Chapter 22: Things Are Said That Exaggerate

To everyone on this great big conglomeration we call the Internet, I HAVE RETURNED!... but to be fair, I have never left.

Many of you have been panic messaging me for the last few weeks worrying that I had abandoned this story or that I didn't bother reading your reviews and the like. To you, I have only one thing to say:

DON'T GET YOUR KNICKERS IN A TWIST!

(See how I used the British version there?)

I told you guys a long, long time ago, that if I plan to abandon a story, I would say it to you guys straight up and not dangle the carrot known as 'possible future update' over your heads like some other writers do. And in relation to that – what is your major malfunction people? Granted, it may seem like I am being condescending to all my readers, and for that, I apologize.

Most of you – like 97% - were patiently waiting for my next update. The rest of you kept messaging me almost demanding that I update my story because you needed your next fix or something. Guess what people? You are on a website that literally has MILLIONS of other stories relating to Harry Potter to read. Do what other normal readers do and simply follow a ton of other stories to get your daily fix (like I do). Plus, I have a life and work. Sure, I am not married and single, but I do have s**t to do. When you work with little kids most of the week, your creative juices take a nose dive, so stop your complaining and get some patience.

Again, I am sorry if I am offending anyone who patiently waited for my story, but I had to get the point across to those who didn't. Please excuse my poor behavior and choice of words.

Now, this is going slightly different compared to my other author notes for the sheer fact that over the last (checks chapter number) 21 chapters, I feel like I've gotten closer to you lot. So, starting from now, my notes are going to start being part actual author's notes, part update, part rants, part talking to the audience, and part whatever the hell I want them to be. Why? Because frankly, writing stuff on your bio page doesn't get the point across about yourself and I actually want my dedicate readers to get rewarded for sticking with me.

So, to the messages.

1. I already made my point regarding updates clear. But in layman terms: I have no set schedule. Will I forget about this story and not update for three months? No. But will I update on a weekly or bi-weekly basis? I can't promise that to you guys cause I like you too much to give you false hope. If you want to help, I guess you can message me about being a co-writer for this story, but honestly, it's up to you guys.

2. I am honestly surprised how some people didn't notice the small brick joke I left in the last chapter regarding Justin Finch-Fletchley. For those of you confused, please refer to Chapter 2 of this work and reference episode 8 of Season 7 (Season 7, Time For A Wedding!) of 'Supernatural' to get the joke. Hint: deals don't have to be ten years long.

3. I got the name Gabriel Bell from episodes 11 and 12 of Season 3 (Past Tense) of 'Star Trek: Deep Space Nine,' my favorite Star Trek show.

That's right, I said it. Bring on the haters.

Actually no, this needs to be addressed so that I can at least avoid the constant ringing of my phone when I get PMs of hate from the more avid and diehard fans of the franchise. Just to avoid any confusion, I said DS9 was my favorite show of the series. My favorite captain is, and forever will be, Jean-Luc Picard (live and long and prosper Sir Patrick Hewes Stewart). My ranking of the shows is as follows:

1. Deep Space Nine (1993–99)

2. The Next Generation (1987–94)

3. Voyager (1995–2001)

4. The Original Series (1966–69)

5. Enterprise (2001–05)

I am reserving judgment for Discover until I have watched the show, but I don't have high hopes for it. They remade the Klingons, added new alien species (which screws with canon since this is the earliest show timeline wise within the created universe), and they gave Spock an adopted human sister (BLASPHEMY!).

I have watched A LOT of television and movies. Am I a movie and television nerd/buff? No, that honor is reserved to those who worked for the right. Am I a film and tv show 'gourmand'? I like to believe so. In any case, over the years, I have coined what I like to call "The Special Effects Ageing Paradigm" (a little play on how the episodes of 'The Big Bang Theory' are titled).

The S.E.A.P goes along like this: any show or movie that uses special effects (ranging from CGI to prosthetics) falls under its jurisdiction (except for animation). No genre is off-limits nor is the year of making (but it does play a factor in nostalgia and the like). Only the fact that special effects are prevalent in the work is the criteria.

My logic goes like this:

Regardless of how good or memorable a piece of entertainment becomes (for good or bad), it falls victim to aging. Now, whether it becomes a fine wine or vinegar with time depends ultimately upon ONE THING: whether or not the special effects are used in a supporting role or in a leading role.

For those confused, let me explain. Special effects that support the entertainment work in the background and strengthen the work as a whole. Special effects that lead the work are the crux and bases on which the work is built. It's a little wonky to understand, but hopefully, these examples will make sense.

A. Alien franchise.

Ignoring Prometheus (2012) and Alien: Covenant (2017) at this time, let's check the earlier works. Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986) were both great sci-fi horror movies that I believe set the tone for future films that followed. Alien 3 (1992) and Alien Resurrection (1997) were pieces of crap. Why? Maybe because of the sequel curse, but I choose to believe that it was due to a shift in the usage of the Alien(s). In the first two movies, the Alien was somewhere between lead/support. Why? Because while Sigourney Weaver was, in fact, the main character of the franchise, the Alien drove the story. It was the antagonist that drove audience members to fear and got us hooked on the story. Plus, it worked from the sidelines, letting the human cast emotions and drama entertain us. The next two movies screwed it up since they shoved the Alien into the leading role, making it compete with Weaver for dominance. This is especially evident in Resurrection, in which the cloning of the Aliens becomes the main force of the movie, rather than the survival of the human cast. This is not to say that special effects in the leading role will automatically ruin a movie. Far from it – some movies actually succeed because of it.

B. Original Star Wars vs. Prequel Star Wars

Little misleading but evident none the less. The original trilogy was entirely driven by the conflict and drama within the three movies, using special effects to strengthen the movies through lightsaber fights, space battles, and the like. Prequels, however, had special effects as the literal front seat driver. I mean seriously, even if I disregard The Phantom Menace (1999) as a crappy movie all on its own, Attack of the Clones (2002) and Revenge of the Sith (2005) still relied HEAVILY on CGI to keep our interests in the movies. Did they have great fight scenes? Yes. But do we – as viewers – only remember the fight scenes for how cool they looked and nothing else about the movies? Then you f****d up. Now The Force Awakens (2015) rectified that by going back to its roots. Did it rely on CGI? Yes, BUT it was balanced out/overshadowed by the plot and world-building that took place, making it take a supporting role rather than a leading role. For those of you debating the notion, consider this: recall your favorite scenes from the sequel trilogy. Now from the original trilogy. Were they mostly of character moments rather than battle moments? Then I rest my case.

C. Clear-cut examples.

1. The Fly (1986) vs. The Fly II (1989)

The first dealt with the slow descent of madness of a scientist who came too close to the Sun as he slowly transforms from man to monster by his own making, with his final visage being on screen for maybe less than 10 minutes. (SE – supporting roles with the story in charge)

The sequel tried to emulate the success of the predecessor and instead relied more on heavy gore and violence than on plot and atmosphere. (SE – relied on for more than half the film, even if did have a great horror impact)

2. Avatar (2009)

People have mixed opinions about this (i.e., Pocahontas with aliens), but it is a recent clear-cut example of SE in a leading role that succeeds since the movie is literally built around the CGI Na'vi, so you can't really put it into a supporting role.

3. Friday the 13th (1980) & A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) vs. Sequels

Classic horror movies? Check. Makeup on lead actors to play their famous visages? Check. First films relying entirely on the fear of being caught by the killers rather than relying on the actors themselves to lead the movie? Check. Future works literally trying to milk a rock by shoving the villains more and more in the audience face with crazier and crazier scenarios and effects? You tell me – was sending Jason Voorhees to space and turning him into a cyborg too much, or am I just over thinking it?

4. Transformers Film series

There are no words to describe the hate I feel for Michael Bay in how he has desecrated the Transformers franchise. Well, technically, there are, but I don't possess enough self-control to not go into a 17-page rant fest of how badly he has screwed it. These movies alone are probably why CGI has fallen into disrepute to such an extent. I mean seriously, when a move is only praised for its visual effects and action sequences, you went wrong somewhere. Just to clarify, Thrillers are remembered for action sequences, not Action movies like these once. I mean seriously Bay, you had a franchise with a rich and vibrant history to work with, and instead, you turned it a cheap shoot-em-up Duke Nukem invasion franchise. Now, if the movies took place entirely on Cybertron and were completely in CGI, I would have given you slack since the CGI – like in Avatar – would be necessary to make the movie work. But no – you involved Shia LaBeouf, and in turn, you involved Murphy's law. And yet somehow, you still made money, and you still pumped out more movies. I think Robot Chicken was on to something when they mace a sketch about you.

