Author: Saydria Wolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Fix-It, Rule 63 (Harry Potter)
Relationships: pre-Hari Potter/Bill Weasley
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I don’t think I wander into the realm of Character Bashing but I am not friendly toward Albus Dumbledore or Ronald Weasley.
Author’s Notes: Sequel to Back in Black
Beta: PN Ztivokreb
Word Count: 10,615
Summary: The changes Bill wrought reach out and start to effect Hari’s life.
“Do you think it’s legitimate?” Hari asked, staring at the letter she had just received.
Hermione held out a hand and Hari passed the letter over to her. Hari had barely lasted at Privet Drive for three days—five hours into Aunt Marge’s entire-summer-long visit—before she snuck a call to Hermione, begging her Oathsworn to let her stay with her.
Hermione’s parents had agreed, Aunt Petunia had been relieved, and Hari had been packed away into the Granger’s SUV before Marge and Duddeykins had returned from the shops.
Hari had no idea how Aunt Petunia had explained her disappearance, but she honestly could not care less.
Now, she had received a letter from Ginny inviting her to the Bank and then to spend the rest of the summer with Ginny.
With Ginny. Not the Weasleys, Hari had noted.
“I think it is,” Hermione eventually said. She pulled the chain stuck to the letter off and held it up. “This is Ginny’s favorite necklace.”
“And it’s a portkey.” Hari frowned, “What’s a portkey?”
“A magical form of transportation. I’ve read about them, of course, but the book was not terribly detailed.
“Travelers simply hold onto the enchanted item and anything they desire to take with them, speak the password, and the portkey will take its passengers directly to their destination. It is supposed to feel like a hook behind our navel but also like flying. I’m honestly not sure how to reconcile those two descriptions,” Hermione admitted.
Hari figured it would either be fun or horrific.
“This isn’t underage magic, right?” because Hari did not want one of those ridiculous warnings from the Ministry. Preferably ever again.
“No, we don’t cast any magic to activate the portkey. It was all done when the portkey was created.”
Hari nodded. “We should tell your parents, right?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Hermione promised and scampered down the stairs.
It wasn’t long before she heard Hermione’s mum say, “Okay, honey, stay safe!” Then, Hermione was back with her.
“I brought some of dad’s rope so we can tie our trunks together for the trip,” Hermione told her, brandishing the white cord.
“Good thought,” Hari agreed.
The secured their school trunks to each other and then Hedwig’s cage on top of them both so she would have added stability. Then they each took a handful of rope in one hand and pressed the necklace between their other hands.
“Mischief Managed!” Hari proclaimed.
The yank through the navel was real but the rest of it was a confusing blur.
“Whoa!” Hari heard Ginny cry.
She opened her eyes to see Gin steadying the madly rocking Hedwig, which Hari appreciated.
Hari sat up and looked around. It certainly looked like they were at the bank, though clearly in an area Hari had never seen before, which really wasn’t much of a distinction. She had only visited it once because Mrs. Weasley had visited it for her last year.
“I never want to do that again,” Hermione said shakily.
Ginny laughed as she helped Hari off of the floor. Together they got Hermione to her feet.
“You look better,” Hari told her and Ginny laughed again. Then she hugged her, which Hari was somewhat at a loss to deal with so she patted the younger girl’s back.
“You look worse,” Ginny told her honestly.
Hari figured that was true. She’d had a headache and felt generally sluggish since the Chamber but she knew better than to tell anyone that. They wouldn’t do anything even if they could and her headache would not abide the screaming.
“What are we doing here?” Hari asked instead.
“You took me as a vassal to prepare you for Pure Blood Stuff, right?” Ginny asked.
“Right,” Hari drawled.
“Well, you’re here to do some Pure Blood Stuff.”
“Such as?” Hermione prompted.
“See the Book of Souls, get tested for magical inheritance, and visit with a full healer.”
“Why do we need a healer?” Hari asked. She’d never seen one unless they counted Madam Pomphrey, which Hari didn’t think she could.
“You got bitten by a basilisk a month ago,” Ginny reminded her. “And honestly, you should see one every year for a physical. A mediwitch or muggle doctor can’t compare to a full healer. Not for a magical person.”
Hari considered that. It seemed fair so she nodded.
She knew Duddeykins went to a doctor every year. Mostly, because Aunt Petunia complained bitterly about the doctor’s comments on his weight every time. “What first?”
“The Book of Souls,” Ginny said immediately. “Then the healer. You want to be in top shape mentally, physically and magically before being tested for a legacy.”
“Okay.” Hari dusted herself off. She wanted to at least pretend she was respectable. Goblins were intimidatingly dignified, and last time she had felt she hadn’t measured up. She knew she wouldn’t measure up this time either but her pride made her at least try.
“We can leave your trunks in my Account Manager’s office,” Ginny told them. “Our appointment with the Book should be soon.”
“I understood the Book of Souls was in under extremely high security in Athens,” Hermione interjected.
“It is,” Ginny confirmed, “and many magical people take a pilgrimage to see the original book on the few days a year it is open to the public. But there are seven subordinate books that will give seekers the information the original book has for them. Three of them are controlled by Gringotts.”
“The Book is a big deal?” Hari asked.
“The biggest,” Ginny confirmed. “The worst thing you can be in the magical world is a No-Match. Socially, it’s even worse than being convicted of a crime and going to Azkaban. Plus, there is an entire school of magic that you can only learn if you have a match.”
They left their things to one side and walked through to an unoccupied office.
“I’ll go first,” Hermione declared. “How do I…? I’ve read about this, but books not directly related to school subjects tend to be rather shallow resources.”
“We’ll have to fix that,” Hari decided and wondered if there were magical library trunks and how much they cost. And how much she could afford to support Hermione’s book addiction.
It wasn’t the sort of addiction Hari thought could ever be satisfied, but Hermione’s job in their little association was to be the researcher that prepared Hari for anything she could face in the future, preferably before it came up as she had for the Chamber of Secrets—even if it took Hari until well after she was petrified to realize it. Hari felt it was her job as the beneficiary of her efforts to provide Hermione adequate resources to do so.
Ginny grinned. “Place your wand hand on the book and speak your full name. All of it, including your middle name.”
Hermione placed her right hand on the book. “Hermione Jane Granger!”
The book flipped open and flapped through several pages in an amusingly dramatic fashion before it stopped. Hermione read the name in shock and then read it again.
“Cedric Amos Diggory,” Hermione read aloud in awe.
“Whoa! Way to go, Hermione!” Hari cheered. Cedric Diggory was gorgeous, powerful, and nearly as brilliant as Hermione was.
Hermione stared at the book some more.
