Chapter 3
An emergency portkey brought Harry back to his hidden room in the Dursley household. He staggered to his potions tray and picked two stone containers filled with Blood Replenishing Potion, something about the nature of the potion demanded that it be stored that way. He gulped the two doses feeling the cold stone on his fevered skin.
He needed a healing spell for the gash on his torso, but he couldn’t concentrate beyond a basic blood clotting charm. Healing was a discipline requiring focus and power, he had enough of the latter but the blood loss made it risky to cast anything on himself with his dizziness. His secret power was escaping his control; he had to banish the excess back to the Department of Mysteries. But it was also his only hope of healing himself without resorting to the complex spell work needed.
Hoping that like few times when he was in a bind sheer will would be enough, Harry muttered episkey falling to his knees and letting go of his control of the power. He felt its oncoming and was overwhelmed by a feeling of smothering heat to which he succumbed consciousness. He dropped to his face on the floor of the room.
Clearly, trying to fight Mortfidèle without hurting Sirius had cost him.
Harry woke up and peeled his face off the wooden floor where blood had caked on him. He rolled over feeling the tug of the sticky and dry liquid on his clothes. Craning his neck he felt over his chest to find it whole. With sudden alacrity he jumped to his feet and realized he had reverted back to his eleven year old body. He changed out of the bloody clothes absently noting that he would need another cloak to blend in the magical world. He moved like a child possessed, his thoughts as feverish as his body had been earlier.
He checked himself in the bathroom after taking a shower. The damage to his chest and torso had been severe; Mortfidèle’s wandless expelling hex had been unnecessarily vicious. Where the blood gushing wound had been, Harry had a scar covering him. It looked like the veins of a leaf spreading out from one curving stem from his shoulder to his hip. It was white and shone like scar tissue, but if one didn’t know the source of the mark it could easily be mistaken as adornment. All I need is a dragon tattoo and the picture would be complete, oh! And if my balls dropped that would help too. Merlin, it sucks to be eleven.
With that thought he dressed and with purpose went to the reading chair he always had pulled up to the window. He sat down for his think and poured the alcohol waiting by his hand. He had done this many times. There were too many things he had faced that would rip apart his mental fortitude and emotional stamina for disaster – Sirius being Voldemort’s right hand was one of them. And to add insult to injury he was the one who had saved the man at least partially complicit in his parent’s death from Azkaban. If it weren’t for Sirius’s show of remorse Harry would have completely written himself off as a blundering tragedy waiting to happen.
“Alright Harry, you unleashed a half Voldemort on the world. Brilliant work. The other half is your godfather who can taunt and laugh simultaneously casting silent spells to hold off a witch like Bellatrix,” Harry paused in his listing to take a comfortable shot of whiskey. “So you’ve fucked the world and your sister in one swoop. Outstanding.” He shut his eyes against the glare of the late afternoon sun.
He had held off his fear for Sirius long enough and the terrible question of how much he had betrayed the light when he had been dueling Mortfidèle but now he had all the luxury of time to brood over the question. Did he deserve his forgiveness? Mortfidèle frightened even Malfoy; what kind of things did Sirius do as his partly possessed alter ego? Harry wet his mouth, dry from the thought that he had lost his godfather a second time. Somehow in this world the public had gotten it right, blaming Sirius as Voldemort’s second, while Voldemort’s own Death Eaters had no knowledge of his ‘Hidden Hand’s’ true identity.
Sirius’s words echoed in his mind: Run! Save Harry and Bianca, he will come for them. ...Ask them to forgive me.
Harry laughed madly, something torn out of the depths of his grief and desperation. He laughed to the ceiling, his face upturned in a grimace. It was as if the laughter was a dry and futile challenge to someone or something higher than him; and it was derisive.
He heckled God who he’d long ago given up on when his baby boy had started killing his own family and when he was forced to end his own child’s life to save the world. Now he was being asked to kill his godfather, the one man he wanted to do right by this time and whose life he wanted to ease. Harry shook his head to the ceiling; a silent rejection of what fate seemed to be telling him to do.
“Where is that letter?” He fumed, wanting to move on and do something proactive than sit there and lament the twists of fate.
