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Chapter Text

Standing on the battlefield that used to be the grounds of Hogwarts, Harry looked down at the frozen face of Voldemort. 

Still largely left alone by either side, because of the side skirmishes that still littered the fields, he crouched down beside the body, deep in thought. 

He did it. He, the-boy-who-lived (or rather the-boy-who-refused-to-die if you should ask the Weasley twins) fulfilled his life long destiny and killed Voldemort, 100% this time. 

Mind still sharp on the adrenaline of the battle, his thoughts began to spin ahead, full of uncertainties and unknowns. 

Ever since he learned of the wizarding world and his destiny, that’s all that everyone seemed to have been prepping him for. 

He himself had even been resigned to die, glad even if that would end Voldemort’s life. No one ever prepared him to live after the battle, because like him, no one expected he would still be standing at the end of all this. 

Still crouched down he put one hand to the ground as a sudden spike of magic coursed through his head. 

Looking at the now still face of his mortal enemy, he felt pressure inside his head and what could only be described as mental blocks being ripped to shreds. With each block being obliterated Harry’s knowledge and awareness of magic seemed to increase. He could feel and even see the remaining magical signature of Voldemort. While pondering this, his awareness of the magic happening around him increased as well, like he had just created his own personal wards which seemed to be expanding rapidly. 

He felt the different magic signatures around him and while still unknown currently, he knew instinctively that once he has seen a certain wizard perform magic, that wizard’s magical signature would be stored in his brain and he would recognise that magic signature in the future, even if he couldn’t see that particular wizard visually at that time.
It was like he had a big cushion of magic around him and every time something touched that cushion, this knowledge was stored for future use. 

His magic also seemed to have started recognising and storing information about spells that were being used around him, even if they weren’t aimed at him directly. Already he could feel the difference between a stunning spell and a disarming one and his magic only grew and reached out further. 

Noticing a couple of wizards (of his side) making their way to him, Harry, being sleep deprived and running on empty, both in terms of food and emotional buffer, could no longer hold on to consciousness and sank into the blissful emptiness of blacking out. He would have time to look into this further, later when he…

As his friends and family began to converge on his location, Harry knew no more and thankfully embraced the darkness to rest.

Chapter Text

Harry was looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts. His current position in the astronomy tower has always been a favourite place to come and relax and that hadn’t changed after the war was over.
His current vantage point also provided an excellent view of the Forbidden Forest, although with the amount of students that ventured into it each year, they could have better named it “ The Forest We Tried to Warn You about”. Harry had the distinct idea that the Fates themselves must have taken a shine to all Hogwarts students, as the number of casualties each year wasn’t nearly as high as it should have been.

Harry himself had encountered centaurs, unicorns, acromantulas, thestrals and even Voldemort himself in those woods and he knew it was not even a fraction of the creatures, light or dark, that lived in those woods. He used to be a little scared of the woods (although he would never have admitted that to anyone, the boy-who-lived did not get scared), but after the last couple of years and his recent inheritance, that fear had dissipated. That being said, he wouldn’t go prowling in the forest to taunt and piss off its inhabitants, Harry had respect for all living beings that resided there.

The same could not be said for certain humans that resided outside of the forest. Immediately following that thought, he reined in the fury he felt. Just a few more days, then he could let everything (and everyone) go.
Since receiving his inheritance after the death of Voldemort, Harry’s knowledge of magic had grown exponentially and while that was known to the closest people around him, even they did not know that his power had grown alongside it.
He had been very very careful to keep this part under wraps, lest other people would start asking all kinds of questions and even more than that, making all kinds of demands of him.
He had neither the patience nor the energy for either, which is why he decided to leave that part out of the information he provided. That part was easy, actually keeping his power contained was a struggle that he faced on a daily basis.

With the increase of his power, he now could feel the magic around him all the time. It reflected his mood and emotions and he could even see the colours the different emotions had.
He had been very careful in letting this magic swirl around him, in case someone else had the same power and could pick up on how Harry was feeling. However, everybody he had encountered so far didn’t seem to pick up on his “little cloud” as he’d like to call it. That had been a relief, because it also allowed some of the magic to seep out of him, preventing a build up of magic and emotions.

Since getting his inheritance (he guessed it was as good a word as any), his understanding of magic has skyrocketed. The most obvious, yet flabbergasting insight he gained early on, was that magic was very strongly linked to the emotions he felt.
He already knew that in some fashion, as he remembered the words of Bellatrix when he cast Crucio upon her.
“You have to mean it, little boy”, she had sneered, and although Harry hadn’t fully understood what she meant at the time, he did grasp the concept that you had to want to cause the other person harm in order for the curse to work as intended.
At that time he had still been too soft, too gentle to willingly cause pain in another human being, which is why the curse hadn’t worked correctly.

Harry smiled grimly. If he could encounter Bellatrix now, she would know that this gentleness had faded and she would have suffered. Alas, that problem was already dealt with, but Harry knew that if another wizard ever deserved to be tortured by him, they would know, beyond a doubt, that Harry meant to cause them harm.

His fury flared again and he closed his eyes and settled into his mental safe space, as the goblins called it. After waking up in the hospital wing after the final battle, he had almost choked on the amount of magic that he felt inside of him. Only after directing the surplus out the window, where it promptly collapsed the last two of the still standing Quidditch towers, he had been able to breathe properly.

Luckily the collapse of the towers was blamed on structural damage, caused by the final battle, but Harry knew he would need help soon, otherwise the next time he lost his grip on his increased magic, the damage could be more than just material things.
As soon as Madame Pomfrey had given him the all-clear (along with a massive bag of nutrition and sleeping potions) he had set out for Gringotts. With all of the older wizards he trusted death, he could not think of another option to get some help. His thoughts very briefly turned to Snape, but the fury that coursed through him almost started a fire in the hallway he was currently at, so that thought was very quickly removed.

He justified his visit to Gringotts as a much needed conversation with his account manager and the claiming of any lordships he might have had, since turning 17 a year ago.
This explanation seemed to satisfy everybody and Harry, while secretly a bit disappointed, although he did not know why at the time, left to visit the goblins.

Upon entering Gringotts he once again let himself be awed by the splendor that the bank displayed. The location was truly one of a kind and Harry vividly remembered the first time he entered the bank, shortly after his 11th birthday.
Now, at 18, even with a lot more experiences and cynicism, the view was still breathtaking and being that for the first time in his life Harry had no urgent business to take care of or arrange, he allowed himself some time to really look at the hall and its residents.

He had always respected the goblins, which, he learned later, was apparently not the default setting for most of the wizards in the UK. Sure, they were shrewd and never too slow to smell an opportunity to gain some profit, but Harry found them fairly straightforward and he couldn’t blame their stance in terms of profit, they ran the wizards bank after all.

Approaching the main desk, he looked up at the goblin at work there. He had many dealings with Griphook and it came as no surprise that the goblin recognised him before he even raised his head from the document he was reviewing.

“Good morning, mister Potter, how can we help you today?”
Griphook paused as he registered Harry’s “little cloud” and his eyes widened every so slightly as he now looked directly at Harry.

“Ah, I believe I know at least one question you have, please follow me to one of the private offices.”
Harry followed the goblin without any commentary, he had already suspected that his magic, while apparently hard to see by fellow wizards, was crystal clear for the goblin.

Once seated in a private chamber, Griphook assessed him carefully.
“I see that you have come into an inheritance of sorts”, he stated, “although we had no idea you even had one.
To fully know what we’re working with, I would like to ask you to do an inheritance test. All you need to do is put three drops of blood on this paper.”
Mindlessly conjuring a small knife (Griphook looked at the display unreadably) Harry cut his finger and let 3 drops fall onto the intended paper.
He didn’t know what was supposed to happen but the look of mild shock on Griphook’s face as the paper began to smoke told him that at least, that wasn't it.

As Griphook took no further action, Harry was satisfied to sit there until the test had been completed.
When the paper stopped smoking after a few minutes, Griphook picked the document back up, although it seemed to have lengthened considerably. After reading for what seemed to be only a couple of seconds, Griphook’s hand grabbed the telephone on the desk.
He picked up the horn and said “Send Raknor to join us in room 2”.
When the second goblin entered the room a couple of moments later, Griphook stood up and pulled a book out of the book case behind him. A secret door in the wall opened and Raknor walked in without a second glance. Griphook motioned for Harry to follow Raknor into the room….

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted as his magic alerted him to the fact that someone was coming up the stairs. Recognising Hermione’s signature easily, he turned and waited for the girl, no woman by now, to appear herself.

Chapter Text

“Harry, there you are”, Hermione began, before she stopped, looked around and shivered. 

“How are you even up here, it’s freezing here!” 

Harry cast a warming charm upon the witch and Hermione began to relax. 

“Of course, it’s freezing up here, we’re in the middle of December.” Harry almost rolled his eyes when he said that, for the smartest witch of our generation she sometimes still made the most silly comments. 

That being said, he loved the woman to pieces, she was the sister he wished he had had growing up. Of course, they were bickering almost all day, every day, but having seen the Weasley family interact, he knew this was a common occurrence. 

Harry knew Hermione came up to ask him something, that much was clear in the magic that was around her. He didn’t have to be a psychic (or have access to a lot of magic he thought ironically) to guess it had something to do with the coming holidays. 

She and Ron had a good thing going, although Harry secretly wondered how his sister could put up with the sometimes rage-inducing pigheadedness that was Ronald Weasley. 

She would be spending Christmas and New Years at the Burrow and although Harry had been invited as well, he didn’t feel comfortable joining the family this holiday. 

After his extended visit to Gringotts (thank the Fates for time bubbles) the first thing he did when he got back was break up with Ginny. 

She, of course, didn’t want to accept it. Being the youngest in the Weasley family and the only girl she’d gotten used to pretty much always getting her way. 

She had already fancied herself Lady Potter in a large estate, running a household full of elves.
Harry wasn’t cruel, but he was honest. He could never be with Ginny, because of the simple fact that he was gay. 

As the break up happened outside of the Burrow and Ginny caused quite a ruckus, the rest of the Weasley clan had been there at the end of his explanation, all having heard the part about Harry being gay. 

