The students continued discussing the mysterious defeat of the troll as November rolled around. Harry was quite amused hearing some of the wilder theories. His personal favorite- Snape transformed into a troll and battled the first one to the death. From the gossip he overheard one of the prefects whispering, none of the teachers knew what happened, a fact that concerned even Dumbledore. Let the old man be concerned, it was good for his ego.
The only two students to keep out of dissociations where, unsurprisingly, Hermione and Amare. Hermione spent most of her days glancing at Harry, which became quite bothersome very quickly. He tried speaking to her on many occasions, especially when they both occupied the library, but he usually got a small squeak in return.
Amare on the other hand was acting strange. She avoided Harry during launces at the Great Hall and walked to classes together with Blaise. In fact she did everything with Blaise, which made Harry feel...something. He didn't know what but he knew he disliked it. Each time they spoke it was brief and her eyes where filled with some sort of emotion. Sadness, his mind supplied quite unhelpfully.
But why? He pondered over the matter as he sat at the Gryffindor table next to Neville. He slowly ate his eggs as he watched distractedly Amare and Blaise laughing. She looked so happy. Her beauty glowed in the grayish light of the upcoming winter.
"...arry?"
"Uh?" he missed Neville's question.
"Who do you think will win?" he asked again kindly. Neville was a nice boy, with a good heart. After Harry fought with Ron the morning after the troll incident he made a decision to stick with Neville, for the mean time at least. Talk of the fight was only second to gossips of the troll-Coming to the Great Hall, Harry heard Ron trash talking Hermione once again, but this time the dark haired boy had had enough- 'You don't deserve to talk to anybody like that' 'You need to humble yourself quickly before life does it for you' 'You achieved nothing yet, and you insult those who try and help you' 'You are no better than Malfoy, your prejudice is just aimed at a different group' . They weren't on speaking terms as of yet and Harry wasn't pushing for it.
"Win where?" he asked halfheartedly.
"Wher- the Quidditch match of course!" Neville exclaimed, disbelieve on his face, "Gryffindor against Slythrien?"
"When is it?" A plan was starting to form in Harry's mind.
"Um next week?" Perfect.
On Saturday morning, as the body of students and teachers moved as one to the Quidditch pitch, Harry grabbed Neville-"I will meet you there, okay?"
"You sure mate?" but he was dragged away as well. Truthfully Harry had no intention of going to the game. The now empty castle held more appeal- Specifically a certain corridor on the third floor. He wasn't dumb, of course he knew Dumbledore wanted him to go there. He wouldn't have talked about it otherwise. But curiosity was getting the better out of him.
Sneaking into the suspiciously empty corridor proved to be easier than expected. Armed with his wand and brains he stood in front of the dark wood door. Touching it, he focused on his want for it to open, smiling as he felt it move and creak beneath his hand.
"Are you ready, Loki?" He hissed to his little blue snake.
"Of course, Masssster"
What he expected to see there he didn't know, but this was surely not it. The room was dimly lit and dusty which was unsurprising. The huge three headed dog laying in the middle however was a different story. It took him precisely one second to decide he wanted to live and run out. No matter his abilities a monster that size was too much for him. There had to be a way to get past it!
With that on his mind he went to research the matter in the library, only stopping once he heard a small cough signaling the presence of Hermione. She stood beside his table, the sun hitting her curls and making her eyes look like honey.
"Is the game over?" he asked, sensing her awkwardness.
Shuffling from one foot to the other, she replied, "Yes, uh- Slytherin won." Her eyes scanned the book he was reading-'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them', "You need help?"
"No," he made sure to soften his voice, "But your company would be more than welcomed."
For the first time since he met her, she gave him a genuine smile. Sitting next to him, she opened her own book, "Well, I was just reading a book about dragons- can you believe they exist?- and really, such fascinating creatures..."
Listening distantly to her chatter Harry began thinking. Yes the dog was interesting, but what was it hiding? What was Dumbledore hiding?
It felt like winter came overnight-the castle woke up covered in snow. It seemed like the only students unhappy with the change were Harry and Neville who watched their tiny garden struggle to get the last rays of sunshine.