I think I ranted on this topic for too long and kind of got lost somewhere so I'll make it quick. Enterprise is on the bottom because they literally rely on special effects to make it work (as an example, each episode of Discovery requires about 8 million dollars to make – about same as Game of Thrones - while Enterprise needed about a million). The Original Series is in fourth because I am personally not a fan of monster-of-the-week type stories ('X-Files' being an apparent exception since it did have a driving arc connecting everything together – up until they got rid of Mulder) even if I did still enjoy the show. It's for this same reason that my top three are in such positions, with DS9 being at first since it was literally all tied together from season to season (the fact it all took place in one location may be a factor, but I digress). The same could be said about Voyager vs. TNG, but Picard won over Janeway easily.

I still think that I didn't make myself clear in my explanation of S.E.A.P, but I was ranting so don't hate me for it.

FINAL MESSAGE

I am sad to say that there is a reason as to why it took so long for me to post this chapter. Procrastination did play a role in it, but not in the way you think. I spent the last month or so reading other fanfics on this great website of ours, and unfortunately, they all led to one inevitable conclusion.

When I set out to write this piece, my biggest desire was to go against the grain of some of the more well-known stories out there and not make Dumbledore evil. Unfortunately, after reading literally over a hundred Harry Potter fanfics, I have come to the sad conclusion that it's just not possible. And just to clarify, I have perused the whole of this site to find a DECENT Harry Potter fic in which Dumbledore was good. I only managed to find ONE – 'Dumbledore's Next Great Adventure Part 1', and that one had to literally bring a Dumbledore from a different universe to make it work (if anyone out there knows of another decent one, give me a message).

In all fairness, this was going to happen sooner or later. Despite having all the guide post planned out in the story, trying to make Dumbledore merely into a misguided man with good intentions was becoming too much of a roadblock for me. So, I went back to the drawing board and looked at all the mistakes and questionable choices that he has made (and trust me, the number of them is the reason why my goal was becoming impossible. As was written by Ian Fleming – 'Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is an enemy action'. And guess what? Dumbledore had more than three questionable actions in what JKR Rowling presented to us through her works). In the end, I settled for making him an antagonist. And yes, there is a clear distinction between what is classified as a villain and antagonist in writing. Will Dumbledore play a villain at times? More than likely but not set in stone. Will other fan-favorite characters join him on the 'Dark Side' as it were? Truthfully, after revising what I had planned, turns out there is a way to make that happen without pissing everyone off. Give it time though.

Now, after going on more than 2600 word rant (about 4 pages in Word), it's time to get back to the story.

ENJOY!

PS. I took liberties with Millicent Bagnold. Honestly, until I checked, I always assumed that she was older. Like, Dumbledore old, not Sirius's age (according to sources, she was– at the youngest – born four years after Sirius, making him her elder.) Hence, for this fic, I am writing her as being much older. Also, because of this, I am also making it so that Fudge took his post immediately after the war ended, not a year before Harry started Hogwarts as in canon.

October 10th, 2011 – Closing on to midnight,

Despite a month into the school year, the Hospital Wing was more crowded than ever. The only time it ever came close to such numbers was after every Quidditch game – or after a particularly bad Potion class.

At the current moment, the Hospital Wing contained nine people – Madam Pomfrey, Amelia Bones, Albus Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Hermione, Neville, Harry, and Gabriel.

Crookshanks doesn't count.

So it took a lot to make the room so silent as to hear a pin drop.

"I am sorry," spoke McGonagall, regaining her voice before anyone else, "but who is Hadrian?"

Shock registered on the priests face before he chuckled, "I am sorry, but that's Harry's name."

Suprise was on the Headmaster's face, "You will have to forgive our confusion, but the admission letter was addressed to…"

"Yeah, we found it weird as well," spoke the priest as he walked forward, arms crossed behind his back, "but we chalked it up to magic and always addressing him by his nickname rather than his full name."

Gabriel stood over Harry, observing him, with no attempt to stop him being made in his traversal of the room, not even by Amelia.

"If I may ask," inquired Madam Pomfrey, "just for record's sake, what is his full name?"

Gabriel sighed, "His full name – or rather, the name that was given to him by his adoptive father – is Hadrian Lazarus MacLeod."

Hermione, still at Harry's right side, looked at the priest in confusion, "Lazarus? As in…"

"Yes, Hermione, as in the Raising of Lazarus in Bethany by Christ."

Noting the shock on the girls face, Gabriel smiled. "Yes child, I know your name. Just like I know the name of everyone in this room – except for you, Miss…?"

"Bones. Amelia Bones."

"Ah," recognition dawned on Gabriel as he shook her hand, "Head of DMLE and aunt of Susan Bones. Harry has written about your niece recently, I just didn't make the connection."

Nodding at the understanding, Amelia went forward, "I am sorry to ask you this, but what is your relation to Harry… I mean, Hadrian here?"

"You can use Harry if you want, Constable" – Hermione suppressed a snicker – "but for clarification, I guess you can say that I am his… guardian, I suppose. I helped raise him alongside his Dad ever since he was adopted."

"You suppose?" asked Amelia with her trademarked eyebrow raise.

Gabriel rubbed the back of his head, "There's an explanation for that, but it's a long story."

Snape smirked, "More complicated than the horse of dead werewolves outside the school?"

"Indeed. Now where did I put it…" spoke Gabriel as he started checking his pockets.

"I am sorry, but what are you looking…" began Dumbledore before Gabriel shouted, "Found it!"

Everyone stared at the priests raised his hand as he approached Harry once more.

"Did you just pull the Sorting Hat out of your cassock?" asked Hermione, almost shocked by the sight of such a thing.

"First of all, I think pulling a hat out of another hat just doesn't leave the same impact as say… a rabbit. Secondly, I believe the hat has a name, does it not?"

"Does it?" asked a shocked Neville, never even considering such a thing.

"Well, of course, I have a name. Everyone has a name," spoke the hat in almost reverend shock. "it's just been so long since needed to use it that I forgot it."

"In any case," interrupted Gabriel, "I believe Harry is due for his meeting with you?"

The Sorting Hat stared at Harry and sighed, "I hoped to speak with the boy under better circumstances, but this will do. Besides, maybe I can help him wake up faster. Just put me on his head, Father Gabriel."

"Will do, magic hat." spoke Gabriel as he did as the hat commanded. The second it was on his head, it went quite as it started to mumble to itself and shift little by little back and forth.

Gabriel clapped his hands and turned back to everyone, "This may take a while so why don't we all pull up a chair so that I can tell you Harry's story – or at least the one kids can hear."

"Hey!" spoke Neville and Hermione at the same time.

The witches and wizards in the room nodded and summoned up some chairs to sit down on. Before anyone had a chance to ask, the Headmaster threw the first salvo, "I am sorry to stop you before you tell us Harry's story, but I have to ask: how did you apparate into Hogwarts?"

"How did I what?" asked Gabriel, confusion clearly evident on his face.

The only Muggle-born in the room translated, "He means magical teleportation."

"Oh, then why I didn't you just say so, since it was what I did to get here. I did use Harry's necklace as a magical beacon…"

"You mean a portkey?"

"I don't know what that is, Miss Bones."

Noting everyone's confusion, Gabriel sighed, realizing he had to make a different speech before giving them Harry's backstory. "This is going to be difficult to explain," looking to Hermione for guidance, "what do you think is a better explanation for these people: the scientific one or the magical one?"

"Stick to magic," deadpanned Hermione, "the day I see anyone refer to magic through physics besides Harry is the day I eat my Hogwarts: A History book for dinner." (1)

"Okay then, message received." Gabriel turned back to his audience, "Okay, the short version is this: since you lot separated from the Muggle world around the 1690's, you seem to have forgotten about all other forms of magic out there, just like they have forgotten about you. I don't know if it some sort of modified notice-me-not charm on both ends, since said other magic users don't actively look for you and vice-versa, but I digress. In any case, I have my own brand of magic, Harry was trained in our form, he got the letter, Harry is here, Harry knows different stuff then you lot. Any questions?"

"Several," chimed Amelia. "First thing first: why the silver bullets?"

"Ah, I was expecting this when I saw the bodies outside. Short answer: divergent evolution."

"What?" asked all adults in confusion.

Hermione sighed in defeat, slowly starting to wonder if she made the right decision of going to a magical school, "Divergent evolution is the biological notion that over time, the accumulation of differences between groups can lead to the formation of new species."

