average human’s Reviews > Sectumsempra > Status Update

Harry heard Draco’s gasp of surprise when Griphook bowed his head back in a show of respect.

Maybe if other Wixen treated Goblins like people and not servants they’d see more displays like this, Harry thought irritably to himself.

One step in changing the world at a time though.

“Is your charmed coin purse not to Heir Potter’s liking?” Griphook asked curiously.

Harry shook his head quickly, thankful for the easy to use bag the Goblin gave him last summer. “No it’s brilliant, thank you again. I just need to make a deposit.”

“Apologies, Heir Potter. I simply need to see your proof of identity and then you can make your deposit.”

Harry raised his right hand and focused his magic on it, remove the cloak. Draco, bloody Drama Queen he is, gasped again as his Heir ring shimmered in to sight.

“How did you get that?” He asked. “Father says I can’t get mine until I’m of age.”

“My parents are dead, aren’t they?” Harry said casually, ignoring the sharp stab of grief he had at the words. “You can claim your Heirship if you’re of age and your Lord is still alive or you can get it early if you’re the only Heir in line for the Lordship once you take a blood test.”

“Heir Potter is correct,” Griphook said, inspecting the magical ring on Harry’s right hand. “An Heir ring will not accept a wearer if they are not yet of age unless they are the sole Heir left in the line.” He gave a curt nod at Harry’s hand. “That is in order Heir Potter, would you like to visit the vault or allow me to make the deposit for you?”

“Oh, would you?” Harry asked, recloaking the ring. “That would be brill Griphook, thank you.”

He pulled the stone out of his pocket and wrapped it in Griphooks hand. “I don’t think I need to tell you that I’d rather nobody know I have ever been in possession of it,” he whispered.

Griphook glanced at his hand then gave Harry a sharp and mean smile. “Heir Potter is very clever and sneaky,” he said softly in his gravely voice. “This will be in the Potter vault and if anyone learns of its presence I will present myself to you to be drawn and quartered.”

“That’s not necessary,” Harry said hastily. “Just put it in my vault please, no need for any quartering.”

Griphook had proved last summer that he was a good vault manager, Harry would hate to replace him.

“As you wish,” Griphook bowed his head again. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope,” Harry said pleasantly. “Just that one little thing. May your gold multiply Griphook.”

“And may your enemies cower at your feet, Heir Potter,” Griphook responded cordially.

“They will,” Harry winked at him.

As the boys left the bank Draco gave Harry an incredulous look. “How on earth did you get the Goblin to respect you?”

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco and crossed his arms in irritation.

“Well it’s not hard, is it? I just respected them first,” he sneered. “You know, easy things, like calling them by their proper names instead of ‘Goblin’. Griphook is just as magical as we are.”

Draco seemed to not have a response to that aside from staring at Harry in shock.

“C’mon,” Harry said, dropping the subject. “We better get started if you want time to find Ron and Hermione.”

The boys ran around the alley, gathering their supplies and trying to dodge the Harry Potter fanatics they encountered.

Draco laughed himself to tears as Harry bald faced told a man that he was not Harry Potter but was instead “Malfoy, Draco Malfoy”.

“You don’t look much like a Malfoy,” the man said eyeing Harry closely.

“How dare you,” Harry stuck his nose up in the air, “I will be telling my father about this.”

“You’re such a prat,” Draco laughed.

Harry grinned and from then on they made a game of Harry stealing the identities of their classmates every time he was accosted.

“What’s going on there?” Draco asked, pointing to the crowded bookstore.

“Dunno,” Harry answered. “But I think I see Ron’s family in there.” He pointed to a group of redheads and Draco grimaced, “Let’s go then, we have to get those ridiculous Lockhart books anyway.”

“Weasley, Granger!” Draco called, waving at their friends. “What in Merlins name is going on in there?”

Hermione squealed in excitement and pointed at a sign that said;

‘GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.’

“Wonderful,” Draco groaned.

Ron introduced them to the rest of his family, at least the ones Harry hadn’t met before.

“This is my Dad, Arthur, and my Mum, Molly, and my sister, Ginny, she’s starting school with us this year.”

“Hello,” Harry said to them. “Thank you for the fudge Mrs. Weasley.”

Ron’s mum, a plump witch with wild curly red hair, stepped towards him with her arms outstretched- as if to grab him and squeeze.

