Chapter 25: Not Much Happens

November 4th, 2011 - Evening

I shouldn't laugh.

I really shouldn't laugh.

But I just can't help myself at times – I begrudgingly smile instead.

To be fair, I couldn't help but feel that I forgot one minor thing or that I was poking a sleeping dragon. But in all fairness, it just felt so… so…

I think the right phrase is 'jubilee.'

Getting rid of Quirrell and Binns did give everyone two days of no DADA or History – self-study for the win! – but our replacements? So worth it.

Sirius Black deciding to become a teacher was a surprise. I figured with his Auror background, the DADA position would have been a shoe-in for him. No, turns out the crazy bachelor of Gryffindor – not much longer, if rumors were true – was a history buff. Whether or not this was because he was expected to be Lord Black or just an odd hobby, it mattered not.

He started each class that day – including mine – the same way: he took a copy of the book for the year that we have been assigned since the time that Binns was still alive and burned it in front of us – while he tossed it in the air to boot.

As Professor Black put it, Binns was too fixated on the goblins and their wars. He argued that there was so much more interesting history to study that actually mattered. Seeing as how most wizards treated goblins – the sole controllers of British currency and economy – like shit could most like be linked back to said exorcised ghost.

Throwing in lessons about the etiquette and culture of wizards was just a backhanded way of informing the Muggle-born and Half-blood muggle raised students of things they should know.

DADA was… weird.

Not bad – just weird.

Gone was the garlic smell and the closed windows, so plus. Instead, we got wide-open windows with various knick-knacks and crystal laying or hanging around the newly refurbished classroom.

Still better.

Since DADA was the last class of my day, I had time to look up Pandora Lovegood, and I was pleasantly surprised. Before I 'infiltrated' the school, I only looked into the major families and Lords, one of which was her husband, Xenophilius "Xeno" Lovegood.

Something I should correct at a later date.

Interesting family, the Lovegoods. They had no distinct roots, but based on the pictures of their ancestors and the prevalence of pale-white skin and equally pale or light blond hair, I put my money on them having deep Scandinavian-Swedish-Norwegian roots. Amazingly, despite how long their history stretched, they seemed to have no issues with Muggle-born and Half-bloods. Hell, based on my – or rather, goblin – findings, they actually preferred to live in the Muggle World. Well, mainly the branch families of the Lovegoods, or those who didn't have a near albino appearance. If records were to be believed, one of the most well-known Lovegoods in recent history was Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1) – his mother was a Lovegood – a Half-blood who chose to study mathematics at Oxford. He focused primarily on the fields of geometry, linear and matrix algebra, mathematical logic, and recreational mathematics, producing nearly a dozen books under his real name. Dodgson also developed new ideas in linear algebra and probability. From what I gathered, the family still received royalty checks from his books

It was because of this exchange of scientific and mathematical knowledge over the years – before and after Charles – up to the war that the family was respected for their spell creation. Why spell creation? Because spell creation requires a mastery of Arithmancy (2), which was basically 'magic math,' a significant part of spell creation as it was needed to calculate wand movements, word & syllable count, and who knows what else.

Anyway, I went on a tangent again. Pandora Lovegood – formerly Pandora Förunderlig (3) – went to a local Swedish magic school and never went for any masteries despite her high NEWT scores. Instead, the at the time young polymath (4) decided to do what any student who finished their higher education did – she went traveling to find herself. It was during her travels into the lost corners of the world that she eventually met Xeno while exploring the southern forests of China for the Jinmenju (5). Based on gathered second and third person accounts, it was a whirlwind romance that was followed by a shotgun wedding and for some strange reason, an escape from the Chines Magical and Muggle authorities. The end results? Two jade wedding rings, some scratches and bruises, maps that some people still wanted to get their hands on, and two new wands that were made of a wood observers couldn't recognize.

Take what you will from the story.

Say what you will about the goblins, they were thorough and deserved the gold and information I was paying them with. They were already making significant dividends in the stock market under the banner of Kobalos Incorporated (6), a company hidden behind so much paperwork and red tap, Muggles would never trace it back to them.

As they settled back down in Britain, Xeno started The Quibbler and in a move that was enlightened for its time, gave Pandora a carte-blanch 'command' to do whatever she fancied at the time. Oh sure, they traveled together frequently as a pair and then as a family when their daughter came along – named Luna – looking for creatures no one has never heard of. But the rest of the year? She did whatever she wanted. At one point she did a deep dive into the effects of magic on crops. At another time she translated ancient texts from one dead language to another. And during a rather bizarre period a little after the war, she experimented with muggle drugs to see if they could be made magical. Suffice it to say, their daughter was born nine months later after what one goblin wrote down as was, 'a night in Barcelona that Bacchus would have been jealous of.'

She was recently working in spell creation with the use of the Lovegood extensive family library – magic and muggle - but due to the rising popularity of her husband's paper in the last few years, Xeno was forced to ask for his wife's assistance in running it (7). She understood where he was coming from and seeing as he indulged her needs without question, she did the same for him. She hasn't used her spell lab since.

Guess since she decided to come to school as a DADA teacher meant that Xeno must have finally adjusted or hired new helpers for his growing business. Wonder if I should ask the goblins to buy shares in his paper? I hope it isn't privately owned.

Suffice it to say, with such a hectic life story, she was bound to have nuggets of information that the books didn't.

And she did.

Despite having only one class with her, everyone who had her on that Friday found her to be… illuminating. She had of way of describing magic as something organic and tangible, rather than something that could be broken down into simple movements and a few phrases.