"Thank you, my little redhead wunderkind. Harry's theory was that somehow, a large chunk of the werewolf commonly found in the Muggle World got stuck in your little bubble of reality and fell victim to its laws. Over time – either due to genetic mutation or magical influence – it diverged to the werewolf you lot commonly fear. And before you disagree and say that your werewolf came first, consider this: the werewolf myth and its facsimiles regarding silver are acknowledged worldwide, so did your thing that your version of the werewolf was the right one?"

This caused the teachers to actually stop and wonder for a second regarding this revelation. It was acknowledged by the Wizarding community that Newton Scamander and his children were the leading force in Magizoology: everything said and discovered about magical creatures was practically gospel coming from them. On the other hand, the secrets regarding as to how the Wizarding World was separated from the Muggle World were lost over the centuries. It was more than likely that what the priest was stating was possible and that the magics laid down that day were actively making it so that they didn't mesh with the other magics in the world. The only one who could possibly confirm this was to find someone who was alive before the spell was placed, but was limited to magical creatures. It was at least to most people in the room that is.

"Even if what you speak is true," spoke McGonagall, "How is it that you were able to find out about our world?"

Gabriel shrugged, "It was difficult at first. When Harry got his letter, his dad and I tried our hardest to find any mention of it. Believe me, we were stumped, and that is not something we openly admit. Eventually, we gave Harry a shot at it, and he found evidence that we missed entirely. The minute he pointed it out to us, it was as if a veil was lifted from our eyes and all the stuff we dismissed earlier suddenly became relevant."

"Seems more like some sort of modified Fidelius then Notice-me-not ." said Snape.

"Harry thought so as well, but he argued that if it was one, then Muggle-born and Muggles should be completely unable to find their way into the Wizarding World by accident unless they were led by someone already aware of it. Also, in that regard, who would be the secret keeper and how is it that anyone magical – well, this side of magic – can share the secret without repercussion."

"Let's put a pin in that little problem and let the Unspeakables deal with it. For now, tell me about the werewolves that the rest of the world are familiar with."

"Very well, Miss Bones. What I am telling you is the generally accepted version in our… community… of how werewolves came to be. This is not the stuff that's written in Muggle fiction and fantasy or by you folks either. Fair warning, it's very… biblical… so I'll make it as general as possible. Basically, in the beginning, when God was in the process of 'making' everything, including us, the angels, Heaven, and Hell - he somehow created the Mother of All. Now, this is actually debated, but it is acknowledged that she predated most things in creation, including angels themselves. As she came into existence, so did her works. She, in turn, started creating, but whereas God made humanoids, she made creatures. Her proudest works were her firsts - the epitome of their entire species, what we dub as the Alphas. In any case, in her urge to one-up God, she became too dangerous to exist, so without any other choice, God had to lock her up in what we now consider Purgatory. Unfortunately, as the story goes, God only managed to lock up the worst of her creations alongside her, and the rest made their way to Earth."

"What does this have to do with…"

"Patience, Miss Bones. Of the Alphas that came into being, one was the Alpha Werewolf, or as we like to joke in the community, Fenrir."

McGonagall's eyes bugged out, "Fenrir? As in the wolf son of Loki?" (2)

"One and the same. To be fair, all the clues are there if one looks for it. Just look at the notion of berserkers – same region, strikingly noticeable similarities. Hell, if we had a moon chart from when the battles took place we could confirm it in a second; but I digress. Although to be fair, other cultures had something similar like the Úlfhéðnar, but Fenrir seemed like a fitting name. In any case, just like you expect, the werewolf was able to infect others with his bite when in their beast form to pass on the curse, but the similarities end there."

"What do you mean?' inquires Dumbledore

Gabriel turned back to face Harry, hat on his head, still muttering to itself, "Harry has looked into it on our behalf, and frankly, you lot have it easy with your werewolves?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, sure – they have an infecting bite and have some forms of enhanced capabilities, but honestly, that's it. On the bright side, they can at least maintain their sanity during the full moon when they shift into wolf form and they have magic immunity – something we believe was caused by their environment."

Amelia paled at this nonchalant description of the greatest fear of the Wizarding World, "Forgive me for asking this but… how dangerous is your breed of werewolves?"

Gabriel breathed out a heavy breath, "Well, on the bright side, they aren't resistant to magic, so you lot can quickly take care of them. On the other hand, they compensate for that shortcoming."

"How so?"

"There are two types of werewolf's that we in the community are familiar with. They are the regular ones and the pure-bloods."

Gabriel waved his hand while everyone was in shock, "Yes, yes, even creatures have notions of pure-bloods, MOVING ON! The werewolves an average individual can run into are the regulars which make up about… 97% of the total population."

"So large?" interrupted Snape.

Gabriel raised a finger, "There's a reason for that. Now your regular werewolf type is kind of like yours – there's a lunar cycle, shapeshifting, and an infectious bite, but the similarities end there. For one thing, when they shapeshift, they don't go all David Kessler in London. They do however grow some hair, big-ass fangs and claws, and become very, very determinedin getting their meal, which will always include their identifying tell – the consumption of the heart. They also receive even greater enhanced abilities then your brand of wolves but with two distinct advantages – regeneration and nigh-invulnerability to anything. I say nigh because only three things can overcome they uber-charged ability to recover – decapitation, dismemberment, and most importantly, silver. Ergo, why Harry used silver bullets and blades with silver in their composition to shish kebab the ones outside."

Everyone blanched at Gabriel's description of the werewolf commonly known in the world. Amelia at least now understood why Harry did what he did, but she also had to push on and ask the dreaded question, "What about pure-bloods?"

"They are a toss-up, mainly since they usually don't kill humans."

The shock was evident on everyone's face since that seemed to contradict the description he gave in regards to the regular types of werewolves. "Why is that?"

"Werewolves are classified by how removed they are from Patient Zero of the werewolf strain – i.e., Fenrir. Werewolves that are closer to the Alpha up to the fourth generation are referred to as pure-bloods, and anyone afterward is a regular. And trust me, being a pure-blood comes with perks, the key one being the ability to shift whenever one wants and with total control of their mental faculties. Granted, they have to make sure they never eat human hearts since that breaks the balance and turns them savage, but it's easy enough to do with a healthy diet and self-regulation. Oh – they can also reproduce and pass on the werewolf strain to their children without it weakening. Also, a pure-blood can actually turn a regular werewolf into a pure-blood since their strain is more potent and overrides the weaker one. Whether or not they can do the same to your kind needs to be confirmed."

"They can reproduce?" spoke Neville in fear.

"Sure, but to be fair, since folks in our community that actually believe in pure-bloods don't bother discriminating, their numbers aren't high to begin with. To them, a werewolf is a werewolf, even if they live in solitude, or in a loving family, or whatever else that doesn't involve going out and hunting humans."

"What is this community you keep referring to?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"We call ourselves Hunters."

"Hunters? Like… guns and tracking for deer?" asked Hermione in worry.

"Yes, except substitute guns with weapons and massive research of folklore and mythology, and then replace deer with things that go bump in the night. And trust me, that's a rather broad spectrum of things that hit, howl, screech, hunt, and basically, make humans look like teeny little puppies that whizzed on the carpet in the lobby. They tend to stick to themselves and only kill when they hear actual reports of wrongdoing, but otherwise, the world doesn't even know that they or these creatures even exist. Kind of like you guys except without a spell to ensure it and with a lot more bloodshed and tears."

Silence.

"Did you lot really think that your magical creatures were that dangerous and terrifying? Please, I've personally killed things that make your dragons look like dachshunds in comparison."

This clearly was too much for Hermione, "But… you're a priest! Priests don't kill!"

Gabriel shrugged, "Depends on your interpretation of the good book. Tell me, child, if someone was in danger in front you and the only way to save them was to kill the perpetrator, would you – as a good Christian – kill him or her to protect the one being attacked?"

Hermione blanched but pushed onward, "First of all, I'm Jewish – I've read both books. Secondly… I really don't know."

Gabriel nodded, "Good because I'm not sure either."

Hermione looked at Gabriel perplexed.

"You have to understand Hermione, I don't know what will happen when I finally pass on to the next great adventure" – Dumbledore flinched almost unnoticeable – "but I would like to think that when the time comes for my judging, they will show leniency for the things I've done. But I don't to gamble on that chance, hence why I prefer not to go on hunts too often. Instead, I serve a more axillary role in the community, such as healer, researcher, a good ear, and worse comes to worse, a priest who happens to have a knack at exorcisms."

"I think we have gotten rather off topic here at the moment, Mr. Gabriel…" interject Dumbledore.

"That's FATHER Gabriel, sir."