"I think Neville," said Harry awkwardly, "we might have to start over."
"Umm- maybe?" he desperately touched the sad leaves of his favorite plant. Harry felt bad for the boy- he saw each plant as family.
The last days of school before Christmas were spent merrily. Hagrid was seen dragging huge oak trees into the Great Hall and the professors were decorating each hallway with red hats and little snowflakes. At one point Harry gave up on the school uniform altogether since it did nothing to protect him from the cold between classes. He had seen Malfoy and his goons eyeing his clothes with jealousy. Good. They weren't the only one to look at him like that though- he had caught Amare giving him and Hermione the same look. He really did hope Christmas together would soften her.
Being distant from Amare was starting to sadden Harry, which in turn made him more prone to lash out at annoying Gryffindors. The only thing that gave him immeasurable joy was a letter from Gringgots, the day before the holidays.
Dear Mister Potter Black Slytherin Gryffindor Peverell Emrys ,
Your presence is required most urgently, as we believe to have found evidence in support to our claims of your godfather's innocence.
In addition, a meeting with our finest curse breaker has been arranged- the day after Yule.
I shall not elaborate more, in case this letter falls to the wrong hands,
May your gold flow,
Griphook
***
"Are you going to continue ignoring me?" asked Harry with an edge to his tone.
"I will keep ignoring you as long as you continue keeping secrets from me." Amare answer coldly, her eyes betraying her true emotions.
"I don't keep anything from you! I trusted you with my past, with my present and most definitely with my future!" desperation and anger kept fighting for control in his heart. They didn't ride the train together. They set silently in the back seat of the limousine on their way home. Harry couldn't take it anymore- Amare was being ridicules for no reason. Cornering her in her room, he intended to get some answers.
"No you didn't! You didn't trust me with your past!" her eyes turned glossy, "You killed the troll and didn't even flinch! You can go days forgetting to eat! You-you, you are clinical, and-and you look at your mates as though they are children! Is this how you look at me? Am I just someone you will grow bored of?"
"Wh- Have could you say that! I will never grow bored of you, you are my sister- my best friend!" Amare was never insecure, never. And there she was, fear rooted deep in her heart. How did it get to this?
"Then tell me the whole truth- tell me what happened to you. I found you on the streets with wild eyes and torn clothes. You told me about the orphanage, but that can't be the only bad thing to happen to you. What are you hiding from me?"
"I... I can't tell you." You would leave me.
"Right."
Breathing hard, they both stared at each other- a sense of finality in the air. Slowly Harry turned around and walked out, a single tear escaping his pretty eyes.
He strolled the garden grounds aimlessly. Not for the first time he wished to be a normal kid, with a normal childhood. The snow melted beneath his frustration and the snowflakes avoided him. Some would say the winter season fitted him most. His dark hair moved slightly with the winds, his marble face as though a statue, his glowing green eyes reflecting in the white snow. The cold and unmoving weather a reflection of his blank stare. But Harry knew better. Winter was his opposite- it was family time, it was warmth from the fireplace, it was joy and presents and snow days. Things he never had.
"I'm sorry." Amare set beside him in the snow. He hummed in response, eyes set to the setting sun. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that, if you don't want to share it's fi-
"I was a horrible person Amare. I hurt people." The sun painted the sky in purple.
"You were a child..."she whispered, her eyes never leaving his profile.
"I was never given the luxury of being one. I grew up in a war zone of starving, lonely children. And when I finally escaped- the streets weren't better. At least the orphanage protected us from people," he bitterly spat, "the people were the worst. There was this one men who just loved children,"
"Harry..."
"And one day he saw me. But I never let him -He was the first one I killed," the tears fell without a warning, "He was a bad men, but was I any better?"
"Oh Harry" and she hugged him, her warmth covering his scars, "You were a child who was forced to grow up too quickly. You are amazing and I promise you- that man deserved worse".
"I just don't want to lose you, you know? You are my only family." He mumbled into her coat.
"And you won't. You are mine Harry, as I am yours."