Well, maybe not everyone. Ravenclaws found her hard to follow – especially Hermione, whose thought patterns were just too logical to follow her lateral thinking – but they accepted the fact that she was a superior teacher compared to who she was replacing. Hufflepuff seemed to instinctually trust her – I swear the house has a pack mentality I wish I never piss off (8). Slytherins – or most of them – just either couldn't bother to follow along, didn't bother understanding her, or thought she was a Half-blood or Muggle-born.

(I checked – she was Pure-blood, just not from families with long histories compared to most high standing British Pure-bloods).

Gryffindors were a mixed bag. Most found her funny and easy to listen to. Some had difficulty following her tangents. Others hunkered down and chose to give her a chance. And some had the nerve to call her 'Dark' after class because they couldn't understand her.

The twins loved her though, and they haven't had a class with her yet.

I feared the outcome of said two forces mixing.

I also feared them picking up some Swedish swears to use without their mother finding out what they were saying.

In any case, I surreptitiously did a scan of her with my Sight and made sure no one spotted me. I wasn't a betting man, but she seemed to have something in her history that wasn't 100% Kosher human. Maybe a grandmother on one side who was more than just a witch but it was hard to tell. Without seeing someone else from her family for comparison, it was only a guess. Her daughter would be attending next year, so hopefully, my itch would be satisfied.

The day would have ended on that note had I not accidentally caught Professor Lovegood's interest…

"Ett ögonblick [one moment], MacLeod."

I was the last student still in the room when I turned to face her, "Yes Professor?"

She summoned a chair for me to sit in as she pulled out a tea set from her desk. Seeing no harm, I indulged her fancy.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"Nej nej [No no], not at all," she smiled as she waved her hand and pour green tea for us both, "I just wanted to take the pulse of the class, så att säga [so to speak]. Word around the castle is that you are the ledare [leader] of the 1st year Gryffindors, no?"

I sipped my tea before replying, "If that is the case. The position hasn't been thrust on me so to speak."

"Sann [true] – leadership is never sought but given. One must not desire power to be able to wield it properly. For as they say, absolut kraft förstör absolut [absolute power corrupts absolutely]."

"You are going to have to cast a translation charm at some point. Swedish isn't really my forte."

"Oh. Are you a polyglot (9) as well? I figured being a genius is good enough based on what Miss Granger and Miss Bones say."

I chuckled, "No, just well read. And it's nice to know that those two represent their 1st years."

"Well, when they are part of such a prestigious study group such as yours, they are bound to pick something up, nej?"

I smiled, "You flatter me, but it's nothing that no one else can take advantage of."

"No? A collection of 1st years from three different houses all working together to better themselves? Jag tror inte det [I think not]. And please forgive my slip-ups – I am used to speaking both languages at home."

I raised my hand, "It's not a problem – just concern for the other students. And to your earlier question, I know a few languages."

She sipped her tea as she raised a brow, "Oh? And what is a few?"

I put down the cup as I counted off fingers, "Well, other then English, there's Latin, Mandarin, Japanese, Hebrew, Arabic, German, a smattering of French and Spanish, and some rudimentary Hindu."

"No Enochian?"

Had I not just placed my cup down a moment before and had control of myself, I would show some semblance of shock.

"Forgive me Professor, but Enochian is an occult language made-up by John Dee and his colleague Edward Kelley. It's not real."

"Nej? If you are so well informed that you should be aware that John Dee was a Squib of a now-defunct family."

I tried to control myself, "I did not know that."

She smiled as she interconnected her fingers, "Just like you don't know that Enochian is the 'Engelska språket' [Language of Angels]?"

"Angels aren't real, Professor."

"Just like Hunters aren't real?"

My brow twitch gave me away.

"Ah, yes, me and Lord Black were informed of the discussion your guardian had with the staff and Amelia Bones. It is not often I get a chance to talk with someone part of that world and not accuse me of being a demon dealing witch."

My smile stayed strong, "Your accent is slipping, Professor Lovegood."

She raised her hand to her mouth, "I am just taking your advice to heart. But let's pretend that we are informed individuals who have sett bakom gardinen [seen behind the curtain]. I sensed the magic you used to send Binns of to the next world. Exorcism?"

I sighed in resignation, "Yes… best decision I have made to date during this school year."

"Ja, ja [yes, yes]. He was always hung up on the goblins – his family had a feud with them that lived on through him. Tell me though, how is it that you know Enochian?"

"I can ask you the same thing. Does your husband know the language?"

"Tyvärr nej [sadly no]. He never had the gift of tongues as it were. I only managed to come across enough real manuscripts on my travels to at least recognize it. He was a Magizoologiest through and through while I was the magpie."

"A slip of the tongue or did you actually take things that weren't yours?"

"Oh, I have rädda [rescued] things to prevent them from being used by the felaktiga händer [wrong hands]. Whether or not they have helped me in my research is neither here nor there."

I chuckled, "Good for you. Can I assume your daughter has inherited your inquisitive nature?"

Her smile faltered a bit there, "Yes, but unfortunately, teaching her Enochian at an early age seemed to have öppnade sitt sinne [openned her mind] a bit too much."

I raised a brow, "She can see magic?"

"Ja, and other things. I don't know why it struck her so hard. I worry for her – she perceives things that no one will ever understand."

"It's is a parents job to worry about their children. But don't worry yourself. When she comes next year, she will have someone to help her to come to terms with her abilities."

"Oh, you know someone with a similar ability?"

I smiled s I finished my tea, "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. It couldn't hurt to have a future Ravenclaw with such potential as a friend."

"So sure of yourself there, liten griffin [little griffin]?"

"I have to be, I was a snake at first – ambition comes with the territory."

She clapped her hands in excitement, "Underbar [Wonderful]! I knew I made the right chose to pick you!"

"Say what now?"

