Chapter Fourteen - It's Good to See You

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to the proverbial Duchess of Magic, JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. No matter how much I whine about not owning anything related to the HP universe, other than a few fanfic plots, I do not profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world... Damn it!

Chapter Fourteen - It's Good to See You

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

While the three had finished their dinner, they were still sitting together at the table. The candle was still burning away and, because it was a magical candle, hadn't dripped wax or burned down very much at all.

Harry started to speak about his childhood with what he knew to be the truth about what happened on the night of that horrid Halloween. He knew Hermione knew the truth, but didn't know if Daphne did.

He then spoke about the disappearance of an entire day before Dumbledore, in company of Hagrid and Professor McGonagall, left him in a basket on the stoop of Number 4. Then he described what he remembered of his early childhood, including how he was treated, before jumping forward to more recent times.

He talked about the various beatings he suffered under the hands and fists of his uncle and cousin; the use of a strap, how he had to do all the chores around the house, and described what the average day was like for each of his years of age. And, how all he ever wanted for the first few years, was for them to show him the barest smidge of care.

He told how he didn't even know his name until he started school; and how he immediately got in trouble for not responding when called, and then for lying when he said he didn't know what his name was. He spoke about being very good at school work, but then copping a severe beating for bringing home marks better than Dudley.

He described how he learned to do very well but fudged everything so he'd receive poor marks. And how he had to force himself to learn how to be a poor student; lest he forget, one time, and receive better marks than his cousin.

"We'll get you over that, Harry," Hermione softly promised. "You were a good student once, and you will be again."

With a nod of recognition, he continued. He spoke about getting his letter in his hands for only a few moments - enough to read his name and address on the envelope - before it was snatched out of his hands by his cousin. Then spoke about the ongoing battle for the next week and a bit his uncle had trying to stop the letters getting through.

He spoke about the trip to the coast and the boat ride out to the hut on the rock. And then, at midnight, Hagrid coming and knocking on the door, knocking so hard he knocked it down.

He spoke of the next twenty four hours of taking the boat and Hagrid showing him magic. Of his introduction to the wizarding world at the Leaky Cauldron and the fear of being swamped by people wanting to shake his hand and touch him. Of his trip through Diagon Alley before Hagrid dropped him off at the train station, and he had to find his own way home.

He spoke of how, when he arrived home, his uncle immediately locked his new school trunk full of his things in the cupboard under the stairs, and how he had a bedroom for the first time in his life - even though it was still referred to as Dudley's spare bedroom.

And, finally, he told about how his uncle laughed when he told him he needed to go to platform 9¾ and just tossed him, Hedwig and his trunk onto the footpath outside the station. And his then meeting with the Weasleys.

"You're never going back there, Harry," said Daphne firmly. "Unless it's in the company of us and we're there to wreak unholy vengeance on them!" she snarled at the end. Hermione firmly grunted in agreement.

Harry just nodded and continued. "So, Dumbledore's machinations were already running full steam ahead, at this point. I don't know how he managed to get Hagrid to not tell me how to get onto the platform. And maybe he was innocent of that. But, John had to tell me how Missus Weasley managed to grab me at Kings Cross and introduce me to Ron and Ginny. Missus Weasley was walking around saying 'What was the platform again, dear? Nine and three quarters? Look at all these muggles!' And that sort of thing.

"Unbeknownst to me at the time, Missus Weasley had been, herself, to Hogwarts; then had more recently sent her other children over the past ten years. John calculated that Missus Weasley had to have been to the platform over one hundred times before that day. And here she was running around as if she had no real clue as to where she's going the day I turn up? Ha!"

"It's not your fault, Harry," soothed Hermione. "You were tricked by an adult, you didn't know the history of the Weasley family, and you were only eleven years old and scared."

"I know," replied Harry. "However, it should have become apparent to me not long afterwards; if I'd stopped to think about it. It's just so bloody obvious.

"Anyway," he went on to say. "Even though it's a Friday night, it's getting late."

Turning to look at Hermione, he said, "I think we can have another talk like this soon. And we'll cover things like the horcrux hunt and the lead up to the final battle for Daphne."

When the other two agreed, all three rose and made ready for bed. Harry turned the wireless off on the way past. Unnoticed by the three, the table and chairs disappeared; with the room being set back to rights.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

When they woke the next morning, Daphne asked, "You know we won't be able to get out of here at Christmas, right?"

"Yeah, I remember," sighed Harry.

"Well, we need to get you new clothing, and I want to get you into Saint Mungo's to see about your eyes," she continued. "I think we need to ask about getting a day out of the castle for a visit to Diagon Alley on a Saturday."

With a sigh, Harry explained, "Dumbledore will never go for me being able to get away from the castle; unless it's a Hogsmeade weekend. And, even then, he's only going to allow me to go to Hogsmeade."

"I'll ask my parents," she countered. "My mother should be able to 'escort' us to Diagon Alley for the day. And we'll only ask Professor Flitwick for permission, not Dumbledore, as we've already been doing."

Hermione cut in and said, "Set it up. I know 'Mister Broody-pants' here doesn't think it'll happen, but I do. We can make a day of it. Get Harry's eyes fixed and then take him shopping."

Daphne pulled out parchment, ink and quill and wrote a quick letter to her mother asking her if she'd be available to collect them early the next Saturday morning for a trip to Saint Mungo's and a shopping trip to Diagon Alley.

