my permission to use my

name, image or anything similar. I want them stopped

and sued," explained Harry. "I also want your firm to go

after all those who have used my name to promote

their products, no matter how small or considered

inconsequential. Again, none of them have had my

permission to do so. That's to start with."

While he was talking, Miss Pentridge was writing down

the instructions on her own parchment.

"I also want to retain your services to protect my

reputation in future," Harry continued. "During my

second year here, I was continually slandered and

sneered at because people believed I was the Heir of

Slytherin, and was responsible for the Chamber of

Secrets being reopened. I do not want to see that

happen ever again.

"Further, after the Prophet announced... without our

permission, mind... that us three were part of a

three-way soul bond, we were inundated with abusive

mail and packages designed with the intent of causing

one or more of us harm. I will not stand for that. I want

the management of the Prophet well and truly

smacked down for it, with a warning never to do it

again... else, face my legal wrath. You."

Nodding, as she was writing, Miss Pentridge replied,

"We can do all that. I take it you want recompense for

the use of your name and image?"

Chapter 88

"Yes, but I only want to keep enough to pay for your

services," replied Harry. "The rest I want to eventually

set aside for a Foundation in my mother's name to aid

muggleborn in getting their start in the wizarding world.

My direct instruction for this is, 'Bleed the mongrels

dry!'

"I also want an article to appear in the Daily

Prophet, Teen Witch Weekly and Witch Weekly that

decries the nonsense written in those books as the

sheer fantasy they are. My life was... is... nothing like

that. It's led to people believing things about me that

are patently untrue."

With a sigh, he said, "My bondmates and I will soon be

spending time, in part, talking about my life to date. I

actually have no interest in telling people about my life.

However, I've now been convinced that clearing-the-air

about it can go a long way towards healing the

psychological and emotional damage I've sustained

since that dreadful Halloween night.

"Do you want Daphne and I to write it all down for you,

Harry?" Hermione softly asked.

"Yeah," he sighed, looking to both bondmates. "But, let

me get it all off my chest, first; on Friday. Then, we can

go back and you two can write it all down, alright?"

"Alright, love," she replied with a similar verbal nod

from Daphne.

"I also want another notice, on another day, that

apologises to the wizarding world for my not

responding to all the letters, gifts and the like that have

been sent to me these past thirteen years," Harry

requested. "Albus Dumbledore, it seems, felt the need

to intercept my mail and redirect it to a storeroom,

here, in the castle. I only found out about that a few

days ago. And it's going to take me a very long time to

go through it all and start answering folks back."

"He intercepted your mail?" asked Pentridge, with an

angry little moue.

"He did," nodded Harry. "And he didn't tell me he was

doing it, either. It wasn't until I screamed at him

enough about how I was supposed to be everyone's

hero, and yet hadn't heard a word from any of them,

that he finally relented enough to show me where it's

all being stored. There're literally shelves upon shelves

of it all."

"We could go after him for that," she frowned.

"We could," replied Harry. "However, I think it was

Dumbledore more doing it, as he said, to protect me

from those who would attempt me harm using the mail

system; rather than him just wanting to deny me my

mail. Sure, there might have been that involved, too.

However, I have no proof that was his leading reason.

"What I have impressed upon him already, however, is

that I am not too happy with him for doing it, and then

not letting me know the mail was there during my first

year, or since. He's had ample time to hand it all to me,

and didn't. If he continues to do it... or does it again...

you have my permission to go after him with, as the

muggles say, both barrels."

"The mail redirection should have been removed by

now, Harry," said Daphne. "We should begin our plans

for moving it and begin going through it all after this

meeting."

Harry nodded back and said, "You're right. Thank you,

Daphne."

"Alright," said Ackerman. "Is that all you have for us,

Mister Potter?"

Checking with his bondmates, who both nodded back,

Harry said, "Yes, Sir."

"Good," said Ackerman, as he and Miss Pentridge

began to put all their notes and writing implements

away. "I'll have a retainer contract sent to you for

signing some time after Monday. I'll mark where you

need to sign. Once it's signed, so long as you don't

make any changes... and I recommend you don't... the

contract will automatically be filed with the relevant

authorities. It will be replaced by your own copy before

you."

