Evil Author Day: To Beard a Dragon

Title: To Beard a Dragon
Author: Ladyholder
Fandoms & Attributions: Harry Potter
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Genre(s): Romance, First Time, Male Pregnancy
Warnings: Character Bashing, Violence-Canon-Level
Content Rating: PG
Word Count: 15,854
Author’s Note: Well, this is going to be fun. I have little respect anymore for canon. So. You’ve been warned.
Summary: For Harry, his 21st birthday should have meant that he would inherit the Potter Earldom. As a March Lord, he was supposed to stand guard between the two worlds: Muggle and Magical. But when he went to the bank, he couldn’t even pick up the vault that held the Potter ring.

The dverger ends up holding him in their custody as they research why he cannot accept his title.

What they found was a horror show. His soulmate was missing, presumed dead. He had so many conflicting potions running through his system that the dverger healer who was in charge of the testing had wondered how he wasn’t dead. And that wasn’t counting the loyalty charms and assorted curses he had layered on his core.

Every expert who was brought in said that the mess he was laboring under had to have been done to him sometime after the war. They also agreed that there was no way for him to get free of them without the act killing him. Which left…

Well. Harry wasn’t one to shy away from anything. Not even time travel.

Time to see if he could beard a dragon.

 

 

Chapter One

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Harry stared in confusion at the dverger who had declined his request. “Why? I thought I was able to do it now that I’m 21?”

“Normally, yes,” the dverger said. He was staring at Harry like he was studying something fascinating. “However, we are not able to unlock your title at this time.”

Harry frowned and pulled out his pocket watch and thumbed it open. The date listed on it was his birthday. “I don’t understand. It’s my 21^st birthday. I checked this morning before I came in and just now.”

“The date isn’t the issue, Mr. Potter,” the dverger said softly before waving at a chair. “Sit down, please.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Harry asked. He settled into the chair he’d been directed to and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “What’s the issue?”

“Okay, so let’s start this off right,” the dverger said as he settled into a chair across from him. “My name is Ragnok Windrider. I am the leader of both this branch of Gringotts and I am the leader of the Dverger Horde.”

Harry blinked once. “Why do I think that last title should be capitalized?”

“Because they should,” Ragnok admitted. “At any rate, the reason you can’t take up your title is you no longer meet the requirements your ancestors laid down for a Potter Lord.”

“What…,” Harry took a deep breath and pressed a hand against his chest as he tried to understand what he was being told. “What are the requirements?”

“You cannot be an oath breaker, you cannot have sworn your loyalty to anyone other than magic, you cannot be under any sort of control potion, if you have a soulmate and have not acknowledged them, and you cannot have practiced Dark Magic,” Ragnok explained.

“I’ve broken no oaths that I’ve taken, I have not sworn my loyalty to anyone, while I’ve had potions for healing, that’s all, I don’t have a soulmate, and the only Dark Magic I’ve encountered has been practiced against me,” Harry said. He needed, on a deep level, to let the dverger know that he was worthy of his heritage.

“Lad,” Ragnok stopped and stared at him. “We currently don’t know why we are not able to bring the Lord’s Vault for the Potter Lordship up. But if any of the items I listed are met, we need to determine why.”

Harry took a deep breath and tried to think things through. The irrational anger surging in his veins needed to be shoved to the side because it wasn’t serving him. Racking his brain, he tried to be logical. “What tests can we do to find out why I can’t take up my title?”

“Let’s find out,” Ragnok said. He stood up from his desk and waved a hand towards the door in the back of his office.

 

 

“What’s the verdict?” Harry asked. He felt… hollow. The testing had been going on for hours, and he was hoping that it was finally drawing to a close. It seemed like every single bit of him had been examined in ways he’d never thought possible.

“You are 21 years old, correct?” the female dverger who had been leading the testing asked.

“Yes, Master Stoneheart,” Harry confirmed. He was minding his manners to the best of his ability because the dverger were helping him. He might end up paying for everything they were doing, and it might be bad news, but at least he’d know what was happening with him. “I turned 21 today.”

She hummed softly and handed him several crystals. “Hold these.”