“Tell the book you accept,” Ginny prompted.
Golden magic swept up from the book and Hari watched the name get implanted on Hermione’s wrist.
“We’ll need to buy soul covers,” Ginny told them. “It’s considered crass to flash your match around. We should be fine without as long as we’re in the Bank but we’ll need them before we leave.”
“You have a match?” Hari asked.
Ginny grinned and flipped her wand wrist over.
“I’ve been doing what research I can without leaving the Bank,” Ginny told them. “The Delacours are a Veela Clan in France. I can’t wait to meet her but I’m waiting to learn more about Veela before I reach out to her. I don’t want to offend or upset her by accident and I don’t know anything about Veela culture.”
“That’s smart,” Hari commended. She stepped up to the book and laid both hands on top of it.
She knew that she didn’t actually need a wand because she had done magic before she had even known magic existed. She used one in school to fit in, but she had no interest in pretending while she was alone with her Oathsworn.
“Hari Belladonna Potter.”
The book opened and Hari laughed down at her page because, what? “That can’t all be his name! That’s ridiculous!”
“What does it say?” Hermione asked.
“William Arcturus Black. Then on a line below that, Duke of Ravenclaw. And on the third line, Earl of Black.”
“A nobleman,” Hermione said. “I’ll need to read about magical nobility.”
“Ginny?” Hari prompted.
“That’s my brother,” she admitted hoarsely. “He took up the Black title in ritual this summer. I… had no idea he became a duke, too. Being the heir of a Founder is a big deal.”
“Huh,” was Hari’s verdict. She was okay being soulmates with one of Ginny’s brothers as long as it wasn’t Ron. She still hadn’t forgiven him for being a complete arse about her ability to speak to snakes.
She didn’t care if it was supposed to be a dark gift. She wasn’t dark and he could go…do something to himself. The prejudiced little jerk.
Golden magic imprinted her mate’s name onto her body, hopefully for life. “Can I meet him?”
“It would be improper,” Ginny admitted with some regret. “He’s ten years older than you, Hari, and an adult. You shouldn’t meet him before you’re sixteen at least.”
“I guess I don’t want him to feel like a pedophile or anything,” Hari frowned. “Can I write him?”
“I don’t see why not,” Ginny agreed in relief.
Hari nodded once, accepting. “What’s next?”
“The healer,” Ginny answered in a determined fashion. “When Bill called us all to the bank to tell us about his title, they put me through cleansing and mind-healing to deal with the diary and the chamber but your battle in the chamber was much worse, Hari, and Hermione was petrified for a large part of the last school year.”
“So, you think we need therapy?” Hari wondered. She didn’t think it was a bad idea but she also couldn’t see herself spilling her guts to just anyone.
She knew better than that.
“Mind healing is more than talk therapy,” Hermione told her as if she was reading her mind. As Hermione often seemed to do. “I’ve read about it. It’s about magical resonances, softening traumatic memories, and reframing events so the patient can recognize and overcome the damage they did.”
“I think whenever you start explaining, we’re always going to assume you’ve read about it,” Ginny told Hermione who blushed. “I don’t think you have to tell us where you learned something unless you didn’t read about it.”
“I find it charming,” Hari said before Hermione could decide if she wanted to take offense or not. “Enthusiasm is…magical.”
Ginny conceded that with a nod and let the issue go.
Ginny led them into what had to be some sort of Infirmary—it greatly resembled Madam Pomphrey’s domain at Hogwarts—and gestured for Hari and Hermione to sit on a bed.
Hari watched her second Oathsworn disappear around a curtain and come back with the youngest looking goblin Hari had ever seen.
“My name is Master Bartok,” the goblin said. “This is my healing hall and I’m honored to attend your health and all that. Shall we get started?”
“Me first,” Hermione insisted.
The goblin raised an eyebrow at her but complied. “Well, stand up then.”
Hermione stood in the spot clear of Hari and Ginny she was gestured to. Master Bartok planted his gnarled staff in the ground in front of her and Hari could see the magic from the large blue sapphire scan up and down Hermione’s entire body.
“Turn slowly to your left,” the healer instructed. “Good, nice and slow.”
When Hermione was facing the Healer again, he gestured for her to stop and the magic seemed to focus on her mind.
“You have the bone density and minor organ issues typical in a muggle-raised magical child. There is nothing you could have done to prevent them; magical people have different dietary needs than muggles and your parents could not have known.
“Madam Pomphrey, however, should have.
“These issues should have been corrected your first year at Hogwarts but they clearly weren’t. Long term, they could limit your magical potential, adult casting power and even your ability to focus and learn. We will be correcting these issues as much as we can in-house but you will likely be on potions for the rest of the year.
“That wouldn’t have been necessary if Hogwarts took the care of its muggleborns seriously and I will be complaining to the IMEA and the WHOM.”
“The International Magical Education Association and the World Health Organization for Magic?” Hermione clarified.
“Yes,” the goblin confirmed simply. “You do have some trauma from your near-death experience by basilisk, but you seem to have processed it well. Possibly a side effect of your vassal bond to Miss Potter—yes, I can see that in your magic. You also have not received the inoculations you should have as a child, nor upon your entry into Hogwarts. It was reckless and foolish for those…wizards to allow a non-inoculated child wander among the Hogwarts population. If this is true with Miss Potter, then its sheer dumb luck that we haven’t lost an entire generation of witches and wizards to a preventable epidemic.”
“Are there any downsides to taking the inoculations? Hari asked. “Side effects?”
“Old age,” the healer said flatly. “Though, I can see how that could be a problem for some wizards.”
Hari was, reluctantly, charmed.
“What different diseases should we have gotten inoculated for and what do they do?” Hermione asked.
“I’ll que up a course on common health problems for magical people while you sleep through your healing and inoculations. As you don’t need to skip a year level, what else would you like me to que up for you to learn? This is a courtesy service provided anytime a goblin healer has to render their patient unconscious for healing over an extended period of time.”
“Any information you can provide me on soulmates and noblemen,” Hermione answered immediately.
“Done,” Healer Bartok agreed. “Miss Potter?”
Hari stood and turned when instructed. It probably wasn’t a good thing that the healer started cursing under his breath almost immediately. It wasn’t in English so she had no idea what he was actually saying but his tone was one typically reserved for heartfelt expletives.
The goblin was doing breathing exercises by the time the scan was done.
“Stay here,” the goblin ordered and he left. He returned almost immediately with two more healers and they scanned her too.
“Miss Potter, your pain tolerance is both horrifying and to be commended,” Healer Bartok told her after a heated conversation—again, not in English.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Your curse scar,” he said. “It is drastically impacting every other system in your body, over taxing them to an unexpected and alarming degree. Combined with the clear and habitual abuse and starvation you’ve experienced; I am surprised that…you can stand at all.