He wanted access to his vault and unless someone from Dumbledore showed up to escort him to Diagon Alley he was never receiving the key. The goblin keys could not be duplicated. He also needed Dumbledore to invite him into the castle so he could destroy the horcrux placed in Rowena’s diadem.
Everything had to change. Before knowing of Bianca’s existence he knew how everything was going to happen. He had planned on finishing off Voldemort his first year. Allowing the Dark Lord to find the Philosopher’s Stone and regain a corporeal body that would be easier for him to kill.
With his actions he had both Voldemort and Mortfidèle looking for Bianca, with the added bonus of Mortfidèle knowing Harry Potter The Boy Squib was someone he needed to get rid of since the squib could command a servant like Neville. Perfect, Harry thought sarcastically rubbing his temples.
He had to get to Hogwarts, he needed the key to his vault; those things were still a priority. The only wildcard in the mix was having to protect his newly found sister, a time traveler like him who was probably taking actions in advance of things happening already. He groaned realizing that they could be working counter to each other.
He was brooding when a thought crossed his mind that made him pause in the act of bringing the bottle to his lips. Carefully he returned it on the coaster and shut his eyes taking a deep breath to slow his thought process enough to make a sound judgment.
The first thing Voldemort had done after coming back was to try and steal the prophecy. With Mortfidèle on the loose it wasn’t a stretch of imagination that he may want to know the prophecy that had brought down his ‘source’ as he had called Voldemort.
“Well, at least, it’s something to do.” Harry smiled. He looked out of his window noting that the sun was still in the sky. Not knowing how soon Mortfidèle would make his move he decided to make it before him.
Having charmed the clothes Petunia had bought him while under the imperius to an adult size Harry once again took the polyjuice to become Neville the Death Eater poseur. Lucius had been considerate enough to bring with him a rich green cloak that Harry had draped around himself.
They both stood near the entrance to the Ministry of Magic as a lazy summer wind kicked up their cloaks.
“Discretion is a must, Lucius. They believe you to be dead or kidnapped. If you are discovered, take my body and run. You have to protect my body at all costs, understand?”
“It will be done as you wish it, but how do you intend to get through all the Ministry’s Aurors and Unspeakables?” Malfoy asked, clearly distressed that Harry didn’t seem to be taking the problem seriously.
“Wait and see, Lucius. I think you will enjoy yourself. Shall we?” Harry gestured toward the telephone booth.
“Of course.” Malfoy followed Harry’s polyjuiced form into the booth and dialed the number.
When asked to declare themselves Harry gave their names as ‘Pugnatious Weatherby and Sardonus Malcrecent.’ He smiled at Lucius’s bemused face quietly fingering the Resurrection Stone hanging around his neck.
The Ministry as always was magnificent, a row of fireplaces burning green flames on both sides of the corridor led to an expansive magical veil on which silver words winked in and out giving visitors information and showing cryptic messages only those who spoke Magical Bureaucraticese could understand. Sitting like a small boat in a sea of people was the wand check-in kiosk as an apologetic gate post to the Ministry proper.
Harry signaled to Lucius to wait. They turned toward each other as two wizards consulting where to go before going further.
“My lord?” Lucius looked askance towards the guard sitting at the kiosk.
“I thought I asked you not to call me that,” Harry muttered distractedly as he took off the Resurrection Stone from the chain around his neck.
“I have not yet come upon an appropriate name.” Lucius gave a short bow as if in apology. “How can I get past the guard without revealing my identity? The Ministry employs basic defenses against the Disillusionment charm, we both will be discovered.”
“Faith, Lucius. Give me a moment.” Harry had become fairly adept at chiding his subordinates and students for pestering him, but unlike with them he did not have to be blatant with Lucius.
“Forgive me.” Lucius gave his short bow again and Harry dismissed it with a wave of his hand, his concentration solely on the stone. He had moved so that Lucius could not see or guess what he was doing. He turned it a couple of times his mind and words focused on who he wanted to summon.