Harry took the crystals and held them in his hands. He had no idea what either of them were, but they were pretty. He kept glancing at them as Master Stoneheart moved around him and ran more tests. The colors of the crystals started to change and darken as the tests dragged on. “Should they be turning black?”

Master Stoneheart glanced up at him sharply before she turned her attention to the crystals in his hands. “Interesting. Keep holding them.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He eyed the crystals for a moment before he turned his attention to the testing Master Stoneheart was doing. He recognized exactly none of it. Nothing matched what he’d seen Madame Pomfrey do while he’d been in school, or even the healers at St. Mungo’s. But nothing was hurting him, and… Answers. He kept reminding himself he was there to get the answers to why he wasn’t able to take up his title.

With a final flourish, Master Stoneheart completed her testing and returned her wand to a holster. “I’ll take the crystals now.”

Harry handed her the crystals and winced at their pitch-black appearance. “Here.”

The hum Master Stoneheart let out sounded like she was surprised. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. I will be getting you your answers in the next hour. I will send in a meal for you now that all the tests are done, and you will eat all of it.”

“Thank you?” Harry said. He was deeply confused as to what was happening. But he wasn’t going to pass up a meal. He held his peace as Master Stoneheart walked out.

When a young dverger delivered his meal, Harry took the time to thank him. The food was hot, rich, and filling, and he made sure to eat every bit of it. Master Stoneheart seemed like the sort to expect her orders to be followed.

His watch told him it had been most of an hour before Master Stoneheart came back in carrying a folder that hopefully had the results of his tests. When Ragnok Windrider followed her into the room, he couldn’t find it in him to be surprised. “Master Stoneheart, Master Windrider. Do you know why I was not able to claim my title?”

“We do,” Ragnok said. He settled into the chair Master Stoneheart had used for his exam and waved a hand. A second chair appeared next to him, and Harry swallowed his shock down. Even after ten years in the magical world, it was the little things that still impressed the hell out of him. “Just to make sure we’re all on the same page, you do remember the list of requirements your ancestors set for your title, correct?”

The list Ragnok had given him flashed through his mind, and he nodded. “I remember.”

“I’m going to touch on the good news first. You are correct, you are not an oath breaker, you have sworn no loyalty oaths, and you have never practiced Dark Magic,” Ragnok said bluntly.

Harry pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That leaves the requirements about a soulmate and the potions. I take it I do not meet the requirements for those two?”

“No, Mr. Potter, you do not,” Ragnok said quietly. “We do not know who your soulmate is, but for your family magic to have rejected you, they have to be at least sixteen years old.”

“How do I find out who they are?” Harry asked.

“The Book of Souls is held in the Ministry of Magic, close to the Hall of Prophecy,” Ragnok said. “No matter what happens with the rest of today, I would suggest that you go down to confirm who it is.”

The nod Harry gave felt like it was on automatic. He had a soulmate. Someone just for him. The thought of this person was a comfort as much as they were a puzzle. “Thank you. And the potions?”

“That’s where I come in, lad,” Master Stoneheart answered. “You’ve been potioned up to your eyeballs for at least four years. If you remember, I took a hair sample at the start of my testing. The length of your hair shows that the potions have been supplied on a steady basis. You’ve not missed a single dose of them.”

“What?” Harry stopped and blinked as he tried to process what she’d just said. “What potions was I given?”

“Attraction potions, love potions, and jealousy potions all show up as an integrated mass,” Master Stoneheart said. “Your hair also shows that whoever they were tried to dose you with loyalty potions as well, but your core burned through those without issue. The others slipped by your magic and have settled into place.”

Harry pressed a hand against his stomach as he tried to understand what she was explaining. “How.” He paused as nausea surged in his core. “Do you know how I could have been dosed?”

“All of the potions I’ve listed could be given in food or in a drink. None of them tastes too horrible, but they all need to be in the presence of the person they are keyed to. You need to be with the person you are supposed to be attracted to, who you are supposed to love or be jealous over. And of course, who you are supposed to be loyal to,” Master Stoneheart explained.

“You said that I never missed a dose. How often would I need to be dosed?” Harry asked. There was a suspicion stirring in the back of his mind, and he mentally shied away from it. If. If.