"Kom nu [come now], did you think my talk was to interrogate you about Binns? No no. I was just simply looking for my daughters best interests. With you in this school at least trying to unify the houses, I am sure my daughter will be lycklig [happy] and säker [safe] in Ravenclaw with Miss Granger."

"She has to be put into that house first and befriend Hermione before it comes to that."

"Oh, oroa dig inte [worry not]. She is as intelligent and spunky as I was during my youth. And tro mig [believe me], she will be your friend – she is just too impish not to like!"

I smiled as I got up, "I'll take your word for it. Can I assume that this little discussion won't makes it's way back to the Headmaster?"

She waved her hand as she became slightly annoyed, "Nej, nej, that old fuddy-duddy tried to get me and Lord Black to sign the standard teaching agreement. But since neither of us are sure if we plan to stick around afterward and since the year already started, we managed to get around it."

I raised a brow, "Really? But by the same token, there are things he can't discuss with either of you as private information wouldn't be magic bound."

"So? What could they possibly discuss that would get my interests?"

"How about the Cerberus on the 3rd floor?"

She smiled, "Hagrid already told me, and I confirmed it. Välsigna den oskyldiga själen [bless that innocent soul], he just can't keep a secret. How do you know about it?"

I sipped my tea nonchalantly, "I like to take midnight walks around the castle."

She raised a brow, "One that somehow got you in the headlights of giant dog?"

"Very enthusiastic walks." (10)

She smiled, "I know a man who does something very similar. But unfortunately, he had a very dålig vana [bad habit] of tripping over his feet as he didn't pay attention to the road in front of him."

I smiled ,"Then you husband should be very happy that he found you to catch him when he slips."

Pandora smiled as she finished her cup, "This was trevlig [nice]. Would you like to make this a common thing? I am a night-owl by nature."

"I'll cross your office on my walks and see if you are awake if that's okay. Should I bring anything?"

She waved her hand, "Nej, nej. I would just to pick your brain as it were about your Hunter knowledge."

I nodded in turn. "Well then, good day to you Professor, but I have to meet up with said study group."

As I was about to leave, she shouted across the classroom, "Do you plan to add Slytherin to your group?"

"Believe me, I want to, but it's a little challenging to make the first contact without certain parties interfering."

Lovegood finished her tea, "Well then, I guess I'll just to force some interhus samarbete [inter house cooperation]. Have a good night then, Mr. MacLeod."

"You too, Professor."

Pandora watched Harry leave after a very fruitful conversation. As he left the room, she got up and checked underneath his chair, making sure the Angel Trap was still there.

"Oh phooey! And here I thought we had an angel among us. Jaja [Oh well]! He will make a good anchor to hold Luna down to earth. Hope they get along."

November 4th, 2011 - Night

"So how was your first day, Pads?"

Sirius looked up pondering from the desk in his room – not office – as he looked away from the mirror in his hand. "It was… challenging."

Remus quirked his brow, "Oh? Do tell."

"The older years and anyone who cares about my name seem to be trying to suck up to me in their own little way. The lower years care neither here nor there. Material wise, I got a lot of revisioning and catching up to do to get the O.W.L and N.E.W.T years caught up. Oh, and I am trying my best not to kill Albus."

"That bad?"

Sirius chauffed, "He still hasn't caught on why I call him Chief Warlock more often then Headmaster. Thank Merlin Pandora and I managed to get out of signing those damn teaching contracts, or else magic would force me otherwise."

"That's actually in there?"

"I skimmed through it and saw mention of it. Tell me Remus – we were really that blind or was his image just so bright that we couldn't see the shadows?"

Remus sighed on the other end of the call, "Sorry to say, but I am the wrong person to ask this. I managed to get a peek at what he truly is, but I still haven't been able to take off the rose-colored glasses."

"I don't blame you; he did give you an education when the minor schools wouldn't take you."

"But that's just it," Remus sighed.

"What is?"

"He took me – a werewolf – and got me through Hogwarts without anyone except for teachers and three other finding out. I seem like a kind gesture when taken that way, but when you consider all implications…"

"Moony… where are you going with this?"

"If you honestly believe that he wasn't aware that you didn't get a trial and that he had no choice but to send Harry to Lily's sister, you are still left with a rather unpleasant can of worms. First off, why was he send to Petunia? I get that Albus wasn't there at the will reading nor at the naming of the Godparents, but for his first instinct to send the boy away? Why not get a will-reading? If he had asked, they would have told him about its stipulation, which would have made him question why you would betray your best friends. Plus, he never bothered looking up the will in the six years before Harry disappeared? That's not procrastinating – that's just ignorance."

"True…"

"There also the fact that whisperings of his band of Death Eaters have been forming a decade before the war started. Considering that Voldemort also recruited the darkest of creatures, which included werewolves, doesn't it seem odd that he happens to allow one to attend his school, which puts said werewolf in his good grace and one who willingly went to try to convince others like himself to reject Voldemort during the war?"

Sirius paused, "You're not painting a pretty picture here, Moony. Either Albus saw an opportunity and took it, or he spends several years brainwashing you to believe that you owed him. By that logic, he would have looked down on you, and considering how he has done squat for Muggle-borns and those classified as creatures, I would have to go with the later."

"Then there is the prophecy Lily and James whispered of. We never got to hear it, but I know she mentioned that it could have applied to another. Considering what happened to the Longbottoms and how often Albus visited Augusta to check up on Neville, it adds up."

"And that is what worries me more. Prophecies are precise, no if's, and's, or but's to them. They are either very general or centered around one individual. The fact that both Albus and Voldermort believed that it applied to two people already makes it suspect – if it even still applies."

"You think Voldemort is still alive, Pads?"

Sirius rubbed his neck, "If he weren't, Albus wouldn't have sent Harry away to the Muggle World for so long. That or he believes that Voldemort lives on like his followers. It's only a suspicion that unfortunately has been strengthened."