While Ginny was working herself up into a right little tantrum, both the Weasley parents had given him a hug and told him that nothing changed and that he was still part of their family. 

The same had been said by the twins and Charlie and Bill.

While completely embarrassed by the fact that the whole Weasley family happened to be home at that exact time of his coming out, he was extremely grateful for the support he got from the Weasleys. 

That is to say, almost all of them. Ginny, of course, was still extremely upset at her future plans being ruined, which, as ridiculous as the notion of marriage with Ginny was, was still understandable in a way. 

Ron however, surprised him in a disappointing way. After stepping away from the hug he got from the two oldest Weasley brothers, he caught Ron staring at him in a way he hadn’t expected. He looked at Harry with anger (which Harry understood, because he just hurt his sister and the sibling he was closest to), but there was also something that looked like disgust in his face. 

Unsure on whether he was imagining the second part, Harry tried to approach Ron, only to have the man back away from him. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked. “ I mean, I know you’re pissed that I hurt your sister, and I completely understand, but there is something else that is bothering you, isn’t there?” 

Hearing Harry’s question, the other Weasley siblings turned around to face their brother as well. Charlie gasped, apparently catching on quicker than the rest to what he was seeing in Ron’s face. 

“Really, Ron?!”, Charlie exclaimed. “That’s how you feel about the fact that Harry’s gay? Well then you’ve got another thing coming,” as Ron’s eyes shifted to Charlie, “I’m gay too.”

Everybody saw the quick flash of hurt that ran across Ron’s face before he looked at Charlie with disgust as well. “You’re one of them?”, he hissed. “You’re a pureblood, where is your sense of pride? You’re a blood traitor!”

This time it felt like the whole family, including Harry, gasped at the words Ron just uttered. Never, in all the years he’d known Ron, did he ever even hint at homophobia, let alone his blood-status. He almost thought that Ron must be under a curse of some sort, why would he otherwise be spewing this bullshit? 

Apparently Molly had come to the same conclusion and before anybody else could move a muscle she already stepped forward and performed a difficult wand movement with an incantation Harry didn’t quite catch. However, with his increased power and knowledge of magic he caught the intent of the spell and waited with bated breath on the results. 

The magic fizzled out over Ron and the lack of result and the corresponding look of horror from Molly unfortunately confirmed that there was no curse present. 

Not 5 seconds had passed since Ron stopped talking and they were all still looking at him in shock. Ron himself glared at his mother and said “No mother, I am not under any curse of compulsion, I have always felt this way. However, as long as it didn’t affect my family or my friends I was happy to let this stance go unnoticed. But,” he said as he glared at both Harry and Charlie, “discovering that both my best friend and one of my brothers are abominations is not something I can abide by.”

Sensing the storm that was quickly forming on the horizon, Harry made a split decision. He looked at Ginny and told her: “I’m sorry I can’t be what you want me to be, I hope you will understand in time.”He ignored Ron and looked directly at Arthur and Molly, who both had expressions that were frozen somewhere between horror and pain. 

“You’ve always included me as family and I can’t express enough gratitude and love for you. That being said, some things need to be discussed and while I would like to stay and support you, I believe that at this time that would be counterproductive.”

The glare Ron gave him only further confirmed this decision. There would be enough upheaval alone with Charlie’s coming out and Ron’s unexpected disgust and disdain. 

He then turned to Charlie, who had gone rather white under his freckles and browned skin.

“Charlie”, he said, as the man turned to look at him, “I will send Hedwig to you when I’m back at Hogwarts. She will wait until you’re ready to talk and return the message straight to me. 

I’m still in the country for 2 weeks, I hope to hear from you before then, but no pressure.”

Harry saw the question in Charlie’s eyes when he mentioned the 2 weeks he was still in the country and he cursed himself for the slip up. Nobody was supposed to know he was leaving the country.

Ah well, he thought to himself, I will go with the France plan. He already made several plans in case he did something stupid (like this), so luckily he was prepared. If he wasn’t so worried about Charlie’s wellbeing it wouldn’t have slipped in the first place. 

Looking in Charlie’s eyes, he took notice of the respect and trust in them and he thought that maybe his secret would be safe after all. However, better safe than sorry is what the muggles are always saying. 

Waving a quick goodbye to the other Weasley brothers, he walked to the end of the wards, so he could apparate back to Hogwarts.

- - - - - - - -

Pulling himself out of the recent memories, he noticed that Hermione was staring at him with a concerned expression on her face. 

“I’m sorry Hermione, I got lost in my own thoughts for a little bit, what were you asking?”

“I was asking if you would be joining us at the Burrow this Christmas?” 

“Not this year Hermione,” Harry answered, “there have been some recent .. uh complications that have arisen which makes me think it’s not wise for me to join the Weasley family for a little bit.” 

As Hermione’s brow furrowed, he continued, “ A couple of days ago I went to the burrow to break up with Ginny.” Seeing Hermione’s desire to interrupt, he held up one finger, “the reason I broke up with her is because I have realised I am gay.”

Hermione gaped at him for a couple of seconds before a big smile appeared on her face and she gave Harry a big hug.

“I’m so happy for you!”, she almost screamed into his ear, “I’ve been wondering for years if my original hunch was wrong, but I never asked, because your sexuality is something you have to become at peace with yourself before you share it with someone else.”

She looked at Harry and then furrowed her brow again: “Were the Weasley family mean to you, did they kick you out?” She let Harry go, but kept looking at him suspiciously. “Is that why you don’t want to go to the Burrow this year?” 

Harry sighed. He should have known better than to assume that Hermione would just accept his short explanation and let it go. 

“As you probably can imagine,” he answered her, “this explanation didn’t go over so well with Ginny.”
Hermione nodded, she too had seen how spoiled Ginny actually was, so she could paint a picture of how she reacted. 

“We were outside” Harry continued, “and she was making such a scene that without me knowing the whole Weasley clan, and I do mean all of them, including Bill and Charlie, were outside just in time to hear me coming out to Ginny.”

Harry rubbed his head in a tired gesture, the whole thing had taken a lot of his energy that day and he wasn’t quite back to the usual level of control over his magic. 

“Everybody reacted positively though, except for Ron.” Hermione saw the flash of pain in Harry’s face. “Ron wasn’t as positive about my coming out, especially when Charlie decided to join me when he saw Ron’s face.”

Again Hermione looked like a fish out of water, regardless of the reason, it was quite a funny sight, Harry thought. 

“Close your mouth, Hermione, before you start catching flies,” he smirked. 

This seemed to shake the woman out of her stupor and she looked at Harry incredulously.

“So, not only are you gay, Charlie is too and Ron had a negative opinion about these facts?”

“You could say that,” Harry sighed. “I’m not going to tell you exactly what was said, but it’s not good. For the full story it might be better that you head to the Burrow and hear the story from them and from Ron directly. I left a couple of minutes after that and I know the whole family had a lot to talk about, so I don’t know what happened after that. That being said, despite the invitation from Arthur and Molly, I have decided to hold off on visiting them again this year.”

Hermione nodded slowly, but Harry could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. He also noticed that her magic began to change colour into what could only be described as very angry red. He knew there was nothing he could say that would sway Hermione’s mood at this time, but he did tell her, “Please let Ron tell you the whole story first, before you judge. While I’m hurt, I also left halfway through the argument, so it could be that I missed a big chunk of information.”

Refocusing her attention on Harry, she asked him “what are you going to do now instead?”

“I have rented a cottage in the south of France in a low-magic zone,” he lied smoothly. “I’m going off grid for three weeks, just me, a whole lot of relaxing and cooking and some books. After the year we had I thought I could use some time to relax and reflect and to think about the rest of my life, now I have one,” he smirked. 

Hermione’s magic changed colour again and Harry knew she was trying to determine whether he was lying or not. He kept his face and his magic in check and sighed internally when her smile returned, she bought it. 

“What a good idea Harry, to have some time for yourself and just for yourself. No annoying paparazzi, fan girls or any other annoyances, just you and some peace.”

Harry nodded, “That’s the idea.” 

Hermione cast a tempus and let out a sigh. 

“I’m due to arrive at the Burrow in half an hour and I have to pack the last things before I go”. 

She gave Harry another big hug. “Take care of yourself, you hear?!” 

“I will, Hermione, don’t worry. Give my regards to the Weasleys and Merry Christmas.”

Hermione waved as she descended the stairs of the Astronomy Tower.
One down, Harry thought, as he descended the stairs himself at a slower pace. Time to get on with step 2.

Chapter Text

Snape was packing up the last of his potions ingredients to take with him during the holidays. Not that he had a particularly enjoyable Christmas to look forward to, alone in Spinner’s End, but it was definitely better than spending the 3 weeks in the castle, with the skeleton teacher crew. 

He used to stay over, mostly to provide Dumbledore with some actual intellectual conversation during the holidays. Otherwise the old man would have been at the mercy of that endless nattering between professor Sprout and Madame Pomfrey about which plant they should cross with the mandrake root to create a mandrake root to remove its vocal cords. 

The discussion and implications itself were quite interesting, but the women were just as often off topic as they were on and Snape didn’t have the patience this year to sit beside them and mediate on the finer points of crossbreeding (or cross-stitching for that matter). No, it was better that he went to Spinner’s End to enjoy the solitude and maybe catch up on the latest potions developments. With the last 3 months being an endless carousel of making potions for the hospital wing, helping rebuild the castle and teaching, Snape thought he earned his rest for the coming weeks. 

While looking around to see if he packed up the essentials (he didn’t want to have to floo back for some gillyweed or other forgotten item) he heard a knock on the door. Without looking up he called for the visitor to enter, flicking his hand to allow the door to unlock.

Later, he would remember the moment the door opened and call himself an idiot, because he spelled all the doors in his personal sanctuary, a side effect of being, or rather having been, a professional spy. He had spelled all the doors to contain the magic of whoever the visitor was behind that door, as to not be surprise-attacked. 

It was those spells and wards that kept out the tsunami of magic and emotion that crashed through the door as soon as the doorknob was turned. 