“How long have you had that headache?”
“I woke up with it at the end of May,” Hari admitted and blushed when Ginny gasped. “I haven’t been able to shake it.”
“The chamber,” Ginny said softly but Hari hadn’t mentioned it because she didn’t want Ginny to feel guilty so she pretended not to hear her Oathsworn.
“For future reference, if a headache lasts even three days, that is a problem and you need to see a healer immediately.”
“No one has ever cared about my pain,” Hari admitted.
The goblin pinched his nose and breathed deeply. “The first step towards your recovery has to be cleansing that scar. We cannot get a true image of your health or your magic with it in place. I need to brief High Chieftain Ragnok and bring in a curse breaking team to examine you and plan the ritual for removal.”
“Do you have to tell the Chieftain to bring in curse breakers?” Hari asked because that seemed odd. The goblin glared at her so ferociously that she took half a step back and corrected herself, “Do what you need.”
“Apologies,” the goblin said, looking away from her. “I’ll arrange a learning session of goblin culture to be added to any other learning you request. What has been done to you by the wizarding part of our world is deeply offensive to goblins on a visceral level and the violation of several international laws that originated in the treaties that ended two different Rebellions. You are not the target of my ire. You have obviously been the target of ire, by far, more often than any child deserves.”
Hari didn’t know what…to make of that. “Okay.”
“Let me get you a potion for that headache. Miss Weasley, Miss Granger, it may put your lady on her bum, so decide who between the three of you will make choices on her behalf before she takes it in the event it does.
“Miss Potter, choose a bed. You will be in it for quite some time.”
The relief of the headache potion was immediate. It did not, unfortunately, put her on her arse as promised.
…or perhaps she had been hasty.
She hadn’t slept well since the events of the Chamber. With the pain at bay, she wasn’t sure she could stay awake.
“You,” she pointed at Ginny. “Make… choice. Herm, healing.”
“I’m not getting healed until I know you’re okay, Hari,” Hermione objected.
Hari…understood that. “Both.”
She was in the Chamber of Secrets but rather than the huge statue of an old man whose mouth served as a door for the basilisk, the back wall was covered in tapestries. All the walls were covered in tapestries, actually. The Chamber was alive with color and well-lit by hundreds of small, golden lights floating mid-air. The creepy green glow was gone and the room’s canals seemed…domesticated. Less frightening and dank.
There was more room without the old man statue. Instead of a half-circle surrounded by a canal full of water, there was a full circle—still surrounded by water—where she had killed the basilisk.
Her favorite tapestry was a view of a Great Pyramid surrounded by desert. It seemed so real, she felt like she could step into the fabric and feel sand between her toes. About half of the tapestries held such realistic beauty. They were all scenic views of different locations around the world.
Hari couldn’t identify them but she would wager Hermione had read all about them.
She reached out to touch the sand.
“I wouldn’t do that,” a male voice said.
She turned to see a man standing in the center of the basilisk’s circle.
“Unless you want to take a bit of a trip,” he smiled at her. It was a small smile, secretive and a little mean. She found she liked it.
The man was tall and fit. Bald. Dangerous. He was wearing a white linen wrap-skirt/kilt thing. Hari didn’t know what to call it but she thought it was very Egyptian. The heavy jeweled collar draped across his shoulders was what sold the image though.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Hari tipped her head to one side. “You…don’t look at all like your paintings.”
The man gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. “This project is how I see myself, young and strong, in my prime. The other image is…revenge, of a sort, but not as far from the truth of my final days as I would like.”
Hari frowned at him, confused.
“I refused to name any of my children or grandchildren my heir upon my death,” the projection explained. “None of the four of us did. We all felt that Magic should make the choice, not us. Fitness cannot be determined by blood, no matter what the law says.
“My eldest son did not take such kindly and… used my beliefs inappropriately. His granddaughter painted the first of the now popular images of me to please him.”
Hari did not see what making Salazar Slytherin look like some old white man would do to help anyone, but, maybe… “You mean your beliefs about muggleborns?”
“Of course,” Slytherin agreed. “There is no such thing as a pure blood witch or wizard—and there never has been. Even in my time, you couldn’t find one of us without a muggle parent or grandparent.”
“So,” Hari hesitated, “what did you actually believe?”
“I believed—and still do—that all humans born with the gift of magic should be raised by other humans born with magic. That is, if one of our children does not have at least one magical parent, they should be placed with magical parents and not raised by muggles.
“Muggles come to fear us quite easily,” he continued. “The behavior they are driven to by that fear can damage our children for life—and not just physically in the ways you have experienced.”
Hari thought about Uncle Vernon yelling at her. About Aunt Petunia hitting her and locking her away. About the terror and loneliness caused by Dudley’s bullying. She found she couldn’t disagree.
“The goblins implied that magical people have different dietary needs?”
“We do,” he agreed. “Surely, you’ve noticed that the food served to you at Hogwarts is not the type of thing your muggle relatives would serve you every day.”
“I have. Every time I eat at school, I can hear Aunt Petunia in my head, fussing over cholesterol but I…stay fuller longer at school.”
“Three meals a day helps,” Slytherin said snidely. Then he shook himself. Literally, shook himself. “This is not why we are here. You are my heir. Magic chose you and I have been waiting ages to instruct you in all you need to know.”
“Do we have the time for you to teach me all I need to know?” she asked wryly.
“Probably not,” he said. She figured he was aggressively taking her at face value but she didn’t mind. “But you can return to me for lessons. Just enter the Chamber wearing my locket and I can come to you, if you ask.”
Hari thought about that and looked around the room. “This Chamber looks different than the one I saw.”
“Many things in my Chamber are hidden—it is the Chamber of Secrets, is it not? Once you have the locket, you can reveal them all to those you trust. Wearing the locket, you will see them in their entirety whether you reveal them to a single other soul or not.
“You must never let my locket fall into unfit hands.” Slytherin looked ready to murder someone. “It has before and now it bears the darkest of curses.”
“Voldemort?” Hari guessed because, really, she didn’t think there was a darker person than him.
“Yes, that fool, Riddle. Be sure to excise him from our Familial Legacy at your first opportunity. He clings to life thanks to our legacy. Once it is removed from him, he will fade from this world and take all of his followers with him.”
Hari wondered if she would be safe after she did that. There would be no more specters waiting to kill her at the end of the school year, certainly. “Alright. Will you teach me how?”