"What happened?"

"As I was burying the hatchet with Severus, I managed to… discover… that Albus has placed the Philosopher's Stone in the castle behind a series of challenges. I don't know what kind, I couldn't get around that magical bind. I do however know that Severus – or at least Dumbledore – suspected that Quirrel was possessed by Voldemort."

Remus was silenced, "Really? Did they have proof or was this just a delusional hunch?"

Sirius chuckled, "Under most circumstances, I would laugh as well. But considering that a DADA teacher – instead of stopping a troll – ran to the hall during dinner and promptly passed out after warning everyone, I doubt it. That, and he still hasn't been found. Either Quirrell got scared off, or he literally bit off more then he can chew."

"Cerberus?"

"Possible. He was placed there as a guard dog – I doubt he as told the distinction regarding faculty and thief. But it was doing its job – the DMLE can only make the case that it was placed in the school with a permit or something. Albus did warn everyone in the school that entering that room would be met with certain death, so he actually covered his bases."

"Clever. Is the stone still there?"

"Don't know. Either Albus did check and is keeping quiet, or he hasn't bothered. Knowing how unflappable he considers himself, it's more likely he hasn't bothered yet."

"The better question is how he managed to convince Nicolas to 'lend it' to him for the school year. I doubt someone as old as him would have fallen to a Compulsion or an Imperius, but a good lie with a dashing of Felix Felicis – Albus said before that he has used it recreationally. Even someone like Flamel can't fight against that."

"Possible. Should I message him or wait for the fall-out, Moony?"

"I say wait for the fall-out. If Albus considered himself a spider in a middle of a giant web, then a sudden breeze that rips it up will significantly hinder him – working under pressure has never been his foray."

"Fair enough. Are you going to be okay? The full moon is in five days. Maybe you should come to the shack instead of locking yourself in Grimmauld Place all alone."

"I won't be alone. I will be locked up sure, but Narcissa promised that she will keep watch."

"What has Nissa been up to?"

"She has been making inquiries with her, shall we say, former contacts around Europe, trying to track her ex-husband and son. Last she heard, he was somewhere in Romania trying to get the vampires to heal his son's mind."

"Considering that Draco is half-Black, there is a good chance the insanity will either stick, or he will take the Bellatrix route. Speaking of, have you made inquiries regarding her status?"

"Still screaming and frothing at the room in her cell. You know she actually can't call herself a Black anymore? Seems magic actually silences her when she tries now. And I don't see her calling herself Bellatrix No-Name anytime soon. Out of curiosity, did her banishment also remove her knowledge of the Black's Magics?"

"Nope – only her proficiency in the spells due to her blood. She is still a Black, just without the benefits. I would have sent someone to Obliviate the knowledge from her brain but…"

"She is in Azkaban and already crazy, who knows how much she actually remembers. Besides, she wasn't a closet bookworm like you."

Sirius perked up from their dreary talk, "HEY! I was not a closet bookworm. I was well-read to impress the ladies with my witty repertoire and assemblage of facts."

"YOU TOOK THE FREAKING HISTORY POSITION OVER DADA!"

"Only to screw with people, Moony. Plus, I do enjoy history."

"Only because it glorifies your family."

"I think you mean degrade."

"Touche."

Sirius chuckled at his friend's antics, "In any case, are you going to be able to sit in for Prongslet as well as the House of Black on the 26th?"

"Depends. Have you verified the letter Harry left you via goblin?"

"Yep. Short of magical signature, Harry gave every conceivable form of verification stating that that House of Black can act in the stead of the House of Potter till their Heir is of age to become Lord. And since I have basically made you my Consigliere capable of acting as my proxy – as I fear my exposure to Dementors have 'affected' me negatively – you can also act as the proxy for harry as well."

Remus shook his head, "How am I dragged into this so easily?"

"The better question would be how far the other families will go to support their causes. Once your placement comes up at the monthly Wizengamot meeting, and people realize Albus was an illegal proxy, all the past rulings that failed or passed due to the Potter Vote are going to rear up their ugly head from the grave. My advice – get charmed rings or bracelet for spell and poison detection in food and drinks. You are already safe on the mental front."

"The one benefit of being a werewolf I actually don't regret."

"Speaking of Wizengamot, do you know the December meeting is on Christmas Eve? I thought there was a bylaw that came into play when the 4th Saturday of the month falls on a holiday."

"It would apply if it was Christmas, not Christmas Eve."

"DRAT!"

"Same old Padfoot."

"Same old Moony."

As Sirius was about to put down his mirror, "WAIT PADFOOT!"

"Yes?"

"Did you… look into the other matter?"

Sigh, "Look Moony, I've trusted your nose more often then I would like to admit, but you forget that as a Grim Animagius, my sense of smell is on par as well, even if weaker."

"I know Pads but still… I smelled something in that hall that day…"

"Was it Pronglset?"

"I don't know. It just… triggered something in me… a memory. The only scent I can think of would be Harry."

"And I have met most of the 1st years today, so unless Harry is under a Merlin-forsaken Fidelius Charm through which your nose managed to penetrate, we are not going to be making any headway."

"Okay, but still…"

"I'll keep my eyes open."

"Fine. And…"

"I'll ask Pandora for advice if I am feeling desperate."

November 8th, 2011 - Library

"You know, having spent time around a competent DADA teacher makes me wonder how someone like Quirinus Quirrell had the qualifications to be hired?"

"A what now?" looked up Hannah from her work.

Harry was currently surrounded by his friends and acquaintances from three houses in the library studying. He still hasn't made progress on the Slytherin front, but Professor Lovegood assured him she had something planned.