"Forgive me – Father Gabriel. While your explanation of werewolves and this… Hunter community has been rather informative, we seemed to have gotten off topic regarding Harry and how he has come to gain his… injuries."

Gabriel paused and looked at his hands before sighing and clasping them together. "You have to understand that this is rather personal to Harry – neither his Dad nor I know exactly what happened."

"What do you mean you don't know what happened to your ward?" spoke Professor McGonagall, with a hint of venom and anger not so hidden in her tone.

"It's best I start from the beginning. I met Harry for the first time back in July of 2007 when Crowley – his adoptive father – called me in to treat someone he found. Never told me where he actually found him either since Crowley's business takes him everywhere in the world. Before you ask, Crowley's job is kind of like a fixer – he facilitates deals between individuals and such to make sure things go smoothly, and everyone gets what they want. His prices are steep, but it's worth it. In any case, you should have seen him when I first laid eyes on him – small, scrawny, silenced, illiterate, we even thought he was mute for a while. It took us months to get him to open up to us, and he still didn't really tell us what happened to him during the first years of his life. We quickly pieced together that he must have been abused or mistreated for his abilities when he showed us his pyromancy abilities. From there, Crowley and I took turns nourishing his gifts, getting healthy, and basically giving him the childhood he never had."

"A childhood that included getting oneself nearly killed while hunting dangerous beings and creatures on a frequent basis?" added Professor McGonagall.

"You make it sound as if we forced him into it. No, it happened by circumstance. It was a few years later when a pair of brothers ran into a situation in which they were out of their league. Their names were Sam and Dean…"

"Winchester. Harry writes to Dean from time to time but he really doesn't talk about him nor his brother," Neville spoke.

"That's because Sam isn't around anymore."

"Oh," blanched Neville, "Was it related to the…?"

"It was but only circumstantially. You have to understand, the first time the three met, they sort of hit it off and started working together from time to time. The boys had the experience to make sure Harry stayed safe when he occasionally went with them, and Harry got a chance to train his skills and save people from monsters. That might have been a reason why he got involved with such a world at a young age but nothing Crowley did manage to deter him from stopping him from going on the hunts."

"So when do the burns come in?" asked Amelia.

Gabriel looked down in shame, "It was almost a year ago. The Winchester boys and an associate of theirs got involved in a cult of sorts. Well, they call themselves a cult – I called them downright Satanists. They had this whole idea that Sam was Lucifer reincarnated and that he was his human vessel on this plane. Wanted him to willingly submit and allow himself to get possessed and bring upon Armageddon. Harry heard about some of the… things… they did which they called 'holy rights and rituals' and well… their numbers started dropping soon after that."

Snape eyes narrowed, "The boy has killed humans before?"

Gabriel huffed, "Calling those monsters humans is like calling a kitten a freaking lion – not on the same level. Believe me, the things they have done… Suffice to say, Harry took it rather personally. Setting them on fire may have been too much, but I think they had it coming."

"And they got even?" deduced Amelia

Gabriel brushed a hand through his hair, "The cultist finally managed to get their hands on Sam by tricking him. They had him tortured and high on so many drugs that by the time he said 'yes,' he thought he was convinced he was Lucifer. All they really did was brake down his limits and morality so that he would his use abilities without reservation. In your terms, I guess you would have called him an Obscurus, one who managed to survive to his 20's through sheer willpower and control."

"And where does Harry come in?"

"Harry was… his last test. When Harry heard what happened to Sam, he lost it. We didn't get a chance to stop him before he teleported – yes, he can teleport, believe me, he has a lot of skills he hasn't shown any of you yet – to their base and went on a spree. Unfortunately, he was overpowered by Sam and, well…"

"He was tortured, wasn't he?"

Gabriel looked on to Professor Snape, guilt clearly evident on the priest's face. "By the time Dean and his posy got to him, Sam had his way with him. We tried everything to stop Sam – we lost a good man that day. In the end, however, when Sam was about to beat his brother to death, Dean finally got through to him and brought him back to sanity. With the last shred of control Sam had left, he… ended himself."

Dumbledore stared in shock, "And the Obscurus? What of the magic release?"

Gabriel shook his head, "Self-contained explosion, one that got rid of the cult and its members. Ever since then, I have been slowly healing Harry on my own" – Gabriel raised his hands, allowing them to glow to everyone's surprise, before putting them down as they dimmed – "and as you can see, most of my efforts went into his face."

Hermione looked back at Harry before facing Gabriel again, "So his body…"

"Will heal with time by my aid and through his own magic. None of you have anything to worry about."

"Except for the fact that we have a child who is apparently a trained killer and has powers and heritage we don't understand." deadpanned Snape.

"You don't have to worry about that – Crowley made Harry swear not to get involved in Hunting until he was much, much older. He also caught off all ties with the Winchester, which frankly wasn't necessary since Dean himself retired to go and raise a family. In regards to his abilities, I would like to remind you that it was those abilities that prevented those werewolves from getting into this school in the first place. And what do you mean by heritage?"

"He wasn't infected by the werewolves during the exchange."

"Huh. Maybe he does have some sort of creature inheritance, but it would most likely be from your end, since he was initially part of your world. And if he does have some sort of non-human blood, he has never shown any signs of it."

Dumbledore hand went through his beard, "He could be related to Veela."

Hermione and Neville looked at the Headmaster in shock, "But sir, I read that all Veela were female."

"True," replied Dumbledore, "but what is written is all that we managed to gather from them. You have to understand Hermione, Veela are technically classified as Beings and as much, are mistrusted by a significant chunk of people, despite their human visags. Who knows what secrets they haven't shared with us out of fear of persecution?"

"But don't Veela transform into Harpie-like creatures when enraged?"

"That is true Neville, but you also have to remember, Veela are also known for two other things: their natural abilities to create and manipulate fire, and their magically seductive auras."

Gabriel nodded, "Logical deduction. From there, one can argue that maybe the male Veela are born without the ability to become Harpies nor the ability to attract mates. Maybe they even… get rid of them to make sure others don't find out. Sounds almost Amazonian if you think about it, especially since Veela are found mainly in the Mediterranean."

"That's a rather grim outlook." replied Amelia.

"It is, which is why it's more likely that Harry is a result of a Veela reemerging in a Muggle family after many generations. I mean, it's possible that at some point in time, a Veela girl was born without the usual gifts, was assumed to be a squib, was left in the Muggle world, and a few generations later, a kid with inherent magic is born… spark meets ember… and BOOM! A male Veela is made!"

Amelia nodded, noting that that explanation seemed more logical and believable than a whole culture of creatures killing of their male young. "Alright, I've heard enough to get the basic picture. For now, this incident shall still remain classified and under investigation. Dumbledore, please make sure that the Daily Prophet doesn't catch wind of this. We in the DMLE, on the other hand, will put out an arrest warrant for Lucius Malfoy of the Noble House of Malfoy as a 'person of interest' in an outgoing case in which he was possibly involved. Also, Father Gabriel, please inform Harry and his Father that until further notice, he will have to be classified as a 'Being' by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures until such time that he can either confirm or refute it."

Gabriel nodded, "Seems reasonable. Will the students have to be informed about it?"

Professor McGonagall jumped in, "The staff will be notified, and his file in the Ministry will be under lock and key. However, despite the fact that the students are under an oath of secrecy, they can still talk among themselves and stray to the wrong conclusion. They are aware that Harry was involved somehow, and if they assume that he engaged the werewolves, then they will assume that he got infected."

Gabriel smiled, "Easy enough to rectify – make a big scene out of it by having him publically displayed somewhere on the full moon. Rumors will fly, but it will be hard to refute such evidence about Harry being a werewolf. And if they somehow find out that Harry is a Being… well, they have no way to confirm or deny it, so that is what it will remain, a rumor. As far as I am concerned, Harry's involvement – unless told otherwise to the students – will continue to be as mysterious and enigmatic as he is."

Everyone in the room winced while Gabriel laughed, "Hey, even Harry finds it amusing! He wasn't even trying to create such a persona but…"

"DAMN YOU CHIKA!" screamed the Sorting Hat, getting everyone's attention and getting more than a few to jump from the scare. (3)

"Well, seems like the hat is done with his job," spoke Gabriel as he clapped his hands as he walked up to Harry as he was waking up. "You ran into trouble in there?"

"Only in so that Harry decided to pull a last minute prank after we finished our talk. In any case, he's fine – the shock of having to kill again is what made him pass out. He should recover physically on his own in a few days."

"Excellent. Now Madam Pomfrey, is it okay if I have a moment of privacy with Harry?"