“Of course,” he agreed. “I will give you extensive lessons on magical theory and ritual magic. A class in both is coming back to Hogwarts—you will need to take it as well as Arithmancy and Ancient Runes—but I will teach you things long forgotten in your time. Some of them are wrongfully illegal, you will have to champion correcting that wrong from within the government as my heir.”
“Such as?” Hari asked.
“Ritual children,” he answered immediately. “It is a blood magic ritual and therefore illegal in Britain but denying same-sex soulmates children due to their genders is foolish and close-minded.”
“Agreed.” Hari nodded. “Do you know why Vol— Riddle hates me? Why he wants me dead?”
“Of course,” he raised a challenging eyebrow at her. “So does Albus Dumbledore.”
Hari didn’t know what to say to that.
“There was a prophecy—is a prophecy, it hasn’t gone dark yet—about the one to defeat the dark lord. It was given to Albus Dumbledore before you were born. It could have been about any one of hundreds of people but Riddle marked you as his equal,” Salazar gestured at her scar. “It is a line in the prophecy. Riddle chose you to be the source of his defeat when you were fifteen months old.”
Hari was thundrestruck. “Dumbledore knew this and… has done nothing to prepare me for it? Shouldn’t I have, I don’t know, been learning to defend myself this whole time? Had bodyguards? Something?”
“A reasonable man would have prepared you, guarded you, yes.” Slytherin looked sad when he said it.
Hari hated everything.
“The goblins have my locket,” he told her. “They will cleanse it and it will come to you. The locket will protect you from Riddle. Especially once you cast him from our legacy and declare him our enemy.
“The goblins will understand the full implications of the curse of my locket. They will hunt every trace of that corruption down until it is utterly extinguished. Then, he will be entirely gone. Because of his darkness, he will never come again. Then you will be safe.”
“At best, he’s a senile old man that thinks he knows everything there is to know and no one can teach him anything or prove him wrong.” Salazar paused. “At worst, he is your enemy and is actively working to destroy your entire line.”
“Because of the prophecy?” Hari asked.
“He was given it before you were even born, as I said. One of the identifying lines is ‘born as the seventh month dies.’ These words are at the beginning of a sentence so there is no indication of whether this was a past July, a future July or the current July. There’s no way to even be sure July is the month in question because nothing indicates what calendar the prophecy intended.
“What was clear, by the Halloween after you were born, was that Riddle was targeting Potters. Upwards of twenty-five Potters were targeted and murdered between October 1980 and October 1981, when Dumbledore finally warned your parents that you were a target and they should go into hiding.”
“Do you know the full wording of the prophecy?” Hari asked.
“Dumbledore recites it to himself periodically, when he is distracted or stressed. The burden of witnessing a prophecy is a weight upon the witness’s magic. He could pass it to you by telling you about your prophecy but I don’t actually fault him for not passing it to you. At your age, it could damage your magic for life.”
“You think it hasn’t already?” Hari asked. “By taking my parents and whatever other relatives I should have grown up with from me.”
Slytherin conceded that with a tip of his head.
“Do I need to know it? I feel like I should but I also don’t want to. We have a plan, right?”
“We do,” he confirmed. “In the event the plan does not work, I will give it to you. If the plan does work, I will give it to you if you still want it when you are seventeen.”
Hari considered that. “I guess that’s fair.
“If…Dumbledore hid my parents, how did Riddle kill them?”
“They trusted the wrong person,” Slytherin said simply. “I don’t know if their trust was legitimate or magically induced, mind you, but they gave the secret of where they were hiding to a man named Peter Pettigrew, not knowing he was already a Marked Death Eater.”
“I can’t deal with this,” Hari decided abruptly. The implications of what Slytherin said were just too much. “You were going to teach me about my family legacy, right? Let’s do that instead. It should be less fucked up.”
For a split second, Slytherin grinned at her. Then he froze like he was hearing something she could not.
“You pulled Godric’s sword out of the Sorting Hat?”
“Yeah,” Hari admitted, confused, “that’s how I killed the snake.”
“You should be aware that, because of how squib lines cross and re-cross to produce magical children, that—with your blood—pulling the sword and using it to slay a magical beast qualifies you to be the Heir of Gryffindor as well.”
Hari frowned. “Will that help me defeat Riddle?”
“No, there is no blood connection between Gryffindor and Riddle. You will have to devise a new plan.”
“Being the heir of two Founders sounds…ridiculous.”
“It would be,” Slytherin agreed. “If Magic would allow such a thing. With the structure of your government, I have to believe Magic would not.”
Hari…had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “Is there a better candidate for Gryffindor’s line? Giving up our plan to defeat Riddle seems…really dumb. Foolish.”
“In fact, there is. Through his muggleborn mother, your godbrother Neville Longbottom is Godric’s direct heir. The Hat realized he was worthy of it and Sorted him to Gryffindor without question.”
“Wait, is that why the Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin? Because I’m your heir?”
“Partially,” Slytherin agreed. “It also saw the parselmagic in you. All the resources Hogwarts has for training that magic are secured within my dormitories.”
Hari squinted at the man. “Does that mean I’m going to be re-Sorted?”
“Of course. It would be crass for my heir to wear the colors of another House. And it would clash horribly with the Locket.”
Of course. Hari didn’t know why she was surprised that matching was a concern. She really shouldn’t have been, upon reflection. “How does Neville become the Heir of Gryffindor?”
“You will need to surrender the sword and your claim to him. It would be best to do so inside Hogwarts, where the Founders remaining powers are greatest.”
“Is it a ritual?” Hari wondered.
“Of a type,” Slytherin agreed. “All ceremonies are rituals of their own sort.”
“Okay, how do I do this?”
Hari woke up to find herself bound. Without turning her head, she could see some truly gaudy trophy-like statues.
The one on her left was all shining emeralds and glittering gold. When she looked, she could see a green snake made entirely of green magic wrapped around her hand and wrist. The one on her right was made of silver and a white stone she couldn’t identify that was filled with a ghostly fire. That one had a skeletal hand made out of ghostly white magic that matched its gemstones.
She could feel her vassals—not Oathsworn, vassals now that she was a noblewoman—lingering nearby. “Um, guys?”
“Hari,” she heard Hermione breathe and the bed on her right shifted.
Ginny was crawling right into the bed to hug her. Hermione joined the snuggle puddle quickly and Hari shook off the grasping magic to comfort them both.
“Are you okay?”
“Us?” Ginny asked incredulously, followed by a wet laugh.
“It’s been seven days,” Hermione said. “The goblins realized quickly that your curse scar was a greater burden to both your health and your magic than they knew, but your magic had grown around it to support itself. Once it was gone your magic had to reshape itself, essentially. We stood in the ritual to stabalize you and…”
“You died,” Ginny whispered into her shoulder. “Then Dobby and Queen Mirri popped into the circle and…brought you back.”