After breakfast, the three then caught up on all their assignments. And then the two girls worked hard with Harry to get his Ancient Runes skills up.

"We intend for you to get through both the third and fourth year Runes syllabus so that you can join us for fifth year, OWL year," explained Hermione. "It shouldn't be that difficult because we'll be putting in twice as much effort."

"If we get you up to speed quick enough, you may be able to join us in fourth year Ancient Runes some time after Christmas," said Daphne.

Later, the girls went in search of all those they'd nominally tagged to work in the spare classroom sorting Harry's mail. He stayed in the apartment and studied hard Ancient Runes for the day.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

On the Sunday, the girls decided they needed to write down everything Harry had told them about his life with the Dursleys.

"We need to get it down, now, Harry," Daphne explained. "While it's fresh in my and Hermione's minds. And, sorry, but we'll need you to clarify points as we go."

With a sigh and a mien of pain, Harry nodded. "Let's get it over with."

They spent the better part of the morning writing down everything and anything Harry remembered in note point; and assigned dates to it all as best they could. They covered their psychological, emotional and physical abuse as separate areas; but, kept everything in chronological order.

They covered Harry being dumped on the stoop of his aunt and uncle's home, right through to his most recent summer living there.

After lunch they returned to it and began writing it all down in report form. It took many sheets of parchment before they were done; and both girls were rubbing their wrists and wringing their hands from 'quill cramp' before they were finished.

"Now that it's down on parchment, what do we do with it?" asked Hermione.

"Make copies of it, for a start," replied Daphne. "We need to send a copy to Stewart and Margaret, our solicitors, for their records of the truth. Next, I'd like to send a copy to my parents, if I may."

Frowning back, Harry asked, "Why? Don't get me wrong; I understand why Ackerman and Pentridge need a copy. But, why do you want a copy to go to your parents?"

She sighed and said, "Because they need to know your history, Harry. Once all this becomes public, they'll be asked questions about you. If they know none of this they'll come across as..."

"Uncaring or, worse, completely ignorant regarding matters concerning you and me," finished Harry with a groan. Looking up, he begged, "Just, please make sure they understand I want no one's pity. This is just so they know the truth, nothing more."

Nodding, Daphne replied, "I'll make sure they understand that."

"Anything else we need to do with the information?" he asked.

"We need to make sure Dumbledore receives a copy," replied Hermione, perking up.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Because then he can't claim he was unaware of how you were treated by them, love," replied Daphne, looking and smiling at Hermione with respect. "It completely blocks him from later claiming he was unaware. Then, if he tries to send you back there next summer..."

"He will then be guilty of a whole heap of further crimes around child abuse," finished Hermione.

"That's very clever," said Harry, chuckling a little bit. "It firmly puts him in the spot where he can't try and send me back there."

"If he tries to claim he didn't know, we hit him with our own copy of this, proving he did," said Hermione, tapping her finger on the written report. "If he admits to knowing about it, he comes across as a child abuser... or, at least, facilitator."

The three then set out to clean up what was written and make copies to send out. Dumbledore's would wait until they knew Daphne's parents and their solicitors had received theirs.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

The rest of the weekend flew past and, before they knew it, they were into the new school week.

The Monday saw the three receive a summonse, each, for the court date for the trial of Molly, Ron and Ginny. The case was set aside for the following Saturday week; or twelve days hence.

Twice, during the week, Dumbledore approached the three. On his first approach, he told Harry that, as his magical guardian, he was not permitting Harry to attend the trial. Instead, he - Dumbledore - would make a statement on Harry's behalf.

Harry countered with, "It's a lawful summonse, Headmaster. It's illegal for me not to go. And you would be breaking the law by blocking me from going."

"It is not safe, Mister Potter," the Headmaster stressed.

"That is irrelevant, Headmaster; and you know it," Harry shot right back.

Knowing he was on a losing streak with that argument if he continued, the Headmaster changed tack.

"Ronald Weasley is your best friend, Mister Potter," tried the Headmaster. "I know he and Ginevra are very sorry for the lack of thought relating to the minor incident regarding potions. However, as you weren't actually potioned, no harm was done.

"You need to let this go. I'm sure, if you see it in your heart to forgive them both, this will be something you can laugh over later."

"Laugh over?" asked Harry, incredulous. "The only thing laughable at the moment, Headmaster, is the blatantly idiotic idea I could ever consider Ron Weasley a friend, again; let alone Ginny or her mother. What they did; what they attempted to do; was unforgivable!

"I, and my bondmates, want the full weight of the law brought down on all three of them. Even if I wasn't being called as a Witness for the Ministry, I'd still want to be in that courtroom to see all three of them get their just comeuppance."

"Vengeance is the path to the dark, Harry," pleaded Dumbledore.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not looking for vengeance, Headmaster," retorted Harry. "I'm looking for justice. Righteous vengeance is what you seek when justice fails you. If you don't want me seeking vengeance, pray I receive justice!"

That final statement, more than anything, nearly led Dumbledore to panic. He had been working hard behind the scenes to ensure all three Weasleys received no more than a legal slap on the wrist for their actions.

Now, he had to return to his allies to ensure that more than just a slap on the wrist was meted out. He could not allow Harry to contemplate vengeance to solve his problems. Plus, if Harry felt the justice system in wizarding Britain was corrupt, he'd be less likely to sacrifice himself for their magical nation when the time finally came.