"DADA – Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sorry, I abbreviated by accident. It's a habit I picked up from Dad."

"Ah yes. The mysterious father who works across the pond." Terry began to raise his head from his books, closing them. "The one you choose to never talk about."

Harry could only smirk, "It's not that I never talk about him. It's just that no one really asks me about my life."

At this Padma couldn't help but laugh out loud. She was sitting on the other end of the table, but even she couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation. She probably wasn't the only one either. No matter how hard Harry tried, he seemed to attract everyone's attention. At first, he assumed it was because he was friends with Neville – he was the heir to the House of Longbottom. When that theory didn't pan out, he just kept trying to avoid being noticed. Being as tall as he was made it difficult. Add in the fact that rumors about Halloween still persisted, and if anything, it made him more mysterious and dangerous – particularly to the female student body.

"Please MacLeod," stated Padma, as she turned to him. "You are the most intriguing piece of gossip we had in years at the Ravenclaw House."

"How so?"

"Harry, no matter what anyone argues, you were a temporary part of the Slytherin House; they always attract the most cunning, resourceful, and ambitious students out of the first year bunch."

Harry nodded at Padma's statement, sounding suspiciously like something Mimir would say.

Note to self – remember you have a standing date with the Sorting Hat.

"It is also composed mostly of Pure-bloods from established families who are either friends with each other or knew about the families ever since they were kids. You, however, are an unknown McLeod."

Harry was about to defend himself, but Padma kept going.

"You're British – that can't be denied since you were accepted to Hogwarts. We can accept the fact that you don't know your birth parents names to confirm it. But then there's the fact that you were raised in America for the last few years with a father – named Crowley, right? – who no one has ever heard of or could find anything about. And trust me, we all looked. The closest reference to that name we could find was for a MacLeod in Scotland, but that's because his grave was desecrated some time ago…."

Thank you, Winchesters. You had to make the news, didn't you?

"…yet we know that he is well off – just look at your trunk!"

Even Neville had to nod at that, "Trust us McLeod – my family is well off, but even we wouldn't splurge on such a trunk."

Harry just assumed that such magical trunks were the norm, but after he was caught walking out of his after an all-night study session, he was bombarded with questions and awe from every boy in the Gryffindor sleeping room (except for Ron).

"But even if we ignore your mysterious father…"

"Foster-father," corrected Harry.

"Fine, foster-father… You are equally enigmatic. You are smart, tall, good-looking in a dangerous way sort of way, and have enough power to give older students a run for their galleons."

Padma's backhanded compliments caught Harry off-guard, but he was undeterred.

"I don't have control though."

"No first year does, Harry," interjected Hermione, "but you are still up there in power. Some are already suspecting that you aren't entirely human?"

"That raises an interesting question – are you human, Harry?" added Susan.

"I know nothing about my birth parents, and my Dad never found anything to determine if one or both of them were wizards or even fully human. I shouldn't have to remind you that there are half-bloods in the Slytherin House as well, now do I?"

"But that doesn't mean that you aren't a pure-blood though right?"

"Susan, if you spend as much effort looking into my background as you are implying, you would know more about them and how they died then me."

Harry took a cursory look around the room, surprised at all the eyes following him. He sighed in exhaustion realizing this issue wasn't going to go away. It's better to do damage control now rather than let rumors spread. He stood up, "All right, everyone who wants to hear my story get over here now. This is a one-time offer!"

Harry smirked as his little study group quickly put away their parchments and books as they gave him their undivided attention. Hermione, Anthony, Padma, Terry, Susan, Hannah, Ernest, Justin, Neville, Dean, and Seamus – yes, somehow those two got pulled in – all stared at him in complete fascination.

"Now, all that I am about to say is as much I care to reveal – this and this alone. I don't care if the other houses find out. What I won't tolerate is anyone…embellishing the tale."

He let that implication hang in the air.

"My father is very secretive, as he should be - all practitioners of magic are. His job is what Muggles refer to as a "fixer." That doesn't really encompass what he does, though. Like Lucius Malfoy, he is someone who can make anything happen – he just makes sure no one knows he and his associates are responsible for it."

Susan gave Harry a quizzical look, "Sorry Susan, but it's true – if anything happens in the wizarding world, then one way or another, Lucius had his hand in it. Amelia knew it as did most of the Light Side families."

She nodded in agreement and allowed Harry to continue. "He primarily works for Muggles and likes living in their world – don't give me that look, Justin, there are benefits – but he does work for magic users once in a while. His business is referral based – unless of course, you're resourceful enough to contact him or one of his employees on your own."

Hermione began to pout at this reveal but, "Oh, don't worry Hermione, it's not that you weren't successful in your endeavors. Believe it or not, he wrote to me a while back mentioning that somebody on my end was looking into him from this school. If anything, you are a confirmation that his methods are working."

Her eyes began to sparkle at this realization, but the next moment, fear came over her. "Wait, how did he know who I was? Was he the one who send that giant black raven to deliver that package last week?"

That was Gabriel sending me candy actually, but that surprised me as well. Like Crowley would ever send a raven – he has a hellhound for that.

Harry could only smile evilly before continuing, ignoring Hermione's inquiry, "My father business may be centralized in the USA, but he has been slowly branching his agents out to the major cities in other nations – he prefers to be directly involved in the deals, so he tends to stick close to home. He doesn't trust even his closest and longest-known associates… except for one of course."

"Just what can he do?" asked Ernest.

"Big or small, anything within the limitations of Muggle and magic laws."

"Like?"

"Well, it depends… He tends to avoid wizards since they would notice if something changes dramatically in their environment, but he has made and broken several major corporations in the past."

Harry rubbed his chin before snapping his fingers, "Oh! He got one of the president's removed from office. He doesn't do that anymore though… he prefers his agents in the White House, not being kicked out of it."