Once the two solicitors were packed, the five stood and

walked to the door. Ackerman and Daphne removed

the various charms and locks before Ackerman opened

the door as if to step out.

As soon as the door opened, they saw Dumbledore

standing on the other side frowning.

He took one look at Harry and said, "Mister Potter, I

assumed I would be invited to any meeting you would

have with others, other than family, within my school."

Stepping out, Ackerman asked him, "And why would

you make such an assumption, Mister Dumbledore."

Switching to sternly look at Ackerman, Dumbledore

said, "I prefer Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Really?" Ackerman asked with an almost predatory

smile. "If you are making such enquiries as Headmaster,

then you are abusing your position and authority of

that title. Are you sure you want to be referred to as

'Headmaster', rather than 'Mister'?"

Dumbledore scowled back but, instead of answering,

began, "Loco parentis..." before Ackerman smoothly

cut in.

"... Would be the responsibility of Professor Filius

Flitwick, as his assigned Head of

House, Mister Dumbledore."

Dumbledore scowled deeper before he chose to ignore

the man and turn back to Harry. "Mister Potter, I

should have been made aware you were entertaining

visitors before they were allowed onto school

grounds..."

"I sought permission from, and was granted such

permission, from Professor Flitwick, Sir," Harry

smoothly replied. "I believe that was the correct course

of action, in this instance. Was it not?"

Without a word and a small scowl, after a long moment

Dumbledore spun about and stalked off down the

corridor.

"Controlling, manipulative old..." muttered Harry

before Hermione cut him off.

"Harry," she lowly scolded.

As they all filed out into the corridor, Ackerman asked,

"Is he always like this?"

"When it comes to me? Yes," replied Harry.

"Keep me appraised, then," said Ackerman.

The three teens escorted the two solicitors back to the

main doors of the castle before bidding them goodbye.

As the two walked back up the main driveway, Harry

asked his two bondmates, "What next?"

"Let's go find a classroom somewhere near the seventh

floor we can use to sort your mail," replied Hermione.

"Good idea," said Daphne.

And the three headed up stairs.

Chapter 89

The three eventually found what they were looking for

not far from their apartment. None of them knew that

there were even classrooms on the seventh floor,

somewhat expecting most of the room to have been

taken up by the room of requirement and the

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms and visitors

rooms.

However, they found a sufficiently large enough room,

complete with windows, and called Dobby and Winky

to prepare it for their needs. It was the first time they'd

actually laid eyes on Winky since she bonded to

Hermione. And her 'uniform' was the same as Dobby's,

except she had an urban camouflage dress on, rather

than pants. It looked... different.

Over the next couple of days, Hermione had a ball

laying out what she felt was a workable layout for

sorting, responding and dealing with gifts and the like.

Once all the classroom furniture was removed, Dobby

and Winky happily moved the racks of mail from the

hidden storeroom into one side of the now

transformed classroom. They replaced one of the

windows with an 'owl accessible' window; and, nearby,

put in a couple of long roosts for them. In the sorting

area, they put in long wooden benches for the various

stages starting from the back of the classroom leading

to the front, where the window and owls would be

located and 'roosted'.

Once everything was where Hermione thought it

should be, she said, "Now we just have to employ

people to get everything going."

"We're going to need seventh years with experience in

checking for traps, compulsion charms and the like,"

Daphne mused. "Some sixth years can possibly do that,

too. But, mainly, we need people we can trust."

"We need people who can write well... have good

quillmanship," muttered Hermione. "Those are for the

apology letters."

"And people who can make a quick determination on

what sort of letter needs to be written in response,"

said Daphne.

"Merlin! You two make a good tag-team," exclaimed

Harry, listening to them exchange ideas back and forth.

Both girls looked back with matching smiles, before

Daphne said, "Of course. We're bondmates; so, of

course, we'd be compatible in our thinking."

Both girls then decided that they'd be the ones,

working with Dobby and Winky, to organise getting

things happening.

"Not that we don't think you'd eventually get it done,

Harry," explained Hermione. "But, we're both, I hate to

say, a little better at organising things than you."

Raising both hands in the air in surrender, Harry replied,

"I won't argue; I happen to agree. Just... thank you,

both."