Snape knew he was one of the most powerful wizards in Europe, perhaps the world. That was not idle boasting, he went toe-to-toe with many of his adversaries during his youth in duelling tournaments. 

Since then, his power had only grown and the only equals he ever found in the last 15 years were the old man and the Dark Lord. As both of these wizards were dead, Snape was utterly unprepared for the amount of magic that threatened to overwhelm his own calm and control. 

Pain, so much pain, grief and sorrow were in that magic that even Snape, as master Occlumens could not completely keep the emotions out of his head. Gritting his teeth he cast a wordless spell that provided an additional barrier in his brain. That barrier was useless if used against a Legilimens, but for the purpose of providing extra fortification against the wall of emotions it would suit just fine. 

Whipping out his wand and turning around in a duelling pose, he faced a very surprised, (but also very not frightened, which Snape stored for later review), Harry Potter. 

“Professor?” the young man said. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you”. 

Snape regarded the man for a second and then put away his wand, feeling foolish. Turning back to his ingredient-cupboard, providing him with some breathing room, he murmured, “Mister Potter, what can I do for you?”. 

He hadn’t actually seen the young man since the final battle and he had a hard time consolidating the actual man with the amount of magic he now exuded.

Now that the surprise had worn off, he noticed that the magic surrounding Harry seemed to have been contained, kept under iron controls. Besides the grief and pain he also noticed a steady undercurrent of firmly kept anger, white hot as a layer below the pain. 

He also now understood that although he could, almost all other wizards could not see or feel the magic that surrounded Potter. He didn’t know if Potter was aware he too could feel the magic of other wizards, but considering the emotions around the young man, he guessed Potter needed all his energy to keep his own magic in check, let alone reach out to touch another wizard’s magic. 

Turning back around after receiving no response from the man in question, he noticed that Potter had with him a small flask of memories and 2 envelopes, one thicker than the other.
“Professor”, Harry said “I’m going away for a while, trying my hand at a low magic retreat, going off grid so to speak. Before I left, I thought it important to hand this over to you. The envelopes have been spelled and will open only after the memories in the flask have been viewed. I’m not going to explain the contents of either the memories or the envelopes, I’m kind of banking on the fact that you always left no stone unturned when you wanted to understand something.” 

“And why”, Snape sneered, “would any memories you may have, be worth my time of viewing?” 

Harry didn’t react other than holding out the items in question. Snape, cursing himself, took the items from Potter and placed them on top of the last box with potion ingredients he packed. 

“Thank you professor”, Harry murmured and turned around to leave Snape’s office. The amount of resolve, resignation and deep depression that blended into Harry’s magic had Snape following him out towards the classroom without stopping to think why he felt the pull in the first place. It felt like there was a catastrophic event just around the corner and all magical signs pointed towards Harry as the center. 

“Mister Potter”, he said, but Harry kept walking without turning around. When a second call got no response either, he raised his voice and said “Harry”, just as the young man in question had his hand around the doorknob. 

Snape was not prepared for the spike of utter rage that flashed through the room, the fury almost knocking him off his feet. At the same time the three desks closest to Harry burst out in flames. 

Almost as soon as the rage was felt, Snape felt Harry reining the emotion back in. Closing his eyes, he felt Harry and his magic retreating back into himself. Having gotten the same training he noted that this type of control was only taught by the goblins. He filed that information away for later as well, still looking at the young man who now seemed to have gotten control back. 

With a flick of his wrist, Harry wordlessly, wandlessly (Snape raised his brows) extinguished the fires and repaired the desks to be as good as new. 

Absently noting this unconscious powerful display of magic as well, he focused on the young man just as he opened his eyes again. 

Snape, having dealt with the mightiest, foulest wizards of the last 50 years (and yes that included Dumbledore) took an involuntary step back as his eyes landed on Harry’s. 

Never, in all his years, had he seen such fury, such power, such control in a wizard. Harry was literally giving off sparks of power as he stared a hole into Snape’s skull. 

“You”, Harry spoke in soft, contained tones, “don’t get to call me that.

After helping to make the last 6 years of my life a living hell, mister Potter is all you are entitled to. Watch the memories, professor Snape, or don’t, frankly your opinion of me is of no importance to me anymore.
The only reason I came here in the first place is because I was haunted by the idea of you encountering a student like me in the future. You will not see me again, professor, goodbye.” 

With that statement Harry turned back to the door and walked out without another word. Only after the door had closed and Harry’s magic had been warded once again, did Snape allow himself to breathe again. 

Not really believing the last remark Potter made, after all they were in the middle of the school year, (oh, how he would come to regret his cynicism later), he still retrieved the pensieve from the locked cabinet to take with him to Spinner’s End. He had a lot of memories to review, not in the least his own from the last 10 minutes. 

Chapter Text

Harry had quickly left the dungeons after closing the door to Snape’s classroom quietly behind him. 

Making his way to the open grounds, which were now mostly deserted as almost all students and teachers had already left for the holidays, he finally could breathe again. 

He could not believe he almost lost control in the dungeons, just because Snape used his first name for the first time in, maybe forever?... Harry couldn’t remember. 

He had gotten the idea that Snape was able to see and feel at least part of his magic, but even if he had not, setting fire to three desks was not a good idea if he wanted to fade into the background. 

Then again, Snape himself would do well to keep a low profile himself as well, so Harry hoped he could leave the country to go to his “low-magic” resort without any further issues. Once he had faded off the map it didn’t matter if Snape watched the memories or if he pissed the man off, nobody would be able to find him after he left for France. 

He couldn’t be sure that the man would watch his memories, but with what Harry had learned about the potions professor in the last 6 years was that he couldn’t abide by a mystery. If there was one, the dungeon bat would not rest until he got to the bottom of it. Maybe it was his spy past, secrets could be deadly in that line of work, especially secrets he didn’t know about. 

Yes, Harry was pretty certain that he would look at them sooner rather than later. He really didn’t care about what the man thought of him after he knew the whole truth about Harry’s past. He only hoped he could shame and guilt Snape enough to maybe make him think 5 seconds longer before destroying another student.

Harry’s kindness for other people had pretty much dried up in the last couple of years. Dumbledore’s pushing and pulling, leading him like a lamb to the slaughter, Snape’s incessant hammering on his self esteem and his skills had done a fine job in diminishing the respect and trust Harry had initially had in the older wizards. Add to that the total lack of action from all the (dead or alive) members of the Order of the Phoenix, despite clearly seeing what was happening, had pretty much eroded his ability to feel anything but hate and grief. 

He had hoped, wished and even said a prayer to the Fates that Snape still had enough humanity left to get thrown into despair after his “gift”. 

If he could have the dungeon bat even feel 10% of what he endured the last 18 years of his life, he’d be hard pressed to survive that without any (additional) scars.
Harry knew that everybody he still cared about would be shocked and disgusted with him if he told them what he had set up for Snape, which is why he decided to not tell anybody about this. 

Despite his lack of kindness and compassion he did not wish to hurt the very few people he still loved and cared about. The fact that this number had significantly shrunk in the last 5 years is something that Harry accepted without question.

Contrary to widespread belief Harry’s IQ was close to that of genius level.

His sometimes mediocre test results were a logical consequence of him playing dumb over the years. His intelligence surpassed even Hermione’s (although he would never tell her), but in terms of academic achievements he was more than happy to have someone else take the lead. He had been stared at and whispered about enough without the genius label being attached to him as well. 

It also helped him to gather more information on what Dumbledore and the others expected of him in terms of defeating Voldemort.
By playing dumb the old man often let slip more than he should, thinking that Harry didn’t catch it, and he also was more lax in discussing other things in Harry’s vicinity. 

Dismissing that line of thinking for now, Harry’s thoughts went back to the slip up in the dungeons. He knew that if he hadn’t received the extensive training from the goblins, something much worse could have come to pass. 

He still remembered the look on Griphook’s face when he sat across from him in the second, secret chamber. Griphook had looked impressed, which is an expression never seen on a goblin’s face before. 

Goblins didn’t get impressed, they got calculating or dismissive, but impressed they were never, until now it seems. 

Griphook picked up the parchment with the blood test again and faced Harry.
“Lord Potter”, the goblin began, “I will read the most important conclusions of the blood test to you, after which I will hand you the parchment, so you can look at the rest for yourself.
I will answer any questions you may have regarding the information you’re about to receive and when that part is settled, Raknor here can help you with your magic inheritance. 

First things first though. 

You, Lord Potter, are the Lord of the Noble house of Potter, being the last living descendant of that line. There was a significant magic inheritance attached to the coming of age for that house, but it seemed that your magic usurped that magic early on in your life, most likely due to dire necessity.”

Harry nodded, now he understood why he was able to heal a lot of his injuries without ever being aware he was using his own magic to arrange this. He just thought his body adapted to the many injuries by healing faster than normal. This explanation clarified that part of his childhood and he accepted it without question. 

“Additionally and probably not known to you, the inheritance test also deemed you to be the Lord of the houses Black and Peverell, both lines that seemed to have been extinct, the Black line with the death of your godfather, Sirius Black. 

The only way to determine if the bloodlines will bow to you as their Lord is by accepting and putting on the Lordship rings, which we’ll do shortly. 

However, that is not all. As I noticed upon your entry, it seems that you received another magical inheritance, although I don’t think anyone expected it to happen, let alone this way. 

Mister Potter, when you finally killed the Dark Lord on the battlefield, a large portion of the magic that he possessed was absorbed by you. 

This usually doesn’t happen, as a wizard’s magic is different for each wizard, meaning that merging would be an impossible task. 

However, with the link you and the Dark Lord have shared over the years, plus other similarities like the cores of your wands, Voldemort's magic recognised you as kin to its own and easily added itself to your magical core. 

As Voldemort was a very powerful wizard and you were his equal in power,” Harry raised his eyebrows when he heard that remark, “ that means that the moment the Dark Lord died, your own power almost doubled. 

As you, nor your magic were prepared for such a possibility, but of course, why should you, the additional amount of magic overwhelmed you and caused you to black out. 