“Weekly, Mr. Potter,” Master Stoneheart said. She frowned as she opened the folder she’d been carrying and tapped a line on the first page of the report it contained. “From the levels in your blood, you’re due to be dosed again in a day or two.”

Damn it. “I know who’s been dosing me,” Harry said softly. He could feel his heart breaking as he spoke. “My only weekly meeting with the same people, week in, week out, is Sunday dinners with the Weasleys.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Ragnok mused. “Not good at all.”

Harry nodded once. “No, sir, it’s not.”

 

It had been years since Harry had tried to get into the Department of Mysteries. It pissed him off that it was still so damn easy to do so. Somehow, he thought that his raid to check the prophecies would have led to better security. Sadly, it hadn’t.

There were signs telling him the right way to go, and he followed them silently. There was no one to talk to. Hermione was wrapped up in her apprenticeship in Magical Law. Ron had been working for George since he’d washed out of Auror training the previous year. The rest of the people he’d called friends were scattered to the winds, working at various job,s and Ginny, the woman he was supposed to be in love with, was at practice for her Quidditch team. So, like every other important milestone in his life, he was facing this alone.

Book of Souls

The name of his destination was printed in a beautiful script over the doorway. It was instinct to reach out to open the door, but his hand passed through the panel without a pause. Harry pulled it back and stared. It looked real, solid. Reaching out with his magical senses, he tried to see past the illusion. But. No illusion. He glanced around to see if there was anyone around to question on what in the actual fuck was happening, but he was still utterly alone.

Harry closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. As much as magic had produced some of the biggest horrors of his life, it had also led to the biggest wonders. He had a choice, now. Trust magic to lead him to the Book of Souls or retreat and accept whatever his cowardice caused with the dverger. From the surge in his core, that was not going to be an option, Harry decided. Right.

He opened his eyes and nodded once. “The only way through is forward,” he murmured and stepped through.

The room on the other side of the door was just drama. All the drama in the universe had been distilled and used to build the room that housed the Book of Souls. It reminded him of a cathedral, but one built by magic, not the hands of man. And placed in the middle of all of the drama was a simple plinth holding a large leather-bound book.

“I guess I need to see if you’ll open for me, huh?” Harry murmured as he walked up to the plinth. Stepping up to it, he huffed as the whole area surrounding him lit with a warm light. “Do I say my name or what?” The magic surrounding him seemed to warm in agreement, and Harry shook his head in amusement. “Right. My name is Harry James Potter.”

The glow around the book increased for a moment before it flipped itself open, and the pages fluttered as if they were being moved by an invisible hand. When they stopped, the light retreated from the pages, and he looked down to see what had been written.

 

Let it be known that

Harry Jame Potter

and

Draco Lucius Malfoy

are soulmates.

Magic has made them

perfect for each other

and to interfere is to go against Magic

 

Harry stepped back from the plinth and backed up until he hit a wall. His legs felt like they couldn’t support him, and he slid down to sit on the floor. When Ragnok had mentioned the possibility of him having a soulmate, he’d wondered who his could be if he did have one. He’d somehow known that it wasn’t Hermione or Ginny, and the rest of the women he’d gone to Hogwarts with had all faded into the background of his life, so he’d been sure it wasn’t one of them. He hadn’t even thought about the men he’d gone to school with.

To find out that his soulmate was Draco stopped him in his tracks.

The other boy had been his biggest rival in Hogwarts for years until his death right before their 6^th year. No one had known the cause of their deaths until the war had been over and the remaining Death Eaters had been put on trial. Draco and his family had been killed by Voldemort because he had refused to be Marked. Harry had mourned the other boy more than anyone had expected him to.

He had no way to explain it at the time, but now, with the revelation of what Draco had been to him, the grief made sense. He thumped his head against the wall behind him and blew out a breath. What in the hell was he supposed to do now?

 

 

“Harry Potter to see Ragnok Windrider,” Harry murmured to the teller he’d been directed to.

“One moment,” the dverger said. They quickly wrote out a note and placed it on a spot on their desk where it disappeared.