That earned him a big smile and a kiss from each.

Back in the apartment the girls set to work thinking

about who they'd want to approach before offering

them the chance to make some pocket money working

'after hours'.

When Hermione asked Harry if he wanted to offer the

chance to the Weasley twins, he replied, "No. It will

make the two youngest and the Potion Queen think

they still have an 'in' with us. I don't want to give them

any reason to think that.

"I'll still give the twins the thousand galleons for their

store, though. In June. After the third task."

Hermione nodded and the two girls returned to their

lists and occasionally asking Harry for his opinion.

Once done, Hermione asked, "How will we approach

them?"

"Directly, away from the Great Hall," said Daphne.

"We'll do it individually so as not to end up having

people approach us asking for work until after we've

got the initial people organised and working."

"I'm going to password the door," said Daphne.

"Without a portrait?" asked Hermione

"Voice activated on the locking charm," replied

Daphne.

Harry was beginning to feel like a third wheel.

"Anything I can do?" he asked.

"I'd have thought you'd be looking at safer ways to get

past the dragon, by now," replied Daphne, looking over

at him.

"What was wrong..." he started before seeing the looks

on both their faces. "Never mind," he amended, sitting

back.

Thinking for a moment, he told them, "I'm going to go

ask the Room of Requirement for help."

Looking up in surprise, Hermione said, "That's a

brilliant idea!"

"Well, I do have them, at times," he half-snarked back.

"I know you do," she soothed him. "It just reminds me

we haven't made as much use of the Room as we really

should have, or can."

He moved over to both and gave them a light kiss on

the cheek each. "You know where to find me. Send

Dobby or Winky to come and get me if you need me."

And, with that, he left the apartment to head across to

the Room of Requirement.

Asking for help in how he could safely get past a

Hungarian Horntail, he entered to find a single

armchair with a reading table, alongside. There were

books on the small table.

Taking a seat he began by first reading the title and

table of contents of each book. They contained battle

magic, charms, curses, hexes, runic arrays and rituals.

He set aside the ones on rituals and runic arrays

because, first, rituals took time and were heavily

frowned upon in Magical Britain; and, second, runic

arrays took time and would show that he was actually

a lot more knowledgeable, magically, than he should

be for a fourteen year old.

However, he did intend to go through them when he

had a chance.

Picking up a book on magical combat, he began to read;

skimming when he either knew the information or it

wasn't all that relevant when facing a dragon alone.

He was deep into practicing wand movements for

memorising matching incantations when Winky

popped in. "Miss Grangy and Miss Daffy say it's almost

time for dinner. Theys be waiting for you in the

apartment."

"Thank you, Winky," replied Harry, marking his page

and placing the book back on the reading table.

The little elf popped away, again, as he rose and

headed for the door.

That night marked another night when both girls joined

him in bed naked. But, before going to bed he

fashioned up a shelf at the top of the headboard where

he could place his glasses and wand. He didn't want to

rely on Hermione getting them for him when, or if, he

needed them.

Chapter 90

As they were settling down, Daphne asked, "Harry, why

do you wear glasses? What charms do you have on

them?"

Frowning, wondering where Daphne was going with

this line of enquiry, he said, "I need the glasses because

of my poor eyesight. And there're no charms on them. I

didn't even know I could get charms on them."

"You've never noticed that our school mates don't

wear glasses?" she asked, surprised. "I mean, Tracey

did for the first two years. But, that was because you

need to start puberty before they can magically fix your

eyes."

"Huh!" he exclaimed. "It would be brilliant if I could get

my eyes fixed. I hate having to wear them. It's yet

another thing that lets people recognise me."

"I think we should speak to Professor Flitwick about

organising you a day to go to Saint Mungo's to get

them fixed," she opined. "But, first, we'll speak with

Madam Pomfrey about it."

"On the subject of getting things fixed," said Hermione,

from her side. "I need to speak with Madam Pomfrey

about getting my front teeth fixed. We can't rely on

Malfoy accidentally hitting me with the tooth growing

hex, this time."

"And both of us should really start on the

anti-pregnancy contraceptive potion, as well," Daphne

added.

"Hey! Whoa!" exclaimed Harry. "Jumping the gun there

a bit, aren't you?"