With a sigh of frustration, Dumbledore returned to his office to make some urgent Floo calls.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

On the Wednesday morning, after an interrupted sleep with Astronomy, they were having a lazy breakfast. However, Harry wasn't eating that much.

When Daphne had had enough of his mood, she turned to him and exasperatedly asked, "Alright, Mister Broody; what's going on?"

"It's Unforgivables Day in 'Dah-Dah'," he sighed.

"Oh, yes," she said, catching on. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Well, what're we going to do about it?" asked Hermione.

"We need to pull Neville aside, for starters," replied Harry. "This lesson practically guts him."

"We'll make sure he sits with us, then," noted Daphne. "Next?"

"Do we fake the effect the Imperius curse has upon us?" he asked right back.

"Do you mean, do we pretend we're affected by it?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Why would we do that?" she asked.

"Because, how we react to it could be information passed back to 'Babymort'."

"Ah!" she softly replied, now understanding. "We pretend it affects us so Riddle thinks it's an Unforgivable he can use against us."

"Precisely."

"Well, any disinformation we can pass on to him may be a benefit to us," she said. "I say we do it."

"I think that depends on what he tries to get us to do, don't you think?" asked Hermione.

"I don't think he's going to try anything too risky," mused Daphne. "I suspect it'll just be something like 'dance on the table', or something. However, if it is too much, we can always pretend to fight it off, at that point."

"Leading him to think we're somewhat susceptible, just not for something too outrageous," thought Hermione. "That's plausible. I say we do it."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

As the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students congregated outside the DADA classroom, the three bondmates made sure to stand with Neville.

"Neville?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah?" he asked back.

"We've heard Professor Moody is going to be giving a talk on the three Unforgivables, today," she explained. "We three think you should sit with us, for this. Alright?"

Surprised and not a little fearful, the young man looked between them - noting the expressions on their faces - and reached a decision. "Yeah; yeah," he replied, a little relieved. "I think that would be best. Thank you."

"We'll sit in the back," advised Harry. "If you need to, look to us for support. If it gets too much; leave. We won't think less of you if you do, alright?"

A little bashful but clearly moved by the gesture, Neville nodded and 'manned up' standing a little taller. "I can do this," he firmly said.

"We know you can," replied Harry. "But, accepting moral support, is also wise. It's not a mark of weakness."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

As expected faux-Moody took them through the Unforgivables. First he demonstrated them on three spiders. And, as per last time, Hermione shouted at him to stop torturing one of them when he put the spider under the Cruciatus curse.

What was different was that it wasn't Harry who mentioned the killing curse, this time. Rather, it was Seamus; as Harry held his tongue. But faux-Moody still pointed out that Harry was still the lone survivor of such a curse. However, Harry didn't let it slide.

"What makes you think I survived it?" he asked right back.

"Well, you're here, aren't you, boy?" Crouch asked.

"So is everyone else in the room. That, in itself, is not an answer," Harry shot back. "What makes you... and the rest of the Wizarding world... believe Voldemort shot the killing curse at me, that night?"

Everyone, including Crouch, flinched at the name 'Voldemort'.

"Everyone knows he fired the..." Crouch tried.

"How?" Harry interrupted. "How do they know? Supposedly, the only one who survived that night in my parent's cottage was me. And, I don't know whether he used the killing curse or not. I was fifteen months old, at the time. Plus, I've never spoken about it.

"Again, why do you, and everyone else, believe I survived the killing curse?"

Faux-Moody, Crouch, stood there with a look of complete confusion and shock on his face. The other students were all talking among themselves about what Harry had said. And glancing at him in their own levels of shock.

"Prior incantation..." Crouch tried.

"Only works on a person's wand," interrupted Harry again. "And Voldemort's wand was never found at the scene."

Again, everyone flinched. But, Crouch roared, "Stop mentioning his name!"

"I'm not," Harry calmly said. "If I was going to mention his name I'd call him by it; Tom Marvolo Riddle. Voldemort is just a silly little anagram derived from his real name. His shade told me that, himself, almost a year and a half ago. He was quite proud about how he'd fooled all the purebloods; seeing as he's only a half-blood bastard.

"Come on, Professor. You're supposed to be one of the greatest dark wizard hunters magical Britain has ever known. And you don't know his real name?"

"You lie!" he hissed.

Harry smiled back. If he pushed the man any harder he suspected Crouch was going to end up giving himself up.

Calmly, he walked from his seat up to the front of the classroom, where he picked up a stick of chalk from it's little shelf and began to write on the blackboard.

First, he wrote in big bold letters TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE across the top of the board. Then, about three quarters of the way down the board, he wrote I AM LORD VOLDEMORT, also in big bold letters.

Then, he simply drew lines matching each letter from the top name to the one below. Once he finished, he dusted his hands off and calmly walked back to his seat.

Everyone, including faux-Crouch, stared at the board in shock. Harry, watching the man's expression, saw him starting to put things together. Such as, why Riddle was currently holed-up in 'Riddle Manor'; and why he wanted Harry transported to the grave of one 'Tom Riddle'.

The other students were animatedly talking with one another, and looking at Harry with expressions ranging from dumbfoundedness to awe.