Three women appeared standing tall above him. Even in their transparent forms they were devastatingly beautiful, creatures of delicate features, lush colored eyes, and expressions of polite invitation. Silky feathers made their sheer gowns that hugged their waists and bloomed over their legs, blowing in unfelt wind. Bare shoulders and arms defeated the limits of their spirit essence to look touched by the moon’s soft paleness, demanding to be caressed. Their hair, all shades of the unbridled river, fell free and long, touching innocence upon their lustrous bodies.
For long moments both Harry and Lucius Malfoy gawped at them in awe.
“You summon us again, kind sorcerer, we did not recognize you in your disguise. We wish peace on you.” One lady curtseyed.
Harry bowed himself. “Ladies Peisinoe, Aglaope, Thelxiepeia, I greet you in peace and in need.”
“We have never refused you, kind sorcerer. Life is as merciless as the ocean to you, we will sooth you with our song until you come through this veil to us where we can care for you ourselves,” another lady spoke and her voice echoed around them like a current lapping gently on the body.
“I go on a quest for prophecy, ladies fair. Many warrior mages stand in my way and many innocents as well. I do not wish to harm either. If you would lend your voices to my purpose they would come to you and be safe away from where I must go.”
“You do know you are in a different place now, kind sorcerer? You have traversed a path one of your stature is not allowed to. My heart bleeds that you may have provoked the wrath of those who keep measure and scale of the worlds. We sisters will sing for you, but do not reproach us if the song is melancholy, we worry for you,” the third lady spoke and Lucius thought there may be tears in her eyes.
She struck the chords on a lyre he hadn’t seen and a look of pure emotion crossed the face of the muggle body Harry was using. Even a master observer of subtleties, Lucius could not determine what exactly his new lord was feeling.
“Thank you, fair ladies. I am eager to meet you beyond the veil one day and thank you for all you have done for me.” Harry bowed and came out of it to give Lucius a piercing look. “Let him be free of your influence, he must guard my body while I leave it to go on my quest.”
The ladies inclined their heads as one, their fine fingers teased the strings on their lyres, and three voices rose clear and mournful, spreading throughout the Ministry and reaching every sentient mind. The voices undulated in words long unheard and notes so magical they sent the ones listening to unknowable ecstasies of spirit.
Harry stood with Lucius as silent droves of witches and wizards began to gather, coming from the elevator, apparating to the main hall from their offices further underground. The ladies sang standing against each other calling them all.
“Who are they?” Lucius asked in an awe stricken voice.
“They are the Sirens of legend, Lucius. Much kinder beings than what our stories make them out to be.”
Lucius turned to him wide eyed. “I knew your power was great, my lord, but this? That you can summon Sirens out of myth is unfathomable.”
“You really have to start calling me something other than that, you know. Come, Lucius, I need a place to sit down where you can guard me.” Harry led against the press of wizards and witches trying to get close to the Sirens.
They passed the wand check-in desk without event and found a bench by the large elevator bringing ever increasing number of people up.
“Well I took everyone away but the wards, curses, and other magic is still on the secret areas. We don’t have much time so I will be performing something risky. If I don’t wake up before the Sirens leave take me to your manor and I will eventually come to.” Harry instructed Lucius who was keeping one eye to the mass of ministry employees and visitors being bewitched by the Sirens.
“You said you would be leaving your body, master,” Lucius made it a question.
“’Master’ isn’t much better than ‘my lord,’ and yes I will be. No more questions, Lucius, just do what I ask.” Harry closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wall, knowing Lucius would obey him to the letter.
As before Harry began his magic; quieting his mind and heart, so he could feel his secret power which simmered just under the surface of his active consciousness. The source of his strength was so close that it felt him right away. Like water filling an empty vessel it rushed to him but this time he did not want that. With supreme strength of will he tried to turn it back, using nonsensical words to give a language to his intent which the power could understand. The tide turned taking him with it, just as he wanted. He felt his consciousness and maybe his soul pulled away from his body as he became a fish in the ocean of the mysterious power.
When he opened his eyes he was one with the golden light pulsing in the underground room. He had tried this only once before and he had almost lost himself then. The power became his body, forming the physical limits of his consciousness and housing his soul – the feel of smothering heat that in his own body was unbearable was refreshing and liberating when it became all he was.