That also explains what you told me about what happened when you woke up and I’m glad  you had the foresight to come to us as soon as you were able to. We will train you to keep control over the magic you now possess. 

Now before we retrieve the Lordship rings, there is one more house that is now listed that you could be the heir of, the House of Gant. 

It appears that with the joining of the Dark Lord’s magic, enough of a magical signature was transferred for Magic to also recognise you as head of that house.

Now, we can only confirm this by handing you the Lordship rings, which I will have brought now.”

Once again Griphook picked up the telephone (Harry wondered if the wizards who visited Gringotts actually knew what a telephone was) and said “Please bring me the Lordship rings of the Houses Potter, Black, Peverell and Gaunt.

Not a minute later 4 beautiful mahogany boxes were placed on Griphook’s desk. Harry wondered why they all looked the same when they came from very different houses, but before he could voice his question, Griphook already seemed to have heard it. 

“When a bloodline goes extinct, sometimes the original containment boxes for a certain house will disappear or break because the magic is no longer linked to a living heir. Within Gringotts we have house-made containment boxes which provide all the protection a Lordship ring should have. The only issue is that they look the same.”

Harry didn’t see an issue with that, but then again, he wasn’t raised as a pureblood, so maybe that was a prejudice that he missed, luckily. 

Griphook took the first box to open it, but stopped when another box suddenly appeared on his desk. This box was entirely made of onyx, with a green emerald frame on the top of the box. As the sides seemed to have been smoothed out by the years, Harry deduced that this must be a very old box and therefore a very old bloodline. 

Griphook didn’t look surprised but merely nodded and addressed Harry once again. 

“I didn’t know for sure this would happen, but with the Lordship rings of Peverell and Gaunt together, chances were that the House of Slytherin would show up by itself, if it thinks you to be worthy. 

The Lordship ring of Slytherin cannot be assigned to an heir, the bloodline itself chooses who it finds to be worthy of their bloodline, in this case you.”

Griphook chuckled at Harry’s astonished face.

“Before we discuss this further, let’s see if the Houses will accept you as their heir”. 

With that he opened the first box, that of the Potter bloodline. The warm wood and clear green inlay immediately charmed Harry and without prompting he took the ring and put it on his finger. A warm, glowing feeling rushed from his hand through his heart and then throughout the rest of his body. 

The Lordship ring of the House of Black was next and Harry thought it was a good representation of the Black House, black onyx stone with dark purple sapphires. When he put on the ring, a sense of strengthening ran through his body, like he just got equipped with invisible armor. 

The Peverell Lordship ring looked old and regal, a platinum band with yellow diamonds and the Gaunt Lordship ring had the same regal appearance, but with an obsidian band and rubies. 

Both rings gave Harry a boost of power which, with his already overpowered magic, seemed to feel like he could start levitating randomly at any moment. 

However, for now, still firmly seated, he reached for the final box, the Slytherin Lordship ring. 

The ring seemed to have been composed out of one solid chunk of emerald and was carved into a snake that wrapped around itself, its eyes made of rubies. 

Harry very carefully slid the ring around his already full ring finger and gasped at the amount of knowledge that flooded his brain. Too much to make sense of now, but he instinctively knew that he could mentally catalogue all that information later and that the ring would help him to make sense of everything. 

Looking at his hand, or specifically his ring finger, he kind of wryly noted that it would not be very easy to use his hand now. Just as he formed the thought, the first four rings seemed to melt into his skin, leaving only the Slytherin ring behind. 

Griphook, having watched the whole event patiently and quietly, let out a small chuckle. 

“ You just thought it was a bit much right?

All Lordship rings, except for the Founder rings, have the option to be absorbed into the body of the heir. Besides freeing up your hand again, it also serves as further protection, so that nobody can take the rings from you, without you freely giving them to another person.”

Harry nodded. While it has never even occurred to him that that would be a) a possibility and b) incredibly efficient, he could only agree with the logic of both the goblin and the rings. 

He looked at the remaining ring on his finger, it seemed to have adjusted itself to fit perfectly around his finger. 

Griphook explained further: “While the Founder rings cannot be absorbed into the skin, all founder rings are very protective of their heirs and another person will never be able to remove the ring from you, not even if they would try to cut off your finger.”

Harry winced. 

“Not that the ring would allow that in the first place though.

A final piece of information on the Lordship rings, although further protections will make itself known where necessary. 

The Potter Lordship ring will warn you if there is danger ahead or if your partner is in danger. The ring will communicate with you which of the two options it’s warning you for.

The Black Lordship ring will warn you when something in your vicinity has been poisoned and will automatically neutralize that poison, even if you have already ingested it. 

The Peverell and Gaunt rings will increase your magic reserve, although I don’t think that is necessary,” Griphook remarked. “However they will also help you with the control over your magic and by focussing intent when casting, so they will be helpful to you in those and many other ways.

Finally the Slytherin ring contains an enormous amount of knowledge about old and forgotten magic. Furthermore it would have made you a Parseltongue, if you weren’t already, but it will now also allow you to use Parselmagic. This different brand of magic is largely unknown, but the ring will help you to understand how to cast and the advantages of having that magic at your disposal.”

Harry was a bit dazed by all the information. He came here for help with his supercharged magic and now he was Lord of 5 houses and had more money, power and knowledge than he knew what to do with. 

Griphook nodded knowingly and once again picked up the telephone to ask for tea, coffee and a plate of sandwiches. 

“ I think it would be wise if you took a little time to have everything sink in before we continue. I don’t want you to leave Gringotts just yet, because the additional magic on top of what you already came in with, could be difficult to control without additional training. 

For now, rest” Gringotts transformed Harry’s chair into a comfortable sofa, “drink and eat and we will continue in a couple of hours. Nobody will disturb you here, so feel free to take a nap if you need it.”

Harry knew that he needed it, this was a “little” more than he expected to hear when he walked into the bank a little while ago. The goblins quietly left the room and Harry ate and drank and after that took a much needed nap.

Chapter Text

Harry continued his walk over the grounds of Hogwarts. He didn't even look where he was going, by now he trusted his magic to detect anything and anyone that was in his way and adjust his path accordingly. 

 Additionally, although not known to him at the time, his magic also created a heated bubble around him as he walked. Normally that would have gone unnoticed, but since it had begun to snow while Harry started walking, anyone looking out of the castle would have seen a strange bubble around Harry, in which there was no snow whatsoever. It would have brought up some questions, but since there were almost no people left in the castle, it was of no concern currently. 

Harry, unaware of the bubble, but aware of the course corrections, although on a secondary level ruminated again. Those two weeks in the time bubble in Hogwarts had been so worth it. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After his nap, Griphook and Raknor had once again entered the chamber and faced Harry with serious expressions on their faces. 

“Lord Potter,” Griphook started, “we can't let you leave Gringotts in your current condition.”

Harry's face went white, but he waited for Griphook to continue, again placing his trust in the goblin that he respected. 

“Your magic inheritance has been the cause for a bit of an uproar in the building as, as you might be aware of upon entering the bank, goblins can see the magic swirling around you and they all saw the amount of power and the deep reserve you now have.

We discussed this with our head-goblin and we will provide the training you need in order to be able to leave here with your magic firmly under your control. 

In order to do so, we will create a time bubble. In this bubble, a week will pass, while only one hour has passed in the “normal” world.”

Griphook kind of accented the word normal, but then again, Harry thought, what counted as normal these days?

“If you agree, and we hope you do, because you won't be able to leave until you can control all your magic, Raknor can create the bubble for us now, where we will be held for 2 weeks, or in actual reality, 2 hours.”

“What would happen if I said no,” Harry asked curiously. 

“Then you would be stunned and sent to our hospital wing where we would teach you how to control your magic while you remain suspended in a magical coma.

In both cases you would eventually take control of the magic in you, but what would take you two weeks willingly, would take you 3 months in a magical coma and the hospital wing isn't held in a time bubble. We have the skills, the knowledge and we reserve the right to temporarily restrain any of our customers if we believe they could, unintentionally, be a danger to the outside world.”

Harry nodded. Whether he agreed or not, he understood the reasoning of the goblin in front of him and with recent events in mind, he also agreed he was far from in control of this new power he had inherited. 

A 3 month nap did sound nice. After all, it seemed like he earned it after the events of the past week, and the Fates knew he could use some peace and quiet for a while.

However, he knew it didn't fit into the plans he had already made and if everything went according to plan, he would have plenty of time to sleep, one could say indefinite time, not long from now. 

So, after agreeing to the time bubble, which was made swiftly by Raknor, Harry's training began.

Although having been taught at Hogwarts for 6 years, Harry did have to switch his understanding a bit before he could fully grasp what Griphook was trying to teach him. While Hogwarts teaching was very much about spells, specific hand movements and extremely detailed potions, the goblin taught Harry to look at his magic like a living entity he was sharing a body with. Only by recognising this second entity and by becoming aware of its power and possibilities, could he start understanding how he could maintain control. 

Harry had always thought of magical items as items with a mind of their own and he had often experienced that, even in aspects where he lacked the proper knowledge, items would help him any way they could by Harry asking for help very politely. 

Expanding this understanding into magic in general as an entity with a mind of his own, really helped him to see and feel the power around him and how he could subtly redirect it and mold it to his expectations. 

The goblin also taught him that while an iron self-control was possible, as a recently deceased Lord had demonstrated, it would not allow for the full power to be used, as magic itself would resist such control. 

Magic, he explained, was completely neutral and could be used for white, grey or black magic at any time, depending on the wizard's inclination. As long as the wizard used their magic with respect it would help that wizard to reach their goals. 

Voldemort, by maintaining that iron grip, was still enormously powerful, but had he allowed his magic some breathing room, he would have gained even more power. 

Then again, Harry thought, as that particular wizard saw all magical beings that were not wizards, as below him, he wouldn't have believed this information anyway. Harry didn't want to know what would have happened if he had known and used that knowledge to further increase his power. Even the combined power of every Phoenix member might not have been enough to stop him then. 