“Oh, Harry dear,” she sighed, not remarking on his quick dance out of her reach, “it was no worry! I was so happy to do something nice for Ron’s friend.” She beamed at Harry and he gave her a nervous smile back, though he was saved from replying when Ron’s sister, Ginny, squealed at him and turned bright red.

What the fuck?

Ron laughed and told Harry and Draco quietly, “Ginny’s obsessed with you. Talks about you all the time.”

Draco sniggered while Harry grimaced at Ron. The last thing he needed was more insane people staring at his forehead.

“Hope she’s not in Slytherin,” Harry muttered darkly.

Ron chuckled and led the other three inside, pushing and shoving his way past the crowd.

A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to wait their turn to grab the Lockhart books and pay.

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard’s hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

“Out of the way, there,” he snarled at Harry, moving back to get a better shot. “This is for the Daily Prophet —”

“Fuck off,” Harry said, glaring at the photographer fiercely.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, “It can’t be Harry Potter?”

“It’s not, it’s Neville Longbottom,” Harry tried protesting, although nobody besides Draco seemed to hear him.

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry’s arm, and pulled him to the front.

“Get your hands off me,” Harry sneered, sending a spark of blistering magic to Lockharts arm.

Lockhart let go quickly, hissing between his straight white teeth, before shaking his hand out and putting his arm behind Harry, without actually touching him again.

“Nice big smile, Harry,” said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth as the photographer clicked away. “Together, you and I are worth the front page.”

Harry tried to slip back to Ron, Draco, and Hermione but Lockhart pulled him back to his side by his shirt collar.

“You’ve got half a second to let go before I put you in the hospital,” Harry hissed.

Lockhart gave him a bewildered look but quickly let go of his shirt. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said loudly, waving for quiet.

10%

Harry imagined that he meant he was about to drag Harry about like some sort of prized show pony.

“Amelia you don’t mind do you? If I borrow your young charges here?”

Amelia gazed sharply at Harry and Susan, another uncanny look to Professor Snape, seeming to search them for mischief.

“No sir, that would be fine,” she said, seemingly satisfied with what she found. “If you’d be so kind to send them straight back here when you’re finished?”

“Of course, of course!” Fudge had a possessive gleam in his eyes when he looked at Harry again.

You can do this, he coached himself. You’ve pretended to be a lot nicer to a lot worse people before.

Which was true, but he never planned to use his body as leverage again. He didn’t mind cashing in on his fame here to get what he wanted and needed, but if the Minister made one move towards him Britain would need to hold a new election

10%

“Can I help you?” a bored blonde haired witch asked, not even looking up from the book she was reading at her desk.

Harry pulled himself up to look as tall as he could before replying. “I’m here to get a prophecy that was made about me.”

The witch sighed dramatically, as if Harry was the biggest inconvenience in the world before looking up and gasping.

“Oh! You’re Harry Potter!”

Susan giggled behind him while Harry tried to give her a polite smile, playing the part of the humble ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ but he was worried it came out as more of a grimace.

“Yes ma’am,” he said politely. “And I’d like to get a prophecy about me, please.”

The witch looked him and Susan over carefully before wringing her hands. “I- I don’t know... I don’t usually get kids down here... I’m not sure what the policy is for kids and prophecies...”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Susan, who twisted her mouth in to the tiniest of scowls. He looked back at the witch and hoped that Professor Snapes advice would work here like it had before on Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore.

He lowered his eyes to the floor and tried to sound as shy as he could, “Well ma’am, my mum would probably have come with me but it’s just that she’s dead, ya know? But the prophecy is supposed to tell me why she died,” he sniffled a little for effect, “I just don’t know why anyone would hurt my parents.” He mentally crossed his fingers as he invented a lie on the spot, “And I know that I’m awfully young but the Minister said that you’d be able to help me...” he peeked up at her and gave her a sad look, trying out Susan’s puppy eyed look. “I guess I’ll just wait until I’m an adult since I’ll never have any parents to come with me.”

The witch stared at him and her upper lip trembled for a moment before reaching in to her desk with a slight sniffle. “No need dear, you poor thing. Of course you’d have to come alone...” she rambled. “Here sweetheart, just prick your finger on this needle here,” she held out a needle to him, “it only hurts for just a moment. You want to let the blood drop on to this parchment here, okay?”

Harry doubted that a little prick to his finger was going to hurt but he nodded and did just what she asked him to do.

When he handed the parchment back to her, adding a shy smile for effect, the witch beamed at him.

“It looks like there is one prophecy linked to your magic, Mister Potter. You’ll have to come with me to get it, I can’t touch it of course.”