"Jumping what?" Daphne asked, confused.

"It's a muggle phrase," replied Harry. "It means doing

something early, even too early." He gave himself a bit

of a mental shake and said, "But, that's beside the

point. I thought we agreed to take things slow."

"And we are, love," said Daphne. "But, it's still

something we should talk to her about."

"Harry, how do we know that our bond doesn't render

those sort of potions useless?" asked Hermione,

propping herself up to look down at her bondmates.

"We know there are a great many potions and charms

that'll no longer affect us. A standard contraceptive

potion may be one of them."

With Harry pushed flat on his back, Daphne also

propped herself up on an elbow to look at the other

two. "The same could also apply to the sex charms we

learned in those girls-only talks Madam Pomfrey gave

us in first year."

"Sex charms?" Harry half-squeaked.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Harry James,"

Hermione scolded him. "They're the two parts of a pair

of charms cast on the witch and wizard by themselves

to ensure the witch doesn't fall pregnant immediately,

or within a few hours beforehand, of the two having

sex. Either should do the trick. But, both are supposed

to make sure.

"They're usually only used, though, when the witch

isn't taking the contraceptive potion," added Daphne.

"Just what did you girls learn in that class?" Harry

asked, a little horrified. "All we got was the usual, 'No

means no' talk. And that her door was always open for

us to go and talk to her if we had any questions. We

didn't even get the 'what goes where' talk I know they

now give in muggle schools."

With a sigh, Hermione said, "In other words she

basically told you, without actually coming right out

and saying it, that ensuring the witch doesn't get

pregnant is the responsibility of the witch. That's just

stupid. And not a little irresponsible."

With a shrug, Harry explained, "Most of what boys

come to know is actually learned, if you want to call it

that, by listening to the older boys talk. And that, I'm

very sure, is at least ninety percent hippogriff shit."

"You're not sure?" asked Daphne, frowning a little.

"Harry," she asked. "Before we came back. And even as

of now, this time around, that I think of it. Are you a

virgin?"

"Yes," he replied a little embarrassed to admit it.

"I would have thought..." she began. "You know..." And

blushed.

"You thought that, because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, I

would have had sex with half the girls in school by

now."

"Yes," she softly said.

"I haven't," he admitted. "I haven't even spent time in

a broom closet, fumbling about in the dark, with

anyone."

"You know at least half the witches in school wouldn't

mind doing that with you, don't you?" she asked.

"I do," he sighed. "However, they all want to have sex,

and tell about it afterwards, with the Boy-Who-Lived;

not Harry. Besides, I wouldn't know who to ask,

anyway."

"Do you want a list?" Hermione asked a little gleefully.

"Merlin, no!" he exclaimed. "Look. Can we just drop

this subject, please? It's going to make it hard enough

to get to sleep as it is."

"Hard enough?" asked Hermione, wanting to twig him

a little more.

Harry just blushed again and groaned as both girls

laughed.

"You do realise this talk is going to make me

have those sort of dreams tonight, don't you?" he

plaintively asked.

"Sorry, Harry," both girls apologised.

With Harry flat on his back, and both girls using his

chest as a pillow, they all soon drifted off to sleep. As

he lay there, Harry just hoped it wouldn't be an

embarrassing night; or morning.

It wasn't.

The next day, the Sunday, the girls spent a good portion

of the morning after breakfast helping Harry come to

grips with Ancient Runes. It was a subject they hadn't

been paying as much attention to as they'd originally

promised a couple of weeks earlier.

Harry covered how far he'd managed to get through his

'Introductory' book and the practice examples he'd

worked through.

The girls also quizzed him on the identity of the various

runes and told him he needed to spend more time

memorising them.

"Shouldn't I also be practicing carving the runes?" he

asked, at one point.

"You should," Daphne confirmed. "But, we'll need to

get you started on carving them on blocks of chalk.

We'll need to owl-order the proper carving tools and

blocks of various substances for you to practice on. For

now, you can borrow mine." She rose to go to her trunk

to get the tools and blocks of chalk out of her own

supplies.

While she was gone, Hermione showed him what they

were working on as fourth years. And outlined the

term project she and Daphne, who had paired up for

the year, were aiming to accomplish.