The room was painfully bright from the light of the power. Harry clearly saw the door and thought to move. His plasmatic body responded comfortably making him feel feather light. His luminance washed everything he passed in pale golden light showing him the insides of Department of Mysteries clearly. A spiral staircase cut into stone curved up from the door of ‘that terrible power’ and Harry climbed swiftly unimpeded by the limits of tiring muscles and out of breath lungs.
As he had planned all Unspeakables had left the department to answer the Sirens’ call, he could hear their song as strong and as beautiful as it was when he was standing right next to them. Being that the room he had come from was the most secure and heavily warded of the whole of the Ministry it was smart to invade it from within, he had simply bypassed any of the Unspeakables’ imaginative and sometimes cruel ways of keeping intruders out.
Soon he was opening the door to let him enter the room of revolving doors. A sight gave him pause and he wondered if some spell had recognized his intrusion and was attempting to trick him into being captured: a very young child was hanging upside down in the middle of the air with red distortions in the air seemingly to hold them there. Their robes had fallen over themselves and Harry could see panties with fire trucks in the blue flames of the torches in the Revolving Room.
“What strange bait,” he mused, focusing on the red crinkled distortions in the air; definitely traps of some kind. As he got closer he realized the child was humming to the Sirens’ song; apparently too high off of it to realize their situation. It’s probably a girl, no self respecting boy would wear panties, even if it does have fire trucks on it.
He kneeled by the head of the girl and lifted the robes up so he could see her face; he noticed that his hands were made of swirling golden light. Hazel eyes stared back at him stupidly.
“Bianca?” He was stunned to find the upturned child to be the girl claiming him as her brother. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She didn’t respond but continued humming to the Sirens’ song. Harry made a frustrated noise and touched his plasmatic hands to the sides of her face sending a shock of his power through her. She came to, her eyes widening in shock at seeing him and remembering her situation. Frantically she pushed her robed so they covered her panties but her legs were still bare and her buckle-shoed feet kicked at the red spells that had caught her.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked again, much calmly.
“Dad?” she asked with such hesitant hope that it took Harry aback.
He stood up and made the wand motions in the air to conjure a mirror. He practically felt the power going out from him and pulling matter somewhere to do as he asked. In the tall mirror he saw himself as a being made of light looking like himself in the future; over forty with hair he knew had grayed prematurely at the tips and a face gaunt with giving too much. He sighed understanding Bianca’s mistake.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, not correcting her. The mirror vanished as he turned his attention to the spells keeping Bianca trapped. Reaching for them he pulled them off her as if they were simply spider webs he was cleaning. With a thump she fell to the floor, rubbing her side.
“I had to get the prophecy,” she explained.
“And how were you planning to get through the wards and curses?” Harry crossed his arms, looking down on her.
“They weren’t there last time,” she argued.
“You came back in time from your fifth year?”
She nodded, still in awe of him.
“And you were thrown back when you were fighting in the Department of Mysteries.”
She nodded again, looking quite like the child eager to please.
“And you thought that just because the Death Eaters in the future had dismantled and dissipated the protection magic to lure you into the prophecy chamber there would not be any magic against intruders in the past either.”
She nodded dutifully before realizing Harry’s sarcasm and shuffled her feet sheepishly. Harry let out a suffering sigh. He had been afraid they would be working counter to each other, now he had to worry she would simply get herself killed with what she knew. Damned teenagers! Fifteen in an eleven year-old’s body and she thinks she can take on the Ministry.
“Did you think before rushing in?” he quite felt like he was talking to one of his children or Weasley nephews.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” her words came out blubbering and watery. He realized that for her this was the first time she was talking to her father and he was giving her a lecture.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He knelt wrapping her in the heat of his secret strength made physical in the moment. “Shh.” He comforted her.
The girl did not let go of him feeling content to cry her heart out. In his form he did not feel her body as he would have otherwise; she felt more like a current of energy small and fragile. He decided to tell her he wasn’t her father after she had her moment of catharsis. Vague recollection of his own fifth year reminded him that he had a lot of pent up stress from worry and anger.
When she seemed to wind down he stepped away from her. “I am not your dad; I know I look a lot like him. Just think of me as your guardian angel, alright?” he said quickly.
