A Clash of Wills

Harry waited in the park, two blocks from the old London town house of the Blacks, hidden from the casual glance of passing muggles. A recognisable, slight figure, wearing black, traditional closed-robes, walked towards him, crossed over pavement and road, onto grass, and halted a few metres from him.

"Dear Merlin, you really do look just like John Potter. I feel so sorry for you."

"A pleasure to meet you too, Heiress Alexandra, of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. And I prefer to think that John Potter looks just like me."

She snorted. "Whatever, Potter. So what are we going to do here?"

"I thought we'd start with occlumency and then move onto wandless magic."

"I already know occlumency, and why should I bother with wandless magic? We're getting wands when we go to Hogwarts anyway."

Harry summoned a stick from the base of a nearby tree. Alex looked surprised for a fraction of a second before her expression relapsed to her attempt at a mild sneer, although on her it looked more like a pout.

"When someone takes your wand, its important to get it back," he said, waving the stick for emphasis.

"So that's one spell. And I could just keep my wand attached to my wrist in combat."

"And if someone shatters your wand? Or cuts off you hand?"

The Black Heiress spluttered. "Shatter my wand? That's despicable," she said, rubbing her wrist and ignoring his comment about severed hands.

"You're the one studying the dark arts. You must have seen the requirements for many of the rituals, and the personal anecdotes of the authors. It's not a pretty world out there, Alex."

"Don't call me Alex," she shot back. "And of course I've read those rituals, do you think I'm stupid?"

"No."

"Good. I'm not interested in wandless parlour tricks. I'm interested in learning more of what's possible with the full range of magics, not just the tiny amount authorised by the ministry. Why should we not learn everything magic is capable of?"

"Well, there are good reasons the ancient families keep knowledge of the old magics hidden from the general population."

"Che. I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about the ancient families. The Light is trying to take our birthrights from us."

"Yes, they are. But what use is learning that stuff now, when you don't have a wand? Our time is better spent learning the things we can with the tools we have."

She didn't look convinced. "Is that all you can teach me then? Silly little party tricks?"

"I can regale you with story after story of what all the magics are capable of, but without a wand, such knowledge isn't very useful. We can move on to that stuff in our first year of Hogwarts. It's useful then."

She pursed her lips. "You're wrong," she said, walking until she was nose to nose with him. "It is useful now." She smiled, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow.

Alex brought her hand down to his arm, and gripped.

Strong! He made to shake her off, but couldn't. Too strong. Far stronger than any nine-year-old girl had any right to be.

Quick as a wand draw, Alex grabbed his shoulder, and effortlessly turned him around, arm twisted around his back, grabbed his other hand, and pinned it with the first. Her grip was like a vice.

He grimaced, and stopped struggling. He hadn't been expecting that.

Alex leant into his ear. "Do you see, Potter?" she said, sounding pleased with herself. "There are many old magics that are very useful right now."

Shit. This was going to hurt like a bitch. Bracing himself, he unleashed a wandless area-of-effect banishing spell, pushing the witch away from him, and dislocating his left arm, sending a bolt of pain shooting through him.

Alexandra stumbled backwards, tripped on the hem of her robes, and landed on her bum with an "Uff". She looked up, seemingly unhurt. "You jerk!"

He turned, and popped his arm back into place. "See? Wandless magic isn't useless either. And you are aware that the ritual of krazenkart is best done on one's thirteenth birthday for best effect?"

Her cheeks tinted. "S-Shut up, Potter!"

He silently regarded the raven-haired girl still glaring up at him. She was so hostile. He needed to establish authority and dominance, but she wasn't buying it. Dare he reveal he could use a wand to show her something more impressive? No. It was too risky to reveal any more of his secrets to someone who didn't implicitly respect him. It would have to wait until they got to Hogwarts. In the meantime, he'd have to throw her a bone to stay in her moderately good graces. The rapport they had now was much better than they'd had last time around.

"Fine. I'll see what books we have that are of interest. Maybe we can do a book swap."

She smirked, stood up, brushed herself down, flicked her hair, and put a hand on her hip. "That sounds more acceptable, Potter."

[June, 1990 (One month after Harry gives Ginny the lightning-bolt ring)]

...

[June, 1991]

Child-Lord-Slytherin-Harry walked down Diagon Alley, hand-in-hand with Daphne.

They'd both just got back from a four-week-trip around the UK and Europe, building and warding emergency boltholes, complete with supplies. Daphne had got a lot of use out of her muggle outdoor gear. It had been a long time since she'd first gone out in it.

"Has it really been three years?" he mused.

"Pretty close to it," she replied.

"We've got a lot done."

"Yes. Project Save-The-World is going well." Daphne hummed. "I still can't quite believe all the stuff that happens to you, and all the places we've been."

"Welcome to the life of Mister Harry."

She smiled sweetly at him. "You've put a lot of work into Project Harem too."

"Hey, Project Harem is an integral part of Project Save-The-World," he joked.

"Sure. Just remember, as the future Lady Slytherin, I'm the one that has to keep all these extra girls in line."

"You met Hermione."

"I did."

"And?" he grinned.

"I grudgingly admitted she's not horrible. But she still doesn't have the political killer instinct."

"Give her a chance, she's still only eleven. Not everyone can grow up with politics engraved on their soul."

Daphne cast her gaze around the alley before returning her focus to her Betrothed. "I'd have liked to have met the original eleven-year-old you."

He snorted. "Oh no you wouldn't have. I was everything you hated. Weak, validation seeking, naive."

"Easier to control?"

"Pshhh. You don't want a husband who's easy to control. It would take all the challenge out of it."

The blonde's voice dropped. "Yes, but it might be nice to win occasionally," she mumbled.

"Then you'll just have to keep getting better won't you?" He grinned.

"Better than The-Boy-Who-Is-Going-To-Cheat-His-Face-Off?"

"If you want to spend ten years in Azkaban, camped out in the Dark Lord's head, just to get good grades in school, be my guest."

"I just think it would be amazing to have all that knowledge at such a young age, while all your peers are so far behind."

"Well, you have the next best thing at least."

She unconsciously drew closer to him. "Yes, I do."

They reached the steps of Gringotts.

"And now," he continued in a semi-serious whisper, "it's time for Lord Slytherin to start throwing around some serious gold."

.....

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