Harry nodded agreeably, as if he had any idea what she was talking about. “Right, of course.”

She led him, and Susan who trailed behind him, through another door in her office and they entered a room full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves.

They followed her as she walked quickly down rows and row of the glittering orbs. “Ninety five... ninety six... here it is!” she announced. “Ninety Seven- Harry Potter!” She pointed at one of the small
glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years. Harry carefully edged closer to it and saw that underneath the orb was a small plaque that said:
‘SPT to APWBD
Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter’

“Go ahead dearie, you’re the only one who can grab it,” she told him in a hushed voice.

Harry gave Susan a quick glance and saw her nod so he closed his fingers around the dusty ball’s surface. He had expected it to feel cold, but it did not. On the contrary, it felt as though it had been lying in the sun for hours, as though the glow of light within was warming it. Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, he lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it.

Nothing whatsoever happened. Susan moved in closer to Harry, gazing at the orb as he brushed it free of the clogging dust.

“We did it,” she whispered fiercely.

“How do I hear it?” he asked the witch.

11%

“We did it,” she whispered fiercely.

“How do I hear it?” he asked the witch.

“If you’d like to listen to it more than once then you should place it in a pensieve to hear the prophecy,” the witch instructed, guiding then back through the huge room. “But if you only want to hear it once then breaking it open is your best bet. But you can never hear it again after that.”

Harry gripped the little orb tightly as him and Susan made their way back to the second level where her aunt was. He couldn’t believe how easy it was. Now he’d be able to hear the whole thing and maybe start figuring out what was really going on the night Voldemort killed his parents.

He really hoped that Professor Snape had a pensieve he would let him use when he got back to Hogwarts.

He also hoped that the Ministry Dining Hall had a lot to choose from because Susan and himself were about to ring up the Ministers bill.



***AMELIA BONES POV***

When Susan originally told her about her new friend, Harry Potter, Amelia had been pleased at their friendship. Lily Evans had been a wonderful friend to her in school and even though James Potter had been an utter toerag, at their wedding Amelia could see he loved her deeply and would cherish his family always. The fact that he died in an attempt to protect his beloved wife and son is likely a point of pride for him, wherever their souls may be resting.

But then... then Susan wrote that she was worried about Harry.

‘He hates being touched Auntie,’ ‘The other kids are either horrible to him or terrified of him,’ ‘I don’t think he sleeps much and he won’t eat,’ ‘I think he’s used to being hated,’ ‘Harry got in another fight,’ ‘Can’t you help him like you helped those other kids?’

Amelia read the letters and didn’t like the picture Susan was painting. She had tried to reach out to Albus multiple times to speak with him about Harry but was rebuffed with each attempt. It almost made her believe he knew what she wanted to speak with him about and was purposefully dodging her.

Which was absurd, right? Lily and James had died following Albus’ orders. Surely there could be no person who cared more for the child than he? She had almost made herself believe that until Severus Snape appeared in her office.

“If this were to fall out and you read it- then I have committed no act that the child can find treasonous,” he had said when he handed her a parchment. Amelia read it that night and then spent more than a couple hours at the Ministry desperately digging for the placement of Harry James Potter in the file cabinets of the Department of Child Safety. There was not a single scrap of evidence that Harry had ever even been an open case in their department.

And Amelia remembered something else Severus had said, “There are those who would be incredibly interested in his whereabouts. However, those would be the very ones who the child would need shielded from.”

And as she examined the lack of a paper trail regarding the orphan Harry Potter, Amelia wondered if Albus Dumbledore was one of the people who Harry needed shielded from.

Then she very carefully ignored that thought and focused very hard on never thinking of it again. Her mind was glaringly open, it had to be for her position on the Wizengamot, and there was a very powerful Legilimens on the same court of law.

Instead, she fretted over Susan’s association with him. Harry had a lot of very specific injuries in his medical history that made Amelia worry that he would be too... hardened? traumatized? perhaps even mad?... to be friends with her niece.

But she told Severus she would take him for two weeks over the summer, and she would. Amelia Bones was a witch of her word.

Then she met him and her heart broke right in two. Harry Potter was the fragile size of a child of perhaps nine but acted as if he had already fought in wars. He had a wary look when he saw her, as if he believed she would attack him at any given moment. He only stood with his back to the wall. He identified every exit in every room before he walked inside. He stayed out of arms reach of Amelia at all times. He flinched when Susan moved too suddenly and stiffened when she touched him.