***
The party was full of glamor and wow and everything Harry couldn't care less about. While he did miss his room and the comforts of the manor, he found himself longing to go back to Hogwarts. Amare was happy to spend some time with her father, even if they were only stolen moments.
Moving gracefully through the ballroom he watched carefully as politicians closed deals, business man exchanged information and men eyed women who were most definitely taken.
"Enjoying yourself?"
"Always." Harry looked as Mr. Ratcliffe stood beside him. He always did wonder how a man like that managed to have an heir like Amare. There were no similarities whatsoever between the square, rough looking man and the delicate, blue eyed girl.
"Calculated as ever I see." He gave a short laugh, "Not even boarding school could change that."
"Not that particular school, no" the boy took a sip of wine he managed to steal minutes ago.
"If only the men in this room were half as much as you." His watchful eyes looked as couples danced and servants moved about. Harry quickly gave a glance, surprised.
"Why the sentiment, Mr. Ratcliffe?"
"I want to make a business deal with you," he turned towards Harry, "Watch over my daughter, keep her from harm. After her mother's death I tried my best, but I'm too busy- too far gone."
"She loves you."
"I know," he sadly said," Keep your end of the deal Harry, I can't risk losing her."
"I will, but what's your end of the deal? What do I get?" he asked curiously. Mr. Ratcliffe smiled, but it was clear his mind had already traveled far away, into memories long forgotten.
"The thing you will want most, and I will miss most- my daughter."
***
"Welcome back, Mister Potter." Said Griphook, his sharp teeth eliminated by the light. The office was full of gold decorations and old books, lists upon lists of client's information.
"Pleasure," he answered, face void of any emotion. No reason bringing familiarity into business.
"Straight to the point then," the goblin said," We have come to believe Mister Black was unable to betray your parents. After our investigators questioned, "Harry had a feeling they used illegal means but found he couldn't care less," some of the older members of the Order of The Phoenix, it was reviled that a Fidelius charm was used to hide your parents, but Mister Black was not chosen to be the secret keeper."
"You'll have to explain what you just said- The Order of The Phoenix? Fidelius charm? How does it prove anything?" Harry hated not understanding.
"The order was established during the war by Albus Dumbledore as an opposition to The Dark Lord. According to our records your parents and Mister Black were a part of it."
"Why would a bank contain such records?" frowning he asked. Griphook looked slightly offended.
"Money is money Mister Potter. It is the beginning of all and the ending. Whoever holds the money holds the power. Transactions, shared vaults- we have information considering even the most powerful wizards."
"I never meant any disrespect- simple curiosity and lack of knowledge." He bowed his head.
"Make sure to fix it if you intend on dwelling into such matters," the goblin stated, "Now, back to business- The Fidelius charm. It is an extremely difficult, multifaceted and potent charm that can be used to conceal a secret inside an individual's soul; the witch or wizard who houses the secret is known as the Secret Keeper. A dwelling whose location has been protected by this spell is then invisible, intangible, unplottable and soundproof. This is an extremely old spell, one of the most ancient of all.
Sirius Black was thought to be the secret keeper, thus the betrayer. But with the available information we can conclude it was actually Peter Pettigrew."
"Useful as it is, Sirius is in prison because he murdered thirteen muggles. How does it help his case." He asked careful to not disrespect the goblin once more.
"You are correct, it doesn't. But it will get him a trial, one he was deprived of ten years ago."
Never had a trail. How is that possible? Harry had the faint feeling Dumbledore was behind it all.
"Fantastic. When can it be arranged?" He clapped his hands once.
"By the end of the year, if I'm correct in my calculations." Griphook's grin was menacing. The golden walls as though a halo around his head.
"One more thing before we head out to meet the curse breaker," Harry asked, already getting up," Dumbledore is hiding something in the castle- do you happen to know what?"
Griphook gave a small growl at the mention, clearly unimpressed with the old wizard's distrust of the bank.
"I can't share my client's secrets with you," he slowly said, his face taking on an ugly sneer, "But I can say this- He is a fool to hide it in Hogwarts. A treasure of unimaginable power once belonging to Nicolas Flamel, I am sure you are smart enough to figure it out."