The weight across her legs shifted and Hari looked down. Dobby was draped across her thighs. A second house elf wearing a gown made out of purple silk curtains had draped, herself across Hari’s calves.
“Hari Potter?” Dobby asked hopefully.
Hari pulled an arm free of Ginny and reached for the elves. They both fell against her chest and hugged her fiercely.
“Thank you,” she told them both.
“It be our duty,” the one that had to be Queen Mirri said. “We be so glad it worked.”
“I don’t know anything about House Elf royalty,” she told the female elf. “I…am I supposed to bow to you?”
Both elves laughed and hugged her tightly enough her ribs were endangered but…they had apparently saved her life so she let it be.
“I not be like muggle royalty,” Queen Mirri explained. “I be…like bee royalty. You be sustaining me with your magics so I can make babies and boss minions. They protect and serve us both unless we be letting them leave. None of our elfs bond without our permission.”
“And Dobby?” Hari wondered.
“He be bonded to you first. He be my mate.”
Both elves laughed at her but she could feel that it was not in a mean way.
“What are these statue…things?” Hari asked her vassals.
“Legacy Relics,” Hermione answered. “They contain the Family Legacy Stones that maintain the Family Magic between lords or when House membership is too low for a Lord to do it. They also hold the lord’s and lady’s rings. Some are said to hold private family histories and rites.”
Hari nodded. She knew that but she hadn’t bothered to ask Slytherin what they actually looked like. “Slytherin and…?”
“Peverell, through your father,” Ginny told her.
“They helped stabilize you,” Hermione added. “Once the scar was cleansed, magic flooded your body. It sounded…awful. Painful.”
“You shook the bank,” Ginny told her. “They were afraid you would tear it down. With no magical adult in your Houses that you knew and trusted, the best they could do was bring unclaimed relics to you. They didn’t even take the time to test your blood, goblins just ran in and out of the room holding unclaimed relics until you reached out for two. Slytherin and Peverell.”
“They tested your blood, after your magic had settled,” Hermione took back over, “to verify what your connection was to each relic. You have claim to the headship of both.”
“And you?” Hari asked. “Both of you?”
“They verified my claim to the Barony of Prewett through my mother’s blood,” Ginny answered immediately. “I have one uncle left of the name.”
“I can claim the headship of the Barony of Urquhart,” Hermione said. “Professor McGonagall married into that family and is a member even though her husband passed. I’ll check with her to be sure she wants to be part of my House, but I think it would be exciting to have her as part of my family.”
Hermione’s hero worship of McGonagall was real, but it was also adorable so Hari didn’t say anything against it.
“Why are all magical titles associated with family names,” Hari asked her lead vassal. “Aren’t nobles supposed to rule lands?”
“In the muggle world, yes,” Hermione agreed. “With the Statute of Secrecy, Magic and magical society turned its focus to people rather than lands.”
“Have we gotten letters from Hogwarts yet?” Hari asked.
Ginny and Hermione all shared looks.
“We…have?” Hermione frowned at her.
“Um, I met Salazar Slytherin in a dream, while I was asleep,” Hari told them both. “He taught me a lot. About magic and the past and things that are coming. Did they approve you joining us in third year, Gin?”
“They did,” Ginny agreed, trying to act like Hari’s knowledge of the waking world after being so long asleep wasn’t strange. “They want me to select my additional classes. We think they want everyone to, actually.”
“My letter included a form to re-select my additional subjects as well,” Hermione agreed.
“Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Ritual Magic,” Hari rattled off. “Did they include soul magic or not? Slytherin wasn’t sure what the committee had decided.”
“All of the above and Blood Magic Theory,” Hermione answered, giving Hari a squinty look.
Hari considered that. “Sounds fun.”
“Blood magic is illegal,” Hermione reminded her.
“On the local level. Yes, but Hogwarts is considered nationally neutral and subject only to the policies of the IMEA outside of certain criminal circumstances that would fall to the ICW,” Hari explained. “Britain will have to update their legal code as it has fallen behind the international standard on Blood Magic.”
“Hermione, I need you to research the legal rights and responsibilities of the Founder’s heirs, particularly the Council of Dukes.”
Hari raised an eyebrow at her.
“The Wizengamot was developed from the Council of Dukes,” Ginny explained. “King Arthur died before the Founders even though he and Merlin both attended Hogwarts—Sorted to Hufflepuff and Slytherin, respectively. The king had a great deal of respect and faith in the Founders. He gave them rank so they could advise him and lead the magical world as he felt they should.
“Arthur was betrayed by his nephew that thought he was Arthur’s son even though he wasn’t. King Arthur died before he could name his heir and his bloodline was lost to the magical world.
“Over the next decade, the Founders all died but they all refused to name heirs in honor of Arthur. Their children took their titles through legal and blood rights but no one could agree who the true heirs were. As a result, the titles were split and split again, dividing their powers until the Council became the Wizengamot.”
“A lot of people are going to be really mad when they find out there is a magical duke again,” Hermione concluded.
“Two,” Hari corrected. “My soulmate is the Duke of Ravenclaw, remember? And he called Huffelpuff’s true heir back to Britain; he’ll accept his title any day now if he hasn’t already.”
“That leaves Gryffindor.”
Hari nodded. “I know who that rightful heir is. I have to surrender my claim to him and then he’ll get it.”
“You got to pick between Slytherin and Gryffindor and you picked Slytherin?” Ginny asked, shocked.
“Slytherin can help me defeat Voldemort forever,” Hari explained. “I don’t want that corrupt bastard hunting me forever. It was the best choice I could make.”
Ginny considered that and nodded. “I agree.”
Hermione made a face. “Even if it means we’re all getting re-Sorted.”
“I look fabulous in green,” Ginny decided, throwing her hair over her shoulder.
Hari and Hermione laughed.
“Ugh,” Hari dropped the book she had been trying to read on her lap.
“Bored?” Hermione asked, not even bothering to take her eyes off of her page.
Hari glared. She was bored out of her fucking mind.
She was stuck in a bed, not even allowed to get out of bed to pee. Not allowed to walk. Not allowed to do magic—Ginny and Hermione had both learned the spell to empty her bladder for her, the version that banished her…output before anyone them had to deal with it.
She could read, sleep, and eat—though she was tempted to make them magic food into her, just to be an ass.
“Where is Ginny?” Hari groused.
“Here!” the redhead called, holding the door to Hari’s medical suite open.
Three goblins entered the room carrying stacks of scrolls. They all sat down their burdens and two left.