After a long few more moments, Crouch erased the board and turned back to the class. "Well, discovering the identity of the Dar- of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named..."

"Riddle!" Harry interrupted.

"You-Know-Who!" Crouch almost snarled. "But, he's not the subject of today's lesson."

Crouch managed to get control of his emotions again, before he moved on to demonstrating the Imperius curse.

This time he called Harry to be first. Harry allowed for the hop on one foot, and for the little dance, but finally pretended to snap out of the curse when told to disrobe.

Hermione allowed herself to sing and dance, then kneel in prayer. And was released.

Daphne, as expected, was 'forced' to dance on a desk top and performed an admirable cartwheel before being released.

As other students were put through their paces, Harry was the only one who was called up and demonstrated he was able to snap out of the curse.

This time, Neville wasn't asked to hold back at the end of the class.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Out in the corridor, after Crouch shooed everyone out and slammed the door shut, Harry was bombarded by questions about Riddle, and why people believed he survived the killing curse.

For the questions about Riddle, he just sent them to the Trophy Room to look him up, there. For questions about the Halloween night in Godric's Hollow he turned the questions back on them.

"Come on, people," he exasperatedly replied. "Figure it out. No one survived, other than me, so how did people come to the conclusion Riddle fired the killing curse at me, which then backfired and killed him?

"Merlin! Use your brains and come to your own conclusions. Someone clearly guessed and everyone else believes it to be true, or someone just wanted to make me look like some kind of reluctant hero. Possibly, probably, to sell books about me and that night."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Late into lunch, Harry received a summons handed to him by Professor McGonagall to see the Headmaster immediately after he'd finished his meal.

"Well, ladies," he mused. "It appears the Headmaster has heard about my little demonstration in the Dah-Dah classroom and wants to have words about it with me. Care to join me?"

"I think we must," smiled Daphne. "We can't have you getting into even further trouble, now, can we?"

After finishing their lunch, the three walked to the entrance to the Headmaster's office. With a call of "Cockroach Clusters!" the gargoyle leapt to the side and the three ascended the moving staircase to the landing outside the Headmaster's door.

Just before Harry knocked, they heard the Headmaster from inside call, "Come in, Harry."

Opening the door, Harry allowed the two girls to precede him inside. Unsurprisingly, Professor Snape was sitting on his stool in the corner.

"Miss Greengrass? Miss Granger?" asked Dumbledore. "I believe I only asked for young Harry to join me."

"You did," answered Daphne, as all three walked up to stand before the desk.

When she didn't say anything else, and Hermione said nothing, he finally asked, "Then, what are you doing here?"

"I asked them to join me, Headmaster," answered Harry. "The same can be asked for why Professor Snape is here."

Snape looked ready to snarl something back, but kept his mouth shut.

"Now, Harry, Professor Snape has my complete trust and confidence," the Headmaster smoothly said.

"In that case," said Harry, just as smoothly. "Miss Greengrass and Miss Granger have my complete trust and confidence."

Before Dumbledore could speak again, Harry went on to say, "You summoned me, Headmaster; and, I am here. What is it you wished to speak to me about? I'd not like to be late to my next class."

"I wished to speak to you alone, Harry," the Headmaster tried.

"Oh," replied Harry. "My apologies." He then looked directly at Snape and asked, "Would you mind escorting my two ladies to wait outside, Professor; while the Headmaster and I converse? I believe we shan't be long."

Snape glared and sneered back before he turned back to the Headmaster. Dumbledore held up his hand and, looking at Harry, said, "I thought I made myself clear, Harry. Professor Snape has my complete trust and confidence."

"And I thought I'd made myself clear, Sir. Miss Greengrass and Miss Granger have my complete trust and confidence. Anything you need to say to me you can say to them. Actually, anything you say to me I'll say to them, anyway. So, their staying here would just, as the muggles would say, cut out the middleman and save time."

With an overly dramatic sigh, the Headmaster said, "Very well." And conjured two extra seats alongside the single chair the three were standing behind. "Please take a seat."

Harry waited until the other two were seated before he sat in the centre chair. And all three looked expectantly back at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore rearranged himself a little and, with a stern expression directed at Harry, asked, "Now, perhaps you can tell me why you felt it necessary to mention the dark lord's real name in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, this morning."

"I didn't," replied Harry.

"Sorry?" asked Dumbledore. "I was led to believe you did."

"No, Sir," replied Harry. "I didn't feel it was necessary, at all."

"So, you didn't mention the dark lord's real name in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom? Nor, demonstrate how it was an anagram of his real name?"

"Oh, no Sir," replied Harry. "I did both of those. However, I didn't feel it was necessary. I did it because it was the right thing to do.

"And, 'dark lord', sir? Really? You and I both know he's no such thing. A 'dark wizard', yes; but, a 'dark lord'? Definitely not. You give him too much power calling him such nonsense."

The Headmaster sat with his eyes closed looking like he was constipated.

"Harry," he said. "Why ever would you do such a thing?"

"It was you who told me in my first year, Sir, to 'Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself'," explained Harry. "Voldemort's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, and I'm using his proper name, as you directed."

With another sigh, Dumbledore said, "Yes. Well. I did say that, didn't I?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And, now I must ask you not to do that," he instructed.

"You want me to lie about it, Sir?" asked Harry, adopting a mien of confusion. "That's not right. Besides, enough people have heard it now the cat can't be put back into the bag. I'm not now going to go around telling people I misspoke. I won't lie to them, Sir."