After being ignored for the duration of Gabriel's conversation, Madam Pomfrey was glad to be needed again. "Sure thing, just let me set up the privacy curtain – it will prevent us from hearing what you talk about or see inside of it."

"That's wonderful. Any last questions from you lot?"

"Wait, I have one!" Hermione nearly shouted. "How did you plan to explain magic scientifically?"

"Oh, I was going to equate it to electromagnetic radiation, in so that I was going to argue that magic is sort of like a mixture of wavelength and frequency, in so that all Wizard World magic falls under one wavelength and that, say, all spells relating to fire fall under one frequency, hence so all magic is a combination of said two factors."

Gabriel spoke this nonchalantly while he was closing up the curtain and a little Jewish girl's brain imploded.

"Oh, and before I forget, the Mother of All was named Eve – guess the Bible got some stuff right after so many revisions."

Hermione's brain exploded once more.

Gabriel sat down in front of a smirking Harry, the hat still on his head. "You want to leave him here?"

"No offense, FATHER Gabriel, but he did rummage through my head for an extended period of time."

Gabriel gave the hat a poignant look, "Should I be concerned?"

The hat chuckled, "Don't worry Archangel Gabriel, your secrets are safe with me. I have no soul or body to torture or interrogate for information, so no one will find out your secrets. And if anything does happen to my physical vessel, Hogwarts will contain my essence until a new one is made."

Harry actually raised a brow at that, "Really? Nice to know Mímir. At least that way, rather than fixing you, I can hypothetically make you a new hat."

Gabriel looked confused, "Mímir, really? After the Norse god renowned for his knowledge and wisdom?"

Harry shrugged, "He was a severed head who advised Odin – seemed appropriate, and it made things easier when talking to him."

Gabriel chuckled, 'That's is just so corny."

"No more than the bullshit I was smelling that you spewed to the teachers and my friends. I mean seriously – Satanists? Veela heritage? Healing hands? I haven't heard that much double talk since I went to a Jordan Belfort seminar." (4)

"Hey, I never denied nor confirmed anything. I did give a general idea of what happened to you, and I simply agreed with Dumbledore's suggestion that could explain the scenario as neatly as possible. So what if only three people in that room didn't completely buy what I was selling them."

Harry sighed, "Fine, fine… anything else you want to inform me that Dean, Sam, or Crowley haven't already told me?"

Gabriel smiled, "So you are aware that Daddy dearest is pissed with you, right?"

"Hey, he said himself he was going to give Bobby's soul back when everything was over. He reneged on the deal, so I corrected the oversite – he taught me better than that. Oh, also, since Mímir helped me sort through my memories, tell him that the son of that Marchioness turned Duchess he made a deal with almost five years ago comes here."

"Really? What a coincidence. He ever tell you why he claimed that soul early?"

"Said something about another pish-posh overindulged pampered princes wanting to move up in the world. The fact he didn't need to kill her to do so never crossed his mind when he sends Cujo after her."

Gabriel slouched his shoulders, "I still hate the name you gave to his favorite hellhound."

"And I still don't understand what you have against Stephen King."

"He is a crappy writer!"

"ONLY HIS LATER WORKS!"

"'Hem, hem!" interrupted Mímir, scaring the crap out of both of them. In shock, the hat smiled, "Still got it." (5)

Harry was first to catch his breath, "Please, don't do that again. That sounded… just so wrong and ominous."

"Agreed. Now, while we have the time. Harry, please tell you felt that malignant and miasmic feeling in the air here?"

"Oh, you mean the one originating from the DADA professor? Yeah, I know. It's so minuscule and benign you have to be either a magical creature with sensory capabilities or one of us."

Mímir nodded, "Since you are aware of this, I can now tell you that you correct Harry. Professor Quirrell is the source of it because he is possessed by a shade."

Harry inquired, "The shade of who?"

Mimir leaned in closer – an odd sight-seeing as he was on Harry's head – and spoke quietly, "If I tell you, you must remove him from the premises. I can't tell Albus since it would violate the stipulation in the hiring contract used since the founding of this school and he is too self-absorbed and mighty to even consider that the stuttering and terrified Quirrel can be the vessel of such evil."

Gabriel was confused, "Is the school hiring contract that ironclad?"

"No, I'm simply unable to violate it since I am tied to this school magically. But since you two are aware of it, the loophole applies, regardless of the fact that's it technically private teacher information."

Harry agreed, "Seems like a fair deal."

"Good," nodded Mímir. "Here's what you need to know…"

Harry and Gabriel listened to the hat intently while Crookshanks continued to nap.

"They have been under there for a while, Hermione."

"I know Neville. The teachers are starting to worry."

This was true, for while Neville, Hermione, and Amelia Bones sat patiently, the rest of the staff was either standing or pacing.

Neville started at the curtain, making out the shadows inside, "They are rather animate, aren't they?"

Hermione shrugged, "Can you blame them? Harry – even if he is used to it – just fought off over a dozen of werewolves. Gabriel is clearly a concerned guardian making sure his ward is okay."

"But why isn't his father here then?"

"Well he did say he is a busy man who travels the world – maybe he simply couldn't make it which is why he asked Gabriel to come."

"Oh… that makes sense."

Odd moment of silence.

"So… you're Jewish…"

"Let's not make a thing out this Neville."

"I am not, it's just… you did say you were excited to celebrate Christmas."

"One, I said I couldn't wait for the Winter Break so I could spend the holidays with my parents. Two, just because I'm Jewish doesn't mean I can't give my friends presents on Christmas or receive them. And three… we aren't that devout."

"So…"

"We are more culturally Jewish than we like to admit… Look, can we not talk about this? It's not a big part of my life, but I still don't like talking about it – it always leads to more confusion."

Neville raised his hands in surrender, "Hey, don't need to be angry with me. The Wizarding World is surprisingly tolerant of religions - of all things - despite the fact we don't actually believe in a God."

Hermione looked in surprise, "Really?"

Neville noticed the curtain moving, "Conversation for another day…"

Gabriel came out of the curtain with the Sorting Hat in hand while a smiling Harry petting his cat. "Madam Pomfrey, the hat tells me you have creams to aid in recovery after burns, do you not?"

The Madam nodded, "Indeed I do."

"Well, that is good to hear. Based on my estimates, Harry will be in here for a day or two at most. I never had any luck with actually getting rid of his burn marks, but maybe your solutions can do the trick while he recovers."

"I'll need to run a deeper diagnostic spell to make sure, but I don't see why not."

"Good," nodded Gabriel. "If you could, focus on his hands for now. Maybe afterward, you guys can settle on some sort of treatment plan for the duration of the school year and onwards."

Madam Pomfrey smiled, "I can certainly do that."

Gabriel walked to Amelia, "Is there anything else you need Miss Bones?"

"Not at the moment; I am just waiting for the rest of the unit to return with what they found. Should I be able to reach you through Harry if I need to contact you for information?"

"You may, but be aware I may not reply immediately – despite my profession, I am a busy man. Plus, I highly doubt you will need my particular brand of creature knowhow to deal with your problems."

"Duly noted. However, some in our community have been attempting to find a cure for lycanthropy for some time now. It's possible that your brand of magic may be able to help us in the endeavor."

Gabriel pondered this, "I'll look into this but don't get your hopes up." He looked to the teachers. "Anything I need to tell Papa MacLeod about that he should be aware of? Has Harry been doing great in his classes? Has he been getting into trouble? Does he have more than two friends on that bench there? Has he been found in a broom closet with a partner already?"

"Yes, no, possible, and my word, I hope not," spoke Professor McGonagall succinctly. "Mr. MacLeod is a wonderful student, and while he is very sociable and reaches across the house lines, he is very close with Hermione and Neville… hopefully not close enough to end up with a broom closet here with one of them." McGonagall glared at the two mentioned friends – albeit with a hint of smile – while they blushed at the mention of that.

"Honestly, if your Veela theory is right, I would be more concerned if he didn't end up in the closet with both of them. That could be the reason why there are no male Veela – they bat for both teams."

Noting the cherry red color Hermione and Neville were taking at that particular mental image while Harry laughed out loud, Gabriel decided to make a hasty exit. "Well, if that is all, I will take my leave. In case I don't see you... good afternoon, good evening, and good night." (6)

All anyone was Gabriel seemly disappear, without a puff or noise of air taking up empty as commonly associated with Apparition.

"Huh, what do you know," Amelia said in light-hearted shock. "He really can teleport."

"Revelations aside," spoke Dumbledore, "is there anything else you need Amelia?"

"No. I'll go and collect the Aurors and report back to the DMLE. I have a lot of midnight oil to burn if I want all the paperwork done by sunrise at best."