“My lady,” Ginny said formally once the door was closed, “may I present Master Aggnar? He is the Account Manager for House of Slytherin. He has taken over House Peverell and the Potter family accounts at my instruction.”
Hari nodded. She hadn’t wanted to deal with all of the separate threads and had left it to Ginny while Hermione served as her prison guard.
“Good to meet you, Master Aggnar,” Hari said and she meant it. He was someone new to look at, at the very least.
“Pleasure,” the goblin said nearly as enthusiastically as Snape would but without the venom the potions professor would hit her with. “Per your vassal, I have had all of your accounts audited. The final results will be a few days more. I assure that the Bank will use its full authority and power to punish any who have violated the sanctity of your accounts.”
Hari frowned. She was under the impression that goblins didn’t care about the affairs and crimes of humans. “Someone has stolen a lot of money from me?”
“Several people,” he agreed immediately. “Some that are related to your Houses and may have wrongly believed they were in the right. Those persons will be required to repay what they unintentionally stole—with interest and fines for their failure to repay these informal loans on a suitable schedule, of course.”
“Of course,” Hari agreed. Was her account manager referring to Voldemort? She thought he might be.
“Those that have taken money from your accounts with no rights to them will not fare so well,” Master Aggnar said, almost delicately.
“That said, your parents left behind a Will that was never executed as the Sworn Executor was thrown into Azkaban. The Bank has reason to believe he was placed there illegally and without a trial. We request permission to execute the Will and make the document available to the ICW Justice Committee. They are currently reviewing Sirius Black’s case and your Parents’ Will may prove to be evidence.”
“If he was the executor, then my parents trusted him?” Hari asked.
“Human relationships are less the interest of the Bank proper. However, they are entirely relevant to the Bank’s Family Affairs Office,” her account manager said. Even she could see he was hedging. “The FAO has recently uncovered documents that indicate Sirius Black is your godfather and rightful guardian.
“There are no other legal or binding custody arrangements for you within the FAO.”
“And if the FAO doesn’t have record of them, any other arrangements made for you were illegal on an international level,” Hermione said before Hari had to ask. “Someone is going to jail for putting you with your Aunt Petunia.”
Hari nodded but couldn’t speak. She couldn’t imagine what the fallout of this would be.
Hagrid had told her that Dumbledore had placed her with her Aunt. He hadn’t said those exact words but that was what Hagrid had meant. How many of the so-called Light Families were going to hate her for having Dumbledore put in jail? More, what would they do about it? What were they capable of?
Hari licked her lips nervously. “I’m going to need security. Like, the best personal security I can afford. Probably forever.”
“Hari?” Ginny asked.
“Dumbledore placed me with my aunt,” Hari blurted before she thought twice about it.
“Fuuuuuck,” Ginny immediately sat down, looking faint.
“Does the FAO have any welfare reports from Hari’s childhood?” Hermione asked Master Aggnar. “The Ministry should have filed quarterly reports with them since she was placed.”
“There are no such reports,” the goblin answered gravely. “The entire FAO is under investigation and the Bank has demanded the records from the British Ministry for Magic.
“If the British Ministry does not respond with those records within the next week, the Bank will escalate the demand to the ICW and the entire Orphan Welfare Office will be investigated whether the records are produced or not.”
“And if the records are not produced?” Hermione asked.
“The British Ministry will be suspended and investigated. Every single failure to fulfill their duty will be punished to the fullest extent of international law.”
“There won’t be a single British person employed by the Ministry by the end,” Ginny sighed.
“Surely, your father—” then Hari remembered his garage full of muggle things and his illegal experiments on them. Hari didn’t know if it was a violation of his employment contract but most of it had to be illegal.
Hermione winced and Ginny nodded sadly.
“The Will?” Master Aggnar asked, ignoring their exchange which Hari appreciated.
“Can the Bank handle the execution of it?” Hari asked. Then she hesitated, “Is that…disrespectful? To my parents?”
Something around the goblin’s eyes seemed to soften. Hari was probably imagining it. “It is not disrespectful to your parents,” he told her. “It is the duty of the Bank to stand in your defense until your guardian can take up his duties. It would be our honor.”
“And why didn’t the Bank take up this honor before?” Hermione asked tersely.
“That is under investigation. Once I have answers, so will you.”
“I will hold you to that,” Hermione warned.
“Good,” the goblin nodded.
Hermione floundered a bit at that but Hari didn’t think the goblin could see the confusion in her.
“So, you can act as executor of my parents will, get…stuff to the people my parents wanted to have it and submit it to the ICW if it is evidence for them?”
“I can and will,” Master Aggnar agreed.
“Lord Slytherin established the hospital now known as St. Mungo’s and the magical orphanage. Both institutions need to be audited.”
“Has that ever been done before?” Hari frowned.
“Unfortunately, none of Lord Slytherin’s heirs were healers. Neither am I,” Master Aggnar admitted. “But a cursory review of the records leads me to believe there is a great deal of waste and misplaced funds built into their budget.”
“And a thorough audit would fix that and returned the stolen funds to the Hospital’s Account to support future operations,” Hari guessed.
The goblin nodded. “It would also allow the hospital to expand its services. St. Mungo’s does decently well but they are behind the modern standard. Their procedures need an update across the board and the staff needs more training.”
“Can the bank handle that?” Hari wondered.
“My lady?” The goblin frowned.
“Your healers are clearly well trained, even in the treatment of a species not their own,” Hari pointed out. “Can a team of Goblin healers working with independent human healers from outside of St. Mungo’s update the hospitals procedures and training? While your accountants go over the books?”
The goblin seemed to hesitate. “Most humans would not allow my people so much influence on one of their institutions. Especially here in Britain.”
“I don’t have time for racists, Master Aggnar, and I never will. If humans don’t like it, they can educate themselves or leave my space with prejudice.
“I am tempted to ask you to find a young, vicious goblin to become the administrator for my hospital.”
Master Aggnar’s eyebrows shot up to mate with his hairline. “That is a great deal of trust to place in the Horde. To audit, update, and run an institution that belongs to you. You attend Hogwarts, the Bank is well aware of Professor Bins’ agenda. You must see why I am skeptical.”
“I suppose the Goblin Horde has let me down on the subject of my…guardianship,” Hari allowed. She considered what to say next. “I knew my guardians were bad. Bad people doing bad things. The idea of leaving them forever occurred to me once before and the most powerful wizard I know said it couldn’t happen. I wrote it off as something that couldn’t be changed.
“Ten minutes ago, you personally offered to fix that. Something Dumbledore said he couldn’t fix. You’re freely giving me information no one else could be bothered with.
“Thirty hours ago, your healers saved my life. Probably, more than once.