Griphook also told him that magic, all magic, either within him, an object or just in a general vicinity reacted strongly to emotions. That was also why Voldemort had been so powerful, not only did he have a lot of magic, he hated so very strongly that his magic reacted to that emotion. 

Harry was instructed on how to create a safe mental space for himself. In that space, muggles would call it meditation, Griphook had told him, he would be safe, balanced and in control of his emotions and thus of his magic. If he felt strong emotions, and they practiced this quite a bit in the two weeks, his magic would lash out at the item or image that caused these emotions. If that wasn't possible, his magic would lash out randomly at other objects or even people, well goblins in this case.  

With enough practice and meditation, Harry was able to create that safe space in his head. Of course, since he was young and the technique was new to him, his control wasn't perfect and the goblins warned him about this when training had ended. 

Harry understood though. It would take time for the gentle control over his emotions and his magic to become second nature, but he had a lot more confidence in his ability to do so by the time he left Gringotts. 

The thing that bothered him currently was the way he had reacted to Snape. Even in the middle of the confrontation with Ron about him being gay, keeping his emotions in check didn't even need a fraction of his concentration. 

However, when his most hated professor dared to call him by his first name, both his emotions and his magic lashed out as if he had been bitten by a rattle snake. It was something he would have to ponder about more when the first parts of his plan had been set into motion. Oh yes, he had plans to wrap up a lot of loose ends that had been created in the past year and Harry was far past being Mr. Nice Guy. 

Time to set things into motion, he thought, as he made his way back into Hogwarts. He had to visit an old headmaster and inform him of the things that were coming… 

Chapter Text

Harry had not been idle since returning to Hogwarts after the confrontation with the Weasley family. 

As soon as he was back in his private room (the privilege of being made headboy for the remainder of the year), he Floo'd to the reception desk of The Daily Prophet and asked to speak to Rita Skeeter. 

He had no idea where the woman came from, as she was in rather unusual attire, even for her, but she was in front of him within a minute. Harry smirked internally, this was definitely a good sign. 

At his request to talk somewhere privately, she led him off to a room on the side that was tiny but comfortable. 

After they both had taken a seat, Harry informed Rita this was a preliminary talk to see if they could come to an understanding about a rather large article Harry wanted her to write. 

The article would encompass the deceit of Dumbledore, the deranged Dursleys and the story of Voldemort and his death eaters and what the public never got to hear of that story. Harry promised her pensieve memories as rock solid evidence, but only with the promise that her memories of his memories would never be seen by another soul. 

Additionally, she would be able to use an enchanted quill for the article, but a regular one, not the “Quick Quotes” quill she was so fond of. Harry informed her that the story he wanted to tell her would be outrageous and rage-inducing enough that exaggeration wouldn’t be necessary.

Rita, smelling the scoop of a lifetime, several lifetimes actually, wasted no time in creating an unbreakable bond with Harry on the conditions he had set and they set up a meeting for that next morning to start with writing the story. Originally Harry thought it would be a bit much to request an unbreakable bond on these terms, but he was determined to get the story out in an honest fashion.

Harry informed her that he would tell her the full story chronologically and that it would take several meetings. He left it completely up to her on how she wanted to present the article and which timeframes she used for parts of it. The only thing he wanted, and they had already agreed to that, was that the article was truthful. 

With the first meeting set up, he left Rita behind, who, if she ever heard of the muggle story “Alice in Wonderland”, would have found herself looking remarkably like the Cheshire Cat in that story. 

Harry, upon returning to his room in Hogwarts, took his pensieve out of the locked closet he kept it in. The thing was one of the most expensive items available on the wizarding market and he kept it well guarded.

He was still a bit flabbergasted on how he came to be in the possession of such a valuable object. During his two-week training with Griphook he informed the goblin about his developing idea of doing a major article, exposing a great deal about the deceit and lies from Dumbledore over the last 6 years, including several other key-figures that were involved in his plans.

Griphook had looked at Harry with an expression of grim satisfaction. The goblins were well aware of the ways the old wizard had manipulated, or tried to manipulate influential people to gain more power in the wizarding world. However since they were bound to privacy for all their customers they could only watch frustrated as they saw more and more wizards fall for the grandpa-like demeanor of the man. 

After the time-bubble had ended, Griphook had requested that Harry remain a moment longer while he discussed something with the head-goblin. 

He came back with in his hands; the same pensieve Harry now held. With the reactivation of the Black, Peverell, Gaunt and Slytherin accounts the goblins would receive considerable fees from all these accounts for managing them and would have the leeway to make sound investments with part of the money in the vault. 

Griphook explained that because of this and because of Harry's plan to expose Dumbledore, Gringotts would like to give this pensieve to Harry to help him in the latter part of his quest. 

Harry had stood gaping like a fish for a minute before the words actually sank in. He immediately knew it was of no use to argue with the goblin. If a goblin gave you a gift, arguing or offering compensation for said gift would make the goblin very angry, and Harry knew he would very much fear an angry Griphook, even with his newly grown magic. 

Instead he bowed deeply and told Griphook, “you do me a great honour by finding me worthy of such an important gift. I accept it with my deepest gratitude and if you need further funds to invest in the future, please keep my name in mind, I would be happy to discuss terms with you.”

Griphook bowed as well. “Thank you Lord Potter, we're honoured as well by your offer and we will certainly keep it in mind for future investments.”

Griphook’s respect for Harry had grown over the days. The young man knew how to conduct himself towards him and Raknor, but also seemed to have an innate understanding of the way goblins did business. Combined with the respect Harry always displayed, it had been an easy decision to gift him the pensieve. 

Harry didn't show anyone his pensieve, even after the war, there were always wizards that were looking to make a quick galleon and didn't mind leaving behind a body (or more).

Instead he kept it well wrapped and hidden under his cloak until he was safely back in his room. Taking all his years of spellwork and his increased magic, he created a magically reinforced closet that would hold the pensieve for him. 

No one other than him would even be able to see the closet, let alone open it. With his training Harry knew for certain that he stacked all the spells correctly.

Now, holding the valuable object once again, he felt a surge of determination to get the first part of his memories sorted for his appointment tomorrow. 

He would not show Rita his worst memories, he would leave those for Snape he thought grimly, but even with the “lesser” memories Rita would be plenty shocked regardless. 

Organising his mind (the training he received from the goblins worked perfectly for advancing his occlumency as well) he began to retrieve the memories he wanted to show Rita and after having a small selection, collected them in a small bottle and put a stopper in it. 

Rita and the wizarding world wouldn't know what hit them by the time he was done with his story. This was one time he was going to use his boy-who-lived image to get more than even with the tormentors he had left. 

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

His ruminations had distracted him, but his magic brought him automatically to the part of the castle he wished to go to, the headmaster's quarters. Headmaster McGonagall had left on her well deserved break earlier today, but the gargoyles yielded to Harry's magic without objection and he made his way up the stairs. 

Stepping into the familiar quarters, Harry felt a mix of grief and anger. He was sad that the sight before him reminded him of all the wrongs that had been done to him and that grief made him angry as well. 

Surviving a killing curse when he was barely 3 months old and then being led to his death by a wizard that was supposed to teach and guide him was enough to make lesser wizards lose their mind. 

Turning around, he viewed the portrait of the man in question. As always Albus’ eyes twinkled in a grandfatherly way while he looked at Harry.

“Harry, so good to see you m'boy! I was so happy to hear you survived the final battle, what brings you to visit me today?”

Harry took a deep breath and centered himself once again. After the outburst at Snape's office he wouldn't want to cause a second disturbance, he knew great outbursts of power were registered at the ministry. 

“First, I am not “your boy”, Albus. If you want to call me something other than Harry, you could try “pig-raised-for slaughter” or even “ignorant-horcrux-that-had-to-die”. 

I know I wasn't supposed to survive the final battle, unfortunately for you, I did. That means that I had ample time to investigate my life so far and the picture I recovered doesn't really paint you in a good light, old headmaster.
Your manipulations in placing me with the Dursleys, your knowledge of all the abuse I endured there, your continued insistence on alienating other parental figures from me and of course the path you put me upon to face my own death willingly will be your undoing, even after death.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry with a cautious expression on his face, “Harry, m'b… What are you talking about? I assure you, whatever you heard, it was either twisted or just lies, you know I always had the best…”

“Save it, old man,”  Harry interrupted the wizard, “you can no longer twist the truth with your kind attitude and charming ways. I have copied memories of all the facts I just informed you about, so save me the speech about lying and manipulating. The only one who ever mastered that skill, is you. 

Dumbledore looked taken aback, it was clear that he did not expect Harry to uncover so much of the covert actions he had made over the last decade. 

“ I have had a few very long conversations with Rita Skeeter about my youth, my upbringing and all the ways you entangled yourself into my life to make sure I was an obedient, beat-down boy who would follow the path you set out for me.

Luckily I caught on to your plan in time and in a couple of days the whole of Britain will be able to read all about me, you and all the other key figures in this abomination of a plot to defeat Voldemort. 

I don't think the general wizarding population will look very kindly upon your actions, I've come to realise that wizards consider their children almost sacred.

You, Albus, will become one of the most hated and despised wizards overnight and I have taken great pleasure in assuring the destruction of your image, even after death. Your name will become a curse in the lower circles and no one will ever speak of you ever again. Goodbye Albus, may you live on in obscurity. ”

Without waiting for a reply, Harry turned around and left the office again. Even though he had already spilled everything to Rita, it still felt like a weight being lifted, having been able to tell the old man the truth before closing that chapter forever.

Feeling like he was floating down the stairs (to be fair, his magic helped and he almost didn't touch the steps) he let his magic lead the way again. Everything was going according to plan. 

Chapter Text

After his visit to the old man, Harry made his way back to his room. There was a reason he had waited until almost everyone had left for their holiday, apart from his visits to Snape and Dumbledore. 

His friends would have had questions if they had seen Harry packing everything he owned for his so-called “holiday”. Better to be long gone before they figured out his low-magic retreat was a cover. 