“You’re not my father?” Her eyes showed her suspicion. “But you look exactly like him.”
“I know, but I am not. Let’s go we don’t have much time.” Harry moved toward the right door, knowing the lay out of the department well from his days as an Auror friendly with the Unspeakables.
“Wait!” she shouted and he realized he had walked too fast for her if her running after him was any measure. “How are you my guardian angel?” she panted.
“No time for questions, you already wasted it getting caught. We have to get the prophecy out and be gone before the song stops.” He had moved too fast again and she was far behind him running to catch up.
“Who is singing? It’s so beautiful,” she asked getting slightly mesmerized again. Harry rested his hand against her cheek shocking her once again with his power. “Ow!”
“Focus, girl. Here,” he gave little warning before levitating her making her squeal in surprise and then moved with that inexplicable speed his projected body allowed him. Unfortunately this time his passing had the soundtrack of a girl shrieking in his ear.
Girls! Harry thought to himself coming to a sudden stop in front of the shelves upon shelves of prophecies. And there it sat with a nebulous light in its heart: S.T to A.P.W.B.D reference B.H.P and the Dark Lord. Harry put his hand on the prophecy and the magic on the ball fought his presence before it was easily overwhelmed by the superior magic. It floated into his arm and came to rest in the middle of his chest.
“That’s my prophecy,” Bianca Potter demanded from where she was floating in the air.
“Do you know what it says?” Harry asked. She shook her head no. He hoped she didn’t see what crossed his mind. Now he was in Dumbledore’s position. Could he tell the child knowing she’d go through everything he had? Fifteen was hardly old enough.
In golden light coming from his body and the faint periwinkle luminescence of the orbs highlighted the healthy blush in her child face. She looked innocent and fresh, even if her eyes were intent and demanding showing a little more wisdom than her age.
He couldn’t do it.
“You shouldn’t be found here.” He flew back to the revolving doors ignoring her shout of ‘give me the prophecy.’ In moments they were at the elevators on the ninth floor. He set her down and she drew her wand marking him without a waver.
He smiled, so she was brave and not completely trusting. He could write off her earlier loss of composure on apparently seeing her dead father.
“I wouldn’t use that. You don’t want to be picked up for underage magic. Did you consider that by the way when you came here?”
“It was worth the risk. Give it to me.” She looked determined and Harry realized he was beginning to like her attitude.
“Bianca…now is not the time. Go upstairs. A wizard named Neville will be waiting for you, he will escort you home.”
“No! I came here for the orb!”
“Can you protect your mind from invasion? You know how badly your enemy wants this, how easy would it be for him to pluck it out of your mind?” He could see her face crumpling with each question, and he felt elated that he had guessed right: she was as bad as he had been at occluding her mind. “I will keep this safe for you until you are ready.” She tried to interrupt him but he spoke over her. “As a reward for being patient, Neville will cast a charm on you that will let you do magic outside of school without the Ministry knowing.” He could see her interest peaked.
“How will you know when I am ready?”
“I will ask your brother.”
“My brother?” An adorable look of confusion turned to surprise when Harry banished her to the elevator at the top of the Ministry where it was waiting.
He returned to the chamber of power where the fullness of the mysterious magic threatened to drown him in itself. Using the same method as before he put his will to words of intent that expelled his consciousness from the chamber back to his body ten stories and change above.
A coughing fit hit him as he returned to his polyjuiced body and he almost dropped the orb he had banished into his hands. Without looking he shoved it into his pocket as a hand thumped him on the back.
“Are you well?” Lucius asked in concern.
“Yes, yes. Any trouble?”
“No, the sisters’ song is too beautiful to ignore. To think that what I feel is without them attempting to influence me is unbelievable.”
“You sound like you’re in love, Lucius.” Harry grinned getting up to look for Bianca coming out of the elevator.
“It is difficult not to be.”
“Lucius, we must move fast. Tonight I will bring Avery Sr. to my side and your wife. Tomorrow Avery Jr. must do what he needs to for us. And you need to return to your public life a victim of Death Eaters. But most importantly I need you to find out if anyone is gathering the dark to themselves.”