"No, no," the Headmaster back-pedalled. "No, you can't do that. I'm just asking that you not... volunteer... any further information concerning Vol- Riddle."

"If you wish, Sir," replied Harry.

"I do," he said. "Now, about you not believing you were hit by the killing curse..."

"Again, Sir," Harry cut in. "I never said that. I asked why everyone else believed I was."

"Because you were, Harry," Dumbledore tried to explain.

"Really?" he asked right back. "How do you know that? Because, frankly, I can't see it."

"What do you mean?" asked the old man.

"There are two points that clearly show that belief to be in error," Harry explained. "The first is that a mere fifteen month old infant survived being hit by a curse that has never, and has never since, been survived. That, in itself, is ludicrous. And, second, the killing curse never leaves a mark on its victims. And yet I, supposedly, received this scar from it." He said, lifting his fringe to display the much faded scar in question.

"Next, there are no survivors from within the cottage that night, except me. Therefore, there was no one there to witness what curse was supposedly cast at me by Riddle. With those points considered there is no possible way anyone could know what really happened in my nursery at that time. I recognise that Pettigrew was probably around somewhere nearby, but I'd laugh at anyone who said he was the one who fancied up the story I survived the curse. No, I was the only survivor and no one's ever asked me for my version of what supposedly happened.

"It's my belief that whoever went around spouting off that I survived the killing curse that night, was spouting hippogriff dung. And I challenge them to prove their facts. Someone was just out to fancy me up as some kind of superhero so they could sell books or other products about me; or they have some other, malevolent, purpose.

"I neither asked for, nor wanted, the Boy-Who-Lived appellation. I have absolutely no intention of being anyone's hero, other than to these two ladies right here," he indicated both girls. "If the wizarding world needs a hero, you be that hero, Sir. You've done it before and I don't want the job. And, if anyone tries to force it on me, they'll get it flung back in their face.

"My family have done enough. I've more than paid my price. I lost my parents, and my paternal grandparents, to that nut-job. And, likely, my maternal grandparents. I lost my godmother and her husband to them; and my godfather lost twelve years of his life to them.

"More personally, I suffered ten years of slow emotional, psychological and physical torture to them. Yes, it was those arseholes, the Dursleys, who did that; but, I'd have never even have met them if not for Riddle and his lickspittles. I have paid enough. And there's nothing anyone can say to me to tell me otherwise.

"With that in mind, last weekend we secured the services of a renowned wizarding legal firm. One of their tasks is to go after all the people who have unlawfully used my name to sell their products. Their instructions are to go after those people for every single knut they've made off my name, together with costs in damages to both my name and reputation. If it drives them into bankruptcy, I have no sympathy for them. They're just vultures who were looking to make a quick galleon."

Sitting back with another sigh, Dumbledore said, "Thank you for your time, Harry. You may go."

Harry immediately rose and, waiting for the two girls to stand, escorted them from the office without a backward glance.

"It seems spending a greater amount of time with Miss Greengrass and Miss Granger is making young Harry a bit more... forthright and confident in speaking out," Dumbledore said to Snape.

"He's even more arrogant than usual," sneered Snape.

"No, Severus," the Headmaster scolded his Potions Master. "I said forthright and confident. The boy is most definitely not arrogant. He's lately been proving he inherited Lily's clever mind."

Snape sneered a little more but held his tongue on the subject for the moment. "If that will be all, Headmaster; I have a class to conduct."

"Oh; certainly, Severus," replied the Headmaster, seeming to come back to himself from his thoughts. "Then, don't let me keep you from your duties."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

As Snape stood and strode to the door, the three bondmates were already well on their way to their next class.

"Did you have to rub his nose in it, Harry," asked Hermione, scolding him a little.

"Anything to keep the man from meddling, my love," he calmly replied. "The more we can keep him hopping about trying to put out 'fires' I start, the less time he has to meddle in our affairs.

"You know he's looking for a way around our bonds to force me back to the Dursleys, don't you? He's going to be even worse after the night of the third task."

Hermione sighed and said, "I know. But he's the Headmaster, Harry. We're supposed to respect him, at least for earning that position."

With a light unladylike snort, Daphne said, "And he abuses that position, Hermione. Where Harry lives outside of school terms is none of his responsibility or business. I fail to see how you can excuse him for his actions simply because he's in a position of authority."

"He's also Harry's magical guardian," Hermione explained. "That's why he has the authority to order Harry back to the Dursleys."

Daphne stopped them in the corridor, right then. "What do you mean, he's Harry's magical guardian? Harry's not muggleborn; he doesn't need one."

Coming to Hermione's defence, Harry replied, "He had himself appointed my magical guardian in the days immediately following the attack on Godric's Hollow. And, he's been using that authority to control me ever since."

With a scowl Daphne huffed, "Well, we'll be getting that stopped, then, won't we? Now that we're bonded... if it's alright with you two... I'll see if I can get my parents to agree to get themselves declared as your magical guardians."

Both other bondmates grinned back. "That'd be brilliant!" Harry happily exclaimed, before he calmed down again. "Of course, Dumbledore's going to fight it every step of the way. You need to let your parents know they'll be in for one Hell of a fight with him once it becomes public, and Dumbledore finds out about it.