He had already packed the essentials and now he had only the last items, his wand (although he hardly used it anymore), his invisibility cloak and the pensieve (safely packed) to put into his trunk and close it. He then shrunk the trunk so it fit into the pocket of his jeans, picked up his designated ticket, which was a portkey, and walked out of Hogwarts towards the end of the wards that surrounded it. He was sure his magic was strong enough to portkey his way to the South of France through the wards as well, but he didn’t want them to fall and leave Hogwarts defenseless. 

Outside of the wards he gripped the portkey tight and uttered: “Saint-Étienne-de-Lugdarès”. 

Luckily the portkey was anchored to the place in question, because with Harry’s horrible pronunciation he could have ended up somewhere completely different. 

However, the ticket did what it was supposed to do and landed him safely in the South of France in a town that held less than 500 inhabitants. There actually had been a magical retreat in the vicinity about 150 years back, but that retreat had long since closed and the inhabitants of the small town were all muggles, Harry had checked. 

It suited him well, because it meant he didn’t have to put up with the horrible glamours he usually had to use when appearing in public. Even in the middle of nowhere in France, wizards still seem to know and recognise Harry Potter when they came across him. 

He had booked a night at the local hostel here (they precisely had one hostel in the town) as a passing through guest, so nobody would be surprised to see him wandering on the streets. 

After checking in and leaving his trunk in his now warded room, he ventured across the street to the tiny café/restaurant that seemed to have 5 tables total. 

Using a translation spell, Harry conversed with the owner and quickly found out that it was the only restaurant in town as well. He then requested to try their most popular dish, without knowing what it was. 

The small surprise meant more to Harry than anyone who knew him would have thought. But then again, Harry thought ironically, when your whole life is already planned out for you before you are even aware of your own existence, what is there left to be surprised about?

Not much later Harry had a platter in front of his nose that contained a black-and-blue steak, a fresh salad and some tossed garden potatoes. 

Even spoiled by the excellent food of the house elves in Hogwarts, Harry greatly appreciated the tender steak and the accompanying salad and potatoes. There was a certain fresh quality to it that he never tasted before. 

He had come prepared and during his last Gringotts visit, took the time to change some Galleons to a small amount of Euro’s. Luckily nobody in France saw him with his wad of cash, because in the muggle world it wasn’t exactly a “small” amount that he was carrying. 

He paid and left a hefty tip - he heard the muggles still did that - and left heading for the hostel. Feeling sated and content he retired to his bedroom and slept soundly through the night. 

- - - - - - - - - 

The next morning, after breakfast, Harry settled his bill at the hostel and left the small town on foot. 

It surprised him that no-one had asked him about his mode of transportation, after all, he came into and left the town on foot, with no visible luggage. He didn’t know if it was a French thing or a muggle thing, but under different circumstances he would have remained in France a bit longer to find out, he liked the Laissez-faire mindset the people here seemed to have.

Not this time though, Harry had things to do, or rather places to be. 

He slowly made his way to a nearby train station “La Bastide - Saint-Laurent-les-Bains”.

Trains here were few and far between, but Harry had timed it perfectly and when he arrived at the station, he still had 10 minutes until the train arrived. 

Harry had arranged muggle transport for almost all of the voyage still ahead. If someone happened to find out where his portkey originally transported him to, they would find no further trace of him after that. 

This was not an accident, regardless of whatever future Harry would eventually decide upon, he would make the decision on his own and in his own time. Regardless of the love he still had for his close friends, he knew they would want to come search for him when he didn’t return and he needed an unlimited time to decide what, if any, future plans would look like. 

He knew it was selfish to leave everyone without any information, but he had decided that this time he would allow himself to be selfish. He thought he earned that much at least, after saving the wizarding world for the second time before he even turned 20. 

The train, which he had now boarded, brought him to Lyon airport - well eventually, public transportation wasn’t really first priority in France so the journey took about 5 hours -. 

Harry had no rush though, he already included this time + extra in his itinerary, alongside several other possible solutions if the train never arrived at the original station or if it broke down somewhere along the way.
It would have been easy to use his magic to help himself travel faster, but that would defeat the whole purpose of leaving no magical trace behind. 

Arriving in Lyon, he checked in for his flight to Malmö, in Sweden. Having grown up, at least partially in the muggle world, Harry had an understanding of the ID documents he needed to present and have on him in order to check in. 

In reality, in comparison to identification in the magical world, he found the whole process to be an administrative nightmare, but he reminded himself it was only one time and he could be patient. 

The flight to Malmö was uneventful and upon arriving there, Harry had about 20 hours before he had to catch his next flight. 

Already scheduled was an overnight stay in a hotel just outside of the airport, prepaid and all. He thought Hermione would be proud of him, the way he had created such a detailed, complete schedule and even included possible alternatives in case of delays. Maybe, he thought with a smile, she finally rubbed off on him after those 6 years.

Another restful night and he boarded his plane to Luleå Airport, which was the final leg of his flying journey. 

After leaving that airport, Harry breathed in the frigid air of Northern Sweden. Nobody would think to come look for him here, everybody knew he hated the cold. 

That is also exactly why he chose to flee to Scandinavia, good luck finding him here. 

Buying an electric bike (and using a little bit of sneaky magic to boost its speed), he rather quickly made his way to the isolated cabin he purchased alongside a small freshwater lake. 

It was in the middle of a massive forest, it was stocked with enough food and water for 6 months and the lake could provide ample amounts of fresh fish and fresh water (once spring arrived that is).

All communication and transaction was done via email, but since the money arrived into the previous owner’s account posthaste, he had no qualms about setting up the cabin the way Harry liked it (especially for the extra sum Harry had provided for those services).

The key was where the seller told him it would be and Harry let out a massive sigh as he made his way into the cabin and closed the door. Finally, finally, some peace and quiet and he would remain here, at least for the next few weeks, to watch the fallout of the coming articles in the Prophet. To be fair, he was looking rather forward to the fallout for the Dursleys and Dumbledore (and a few other minor figures in this mess). 

For now, he lit the fire and walked to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. All he had to do now was sit and wait.

Chapter Text

Headline of the Daily Prophet: 

“ The Savior of the wizarding world tells all! Full exclusive 3-part article about Harry Potter’s youth, the manipulations of Dumbledore and the final defeat of Lord Voldemort.”

Brought to you exclusively by Rita Skeeter

Personally approached by the boy - well man by now - who lived because of our good and established working relationship, Harry has decided to give me - and thus you -  a one-time exclusive look into his youth, his journey towards defeating Lord Voldemort and all the key-players that were involved, or rather inserted themselves to manipulate the story. 

But no more! 

Harry and I have spoken on several occasions on which he spared no detail of his past and provided me with all necessary memory backup and affidavits to guarantee he is speaking the truth. 

Reader discretion is advised as Harry’s childhood is not for the faint of heart or young children for that matter. Now, without further ado, here is how Harry’s story began…” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hermione had some trouble containing her trembling hands after reading the first part of the article the Prophet had headlined this morning. 

Currently still staying at the Burrow after Christmas, she was usually one of the first up and about and today was no exception. 

She had just finished making her first cup of tea when the *tick* of the newspaper sounded against the glass of the kitchen. While whispering “Accio Prophet” she made her way to the kitchen table. She loved these quiet mornings, especially while staying at the Burrow as it was only ever this silent when the whole family was still sleeping. 

Upon seeing the headline curiosity had gotten the better of her - now she thought she should have waited until at least one Weasley was awake as well - and before she knew it, she was engrossed in the two page article that detailed growing up at the Dursleys. 

It began with how Harry ended up with the Dursleys - Lily’s sister and her husband - in the first place. Despite Sirius Black being Harry’s Godfather, Dumbledore had decided to keep the child from Sirius and left it on the front steps of the Dursleys instead, accompanied by a short letter, asking the family to please take Harry in, due to his parent’s death. 

- - - - - - 

That Harry was never supposed to be placed with Petunia - Lily’s sister, was explicitly stated in the wills of both James and Lily, but Dumbledore had these wills sealed and no one had ever been able to read them until Harry came of age. This was just the first of many, many manipulations Dumbledore exercised to mold Harry into the weapon he wanted him to be - more on that later in the article. 

- 

Hermione knew the story of how Harry was left at the Dursleys doorstep, but the surrounding information and the even then betrayal of Dumbledore was a complete and bitter surprise that made her a bit sick to the stomach. 

- 

The Dursleys did indeed take Harry in, after which no further check-ups, home-visits or any other follow up was done for the next 11 years. 

Again, a manipulation by Albus Dumbledore, who informed and kept informing concerned parties that everything was fine with Harry and that he was being spoiled by his family. 

However, Harry was in fact, not fine, and definitely not spoiled by his family. 

From the age of 3, Harry had been ordered to clean the house top to bottom every week. Petunia provided stepladders for the areas that Harry couldn’t reach, but pushed him off those same stepladders on a regular basis, just to see Harry suffer. 

After such a fall, she would take great pleasure in grabbing the little boy by the hair, pulling him down the stairs and throwing him into his “room”, which was in fact the cupboard under the stairs. 

– If you, reader, find yourself a bit sick to the stomach at this story, I would suggest that you toughen up, because this is just the first part of Harry’s youth. – 

At 4, he had to learn how to cook and provided the whole family 3 full meals a day. He himself was not allowed to eat any of the food he prepared and he got one cold cooked potato at night, if he was lucky and if his aunt and uncle weren’t mad about something unrelated. If that was the case, or worse, if they were mad at something Harry did, Harry would be assured he would not get any food in the next 3 days. 

– Let that sink in, dear reader. A child of 4, being fed once a day, but if he did something wrong, even that one meal a day was him denied for 3 days.-- 

At 5, he took over the garden work as well, but only in the backyard, as his uncle Vernon had clearly stated “he didn’t want his neighbours to think he was housing a freak”. 

At 6, the beatings began. Beforehand, if Harry accidentally did something wrong, he would get a smack on the head and was to be pulled by the hair to his “room”. 

However, starting at age 6, Vernon had started using a belt on his back instead. If the child-beater was feeling slightly irritated, Harry only got 4-5 lashes. 

In cases where Harry had greatly offended his uncle, most of the time just by existing in the same room as him, 15-20 lashes was not unheard of and Harry still bears extensive scars on his back from those years. 