“Yes, my…” Lucius paused uncomfortably. “The Sirens’ song has given me a name for you. If it pleases you we shall call you Achelous, the Sirens’ sire.”
“Not bad, when I said nothing dramatic I thought names of gods would be off the list. But I don’t mind being named something that reminds you of the ladies fair.”
He stood up indicating to Lucius it was time to go. “Fine, Lucius. Owls addressed to Achelous will reach me if you have need of me. Now I have to go, I will see you and your wife tonight.”
“Yes, Achelous.”
Harry had spotted Bianca coming out of the elevator and walk to the Sirens as enchanted as anyone else. The magic he had cast on her to help her resist their call had fallen. He watched her pony tail swing as she jogged through the crowd easily maneuvering around people’s legs because of her size.
Surreptitiously Harry sent a little charm at her back that made her hood rise and cover her head. He followed her to the front of the ring that had formed around the Sirens. The sisters were smiling at Bianca their song turning a little happier.
“Farewell, ladies. I shall call you soon.” He bowed to them putting a hand on Bianca’s shoulder.
“Farewell, kind sorcerer,” one sister broke her song to speak with him. “Keep the young fated one close. She will save you from the wrath of those who would punish you for your travel. We will wait till you have left.”
“I will, Lady Peisinoe.” He waved a fond goodbye to the other two sisters and dragged Bianca back with him to the exit.
As they left the Ministry and came to the sunset outside he saw Bianca becoming less bewitched. She noticed him and shrugged off his hand with alarm, stepping away from him.
“Excuse me!” she said angrily.
“I am Neville.”
“Oh!” she looked surprised. Maybe she didn’t believe me downstairs. “I’m Bianca Po-”
“Don’t say your name,” Harry warned reapplying the voice modification charm on himself when his voice cracked. He pointed to the muggles walking by so she’d understand they weren’t alone. “I am here to take you home, and take off the Ministry’s tracking spells on you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll go home myself.” She gave him a suspicious look and backed away.
“Your guardian angel promised you my help,” Harry said wondering if the girl had finally come to her senses and started being less trusting. Albeit this time he didn’t look like her father.
“How do I know you were who he was talking about?”
Harry could see her hand clenching her wand in her pocket. Her caution was working against him but anything less would have made him mad at her carelessness.
“I suppose you don’t.” Harry wondered how he could prove his trust worthiness to her. “Well, for one, how would I know to take off the Trace on you and escort you home if your guardian didn’t tell me?”
“You could’ve been following me and heard him say that.”
“Good girl,” Harry said appreciatively. Bianca didn’t seem happy to be patronized. “Alright so that won’t work. We don’t have time for vows or oaths. It will be dark soon and I’d rather you be home before then. Do you have any ideas?”
“Yup. You can walk that way, and I will go this way.” She smiled sweetly at him.
Harry laughed. “I thought you trusted your guardian.”
“I don’t like people who keep things from me.” Her expression reminded Harry of his own anger at Dumbledore in the time she had just gone through.
“He gave you good reasons for not giving you the prophecy.”
“He dropped some stupid hint about my brother and didn’t give me a reason for looking like my father. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust you.” She punctuated it with drawing her wand and tapping to her side.
“Are you going to duel me?” Harry asked with an amused smile.
“No, I’m going to curse you when you’re not looking.”
“Won’t telling me your strategy foil your clever plan?”
“Of course not,” she gave him big round innocent eyes. “You don’t believe a cute little girl like me could curse you. I’m just talk.” She smiled that sweet smile again.
Harry laughed, loving her attitude.
Something splashed on his face and he wiped it away in disgust; it smelled foul. Boils erupted on his skin and he gave the girl’s fast retreating back an annoyed look. Well she did warn me, he thought absently countering the nuisance potion.
Disillusioning himself and making his feet noiseless he tore after her. His polyjuiced body’s long legs and strong physique caught up to her smacking heels on the foot path. She rounded the Ministry’s façade’s corner and threw her wand hand out. The purple triple-decker appeared right away and she climbed it before it had completely screeched to a halt. So that’s how she’s been getting around.