“The Goblin Horde has done more for me personally than any collection of humans you could name. So, I trust you. I will continue to trust you until you prove I can’t.”
Everyone did eventually, Hari thought but didn’t say. Ron had when she proved to be a parselmouth. Ginny had with the diary, before she ever swore herself to Hari.
She hoped Hermione didn’t. Breaking her vows would kill her best friend. It would be nice to get to keep someone.
Maybe she could keep Master Aggnar, too, but she wasn’t going to count on him…or anyone, really.
“I accept your trust,” Master Aggnar said, “and I am honored by it. May I express your sentiments to the Chieftain?”
“If he would care about the opinion of a thirteen-year-old human, sure,” Hari shrugged. “You can’t think I’m setting your people up for failure. My people need St. Mungo’s. Most of us can’t afford to go anywhere else for healthcare and, if we can resuscitate the Slytherin accounts, we can drive down costs to patients.”
“What would be an acceptable patient cost?” he asked.
“In the muggle world, healthcare is free because living is a basic human right. That would be my preference if we can manage it without surrendering any control of the hospital to the government.”
“Ambitious,” the goblin allowed, “but by far more civilized than the current method. Healthcare is free within the Bank as well.”
“Cool,” Hari grinned. “So, when are these two getting their titles settled? I can’t meet them in my ritual circle until we are all noble and in that way equals. In my inner circle, at least.”
“Ritual circle?” Hermione asked.
“Inner circle?” Ginny demanded.
“Of course, my inner circle. Who but my vassals could stand with me there?” Hari said to Ginny. Then she turned to Hermione. “I have a bunch of people to kick out of my family magics and declare my enemy. Since I’m so new to my Legacy Magics, I have to do that in ritual.”
“We can heal your vassals and settle their titles upon them presently,” Master Aggnar promised.
“Only if Hari sleeps off the rest of her bedrest learning from crystals,” Ginny said. “We all know she won’t stay in this bed without us otherwise.”
“We have a full catalog of defensive and combative magics,” Master Aggnar offered. “From many different times and countries. You mentioned security concerns before.”
Hari figured that would be a good use of her time. “Sounds good.”
Hari wondered if she should tell Hermione the fate Slytherin had promised to her son.
She couldn’t make up her mind.
On the one hand, raising the future King of Magical Britain who would bring forth an age of magical renewal was a serious responsibility.
On the other hand, if Snape had kept her future as the defeater of Voldemort to himself, she would have had a much better childhood surrounded by love and family. She wouldn’t be the last of her line. She wouldn’t be hated and targeted by every Death Eater and want-to-be Death Eater on the planet.
On the other-other hand, the legacy was Cedric Diggory’s through his mother Helena Diggory. Certainly, it was his duty to discuss it with his soulmate and future wife. It was his duty to prepare her for it and Hari had no right to insert herself into a relationship that hadn’t actually began.
Hari’s business was her daughter that would become queen. The soulmate of Hermione’s as yet theoretical son.
“You will stand here,” Hari placed Hermione to her right hand. “And Ginny, you will stand at my left.
“This is called a Trinity Circle. Slytherin told me about it. I’m going to introduce the two of you to my Familial Legacy as my oathsworn vassals. My family magic will embrace you, grant you gifts and power. Together, we will magically impose my will upon the familial legacy.”
“Gifts?” Ginny raised an eyebrow.
“Like parseltongue?” Hermione asked eagerly.
Hari smiled at them both. “Exactly like parseltongue. Though, I do want to warn you that embracing parseltongue gives the practioner snake eyes that cannot be hidden. I plan to do that ritual before we go back to school too, if you’re interested.”
“I’ve been reading about it,” Hermione gushed. “It sounds fascinating.”
“Will you merge your family legacies?” Ginny asked. “I heard that can happen sometimes.”
“No, the Founders’ Legacies are intended the stand apart,” Hari shook her head. “This is the will of Magic. If I had control of another non-Founder house, I would have the Peverell legacy consume the other in honor of my father, but I don’t.
“Now, the two of you were sworn to me before any of us became nobles. This is a unique circumstance that allows you both to serve both houses as I do. Your children, however, will have to opportunity to choose a House based on their magical compatibility with my heir for that House.
“I, for the record, would not have expected your children to serve my children as the oaths you made were to settle Life Debts between myself and each of you as individuals but Salazar informed me that the wording Hermione chose for the oaths require your entire lines to serve mine unless they are born to a greater destiny.”
“Our children would never have a chance to exist if you hadn’t saved our lives,” Hermione informed her tartly. “They owe you their lives as much as we do. Or, they will.”
Hari blew a noisy huff at her friend. “Clearly, I need to pay more attention to your shenanigans.”
Ginny grinned. “That will be harder for you, there’s two of us now.”
“As my vassals, you will both be part of the inner circle of my coven,” Hari said, resolutely moving on with the program Salazar Slytherin had effectively written for her.
“You really intend on having an inner circle?” Ginny asked skeptically.
“I intend on taking the ritual magic class for the rest of my Hogwarts career,” Hari answered. “The class is geared toward joining a coven of your own, including forming temporary covens within the class and performing simple rituals.
“I won’t force you to take the class—either of you.”
“Try and stop me.” Hermione snorted. “Ritual Magic has been the domain for pure bloods since Hogwarts cancelled the class over a hundred years ago. Half-bloods and muggleborns like us have been summarily denied coven placement since that time. We have to put an end to that, Hari, and we’re going to.”
“Yes, we will,” Hari agreed. “I sent letters to everyone in our year with pamphlets of information from the IMEA about all of the electives offered at Hogwarts this coming school year so they can make informed decisions for themselves rather than taking the word of a half-informed prefect.”
Hermione laughed at her tone, “Hari!”
“What? These choices could change our entire lives! We all deserve more information about it than Hogwarts could be bothered to provide!”
Hermione just shook her head while giving Hari a fond smile.
“Well?” Hari asked Ginny.
“I’ll be part of your inner circle. Of course, I will. And I’ll take all the classes you do but I want to take creature care, too. I would like the two of you to do it with me.”
Hari…was willing. She raised an eyebrow at Hermione who just nodded. “We’ll do it,” Hari promised. “I’m not taking Divination though. I don’t want to share air with Professor Trelawney.”
“Did she….do something?” Ginny asked.
“She gave the prophecy that killed most of my family and nearly killed me?” Hari offered. “She didn’t mean to and she doesn’t remember so Slytherin says I can’t declare her my enemy but that doesn’t mean I have to spend time with her.”
“Sounds fair,” Hermione said and Ginny agreed.
Hari frowned, trying to remember where they were. “Right. Inner circle,” Hari nodded once. “There are fairly standard oaths between inner circle members. I’ll let you two see the book I have and pick the oath that will be standard for my inner circle.”
