Harry Potter: Hydrus Black

Harry crushed the newspaper in frustration and tossed it aside. He really hated that woman. Now everyone was going to think he had fallen from the Light. Well, he bloody well wasn't going to put up with this shite again. It was only a month after the final battle, and he had been hiding out in his godfather's old house from the fans, now this. He had planned on going back to Hogwarts and finish out his schooling, but thanks to this article, that option was gone. It would be a repeat of his first, second, fourth and fifth years, and there was no way he was going to go through that again. It also put to rest his plans on being an Auror.

He couldn't even blackmail the bitch anymore; during Voldemort's control of the Ministry she had registered her Animagus form and set herself up as a spy for them. How she reclaimed her place as top reporter, the dark-haired wizard didn't know. She had probably bribed them or blackmailed them or whatever.

He grabbed his hair and banged his head on the table in front of him. What was he going to do now? The only people who had stood by him before had their own problems to deal with.

The curly-haired witch still had to get her parents from Australia. Ron was still mourning Fred's death and trying to woo her. George was a shadow of his old self, not that he blamed him. Luna was trying to get her schooling done, as was Ginny (and he still didn't know what he was going to do about the youngest redhead). Neville was hiding from the public too, after the Prophet ran the story of all his heroics during Hogwarts last year. The youngest Potter hoped that the sandy-haired teen didn't fall to Rita's vicious quill.

Andromeda was doing what she could to take care of Teddy. He wasn't even allowed to visit his godson. His grandmother blamed Him for dragging the now dead parents back into battle, causing her to lose the rest of her family, bar Teddy, so she wasn't taking any chances. She made it very clear that he was not welcome at her house.

Harry sat up and grabbed a piece of parchment and writing instruments. He needed to figure out what to do now. The first thing on his list was to clear his debt to the goblins, so he could get his money. For that he needed the Sword of Gryffindor. Just as he thought about it, Fawkes flamed in with the very scorched and war-torn Sorting Hat.

"You look like shite," the dark-haired boy blurted out as he took in the hat's appearance. The Sorting Hat had always looked battered and old, but now the rim was burnt and the tip of the cone was being held there by a few threads. "Why hasn't Professor McGonagall fixed you?"

"Oh, and I'm sure you look better, Mr. Potter," the sarcastic hat replied. "Minerva said that I am now an icon of the war. I tried to change her mind, but she is stubborn," the poor hat grumbled. He had argued for days with the headmistress, to no avail. She said as long as he can perform his duty then he was to stay as he was to remind students of his part in winning the battle.

"That sucks," commiserated Harry. He would have to see if he could talk to the cat Animagus into changing her mind. The school didn't need any more reminders of what they lost. "How did Fawkes know I needed you here?" He looked at the firebird that had all but disappeared after Dumbledore's death. The phoenix gave a mournful trill and tucked his head under his wing.

"The sword always comes to true Gryffindors in need. Fawkes has always been tuned in to the students of Hogwarts, you and Longbottom especially. While you are not in a near death situation, you are still in need of the sword." And if a hat could shrug, this one would, as it was the frayed rim lifted off the table in parody. "I always knew some hero type person would try and return it one day. It's back where it was the first time you found it."

"Alright, I guess," the teenager said. He lifted the hat and felt inside, the sword came into his hand and he pulled it out.

"It will be quite the joke on the goblins," the hat chuckled as the dark-haired wizard put it back on the table.

"What do you mean?" The youngest Potter asked as he placed the sword next to the hat.

"That sword is enchanted; they can reclaim it all they want. However, like I stated before, it'll always come to a true Gryffindor." The hat busted into full blown laughter at the thought. He soon joined him, remembering Griphook taking off with it after betraying them, and it showing up in Neville's hand when he needed it.

"Serves those greedy turncoats right," Harry snorted when he calmed down. There was no love lost between him and the goblins, and if he didn't need his money, he would be shot of them.

"Well, I'm off," the hat said suddenly. And the phoenix took a hold of it again and flamed out.