"And Lucius?" inquired Snape.

"As much as I wish it could be, it is more than likely he already managed to flee to parts unknown."

"And his son?"

"We will check St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward to see if he is still there but I won't raise my expectations. Knowing Lucius, he has backup plans for his backup plans."

Dumbledore nodded, "And Sirius's trial?"

"It will proceed as planned, although I suspect this incident may come back in regards to you. You can refrain from going to the hearing as a character witnesses since his release is an absolute certainty, but the public won't like it."

"Give them time. Despite whatever the Daily Prophet writes, it will be their word against the word of James and Lily Potter."

"You are putting high hope on the word of Potter, but I understand."

Albus turned to Snape, "I will keep you up to date if it comes up, Severus."

Professor Snape nodded before leaving the Hospital Wing to his dungeons.

Albus nodded before turning to Hermione and Neville, "Now, it's very late in the night – it is, in fact, the 11th now – so I believe that even I can't write up a pass for the classes you may miss in the morning if you don't go to sleep. Professor McGonagall, can you escort the two to their dorms?"

"Of course Albus. Come along you two, Harry won't be going anywhere, and you can see him tomorrow at lunch if Madam Pomfrey permits it."

Neville and Hermione said their good nights – Nev taking Crookshanks with him back to Gryffindor Dorm – before Albus approached Harry while Pomfrey was getting lotion from her cabinets. "Did you have an informative talk with the Sorting Hat?"

"I gave him the name Mímir, and yes, we managed to cover a lot of our bases. He hopes to talk with me again whenever you have the chance to get the two of us together at your earliest convenience."

"I will check my calendar for the next time I can get the two of you in one room again. Until then, have a good night Mr. Hadrian Lazarus MacLeod."

Harry smiled, "Please, call me Harry."

Dumbledore smiled in turn, "Indeed I shall. Good night Harry. Come along now Mímir. Maybe now you will let me get that gold plated name tag on your pedestal."

Harry continued smiling until Dumbledore left his sight and possible hearing range. At that moment, his jovial nature turned hateful, "Good night, you manipulative, egomaniacal, control freak. And here I thought you were on my side. When I get my hands on you, you just wait…"

"Did you say something, sweety?"

Harry quickly smiled as he turned to face Madam Pomfrey, "Oh nothing, just talking to myself. I really didn't want my friends nor the teachers to find so much about me today. I just hope they don't think worse of me after all of this."

Pomfrey smiled at his worry while she started to apply the healing concoction to his hands, "You have nothing to worry about, child. If those two are truly are your friends, they will stick by your side till the end of time – regardless of what everyone else thinks about you."

Harry smiled at that thought, "One can only hope and see what shall pass."

Harry smelled his hands after Pomfrey was done, "Just what exactly is in this stuff that helps aid in healing from burns?"

"Believe it not, phoenix ash. I get a fresh supply every few weeks from the Headmaster's phoenix, Fawkes, which I brew. You would be surprised how many people come up here due to potion accidents of such nature."

Harry laughed, "Don't remind me – I was there when Draco screwed up his boils potion on the first potion class."

Pomfrey gave Harry a knowing glance, "I hope you had nothing to do with that? I do recall that the accident was caused by an overheated potion, was it not?"

Harry gave Pomfrey a shocked look – a hand to his heart, mouth gaping, and the whole exaggerated shebang. "MADAM POMFREY! I hope you are not insinuating anything I could have possibly been responsible for. Its 'innocent until proven guilty,' is it not?"

"HA!" laughed Pomfrey, "I'll have you know I heard the exact the same thing from a particular quartet of pranksters not a little over a decade and a half ago. Trust me, they have gotten away with worse."

Harry gave Pomfrey an evil smile, "What makes you think I haven't done things that I haven't gotten caught for?"

"Touché. Will I see your handy work frequently here or should just prepare a permanent bed for you?"

"You don't have to worry about that," said Harry as he raised his arm to show Pomfrey his rapidly healing scars. "My ability to recover from injuries is rather impressive, is not?"

Pomfrey bug-eyed before smiling knowingly, "You know exactly what you are, don't you Harry?"

"Is it covered by patient-doctor confidentiality?"

"If you mean my Healer's Oath, which prevents me from discussing any and all private patient information and ailments – verbally, through writing, or through mental intrusion - from anyone regardless of power and authority under any circumstances other than your permission under fear of losing my magic or death? Yes, it's covered."

Harry whistled, "Wow, you healers take your jobs seriously."

"You will be amazed how much gossip goes through this ward. They always forget about little old Madam Pomfrey in the corner prepping their medicine while they chat away with their friends. They all forget that I was a Slytherin."

Harry thought about for a second. "So even Legilimency doesn't work?"

"Yes. The magic of the Healer's Oath insures it, but only if we share the information while I am treating you or you are in a recognized medical establishment."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Rather specific guidelines. I can only assume that if you, say, heard a secret somewhere like Diagon Alley, would it be covered under your oath?"

"If it is a patient of mine, there are specific regulations that come into effect that I can't divulge to you. If it is someone I don't know, then it's not protected by my Oath."

Harry smiled, "Good enough. Do you mind?"

Pomfrey moved away from the bed as Harry got up and walked up to the wall before turning and facing her once more.

"They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Hopefully, this will alleviate some of your worries."

Harry slowly raised his hands from his sides as the lights within the Hospital Wing flickered. Pomfrey's panic was quickly overridden as she saw the shadow of two giant wings formed behind Harry.

She was in awe at the sight up until the after the lights returned to normal.

Harry watched as the details all fell into place in her mind, "Take your time."

Pompfrey balked, "So…so… Gabriel was… is in fact…"

"Yes."

"So angels are in fact…"

"They are."

"So am I going to go to…"

"They don't care about worship like you would expect. As long as you have been good, their doors are always open."

"So are you in fact…"

"No, I am not an angel, full-blooded or otherwise."

Pomfrey breathed out a sigh of relief, "Oh good. I was worried that your wings looked a little…"

"More predatory then protective?"

"They did, in fact, look more hawkish then pigeon-like."

Harry smiled, "I've been told they look vulture-like, but that's close enough. I hope you won't be writing this down."

"Oh Merlin no! Besides, who would believe me?"

Harry laid back down as Pomfrey began applying more of the concoction to Harry's arms, "Wait, what about your dad then? Crowley, isn't it?"

Harry chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head, "Let's leave that conversation for another day – we had enough revelations tonight as it is."

"Can't be more surprising than the fact the Gabriel is your guardian."

"You would be surprised."

Dumbledore entered his office after a very… bizarre session. Granted, he learned much regarding the enigma that was Harry – or rather, Hadrian Lazarus – MacLeod.

While the fact that he has killed before terrified the man, the fact that it was mostly supernatural creatures alleviated him on some regard. He could not, however, forgive him for killing the cultists. They were corrupt, but they were humans. They had a chance of redemption, no matter has small it was. Besides, Harry admitted that they used torture and mental manipulation to recruit others to their way of thought. They could easily have been recovered.

Frankly, it was too late to even consider the implications of such a reveal of what transpired. Thankfully, the students won't go writing to their parents about what happened since they were under Secrecy Vows. Granted, this would eventually all come out when DMLE deems it necessary, but since no one important was injured or harmed in any way – the wolves didn't even get into the school – no one will raise a fuss. The Ministry may and will most likely raise a fuzz about it, but that is to be expected. Hopefully, he can convince Fudge to ignore this.

Dumbledore was about to set Mímir – he meant the Sorting Hat – when he realized something. Fudge always had three people whispering in his ear – Lucius Malfoy, himself, and his Senior Undersecretary. However, now that Lucius – he of the never-empty pockets of galleons – is out of the picture, all that is left is him and Dolores. And without Lucius to back up, Dolores' voice has become a whisper.

"Yes," spoke Albus as he placed the hat on his pedestal. "This could work out well. I'll have to make inquiries, but otherwise, I don't think anyone can gain his ear from the 'Black' side that I am aware of."

Albus kept mumbling to himself while Fawkes trilled in worry at his master. "Don't worry Fawkes," whispered Mímir gaining the firebirds attention. "It will take time, but change is coming. It will be slow, but the changing of the guard has already begun."

Fawkes paused, staring at his ageless friend, nodding in understanding, trilling once more.

"No, I doubt he can be your master. You can only bound with one of pure soul at a time and unfortunately, his is rather…murky at best. He will make a great addition to the 'Grey' side one day, but for now, he gathers his power."

Mímir twitched as he remembered his foray into Harry's mind…

Everyone assumes that entering a mind is like walking through a door into a house.