Despite his demeanor he was also soft spoken and unfailingly polite. She wondered if he was polite because it was the proper way to behave or because he was worried of the repercussions of disrespecting an adult.

“You look quite a bit like your father,” she told him fondly on his first afternoon there. “Though you have Lily’s eyes.”

Of course, neither Lily nor James Potter ever had a jagged scar that stretched down the side of their face. She saw multiple silver scars across Harry’s hands and wrists that spoke to a lifetime of battle. James had not lived to even double Harry’s years of life, but Harry’s scars spoke to a short life filled with triple the pains James had ever experienced.

“Professor Snape said told me I could be a ‘James Potter miniature’ but I don’t think he meant it as a compliment,” Harry said with a smirk.

Amelia had laughed, remembering Severus’ feud with James in school, “Yes well, those two took the Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry to new heights, didn’t they?”

“That’s so silly,” said Susan, “We have a good friend, Neville, and he’s in Gryffindor, right Harry?”

Amelia knew that Neville Longbottom had allied himself formally with Harry Potter- the entire ministry likely knew it as much as Augusta had bragged. She was surprised that Augusta had allowed him to do so. She would have disproved of a formal political alliance at such a young age but... but Harry Potter probably needed allies. And she was sure that Neville Longbottom would grow to be as strong as his father and as kind as his mother.

“I think it’s stupid to be friends with people, or hate them, just because of what house they’re in,” Harry declared firmly. “Susan would be my best friend even if she was in Gryffindor.”

That fierce loyalty reminded her sadly of James’ own surety in his friends. One dead, one missing, and one who never deserved the love or loyalty of James Potter.

She hoped all of those in their ‘group’, as Susan called it, deserved such faith.

She was amused by Harry’s interest in the DMLE. She didn’t think she was imagining the tightening around his eyes when he was introduced to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Kingsley certainly noticed how Harry had edged away from him and would likely want an answer on why the Boy Hero of Britain seemed ready to flee or fight during a simple conversation.

She certainly didn’t imagine the way that Harry had looked disdainfully at the other members of her department who had tripped over their own feet to introduce themselves to him. She had nearly laughed at the time. She never imagined that a face that physically resembled James Potter so much could possibly have such a Severus Snape expression on it.

But- Harry Potter did not like law enforcement, that much was obvious. She imagined that James would be disappointed by this. He himself had been training to be a Hit Wizard before he was forced into hiding.

Harry had seemed pleased to meet Minister Fudge though. It wasn’t every day that the Minister of Magic gives a child a tour of his offices. Harry and Susan had returned from Fudge’s office with their eyes shining and looking very pleased with themselves.

She wondered if Harry had political aspirations. She knew he had struck up a friendship with the sons of Lucius Malfoy and the Contessa Zabini of Italy. Perhaps their families had influenced Harry’s ideals.

One evening, she finally saw her opportunity to ask Harry about it. Susan was up in her room working on a summer assignment for Filius and Harry was pursuing their bookcase.

“Have you thought much about what you want to do after school?” she asked him neutrally when she entered the sitting room.

Harry stiffened slightly and turned so his back was to the bookshelf.

“M-maybe work in the Ministry,” he said softly, glancing quickly behind her to the empty doorway.

“But not in the DMLE, right?”

Harry jerked his eyes to her, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

He looked incredibly like Lily in that moment.

“I just think m-maybe I could make m-more of a difference somewhere else,” he mumbled.

“Hmm,” she indulged him thoughtfully. “And what kind of differences would you make?”

Harry shrugged but his eyes got a gleam in them that reminded her of James’ eyes when he was on a rant about Transfiguration.

“I’d get rid of the idea of bloodlines mattering first. And I’d let Goblins and Elves and Werewolves and other magical beings have a voice in the Wizengamot. It’s stupid not to include them.”

Amelia smiled, Harry held very idealistic views on the future of the British Wixen World.

“And I’d set up a way to find muggleborns sooner, and move them to our world before they’re 11.”

That caught Amelia by surprise.

“Why?” she asked incredulously.

Harry averted his eyes from hers, staring down at his hands, which were clenched tightly in to fists.

“Muggles are dangerous, yeah?

“Are they?” She asked gently, thinking again of his extensive injuries. Severus hadn’t said that Harry was raised in the Muggle world, just that he had an unsatisfactory home life that he needed sanctuary from for the summer.

But that diagnostic scan had spoken for itself. And Harry had no living Wixen relations. Which just left Muggles.