“We can do that,” Hermione promised. “…Can I make a class request?”
“Sure,” Hari shrugged.
“Ancient Runes is the prerequisite for Introduction to Warding after our OWLs. Oh! And Arithmancy is the same for Beginning Spellcraft after our OWLs, too.”
“If we all get the OWL scores for it, I don’t see why not,” Ginny decided. “Spellcraft includes spell deconstruction which is one of the founding principles of curse breaking. My brother Bill has masteries in both Warding and Curse Breaking. They both sound pretty cool.”
“Agreed,” Hari nodded, “if we have the grades.”
“Are there any classes you want to add to our load, Hari?” Hermione asked.
“Ritual Magic, Blood Magic and Soul Magic, were my curiosities. I’d also like to have more reliable sources of information about them other than Salazar Slytherin,” Hari admitted.
“That…sounds smart,” Ginny said.
“We can write to the IMEA for a copy of their Educational Index,” Hermione told them both. “It costs five galleons but it is a self-updating record of factual texts on all of the school subjects included in the international standard. It’s supposed to rank them from beginning to advanced learning with small summaries that warn of the topic and any bias so students can know what they are buying before they buy.
“It’s also supposed to come with order forms for their bookshop. One hundred percent of the proceeds go to the authors to facilitate their research.”
“And because the IMEA is part of our international government, the local Ministry cannot stop you from getting those books, even if they are banned by the Ministry,” Ginny added.
Her second vassal was going to be a barrister, Hari was certain of it. “But the Ministry could confiscate the books if they found them in your possession?” Hari guessed.
“Not from a noble,” Ginny said smugly.
She was absolutely becoming a barrister.
“Alright, ritual time,” Hari declared. “There’s a few potions we need to take—I got these from the goblins, they were made in a single batch so they are magically identical. Oh, we should get naked first.
“My wand will be the only one allowed in the circle.”
Hermione shot her a dubious look while Ginny just moved toward one wall, grabbing the bottom of her t-shirt as she went. Hermione’s academic interest quickly won out over her prudishness and she moved away to undress as well.
Once they were ready and back together, Hari led her vassals into the magical circle inscribed on the floor and up to the altar she had personally prepared.
Hari gestured for her friends to stand at the left and right ends of the altar, according to their assigned side. Then, she walked directly out from the altar to the edge of the circle. Slowly, she paced along just inside the circle using her imagination and willpower to lay a circle of orange-gold light along the groove denoting the circle’s shape.
When the circle was complete and entirely glowing, Hari returned to her place at the altar.
“I, Hari Belladonna Potter, am the guardian on the Legacy of the House of Peverell.” Hari placed her hand on the large diamond she had taken from the base of the Peverell Relic. The Legacy Stone warmed under her hand, welcoming her protection. “May all who reside within the embrace of the Peverell Legacy abide by my will.”
“So mote it be,” Hermione and Ginny said back. “Those embraced by the Peverell Legacy stand prepared to heed your will.”
The diamond kept glowing when Hari removed her hand and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. This would work.
“I, Hari Belladonna Potter, am the guardian on the Legacy of the House of Slytherin.” Hari placed her hand on the large emerald she had taken from the base of the Slytherin Relic. The Legacy Stone warmed under her hand, as the other stone had. As it was supposed to. “May all who reside within the embrace of the Slytherin Legacy abide by my will.”
“So mote it be,” Hermione and Ginny said back. “Those embraced by the Slytherin Legacy stand prepared to heed your will.”
The emerald also kept glowing when she removed her hand.
She placed both of her hands on the large chunk of amber sitting between the two legacy stones. It was nearly as big as her head and she had found it in one of the Potter Family vaults. It was perfect and had probably been foolishly expensive but unlike other stones in that particular vault, it had never been used for a magical purpose.
It would now, however.
She pushed her magic into the stone until it glowed. “I, Hari Belladonna Potter, ask Magic to hear my choices. Judge them and, should they be worthy, bind them for all time.”
The stone stayed glowing when she removed her hands even though she stopped pushing her magic into it. Magic itself, the universal force that touched all magical persons, was making it glow now.
The glow proved she had Magic’s attention.
It was time to move forward.
“I, Hari Belladonna Potter, cast Thomas Marvolo Riddle out of the embrace of the Slytherin Magical Legacy. Thomas Marvolo Riddle is now and forever shall be the enemy of the House of Slytherin.”
“So mote it be,” Hermione and Ginny confirmed. “Let Thomas Marvolo Riddle know no peace, no aid, and no power from the Slytherin Legacy or those embraced by its magic.”
The Slytherin Legacy Stone crackled with silver lightning. For a moment, Hari thought she heard a scream, then the stone returned to its peacefully glowing state.
Enemy one, gone. Hari took a deep breath and shoved away her relief. She wasn’t done yet.
“I, Hari Belladonna Potter, cast Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore from the Peverell Magical Legacy. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is now and forever shall be the enemy of the House of Peverell.”
“So mote it be,” Hermione and Ginny confirmed. “Let Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore know no peace, no aid, and no power from the Peverell Legacy or those embraced by its magic.”
Hari’s wand vibrated in her hand and disappeared. Another wand, long and knobby took its place and a shower of silver sparks erupted from the tip.
“That’s the Headmaster’s wand,” Ginny said breathlessly as the sparks cleared.
“It is an artifact of House Peverell,” Hari said without knowing why she said it. The words were heavy in her mouth as she did it and she was flooded with both the wands true history and its reputation.
The Elder Wand was dangerous.
Hari wondered momentarily if she could hide it away.
The wand seemed to scoff at her. Then it transformed itself into an exact replica of her holly wand right down to the rough spot against her fingers. Hari doubted she would ever confuse this wand for any other but that was the product of a magical awareness that no other would share with the wand while she drew breath.
“The Peverells are elementals,” Hari learned as she stared at the wand. “Nearly the last generation of the name—three brothers named Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus—were all death elementals. Only Ignotus, my ancestor, had a legitimate child to whom the Legacy could pass.
“Riddle was the distant grandson of Cadmus Peverell. Dumbledore was the distant grandson of Antioch.”
“If Dumbledore had rights to the wand, why did it come to you?” Ginny asked.
“Only a Peverell has rights to the Elder Wand and I just removed his claim to the magic. Others may be allowed to use it, if they earn the right though violence, but it will always betray them in an effort to return to the House of Peverell.”
“Making you the only person that can safely use the Elder Wand,” Hermione said.
“It may allow the two of you to use it,” Hari realized, “but only in the defense of the House of Peverell.”
“Your will be done.”