One can only hope that Mímir can get such a chance.

Mímir always has to trudge through the disorganized minds of children year after year. Some of them at least bother trying and make it easy for him – if going through a cluttered attic can be considered less strenuous then swimming through a murky lake. Usually, it's just him falling into a void and seeing bubbles of memories float around him. Once in a blue moon, he gets someone gifted – someone like Hermione Granger – who has a naturally organized mind and makes his sorting job both equally easier and challenging.

The less organized the mind, the more the forefront traits of an individual are present. On the other hand, the more organized the mind, the more he has to search and peruse before he chooses where they go. Thankfully, Hermione was a natural choice for Ravenclaw; he was worried her desire to emulate Dumbledore would have overpowered her desire to be around those similar to her, but thankfully her meeting with Harry took care for that.

Ah, but Harry Potter – there was a challenge of grand making. Mímir has never run into such a vast mind in one so young before. He wanted to search it, but while Harry's earrings didn't block him from reading his mind, he couldn't enter its deepest recesses.

Until Harry let him in.

And it was, ironically, a door.

Seeing as he would need to take physical form, Mímir decided to take the visage of Godric. Slowly, his amorphous form turned into a tall, muscular man with a lion-like mane of wavy red hair and a beard to match. He had green eyes, peach-colored skin, wearing segmented red sword gauntlets adorned with gold fittings with armor to match. With red robes on his shoulder, his sword at his side, he made a rather stern and commanding figure.

If only they knew of how big of a softy and prankster he was. Mímir more than once believed that the myth of Klaus the Toymaker was based on an aged Godric, but he digresses.

Mímir entered as to what can only be described as a vestibule of knowledge. Shelves of books reached as high as the eye could see, with ladders going equally as high, with wooden floors and gas-lamps providing the ambiance. If he didn't know any better, Mímir could have sworn he entered an old library, not a child's mind. (7)

Then there was the music. Slowly he followed it, eventually ending up at a fireplace, in front of which was a carpet, two comfy sofa chairs, a small bar table to place a lamp or such accouterment, and to the side, a wind-up gramophone – one that played perpetually despite no one spinning it.

In the chair sat Harry, reading what looked like the 1st edition of "Grimm's Fairy Tales."

"Was Chopin really necessary?" inquired Mímir.

Harry looked up as he closed his book and put it to his side, "Was dressing as Godric necessary?"

"Perhaps not, but I needed a form."

Mímir sat in the other empty chair, "Rather old to read fairy tales aren't you?"

Harry chuckled, "The original stories were nothing like we read to children today. The brothers understood what a children story should be like – dark and frightening to get the message across to impressionable children. Were once Cinderella cut off her step-sisters feet or had birds peck out their eyes, now we tell the children that she only forgave them or left them alone. Besides, the brothers hid their knowledge of the supernatural through their tales to pass on their knowledge – if you read between the lines of course."

"Truly?"

"Oh please, a hunter who comes in to kill the wolf before he got Little Red Riding Hood? Granted, it's a rather obvious one but still."

Mímir nodded. "Fair point, at least that particular tale is rather clear-cut… Unlike some I know."

The vinyl skipped and stopped playing. Harry sighed, "Is it that obvious?"

"Child, I have been in many minds, and despite my role in this school, I have sat upon the heads of some of the finest and brilliant minds in all of magic history. So believe me when I say that this" – Godric waved his hand at the shelves around him – "is not the mind of a child."

"I thought as such."

Harry raised his hand as he summoned a book from one of the higher shelves. Mímir noted its appearance: red and black, with a key and lock, almost bulging from its size, with strings connecting to so many other books present around him, indicating that much of the knowledge in Harry's mind came from this particular memory. But what really caught Mímir attention is how it smelled of brimstone. (8)

Harry stretched his arm to Mímir. "Before you read it, please understand that I never lied to anyone. I am, for all intents and purposes, an eleven-year-old boy – at least physically."

Mímir finally understood what has bothered him about the kid. He knew of his real history – not the half-cooked story Gabriel told others – but he never understood how Harry recovered so rapidly after his encounter with Lucifer.

"How did you do it then? Death was very clear that you would have to heal the long way."

"He wasn't wrong. I did need to heal – or rather, my body needed to heal. So, I found a loophole. I got Crowley to send my soul to hell but maintained a link with my physical form. I then got Gabriel to force my body to heal – warts, cuts, blemishes, pain and all. In essence, I diluted my sensation of pain to be able to handle it. Sometimes it was barely noticeable, other times it was unbearable, but I shudder at what it would have felt in real time. He did what he could mind you, but eventually, I was brought back up to heal and at least get acquainted with my new body."

Mímir raised a brow. "What? Did you really think my height and weight in stone was due to healthy eating and exercise? I mean sure, it played a part, but my blood adoption by Crowley can only overcome so much of James Potter's and Lily Evan's inheritance. Trust me, I've seen their pictures – neither was particularly tall or burley. I mean, I still don't really understand how that reed of man – bless my father soul – managed to become such a great Auror."

Mímir laughed, "A good woman can motivate a man to do many things."

"True. Orpheus traveled to the Underworld to rescue his beloved Eurydice. Makes you wonder how good she was in bed."

Mímir burst out laughing, "Oh, you truly are your father's son."

Harry chuckled before becoming solemn. "So… are you going to read that book or not?"

Mímir looked at his hand. "How long was it?"

Harry pulled down o his face with his hand, clearly worried about the answer he was about to give. "Give or take about thirty years." (9)

Mímir sighed, "Well… let's take a look." He slowly unlocked the book, a bright light beaming from its pages.

In mental time, Mímir spend days going over everything learned while he was 'incarcerated' in hell. To Harry, it was almost instantaneous.

Mímir slowly closed the book, putting on the table to his side. "That was… illuminating. Been some time since I had that much information into me." He rubbed his brows in pain, "Tell me, how many times did you go insane from the solitude down there."

Harry shrugged, "Lost track. After a while, it all kind of blends together."

Mímir sighed in exasperation, "And here I thought I would only need a few sessions with you to get to know you. Boy, was I wrong."

Harry laughed, "Don't worry Mímir, we have all the time in the world in here."

"Mímir?"

"Well I can't exactly refer to you as the Sorting Hat all the time, so I gave you a fitting name."

Mímir smiled – it has been a long time since he talked to someone and wasn't treated as a mere object.

Mímir leaned back into his, Chopin starting up again in the background. "Well then – where do you want to begin?"

Harry smiled and focused all his attention upon the visage of Godric Gryffindor, "Tell me everything you know about my father and mother."

He would have continued talking with Harry, but he sensed the presence of Gabriel in the Hospital Ward and decided it was time to wake up.

The fact that he scared Mímir out of his mind with that… robotic monstrosity… was out of line.

It was still funny though, though Mímir, chuckling.

"Let's hope everything goes well for his Godfather at the trial."

October 12th, 2011 - Noon

"Well that was easy," spoke Sirius almost nonchalantly.

"Admittedly, it was the fastest trial I ever had." admitted Edward.

"Did we really have to come here to eat though?" asked Remus.

"Hey, I haven't had ice cream in over a decade – let me enjoy my chocolate chip and mint," barked a newly freed Sirius.

Admittedly, three adults sitting outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour in the middle of the day was somewhat odd. The fact that everyone walking by stared at Sirius in awe and fear sort of overshadowed it.

"In any case," began Sirius as he finished his cone, "Where did Dumbledore run off to anyway in such a hurry? He didn't even act as my character witness."

"Sirius, you had the handwritten and magically verified will of Lord Potter to clear your name – who help did you really need afterward?" asked Ted.

"I know but still…"

"Calm down Padfoot," spoke Remus as he rubbed the back of his best friend to calm his nerves. A task he was finding rather difficult as he just spend the night locked up in a DMLE cage due to his 'furry problem.' He didn't know what he did last night, but his shoulders were sore.

"I know Moony, but still."

Ted looked around before leaning in, the two former Marauders leaning in as well. "I heard rumors from my associates in the DMLE. Something happened in Hogwarts two nights ago that they are keeping hushed up for now. All I know is that somehow, Lucius was involved and they put a warrant out for him. Unfortunately, he managed to escape with what little he had left after the divorce and what Narcissa pilfered away."

"What of Draco?" asked Sirius with concern.

"Somehow, he was snuck out of St. Mungo's in the middle of the night without anyone noticing. Must have used a Silencing Charm to make sure no one heard his mad cackling."

Remus leaned back in his chair. "What of his valuables and such?"