This caused a few kids to gasp in surprise, but most of them were confused by that statement. Harry could only tell them to talk to the Muggle-born or Muggle-taught kids afterward to understand his story.

"How is he paid?" asked Anthony.

"It varies. Dad's prices are consistent for everyone, but he is open to bargaining and in rare cases, even negotiations. More importantly, however, he keeps his word. That's his only rule – never go back on a deal. As he likes to put, he is better than those charlatans on Wall Street."

Terry finally asked, "Is he a wizard?'

That caused Harry to pause, almost as if wording out his statement beforehand.

"Yes and no. He has magic and is technically Pure-blood," some people caught the subtext behind this declaration, "but he is self-taught. He never attended a wizarding school – they call it Ilvermorny in North America, right? - but he was tutored by others at one time or another. Unfortunately, that makes his skill set and knowledge rather…particular. He may not be as well rounded as the teachers at this academy, but in his selected matters he is unrivaled, except for a rare few."

"What wand does he have?" asked Hannah.

"He doesn't have a wand. By the time he was old enough to get one, he was already proficient enough in wandless and wordless magic in useful spells to function without issue. Plus, a man waving around a wand in the Muggle world to get things done? Please, a seven-foot wizard with a staff living in Chicago is less noticeable." (11)

Some nodded, accepting the reasoning in that argument.

"Unfortunately, since he – and my uncle - taught me everything I know about magic, I am uncomfortable with using wands."

Padma clapped her hands in realization, "That why you can make things come to you without trying! You're using wandless and wordless magic."

Harry couldn't help smiling at his gaffs, "Yes, yes, I got content performing magic I did know that way. And before anyone asks, no, I won't tell you what other magics I was taught."

Everyone groaned at that.

"What do you know, besides magic of course?" asked Neville, finally speaking up.

"Funny you ask me that. In my free time, I have been reviewing the books in the library regarding the foundations of magic. While it seems the basis of it all is ritual – preset actions or rules, so to speak – it appears to take two different approaches. I like to simplify it as the division of art and craft."

"What does that have to do with…" began Hermione.

"Patience. The art refers to actual magic – the use of wandless and wordless magic, the proper phrasing of the words and motion of the hand, and else such. The craft refers to everything else that relies on magic – tools, potion, clothes, runes… if you made it with magic and your hands, its craft. Professor Snape would be a master of craft for his potion preference while Professor McGonagall would be a master of art for Transfiguration. My dad favored craft, so I am rather knowledgeable in such things from around the world. Due to this, I am versed in a variety of languages, ceremonies, customs, spells, crafting, mythologies, and lore."

"Why?" asked Dean and Seamus at the same time.

"Because it's easier to do business with people if you can relate to them. I mean, when my uncle and I went to Japan, the natives were more likely to trust and talk to us simply because we could speak their language and knew what to do at the right times."

Padma perked up, "You speak Japanese?"

"Not that well, unfortunately – my uncle did most of the talking. Most ancient texts are from the Middle East and Europe, so I was taught Latin, Hebrew, German, Old English, and Arabic initially. I have a passing familiarity with languages like French, Spanish, Chinese, and others. I am, however, knowledgeable in Enochian writing – BUT NOT SPEECH…never speech."

Two questions instantly came up, "Why German?" and "What's Enochian?"

"First you, then you. German because during the Dark Ages, monks recorded everything down for those few centuries and most people in Europe at the time spoke some version of Germanic or its derivative. It the same reason I learned Hebrew – rabbis wrote down EVERYTHING. There's a reason why the Jews were hounded even to this day – they have long memories and even longer lists of secrets."

"Amen," said Hermione almost instinctively.

This caught a few people by surprise.

This is what you get when you don't tell kids anything about the Muggle World.

"Regarding Enochian however… ask anyone who has ever studied Ancient Runes and they will say it's the language of the Christian angels."

Anthony perked up in recognition, "Wait, I though Enochian is a dead language. Sure, books claim that it once had power, but no one can make it work."

Harry started laughing, "Please, don't lie to yourself or us. It's just that wizards are taught through their lifetimes to use magic under different guidelines."

"What do you mean?" asked Ernest.

"It's a mentality thing. Enochian plays by old rules. Making Enochian work demands…a certain price from the user that most people – particularly wizards - are unable to make."

Students stopped fidgeting at this point. It was Susan who found the courage to ask, "What payment would that be?"

"Short answer – blood. Long answer – your soul."

Silence.

"Like I said, old magic means old rules."

Neville was first to regain his voice, but most were starting to realize they were about to see a very, VERY dark side to Harry MacLeod.

"You can't be serious, Harry."

"A little bit. Ancient magics have a test build into them, something along the lines of seeking the truth behind the truth."

Thank you, Edward Elric. (12)

"What do you mean?"

Harry turned to look at Justin, "Have you ever heard the story of Odin?"

"The Norse god?"

"Is there another individual in history named Odin? Anyway, the Norse understood the nature of sacrifice better than most – besides the Aztecs, of course, but they took things to far. In any case, legend states that twice in Odin's life he paid the price for greater power. First, when he sacrificed his right eye to gain vast knowledge by drinking from Mimir's well. The second time was when he hung himself from a tree on a noose with spears through his body for nine days – without food and water - to learn the secret of Nordic runes."

"Why?" inquired Dean.

"Because such magic – as the writings put it - demands an empty vessel. Or rather, a broken vessel."

The girl from the ceilings almost fell to the floor but managed to levitate back up.

"B..b..broken?" stuttered Padma.

"Sorry, it's a little exaggeration but on point. The Norse have a rune called perthro, which symbolizes an empty cup lying sideways. It could be mean a spilled drink, or a cup waiting to be filled, or a cup for throwing dice, like fate."