The name tickled his mind. Nicolas Flamel. He knew him, from somewhere, somehow. But even so, why hide such treasure in a school? Albus Dumbledore was a mystery far more challenging than he first thought. Plus his choice in teachers was horrible really. Snape with his constant pettiness and lack of teaching skills- not to mention his black as night magical core. Quirrell who was just a mess. A defense against the dark arts class and he still hadn't used a wand at all. Never mind that, he had a curse breaker to meet after all.
Bill Weasley was everything Ron wasn't. He was confident, quietly imposing, long hair and earing and all. And he was handsome. Really handsome. Harry tried ignoring that voice in the back of his mind as they went over the introductions. Turned out his voice was smooth and kind. It was all very confusing if he was honest with himself.
Apparently Bill was in the middle of a project in Egypt (explained his golden tan – not that Harry noticed) which involved some hard work in different Pyramids. Harry looked over his record before hand, and it was quite obvious the man knew what he was doing. They laid out a simple plan of work on how to approach the estate. Harry didn't want anyone stepping in, just loosen up the more deadly curses would do. He asked Bill to teach him some basic runes and wards so he'll know what to do once inside. They agreed to talk it out over owl during the year.
Satisfied he went outside to the snow covered Diagon Alley. He breathed in the cold air, the ice spreading in his lungs. There were no people walking about- probably too cold for that. He was never bothered by it, a small blessing during the winter on the streets. He wondered if he should have told Amare about that little trip of his, but some things he wanted to keep to himself. His godfather was one of them. For now at least.
He stood outside the shabby wand shop, thinking. Without even noticing his hand wrapped itself around his wand, luckily no one was around to distract him with their core. The light from the shops nearby painted his face gold, his pretty eyes as though a curse in motion. Without so much as a sound he entered the shop.
He remembered his first time here, the feeling of hopelessness as he tried wand after wand, the happiness as he had found the one that completed him. A couple months past and he had questions- ones Ollivander would answer, whether he wanted or not.
"Mister Potter, what a pleasure." The voice of the man himself carried from the back of the dim shop.
"I wish I could say the same, but alas, I need something from you Ollivander." He walked slowly and sat on the only chair in the room, his legs crossed and wand dangling dangerously from his hand. He didn't look eleven. He was tall and beautiful and powerful with eyes which saw empires built and fall.
"And what would that be?" the old man asked, watching the white wand warily. He stopped behind the counter, not daring to come closer. Harry knew the man feared not his power but his knowledge- of the wand, of what Ollivander had done.
"This wand," he lifted it, four pair of eyes following its movement," It's not a regular wand. You said you were young when you made it. I want to know what you did to turn it into whatever this is. How does it work? Why did it choose me, of all people?"
"Oh Mister Potter, trust me when I say- I did not make that wand-" he pointed a shaky finger at it.
"What? But you told me-"Harry set up with an edge to his voice.
"That I was young and foolish-yes, I indeed was. But I wasn't cruel, I would never-never- murder anyone!" His eyes searched for belief, for forgiveness. But Harry wasn't there to calm an old man, he was there because he had an itch he needed removed.
"Then how did you come across it?"
"I read about it." his voice was barely a whisper, eyes unseeing as he walked through his own memories," A wand so powerful, so dangerous- passed away from stranger to strange, leaving a river of blood behind it. I searched for it for years but I couldn't find it! But then, in a quite village in Germany, I started hearing murmurs of a wizard with a wand as white as bone. And I waited- and waited- until fate was finally by my side. The wizard passed away a peaceful death- and at night, I went to his grave and dug up the wand. It was beating, Mister Potter, as though it had a heart! I knew- from legends- what it contained, and I couldn't- I just couldn't- once I got it.... I put it away. I hid it. Hoped no one would ever be paired with it. But I was wrong."
"Whose heart was it? According to the legends." Harry asked, mesmerized by the story.
"No one knows. A mystery. Some say it contains the heart and bones of the first wizard. Others say death itself hid his own heart there. But those who were there when it was made are long gone and you can't ask the dead such question." His voice was grave.
"Why? Surly there's a way to speak to the dead?"
"You could, but the problem is, they might answer."