"Plus, is it actually important? After all, I'll be emancipated around the 7th of November, anyway."

With a smirk, Daphne replied, "You leave that to us. The Greengrasses haven't been Slytherins just because it was expected of them. We know how the system works."

Smiling at each other, Hermione looked to her and said, "Do it. Harry needs every protection he can get."

With a nod and matching smirk from Daphne, the three continued on to their next class.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

That afternoon, while attending to assignments, both Winky and Dobby popped in.

"Guys?" asked Harry. "What brings you here?"

"Dobby and Winky be here to report on the status of their two missions, Master Harry, Sir," replied Dobby.

"Oh?" asked Harry, before he remembered. "Oh! The job of finding Luna's things, and about the blood monitoring devices in the Headmaster's office?"

"Yes, Sir," replied Dobby.

"Then, let's hear it," replied Harry leaning back in his seat as the two girls listened in.

"Dobby and Winky, with help of the elveses of Hogwarts, have searched the castle, top to bottom," Dobby said as if giving a report, but elf style. "We found lots of Miss Luna's thingses. They have all been given back to Miss Luna, and she is very happy. She was very happy to get back her photographies of her mother, the most."

Harry nodded as Hermione said, "Thank you for doing that, you two. And, please, pass on our thanks to the castle elves for helping."

Dobby and Winky both nodded with tears of happiness in their eyes. Winky popped away while Dobby stayed, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose on a small handkerchief.

He then looked up and reported, "Dobby was also being sneaky-sneaky and sneaked into Headmaster Whiskers's office when he wasn't there looking at whizzy and whirry things with Master Harry's blood in them. Dobby finded four of them.

"Instead of just taking out Master Harry'ses blood from them, Dobby switched the blood," the little elf said.

Harry chuckled and asked, "And whose blood did you replace mine with?"

"Dobby waited until Headmaster Whiskers went to sleep," explained the elf. "Then Dobby taked some of his blood. Dobby switched Master Harry'ses blood with Headmaster Whiskers's. The little whizzy and whirry things now still whiz and whirr and Headmaster Whiskers not know it's his blood. Then Dobby destroyed Master Harry'ses blood."

Harry roared with laughter as Daphne giggled and Hermione looked stunned.

"That's brilliant!" Harry finally managed to get out. "Very, very well done, Dobby!" he complimented the little elf.

Dobby dashed forward and hugged Harry around his legs before popping away again.

"He really is such a clever little thing, isn't he?" asked Daphne.

"He is," agreed Harry, nodding. "I'm so glad to have him."

"How long do you think it's going to be before the Headmaster figures out his devices are no longer functioning as he expects?" asked Hermione.

"That depends," he replied. "However, I hope it's not until next summer."

"Depends?" asked Daphne.

"On whether or not... or how long it takes him... to notice the devices still show me as being in the school when he knows I'm not," he replied. "Remember, there's the Hogsmeade weekends, then there's all the running about outside of school grounds I've still yet to do..."

"Such as getting your eyes fixed and us taking you clothes shopping," she prompted.

"Exactly," Harry acknowledged. "And each minute I'm out of the school grounds when he's in his office is another minute when he can notice there's something... not quite right about... what his little devices are telling him."

"Then, even with the devices no longer tracking you, we still have to be careful?" asked Daphne. "That's not right."

"Then, what do we do?" asked Harry.

"You had already planned for Dobby to go into Dumbledore's office and... basically... destroy any device that monitored you, yes?" asked Daphne right back.

"Yes..."

"At that point you knew Dumbledore would know he was no longer able to track you with blood monitors," she continued. "At least this way, he's not going to know until, and unless, he specifically notices something wrong," she explained. "I say, pretend the devices are already destroyed and Dumbledore knows you're not being tracked; and just live life."

"She's right, love," opined Hermione. "Ignore it. We'll have Dobby spy on him, if necessary, while we're away from the school."

Harry sighed and nodded. "You're right," he said. "It's just an advantage over him I'd like to hang on to for as long as necessary."

"That little advantage is too small to put up with the inconvenience of keeping it hidden," she explained. "Especially as it will, soon enough, be lost. The cons outweigh the pros."

Harry thought about that for a few seconds before he decided she was, indeed, correct. "You're right," he said. "Thank you for pointing that out."

"Besides," she grinned. "As the devices will still work, per se, it's going to drive him nuts trying to figure out why they're still working but not properly registering."

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, suddenly sitting forward. "You mean, he'll then dedicate time trying to figure out where the charms, runes, whatever went wrong. That's something he wouldn't have done if Dobby had just destroyed them. Clever!"

"Yet something else that'll occupy his time," mused Harry. "I like it."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

The next day Daphne received permission from her father for her mother to come and collect them both to take them to Saint Mungo's; and then on to Diagon Alley.

As they had double charms, first up, they held back after class to speak with the little Charms Master.

"Professor," Daphne began. "We... that is, Harry, Hermione and I... need your permission to leave the school on Saturday in the company of my mother. We will probably be gone for most of the day."

"And may I know the nature of this excursion, Miss Greengrass?" he asked.

"Certainly, Sir," she replied. "First, we're taking Harry to Saint Mungo's to see them about his eyes. It's more than nigh time he had them sorted. Second, we're taking him to buy new clothing in Diagon Alley. I... that is, Hermione and I... will not have him wearing those cast-off rags his muggle so-called guardians force him to wear, any longer."