"I don't understand," added Terry.

"Only people who have known great pain have the capacity to learn such ancient magics. The pain makes one hollow…a receptacle for said magic."

"Why can't we learn Enochian then?" asked Hermione, probably wondering why such a lesson has never been taught before by the teachers. She seemed to be considering taking notice regarding this.

"Because such pain requires incredible sacrifice. Most people die before they get that far. But as my uncle likes to put it, it's a fair price for such knowledge. However, even if one of you managed to get through such pain – which can be emotional, mental, and/or physical in nature – wizard essence is different from Muggle ones. Wizards souls are rather well constructed, in order to handle and take in the natural energy of the world to use magic."

"Even Muggle-borns and Half-bloods?"

Harry pondered at this. "It's possible but unlikely. I never actually met anyone who would fall under such circumstance."

"But what about you? If what you are saying is true, you shouldn't be able to use such magic."

"Ah, a clever question. Yes, under normal circumstances, that would be the case. While most Muggles under the right circumstances would be able to use such ancient magic – like Hunters – wizards of any degree are unable to. However, as the saying goes, rules are meant to be broken."

"What do you mean?"

"I won't describe how, but I'll give you all two clues. One, an individual's being isn't set in stone until they are much older – we are rather malleable while we are young. Secondly, there are many ways out there to…damage the soul, as it were. As I recall, it's not the casting of the Killing Curse that does the damage, but rather the outcome of the spell."

Everyone palled at that, "You didn't actually…"

"No. I didn't find out about the Unforgivable Curses until I came to Hogwarts. My Dad kept me isolated from others for a long time with good reason. My childhood has made me…damaged, in more ways than one. It took my uncle months to put me back together as it were."

Harry paused again before continuing, "If however, you choose to walk this path, I suggest you check if you are able to see Thestrals – they serve as an indicator if you are on the first step of your journey."

Neville decided to change the direction of the conversation to something different and asked, "How did you know how to fight the werewolves on Halloween?"

Harry looked at Neville.

Neville pressed on, "Look, me and Hermione didn't say anything, but rumors persisted and some people," Neville looked around at everyone in the group, "managed to put the pieces together."

Harry smiled, "Well, at least you tried Neville. In any case, part of my Dad's business occasionally involves removal of monsters. Realizing that one way or another I would run into them due to his business, he decided to prepare me for the horrors I would face. I don't know how aware of this you guys are, but the New World is a magnet for all sorts of creatures, good and bad. Due to all the cultures and people living there – plus a variety of climates – it's a goldmine for them. Trust me, the worse you get on the islands is werewolves. In America, demons and ghost are the norms."

This caused most kids faces to become white with fear. Technically, he was on the money. Harry has heard of creatures called Dementors, but they were controlled. Werewolves, however, were an ever-present threat in the forefront of every parent's mind. Especially in the countryside.

"Hold up McLeod," Susan was shuffling to sit up, "does that mean that you have killed monsters before?"

"I plead the 5th in that regard."

"The what?"

"US Amendment? Right to not answer?... Never mind. All I am saying is that I would prefer not to answer that particular question. I have no idea how certain individuals would feel about me regarding that fact. I will however admit…to the removal of the unrecoverable."

"Unrecoverable?"

"Like I said, the world isn't black and white – there's a whole lot of gray. Many people out there have a chance at redemption for whatever they have done. But there are some, who are so far gone, so corrupted, that nothing can possibly save them, turning them into true monsters. The worst that I have had the pleasure to run across was the Wendigo."

"What's a wendigo?"

"A wendigo is what happens when one becomes so lost, so desperate in the throes of nature and hunger, so lost in the mind that they resort to the most sinful act of being to survive the harsh winters."

"You mean…" stuttered Hannah, realizing what he was saying.

"A lot of people got particularly worried when a Muggle sports team crashed into a mountain in winter during their flight a decade or two back. Luckily, the few that survived were forgiven for their actions and managed to live normal lives – just with a horrible, dark marks on their souls. If you thought casting the Killing Curse was bad, trust me… Cannibalism is so much worse to handle."

The study group was beginning to realize that MacLeod kept his secrets close to him. But even with the opportunity that was presented in front of them, most were feeling too ill to continue. The things he was saying… they were issues they as children were not supposed to know about yet. Before them stood someone so jaded, yet so young. Some would call him broken – they were technically right. Harry preferred to think that Crowley simply threw him into the deep end of the pool of life and Harry managed to float.

"Who's the uncle you keep referring to?" asked Anthony.

He put his hands through his hair, pulling it back, exposing his forehead, before allowing to set down again. (13)

"My Dad truly loves, as much as a man can love his own blood but… his business meant that occasionally he would be away for extended periods of time, especially last year. We always stayed in touch, and he told me things to study or recommendations to read when he wasn't around to continue my education. Dad had one friend he trusts unconditionally, someone he has known for years. They have lived through situations that would break most. They were true brother in arms – two sides of the same coin as it were. I call him uncle, but I have no blood relations with him. His name is Gabriel – well, the name he goes by with Dad and me is Gabriel, but he has so many others. Actually, I have a Muggle picture of them both if you wanna see."

Hermione perked up, "Are you talking about Father Bell?"

"Yes, I am."

He took out the picture from his robe, something he captured on their trip to Canada to see the Northern Lights during one winter.

Hermione looked at the unmoving image – and everyone else who managed to get behind one of her shoulders to see as well.

Crowley looked like what most have expected – a little on the short side but well groomed and trimmed, somewhat finely aged in appearance. The black suit was a bit much, but it made him look menacing. Some of the guys couldn't help but think that even though the image wasn't moving, he was somehow emanating an intimidating aura. Yet despite all that, he had a gentle smile on his face, probably because it was Harry taking the picture. It really does take a son to smoothen the edges in such a man.