Ted shook his head, "DMLE send word to Gringotts regarding closing his vaults, but the bastard managed to empty what he could carry. The artifacts, books and such he left behind. The gems and galleons he managed to pilfer into his Undetectable Extension Charm Bag are gone though. All of it went to Narcissa, including the mansion and the elves."

Sirius paused, "Should I be concerned as to how she plans to keep that home without a source of income? I doubt taxes have changed since I've been incarcerated."

"They have not," smiled Ted. "However, as the now reinstated Lord Black, it is your concern, not ours."

Sirius sighed. He was not ready for this, not until he got cleared by a Mind Healer after his stay in Azkaban. "I'll have a word with her. I know she has a mastery of something or other – she should be able to find work somewhere."

Remus nodded, "Indeed she shall. For now though, what of Harry?'

Sirius sighed as he crossed his hand and leaned on them to balance his weary head. "I don't know. He had Griphook deliver a letter detailing all he had done while he had the title, alongside the Black Ring. I mean, I understand he is in hiding, but still- I am his Godfather."

"No, Padfoot. You are simply a man on paper to him right now – he has no connection to you that he can recall. Give him time. Eventually – hopefully – he may come to us willingly on his own."

"We can only pray that day is someday soon, Remus."

Ted looked at his wrist, "Look, guys, I have things to do at the office and other cases to work on. Hopefully, we can all meet up at the Black home and catch up on everything. For now, I bid you all a good day."

Remus looked at Sirius, "I have things to take care of us well, Padfoot. With what James left me, I have to go to Gringotts and modify my vault plan. I doubt my lower-tier vault can hold the fortune know have."

Sirius chuckled, "Hopefully now you can buy some clothes that actually make you look decent rather than a traveling hobo."

Remus laughed as the friend he once knew surfaced more and more. "I'll see you at Grimmauld Place later tonight."

Sirius smiled as Ted and Remus left to their destination. He would have kept eating alone if not a few minutes later someone sat in front him.

The shock of recognition was not overlooked.

"Calm yourself, Sirius. You look like you have seen a ghost."

"To be fair, seeing your mug again is a shock in itself, Cyrus."

Cyrus Greengrass was a monster of a man. He is what people would imagine Lucius Malfoy would look like if he went to military school and kept up the physical routine. Short crop hair, piercing blue eyes, wide shoulders, and a figure that would terrify most. His stoic nature, shrewd business acumen, and overall – and pardon the phrase here – 'badass' persona is what allowed him to weather the shit-storm that was the First Wizard War.

Of course, being a magical powerhouse despite running a multi-million galleon worldwide shipping and import business played a hand in it as well.

Being respected by both the 'Grey' and 'Light' sides helped as well, but that could only buy so much when most of your family supported Voldemort. He regained the honor with effort, but it still took time and much compensation.

Despite his terrifying demeanor, he did, in fact, have one glaring weakness: his inability to say 'no' to his wife Roxanne – the most Slytherin Ravenclaw anyone has ever met – and his daughters Daphnee and Astoria – more so Astoria, since he started mothering her ever since her sister left for Hogwarts.

However, only two other people other than his family have ever been able to survive the force of nature that he is: Albus Dumbledore due to sheer power and age, and Sirius Black the Third, due to the sheer inability to 'give a fuck' as it were.

At times, Cyrus seriously considered how Sirius wasn't sorted into Hufflepuff since the only animal that came to mind when dealing with him was the honey badger, the only animal in existence capable of giving the middle finger to anything, including dragons.

Seeing as how Sirius survived Azkaban for over a decade none for worse, the theory held significant merit.

Cyrus chuckled, "Only Black, have ever been able to get under my skin with a few words as possible."

Sirius smiled, "Last time I checked, that included spells as well. Remind me again, what was our score before I was wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban?"

"You know it was 49-48 in your favor, just like you know that literally nothing could have been done about that. Fudge was like an ostrich with his head in the ground: only a fire up his egg-hole would have gotten him to see any different."

"Oh, I am not arguing that particular notion. I guess also say thank you for trying to pay for my lawyer fees – as misguided as the gesture was."

"How was I to know your cousin paid? You have to realize that she fooled us all in where her allegiances lie."

"Yes… she was a true Slytherin, through and through – she did what she had to survive with the hand she was dealt. In any case, any word and what they plan to do with Fudge?"

"Definitely being incarcerated for the remainder of his short future life in Azkaban plus a hefty fee straight out of his pocket to you."

"Is that before or after they go over his books to take back what he pilfered from the Ministry?"

Cyrus raised his hand in assurance, "Don't worry, my associates in the DMLE assure me he has more than enough to cover you afterward. And to ease your tension, he is being watched by Aurors 24/7 to make sure he doesn't make a quick escape."

"Good. What of Milicent and Bartemius?"

"Well, Crouch wasn't responsible for your trial in any way, so he is financially safe. He already gets enough flack for leaving his post the way he did during the war. Bagnold though…"

"Oh come on, don't tell me…"

"They are pushing the age card heavily, my friend."

"MERLIN DAMMIT!"

"Calm down, Sirius. She is pushing triple digits – she won't survive a week in Azkaban, regardless of the levels she is send to. Plus, she is the last of her family – she has nothing to give you for her fines."

Sirius shook his head, "Can't Ted at least remove some of her awards and recognition or something, just to soothe my wounded ego?"

"No amount of soothing can work miracles on an ego as inflated as yours," deadpanned Cyrus.

"Yeah, yeah, Cyrus, whatever. How about we cut the small talk and get to the matter which you have been trying to tiptoe to?"

"Always to the point with you, isn't Black?"

"Hey, when this is conversation is done, I am going straight to my girlfriend's mansion and making up for lost time, hopefully all in the bedroom; I have a decade of snu-snu to make up for." (10)

"Oh? Should we expect to hear the pitter-patter of tiny Black-Bones baby feet by next year end?"

Sirius shrugged, "Hopefully. I have names picked out and everything."

Cyrus just stared in shock.

"I was in prison for a decade, Cyrus. I had nothing to do but make a list of things I would accomplish when I got out and practice my Occlumency."

This caught Cyrus attention. "How powerful are we talking?"

Sirius gave a predatory smile, "Let's just say spending an extended period of time around Dementors gives one the ability to create very… unique mental defenses. Suffice to say, everyone around me will know if someone tries to get into my noggin."

"Then this conversation just got much easier. Were you aware that there was an active marriage contract between the Potter and Greengrass Houses?"

Only years of practicing Occlumency prevented Sirius from showing the shock that he was feeling inside. "Really? James never talked about."

"Mainly because it was written as a joke on our ancestors' part. I don't know the full details, the family journals were sketchy at best, but supposedly, Charlus Potter's grandfather rescued my great-great-grandfather from some sort of animal attack during an excavation in India. Neither wanted anything in return, but magic demanded a debt. Seeing no other option and seeing as both families were close despite our sides, they wrote up a Marriage Contract that would have never come to pass."

"How so?"

"For last few centuries, neither House has ever produced a female heir – until of course, I came along and fathered Daphnee and Astoria."

Sirius smiled, "Roxanne was always known for breaking the rules. Why don't you try for the third time?"

"Believe me, I tried. But apparently, two is enough for her."

Sirius gave Cyrus a long look. "She threatened you with the couch, didn't she?"

"This isn't the point of the topic. In any case, I knew the moment Daphnee was born that she would be expected to marry Harry Potter – she was informed of this early on after Astoria was born. However, despite Griphook claiming that Harry Potter is still alive and well, one thing doesn't make sense."

Cyrus reached into his pocket to take out a rolled out parchment, presumably the Greengrass copy of the Marriage Contract. He unfurled it and gave it over to Sirius to read.

"If Harry Potter is still alive, then why hasn't the contract enforced itself?"

Sirius blanched at this, "Pardon?"

"The contract is written in such a way that the moment Daphnee was born, it went into effect, effectively making her the fiancée of one Harry James Potter. However, over the years, it has fizzled out. There is an actual stipulation in it in which Daphnee should have been able to sense or even track Harry in time of need."

Sirius read over the contract very carefully making sure that he didn't miss anything. "Cyrus, believe me when I say that Harry is in fact alive. I read the letter he left me and went over everything he has done for me as temporary Lord Black. You have to understand, the House of Black magic would accept no Lord other than a Black by blood. There are only two heirs other than my niece Nymphadora who that can apply to – Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Believe me, he lives!"

Cyrus leaned into Sirius, "Then why won't the magic of the Marriage Contract aide in our search for him?"

Sirius rubbed his brow, realizing his search for Prongslet was about to become much difficult than he expected.

For there is nothing harder out there to find than someone who is actively trying not be found.