– I have seen this for myself, as Harry was so kind as to take off his shirt and drop the glamour he’d been wearing for years. 

Reader, as you most likely know, I’m not the most kind hearted reporter, but even I teared up at the sight of his mangled back. He wouldn’t let us take any photos of it, he thought it too graphic for the newspaper, but believe me when I say a certain revered prophet in the muggle world got a light lashing compared to what Harry had been subjected to. –

As the years progressed Harry got more and more household tasks, basically running the entire household - cooking, cleaning, washing up, laundry, etc - by the time he was 8 and any error would be severely punished. If Vernon’s belt wasn’t near him when he decided to “discipline” Harry, his fists would suffice as well, leaving Harry with enough concussions and broken noses to - if he had been a muggle -  create a completely mentally disabled person who would be drooling in a nursing home for the rest of his life. 

His magic is what saved him time and time again and that is also what saved him when his nephew, Dudley, maliciously pushed over the frying pan, spilling several liters of boiling hot frying oil over Harry’s chest and legs. 

His aunt refused to take him to any doctor, instead throwing him back into his room, with the suggestion that it “might be best” if he just died, so they wouldn’t have to be subjected to him anymore. Harry survived 5 days in that cupboard, more dead than alive, until his aunt deemed to let him out for a glass of water. Without his magic he most certainly would have been killed by the enormous burns across his chest and the top of his legs. 

– Harry told me that he recently went to Gringotts - it was the first chance he had had since coming of age - and that the goblins informed him that while he should have gotten a sizable magic increase at his coming of age, that magic seemed to have attached itself to Harry far earlier than expected. Considering these are just a few instances of the abuse he endured for years and years, he himself and I don’t think any of us as well, reader, is very surprised at that turn of events. – 

The abuse continued unabated until a half-giant - sent by Albus Dumbledore - came to collect Harry for his first year at Hogwarts. Imagine his surprise, when Harry informed the half giant - Hagrid -  that magic wasn’t real and even if it was real, there was no way that he would have it, or that there was a school to be further educated. 

That instant led to the first - and so far - only retribution ever paid by Harry’s family, the half-giant managed to attach a pig's tail to their son. 

– All the examples above were all supported by original memories from Harry and I can personally vouch for their authenticity. Harry has eluded to many, many more instances, but refused to divulge further, as to not further scare you, our reader, and that detail has left me wondering how deep the well goes. Maybe it’s best not to ask further… – 

In tomorrow’s article:

Was Dumbledore aware of the abuse happening in the Dursleys home? Why did he not intervene? What other machinations did the old headmaster put in motion to “guide” - manipulate - Harry towards the path he wanted him to walk? The story continues… 

Chapter Text

Hermione waited for the Prophet the next morning at the same time. The difference with yesterday was that the whole Weasley clan was also present in the kitchen. 

After Fred found Hermione in almost catatonic state when he came down yesterday morning, he roused the rest of the household with his frantic call to his mom. 

Molly, luckily, had some calming draught stored away and she got Hermione to take a couple of sips of it, which brought her a bit back to herself. 

By the time Molly had gotten Hermione responsive again, the rest of the Weasley clan had seen the screaming headline of the Prophet as well. 

With a simple duplicate spell, Arthur had made sure that everybody had his own copy, to prevent a fight over the newspaper. When Molly looked up from Hermione, she saw her sons and husband sitting at the kitchen table with almost identical faces of horror. 

Taking the newspaper from her husband, she read the article as well. Deeply shocked she took the final seat at the table with a thud. A couple of moments of quiet ruled in the kitchen which, in itself, was noteworthy enough for an article in the Prophet itself, Hermione thought ironically. 

However, the reason for the total silence was definitely not a laughing matter and she could only think of Harry and all the years of abuse he endured before he even set foot in Hogwarts. She and Ron had known Harry didn't have a happy home with the Dursleys, but he never let on how bad things really were. Now she wished she had pushed more, asked more, if only to give Harry the opportunity to share his burden. 

Her thoughts turned to Ron as well. When she arrived at the Burrow, still slightly puzzled by the cryptic description Harry had given her of the breakup scene, she hadn't expected to walk into an active war zone. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

She heard the ruckus coming from the house as soon as she crossed the wards surrounding the Burrow. Although the words were still unclear she heard a lot of yelling and the sounds of things being thrown across various rooms. This disturbed her greatly, as while the Weasley's were loud and had the tendency to shout during arguments, never in the years that Hermione had known the family, had it become physical. 

Hurrying closer, she could start to make out words “disgusting… freak… you're nothing but a ..”

Coming up on the back door, she pushed it open silently as she heard her boyfriend was the one that was currently screaming, at Charlie, by the sounds of it. 

“How could you do this Charlie, what the fuck is wrong with you? You know how important it is to make sure the bloodlines are not further diluted and you choose to become a f*ggot? Don't you have any pride? Why the fuck would you want to shag blokes while there are legions of girls who would gladly throw themselves willing at your feet?
Have you been poisoned, has there been a compulsion placed on you? Was it Potter? Did he do something to you to make you this way? I swear I will hex his swinging ass all the way to Voldemort myself to get rid of that fairy!” 

Hermione had been genuinely shocked to hear the words that were coming out of Ron's mouth. If she wasn't looking directly at him - his back, but there was no mistaking the rant came from him - she wouldn't have believed this was the man she had come to love over the last couple of years. There was so much hate and disgust in his voice that she physically recoiled from his bellowing voice.  

Charlie, who was indeed in the same room, looked at Ron with a furious but also disappointed expression on his face. Hermione could see that Ron's words had hurt him, but what perhaps even hurt more was the fact that someone in his own family harbored such harmful, hateful feelings about being gay. 

In comparison to the muggle world, being gay in the wizarding world was totally normal and nobody looked up from wizards in triads, polyamorous relationships and (partial) creature heritances that required multiple mates. 

Hermione didn't know where he got these ideas, and Charlie seemed pretty clueless as well, but that didn't matter, as she was not going to stand there while Ron continued to berate his older brother about something he had absolutely no choice in. 

“Ronald Billius Weasley”, she shouted, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Where did you get those ideas and how could you be so ignorant to accept them without question?”

Ron jumped. He knew Hermione would be coming today, but in the heat of the moment, rowing with Charlie, he totally forgot the time. It wasn't that he would be tempted to tone down his beliefs when she was present, but he hoped that if she didn't fall into an active fight, she would believe him when he told her that things were greatly exaggerated. That plan out the window, he turned around to find his girlfriend looking at him with such rage that he expected actual steam to come out of her ears in a matter of moments.

“Hermione, honey, you don't know the whole picture,” he started. 

“I heard more than enough,” she replied, “I was a bit confused as I heard from Harry there was a confrontation when he accidentally came out to your whole family. He wouldn't tell me what you said, told me that he'd rather have you explain it to me, but this little outburst showed me pretty much what he got from you as well. 

Ron, you are a disgusting, hateful piece of shit and we're so over, it's not even funny.”

Ron shook his head. “Hermione, sweetie, I know you don't mean that. When we've both cooled down, I will tell you exactly what went down with Harry and I know you will see my point of view then.”

Hermione's face went from red to white and Charlie made sure to escape the kitchen in what he recognised as the silence before the storm that was coming. Ron, who felt the magic rising around Hermione, too late, was caught up in her maelstrom of rage. 

“Ronald Weasley, you absolute fucking prick, where do you get off being so condescending? Don't you know I can hex you into oblivion before you can even draw your wand?
I have to say you must be a Master Liar to fool everybody so completely for so long. So, since you don't believe my words, maybe my actions will show you that I'm very serious about not having to spend a single moment longer in your presence.”

With that, she drew her hand and pointed it at him. 

Ron could make out that she was murmuring a spell but before he could understand what she was saying he suddenly found himself 25 km from the Burrow, in the extensive swamps that surrounded the house. 

Without a wand present, he had no course but to make the physical trek back to his home. Hermione could have hexed him much further and he thought that was a positive sign that maybe the witch still had some lingering feelings for him. 

25 kilometers away, still at the Burrow, Hermione was doing her best to calm down a bit. She, of course, knew too that all magic was tied to emotions and in all these years she was successful in not letting her emotions rile up her magic too much. 

It required an enormous amount of self-control, but with her Muggle background, it became especially important for her to be better, be more in control than all the Slytherin's put together. 

In the years since that control had become so second-nature to her that it didn't even catch her attention anymore, it was as simple as breathing. 

That is why she was now caught so off guard, however, she thought, if there was ever a time to get a “bit” emotional, there had been only a few other valid circumstances in her life so far. Seeing the man she loved spew such hate towards not only his family, but his best friend as well made her literally see red before she sent Ron away. 

She still had enough control to only send him away, although the urge to do something more serious was incredibly high. Knowing now what Ron had most likely told Harry about his sexual preference she wondered why Harry wasn't more upset. Sure there was pain in his face when he told her about the confrontation, but at the time Hermione had thought that came from the break up with Ginny. Regardless of his preference, he didn't like to hurt people, so she attributed it to that. 

Now she was thinking if the hurt didn't come from Ron's remarks and if that could also be the cause of the resignation she had felt with him. 

Refocussing herself, she decided to pay special attention to Harry once he had returned from his retreat. If there was something she would need to worry about, she would catch on soon enough. 

Leaving the kitchen, she saw Charlie sitting on a bench halfway down the garden. His head was in his hands and Hermione felt for him. General acceptance of being gay in the wizarding world being what it was, she couldn't imagine for the most vitriol to come from within one's own family. 

She set herself down beside Charlie and was just present in case he wanted to talk. About 15 minutes later the rest of the family walked through the wards. Upon seeing Hermione sitting with Charlie, Molly rushed over to ask what was wrong. 

Charlie still seemed to be in no condition to talk so Hermione told her what she had walked in on and what happened after that. 

All the Weasley's accepted the tale without question, but Ginny looked at Hermione like she was about to explode. 

“How could you do that to my brother, have you no shame? It was bad enough that he fell in love with a Mudblood, now that same Mudblood is judging us?