"I see," he smirked. "I had always wondered why Mister Potter was constantly seen wearing obvious cast-offs that are clearly too big for him. I had begun to think it was some kind of fashion statement."

"No, Sir," Harry half-growled. "It was all my... relatives," he spat the word, "would allow me to wear. 'Dressing you in anything worth money is a waste of such money for a freak like you!'" He mimicked his aunt.

"I see," exclaimed the Professor, clearly shocked at Harry's words and the venom in which they were spoken. "In that case, you have my permission to spend the day away from the school," he said, a little calmer. "I take it you will be returning for the evening meal?"

"Yes, Sir," Daphne firmly replied.

"Very well," he said. "I shall inform the Deputy Headmistress you will be away for the day."

"Professor, may we ask that you inform her, say, on Saturday?" asked Hermione, a little sweetly.

"They're afraid... and it's warranted, in my opinion... that the Headmaster will attempt to stop me leaving the castle," replied an overly calm Harry.

The little Professor looked back at the three of them for a few moments, and mused, "Yes, I see your point. He does seem overly interested in you, doesn't he, Mister Potter?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry flatly replied. "I happen to find it quite... unsettling."

"Hmmm..." the Professor smirked. "As there is no time limit by which I advise the senior staff when a student seeks to leave the grounds. And, as you will be in the company of the parent of one of your bondmates, I see no reason to alarm anyone as to your leaving for the day. I shall inform the Deputy Headmistress on Saturday; perhaps about an hour after you leave?"

With matching smirks, the three said, "Thank you, Professor." Before getting up to leave.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

After Daphne had 'borrowed' Hedwig, and sent her mother the confirmation a couple days earlier, the three quickly hurried through their breakfast on the Saturday and headed out of the school to meet Deece at the front gate. They felt it was better to meet her there than to raise the Headmaster's suspicion by having Deece meet them in the Entrance Hall.

They only had to stand inside the gates for a few minutes before Deece approached from the Three Broomsticks.

"Ready, you three?" she asked.

With near-matching nods, the three quickly exited the gates and followed the older witch back to the Three Broomsticks. They Floo'ed directly to the arrival point inside Saint Mungo's and sought out the Welcome Witch.

"Mister Potter for an appointment with Healer Jennings," Deece quietly whispered to her.

The Welcome Witch's eyes widened when she heard the name, and her eyes immediately met Harry's for a bare flicker before they travelled the couple of inches up to his scar. Harry scowled back, making the witch blush a little.

"Third floor, east wing," the witch muttered to Deece.

With a nod, Deece led the three up the stairs to the right wing and down the passageway.

She led them direct to a plain door with a brass plaque that bore the name 'Healer Tomas Jennings, Eye Specialist'. Without even knocking, she led their small party in.

"Madam Greengrass," the slightly portly man in wizarding hospital scrubs said, as he stood up from behind his desk. "A pleasure to see you," he said, with slight emphasis on the word 'see'.

"Tomas," she said, holding her hand out to the man for the back of her knuckles to be lightly kissed. "That joke gets older with each passing minute."

Healer Jennings didn't seem to look the slightest abashed from her remarks. Instead, he looked even more pleased. "I see your point," he replied, again emphasising the word 'see', and chuckling a little.

Deece just rolled her eyes as the bondmates all grinned.

The healer turned to Harry and said, "And, it's nice to meet you, Mister Potter. I see the reports of your three-way bond are accurate. Madam Greengrass tells me you're here for me to have a look at your eyes."

Harry immediately decided he liked the man. "Yes, Sir," he replied with a grin. "I've been looking forward to seeing you."

Healer Jennings barked in laughter for a moment. "Yes, well," he said, calming down again before he indicated a chair in the corner that looked a lot like a muggle dentist's chair. "If you won't mind seeing your way into taking a seat in my personal torture device, we can get started with having a look at your eyes"

Harry chuckled and shook his head before walking over, sitting down and leaning back in the chair.

As the other three sat in three normal seats, Healer Jennings brought over a wheeled stool and parked it next to Harry, near his head.

Without so much as a by-your-leave, he then reached out and plucked Harry's battered spectacles off his face. And, with healer's wand in hand, cast a small charm on them. Harry didn't know what all the little figures that then hovered over his glasses meant, but it was obvious the healer did.

Placing the glasses on a little swivel tray, the healer then turned to Harry more directly.

"Now, let's have a look," he muttered waving his wand over Harry's face.

The healer rapidly developed a frown before he sat back a little and muttered, "That's not right."

"Oh?" asked Harry, a little concerned.

Focussing back on Harry, the healer explained, "Your glasses do not match the correction you need, Mister Potter. If anything, they're making matters worse. Do you get headaches towards the end of each day?"

"Sometimes," replied Harry. "But, that's usually if I've been studying for too long; or, focussing on the one thing for too long."

"Hmmm..." the healer nodded. "For a start, you really don't need glasses, Mister Potter. I take it you acquired them in the muggle world?"

"Yes, Sir," replied Harry, not wanting to elaborate.

"Well, your eye problem is quite easy to fix," explained the healer. "All it takes is a few drops of a potion in each eye. Then we bandage your eyes to keep light out for about an hour before removing the bandages once more."

"Then what?" asked Harry. "Then, Mister Potter, your eyesight will have been repaired. No more need to wear spectacles!"