Then the girls – other than Hermione, although she was surprised as well, seeing Gabriel in regular attire - got a look at the uncle.

If Crowley was appealing in a rugged-aged pirate sort of way, then Gabriel was the one who rescued the damsels from their captives, swinging upon the loose chandelier.

Wow Gabriel, even in a picture, you manage to create future dates for yourself.

Tall, ravishing, and a dirty blond – the holy trifecta for pre-pubescent girls. The fact that he somehow managed to convey his trickster personality through the picture with that smile didn't help.

It took the likes of Susan – and Justin and Ernest (14), apparently - to note what wasn't being shown. Gabriel was putting up a smile, but his posture showed the truth. Gabriel was keeping his eyes on the surroundings, taking everything in, determine the dangers. If they could see past the bulges in his clothes, they knew they would find a weapon of one kind or another.

"Is he a magic-user too?" Padma finally asked with all the self-control she had left when returning the picture to Harry.

"Oh yeah, he is up there in power. He prefers the magic of art. He tends to keep his distance from the action, though – he is more for damage control and infiltration. An expert in what wizards call Occlumency and Legilimency, as well as memory manipulation and extraction. Doesn't mean he can't fight – he just fights dirty."

That's an understatement.

"Wait, if he taught you doesn't that mean…"

"Luckily for everyone here, I have no aptitude for such things, so don't go thinking I am reading your minds."

Sighs of relief escaped everyone unconditionally.

"With your talents, you'd think that you could learn with effort," continued Hannah.

"I could, but I would like to leave the privacy of the mind as it is – I prefer Occlumency rather than anything else. Rather put all effort into one skill then three others that I find… distasteful"

Harry took a quick look at the clock before going, "Well, look at that. I am sorry, but I am afraid this conversation will have to continue another day – lucky for you, no?"

No one responded. They all just got a good look at the inner makings of what made Harry MacLeod, and they still knew nothing about him. The irony of this all is that while he terrified them to their cores, they still wanted to hear more.

"I have a few things I want to look up before class starts. There's a human/animal mind meld Inuit spell (15) I want to try, but I want to see if there is a Wizarding equivalent for it. "

"Why?" inquired Neville.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out."

November 13th, 2011 – Gringotts Bank after Harry teleported in during the night

"You're serious Griphook."

"Afraid I am – this was placed in the vault that someone attempted to rob. You believe it was whatever was possessing Quirrell?"

"Well, why else would Dumbledore go through all the hassle of getting the bloody thing, placing it behind poorly constructed defenses, and then blab to the student body about it? It's like he was trying to catch whoever or whatever was wearing Quirrel as a meat suit."

The goblin nodded, "True, true. Do you plan to keep the stone?"

"It's tempting but… I think I have a plan to sow some chaos before returning it to its rightful owners. Besides, I want a few minutes with the Flames anyway – the stone is my way in. Tell me Griphook, the Minister's vote of no confidence will be called on the 24th, correct?"

"Yes. Do you have something in mind we goblins should be concerned about?"

"If all goes to plan, two birds with one red stone."

November 17th, 2011 – Longbottom Manor, night time

Augusta was slowly walking through the manor with her wand at the ready. She was just about to got to sleep when Leafy – her longest serving house elf – appeared and told her worryingly, that there was someone in the study who wished to see her. When she pressed as to how said person arrived without being invited in, all that Leafy could say was that the magics allowed it.

As she glanced at the edge of the hall to see the light from the fireplace coming out the study, she flinched when a deep voice called, "Are you planning to stand there all night, Madam Longbottom?"

Realising that she has lost the element of surprise, her wand still ready, her dignity recovered, she walked into the study and froze.

There, on the couch in front of the fireplace, sat a man.

That's all she could determine.

For said man was wearing very concealing robe and most shocking of all, a mask made of some sort of dark metal.

Slowly approaching the opposite chair, she asked, "Who are you and how did you get into the manor."

"For the latter question, I was invited at one point in time, and the offer was never removed. As for the first question, you may call me Dumas (16). As for why I am here, I seek to make an equivalent exchange."

"Pardon?"

She watched as Dumas took out a very familiar red stone from his robe and put it on the table in between them both, "A life for a life. Tell me Madam Longbottom – how badly do you want your son and daughter-in-law back?"

"How did you get that stone? Nicolas and Perenelle…"

"Are not aware that it is gone. While I suspect the person who I took it from is likely aware of its disappearance, he is the one who took it the from the Flames in the first place. He is safe until the year ends – what I do with the stone afterward matters not at this point."

"But the stone… you must know of its powers…"

"What currently concerns me more is how you know about it at all. My information showed no possible crossroads for which the knowledge of alchemy or the appearance of the stone should have ever crossed your eyes. So tell me Madam Longbottom, how is it you know what you know?"

She sat in silence, her fist clenching.

"Ah, so the rumors are true. Well then, this makes our discussion much easier."

November 4th, 2011 - Romania

"Look, Charlie, I am sorry for coming to you, but I have to talk to you."

"Bill, what could have possibly happened that caught your knickers in a twist."

"Remember the medallion you gave me a few years back on Christmas?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, I was in Hogwarts recently and it… reacted."

"…."

"Charlie?"

"Sit your ass down and tell me everything Bill, as swear to holy Hel that no one catches wind of this. I need a magic oath now!"

"Charlie, what aren't you telling me?"

"Too much, big brother… too much…"

"But how do you know about…"

"That doesn't matter now. I need you to tell me everything that happened on the day you went to Hogwarts, and everything that proceeded before the amulet reacted. And I mean everything."