Where do you get off? Do you think Ron would ever even think about having children with you? Talk about diluting the bloodline!” Ginny screamed. 

That's about all she got out before Fred put a silencing spell on her. That didn't stop Ginny from continuing to scream and gesture furiously. 

Arthur and Molly seemed to be taken aback by the fact that they had not only one, but two children who had such purist views on the wizarding society. Resolve hardening his face, Arthur seemed to have made a decision. 

“For the three weeks holiday that are ahead, Ron and Ginny will not be welcome in the Burrow to celebrate with us. We will rekey the wards temporarily so that they are not able to enter during that time. I know that Grimmauld place is currently empty and that Harry doesn't mind if there are people there when he isn't. You and Ron will spend your Christmas there,” Arthur firmly told his daughter. 

Fred had ended the silencing spell when his dad started speaking, but if you looked at Ginny, you could believe it was still in effect. She was gaping like a fish out of water, for once completely speechless.

Just as she wanted to resume screaming, at her father this time, Molly intervened. 

“That’s quite enough out of you, young lady. I know we spoiled you rotten, we and your brothers as well, but that doesn’t give you the right to simply say everything that comes up in your head. I am mad and disappointed and I completely agree with your dad. You will stay here, while I pack a bag for you and for Ron and after that we can walk towards the end of the wards, so we can rekey them and you can wait for Ron to make his way back.”

With her dad, 4 older brothers and Hermione all staring at her, Ginny had no choice but to wait until her mother came back with two weekend bags.
The whole family walked through the wards, although Hermione stayed behind. Somehow she didn’t deem it appropriate to be there for such a loaded discussion, so she seated herself on the bench again. 

Outside of the wards, Ginny was begging her mother to please let her stay for Christmas and that she wouldn’t say another word about Mudbloods. 

Molly was unrelenting. She shook her head at her daughter while Arthur made the changes to the wards himself. When that was done he turned to Ginny as well. 

“ We love you, that hasn’t changed, but you need to do some serious thinking on where these ideas are coming from Ginny. If you happen to have been influenced by Ron, that is something to think about as well. The stance you now hold will not fall well with a lot of wizards and you will quickly isolate yourself, continuing on this path. 

The same goes for Ron, but he is an adult and we can no longer dictate him to listen or change his stance. The only thing we can ask is that he does the same.

We will contact you through the Floo after the three weeks are over. See you then Ginny.”

Molly and her brothers echoed that statement before they stepped back into the wards. Automatically Ginny tried to follow them, but it was true, the wards would not accept her. Crying once more she sat down on one of the suitcases and waited for Ron to show up. 

This was not how she imagined her Christmas would go… 

Chapter Text

Snapping back to reality, Hermione heard the tick of the owl against the kitchen window. Before she could react, Bill had already taken the newspaper and automatically produced copies, so everybody could read the article on their own. 

Hermione took a big breath and looked at the headline of today’s paper:

The saga continues: How Albus Dumbledore manipulated Harry Potter every step of the way, up to and including his death. 

– As you have already read yesterday, Harry’s path before he even set foot in Hogwarts, had been fraught with abuse, physically and mentally. The question is, did Albus Dumbledore know about this? The answer to that is yes, he did. –

When Harry was placed with his foster family, the old headmaster installed a squib by the name of Arabella Figg on the other side of the street. She was to live there and keep an eye on Harry’s wellbeing during the years. 

Of course, in the beginning there wasn’t much to keep watch of, as little Harry hardly ever set foot out the door. 

As the boy began to grow up though, Mrs. Figg often saw him in the garden (the front garden eventually as well) and began to get very worried about the physical state of the, then, small-boy-who-lived. 

She sent Albus a letter about this, but never got a reply. As the years progressed, so did the abuse and Mrs. Figg grew more and more horrified by the abuse she could see, and the abuse she could determine by how the boy reacted to interaction. By the time Harry was 9, Mrs. Figg almost frantically sent Albus at least one letter a week, begging him to help Harry, to remove him from this hell. 

She never got a reply. Without any access to magic herself, she had no choice but to helplessly watch as the bruises on Harry grew and the abuse increased.

Luckily for Harry - and now for us as well - Mrs. Figg decided to start keeping a record after the third unanswered letter from the headmaster. Every letter she sent to Albus, she had copied and dated and placed in an undisclosed location. Every time she saw evidence of Harry being abused, albeit just bruises or his uncle punching him in the stomach, she documented that as well. 

All these letters have been reviewed and verified by the parchment experts at Gringotts and they were all found dated correctly (age-determination) and original (no changes on the documentation). 

However, with Mrs. Figg safely contained in Little Whinging, there was no one that had known about the abuse before Harry entered Hogwarts. 

Here the path of manipulations the headmaster has planned, continued. Not foreseen, but fitting perfectly in Albus’ plans was the intense hate professor Severus Snape felt for the boy. Professor Snape had had dealings with Harry’s father during his school years and he decided to take out his wrath on the 11 year old. Under his tutelage the abuse, although in a different manner, continued throughout the year, making Harry small and easy to influence, or so the headmaster thought. 

The headmaster began to influence Harry’s path through his education. This already started at sorting, as the Sorting Hat wanted to place Harry with Slytherin. However, with a compulsion from Albus, the Sorting Hat changed its mind and placed him with Gryffindor. 

He had “graciously” allowed Harry to pick his own friends, as he knew the boy would need a few loyal followers. With those chosen, he could proceed. He already knew that the remainder of Voldemort was hiding in professor Quirrel, but why should he deal with that himself, when he had an 11 year old boy-who-lived he could manipulate to take on the man himself? 

After all, if Harry lost and died, Albus could always swoop in to clean up the mess himself. 

The first year behind him, Harry had begged Albus to go anywhere else but the Dursleys for the summer holidays. Albus had refused, stating the importance of the bloodwards around that house, protecting Harry until he became an adult. This was doubted for many years, by both Harry and his friends, but only after the war had ended, Harry could ask the Aurors to examine the wards around the house he grew up in. Unfortunately Harry’s intuition was once again correct and there is no record, magical or otherwise of any wards, let alone bloodwards, protecting the house he lived in for 17 years. 

– Can you imagine, reader, what could have happened if Voldemort had received this knowledge any time before Harry’s 17th birthday? How easy it would have been to attack Harry in his own home, where he wasn’t allowed to use magic, and dispose of him long before he could become a threat to Voldemort. – 

But that is not where the manipulations ended, oh no.

 In his second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened and the end result of this disaster was the battle Harry (alone!) had with a 50 meter long, 1000 year old basilisk. 

In his third year he had to deal with his godfather, Sirius Black, who at that time was still a convicted criminal, escaping Azkaban. Word was that Black was looking for him, alongside his werewolf friend, Remus Lupin, who was teaching at Hogwarts that year. 

Even after confirming that Black was innocent, Albus wouldn’t let Harry and his friends contact the Aurors to provide the necessary memories, claiming that the Aurors would never believe the memories of school kids. 

– Of course, we checked this against the current evidence laws and asked Ms. Amelia Bones, head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, about this specific statement from the headmaster. 

Readers, if Ms. Bones could still prosecute Albus, she would have done so without a second thought. She asked me to let all of you know that the Aurors have never and will never discredit memories just because they’re coming from someone who is underage. Of course, all memories are checked for alterations and such, but there is no reason to not allow children to share memories, especially in a case so important as this one was. – 

While Sirius escaped and was living at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, the fact that he had not been cleared of his crimes meant that he couldn’t do much to protect Harry. 

That was exactly how Dumbledore wanted it, he was afraid that other influences might persuade Harry from his path. 

That is why he also still sent Harry back to the Dursleys for the summer, despite Sirius and Molly and Arthur Weasley complaining that Harry needed to stay with them. 

Albus did what he did best and convinced the Weasleys and Sirius that it wasn’t half as bad as Harry was making it out to be and that it would all be okay. 

– One might wonder, looking back at what Harry had survived thus far, what cause did he have to lie about his homelife? Sirius has left this mortal plane, but maybe that is a question that will cause the Weasley family some headaches in the near future. – 

Of course, Sirius and the Weasleys were not the only ones easily persuaded. Other members from the Order of the Phoenix, Remus Lupin, Nympadora Tonks and even Hagrid voiced the same concerns, but were blanketed with the same bland lie Dumbledore had uttered so very often. 

The question remains how far these people actually cared for Harry, as even a certified Auror would so blindly follow the old headmaster. 

Severus Snape, a double spy in the war and also a member of Order of the Phoenix, was Albus’ best ally in these discussions. Blinded by his hate for Harry’s late father, he couldn’t fathom that Harry was treated as less than a prince at his home. 

– We can only hope that the Potions Master will have a change of heart after reading this article, although personally I don’t think it is likely. –

And thus the cycle of misdirection and abuse continued. By Harry’s fourth year he pretty much had lost all faith in any of the adults surrounding him, save Sirius. 

This was only reinforced by Albus forcing him to compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, where a 15 year old Harry should never have been allowed in the first place. Upon forcing this issue with the ministry, there came no good answer other than they had trusted Dumbledore. Where have we heard that before? 

During the final of this Tournament Harry was port-keyed to a local cemetery, where he witnessed the resurrection of Voldemort. He showed us the whole scene as it unfolded and there is no doubt this is his actual memory. Again I must wonder, why was Harry not allowed to share this memory with the Aurors or even the Minister himself?
And once again, you see the manipulative hand of Dumbledore muddle the board here. By not allowing Harry to give them the memory, he set him up to be ridiculed for a whole year, by the Ministry, by his peers and even by this newspaper (for which we have offered our sincere apologies to Harry personally). 

Only when, a year later, Voldemort became too sure of himself and apparated into the Ministry himself, did the truth come to light. A truth, mind you, which could have been known for over a year by then, were it not for the meddlesome headmaster. 

In tomorrow’s article:

The final part of Harry’s story. Further manipulations by Albus and the search on how to permanently end the threat that was Voldemort. Also more information about Voldemort’s inner circle, with some names that might surprise you…