Looking a little gob smacked, Harry stared back and asked, "Really? It's that easy?"

"Yes, Mister Potter," the healer replied, a little surprised. "Would you like me to proceed?"

"What? Now?" asked Harry, surprised again.

"Yes, of course," the healer returned. "You won't need your glasses by the time you leave this office."

Harry glanced over at Deece and his two bondmates. Clearly they recognised his expression as one of pleading.

"Do it, Harry," replied Deece to his expression. "The ladies and I can spend the time in the cafeteria while we wait."

Turning back to the healer, Harry was almost in tears. "Do it," he firmly stated.

"Excellent," the healer replied with a smile. He then rose from his chair and went to the large cabinet behind his desk. He pulled out a small potion phial with an eyedropper and two leather-like pads.

Returning to his stool he described, "First, I'm going to place a light numbing charm on your eyes. Then I'm going to place four drops of this potion in each eye, and immediately ask you to close each as I finish with it. And, finally, I'm going to be placing these special eye pads on each eye and hold them in place with a light sticking charm. So, please don't try to remove them until I come back and remove them for you."

Harry nodded that he understood and tried to relax.

Just as he described, Healer Jennings worked until both Harry's eyes wore the patches. He then said, "The reason for the numbing charms is because I've been told how the potion can be somewhat uncomfortable while it's working. And, while it's working, I'm turning on my little wizarding radio for your listening pleasure. Any choice of stations?"

"No, Sir," replied Harry.

Harry heard the healer turn the radio on and hear the sounds of Celestina Warbeck singing. It wasn't loud, but it was soothing.

"I'll be working at my desk, Mister Potter," the healer then said. "I hope you forgive me if I start singing along to the radio. I've been told it's a good thing I answered the call to become a healer. Apparently, my singing voice is quite dreadful." The healer made it sound as if he was somewhat offended by that observation.

Harry smiled but didn't respond.

He also realised his bondmates and future mother-in-law had already left. It was then he realised he almost referred to them as his 'family'. But, he also realised, that's exactly what they were, his family; along with Matthias and Astoria. For now. The thought made him smile.

After a while he was daydreaming about what the future had in store for 'The Potters' when Healer Jenkins called from his desk, "Alright, Mister Potter. It's time for me to take those patches away."

Harry suddenly tensed a little; realising the time of truth about his eyes was at hand. He listened as the healer approached and pulled his little stool in closer. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

Harry barely felt the pads being removed but kept his eyes shut for the whole time.

"Alright, Mister Potter," the healer said. "Time to open your eyes."

Harry blinked them open, but saw that everything was still a little blurry. He could also see that the healer's left hand was shading his eyes.

Harry frowned a little as he knew he couldn't see properly.

"Do not fret, so, Mister Potter," the healer chuckled a little. "The numbing charm is stopping your eyes from focussing properly. One moment."

Harry saw the healer wand come back and pass over his face with a muttered, "Finite," and his vision cleared.

Gently and a little slowly, the healer pulled his hand away, and Harry realised everything was in perfect focus.

Seeing the expression on Harry's face, the healer chuckled and said, "I can see you're surprised with how well you can see now."

Harry turned his eyes to the healer with a look of almost awe. "Wow!" he softly said.

"Indeed," the healer chuckled again.

Adjusting the chair for Harry to sit a little straighter, he pointed to a chart on the wall alongside his desk that Harry looked straight at, and instructed, "Start reading from the top of the chart, please."

Harry did so and only started to get difficulty on the second bottom line.

"Excellent," said the healer.

When Harry frowned, the healer gently said, "I don't expect you to read any better than that, Mister Potter. I did, once, have a wizard who had the animagus form of a hawk who managed to read the bottom line. But, that was the only time."

He then patted Harry on the shoulder and said, "You just rest there, for the moment, and I have a little ceremony for you to do." Before he rose and returned to his cabinet.

From the bottom he pulled out a big cardboard box and brought it back. Holding it for Harry to look within, he smiled and said, "This box contains all the spectacles of those who wore them and whose eyes I recently fixed. You no longer need yours, Mister Potter; so, throw them on in!"

Harry realised he had automatically picked his up from the tray, where the healer had placed them earlier. He looked down at them in his hand, grinned, and lobbed them into the box.

"Well done, Mister Potter!" the healer almost crowed. "Just so you know, each time this box fills, I send it off to the muggles for their use. I don't know what happens to them then, but..." and shrugged with a grin.

Harry had just finished swinging his legs off the side of the chair when Deece and his bondmates... his family... returned. He immediately grinned at all three.

"That's better," Daphne softly said, coming closer to have a better look. "Now I can see those lovely emerald eyes better."

Hermione, also coming closer, smiled and said, "You're almost twinkling like the Headmaster."

"Hey!" he exclaimed, mock hurt.

Both girls giggled.

"What next?" Deece asked, already knowing the answer.

"Shopping!" both girls suddenly and happily exclaimed in reply.

With a smile, Deece looked to Healer Jennings and said, "Bill it to the Potter Accounts."

With a smile and a nod in agreement, the healer turned to Harry and said, "It was a pleasure to see you, Mister Potter. If you have any problems, please come back and see me."

With a grin back, Harry stood and said, "Thank you, Sir. Thank you very much."

"You're most welcome."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