Since patience was a virtue that he had been trying to cultivate for years, Harry stood quietly as he waited for Ragnok to reply. It gave him a chance to observe what was happening in the room. Most of the witches and wizards that were surrounding him seemed to be impatient and faintly entitled as they interacted with the dverger. From what he could understand of the body language of the dverger, they weren’t all that thrilled to be serving them, but were still putting in the work.

“Is there anything else that you need?” the dverger asked after several seconds.

“No, but thank you, Master Dverger,” Harry said softly.

When a page popped up on the desk, the dverger held up a finger before reading it. “Master Windrider is available. You will be escorted to meet him.”

“Thank you. May your day be profitable,” Harry said. He moved to the side and followed the dverger who appeared at his side. He kept his silence as he was moved through the less-than-public areas of the bank. When they reached Ragnok’s office, he murmured his thanks to his escort and walked in. “Master Windrider, thank you for your time.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter,” Ragnok returned.

“So, I went to see the Book of Souls,” Harry said. He pulled the scroll he’d found on top of the book when he’d finally pulled himself together after his brief pity party and placed it on Ragnok’s desk. It had repeated exactly what the Book of Souls had said. It hurt badly to see the words and know that there was absolutely nothing he could do to change things. Draco was dead and had been for almost five years. “And I found out who my soulmate was.”

“Was?” Ragnok wandlessly summoned the scroll to him and unrolled it. It took him only moments to read it, and Harry watched him carefully. “Lad, I have no idea what to say.”

“Me either. Even if I can get all the potions and such flushed from my system, I’m still not going to be able to claim my soulmate. He’s dead,” Harry said bluntly. “I need to know if my title will die if I can’t do it. If I try and have a child who will be able to claim the title, will my Family Magic last until then?”

Ragnok shook his head once. “No, lad, it won’t. It will start to fade soon since there’s no one left to take up the mantle.”

“That will be two Ancient Titles and Family Magics that have died due to me,” Harry said softly.

“Two?” Ragnok asked sharply. “What do you mean?”

“My Godfather was Sirius Black. With his death, the Black Family magic dissipated too,” Harry explained. He felt like he’d been walking around, shell-shocked, all day long, and the fog of emotion was only barely clearing now. “Despite his magical adoption, I wasn’t able to take up the title.”

“Who told you that?” Ragnok asked.

“Dumbledore,” Harry said. He stared at Ragnok as the dverger muttered to himself in his own language. From the tone, he wasn’t pleased. “From your tone, I’m going to guess that he lied to me on that, too.”

“Yes,” Ragnok confirmed. “If you had come in after Sirius Black had died, you would have been able to take up both your title and the Black title. Is he the reason you waited until you were 21 to try for the Potter title?”

“He is. He told me that the correct age for taking up my title was 21. I did check to see if that was correct from the books in the Hogwarts Library, and they agreed. Was I wrong?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Ragnok said with a sigh before waving at the chair in front of his desk. “Please sit down. Since you are the last Potter, your Family Magics had a clause that allowed the remaining heir to take up their title as soon as they were able to. That could be as young as 11 years old.”

“Right,” Harry dropped down into the chair. “At 11, I was barely aware of anything magical. I was under the control of my aunt until I went to Hogwarts, where I bought into everything I was told about the wizarding world. I didn’t start getting curious about anything until my last year in Hogwarts, and even then, I didn’t have all the resources I should have it seems.”

“No one told you to come to us?” Ragnok asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Sir, I didn’t find out that the name of your species was dverger until I started my research. I took History of Magic from Binns for all the years I was in Hogwarts, and he called your people goblins. I was lucky that I was able to hold onto my vault key from year to year,” Harry admitted. He grimaced as he thought of how things had gone while he’d been fighting against Voldemort. “Do I need to apologize again for breaking into your bank?”

“No, you apologized for your part in that and helped us get another dragon to guard that level,” Ragnok said. He leaned back in his chair and stared at him, obviously lost in thought. “I… need to check something,” he said finally. Ragnok wrote a note and placed it on a spot on his desk, picked out with a lighter shade of wood. Harry wasn’t surprised when the paper disappeared.

“How? How is that done?” Harry asked. He glanced up at Ragnok before returning his attention to the small square of wood.

“It’s done via runes,” Ragnok explained. “It’s not difficult, but it is apparently finicky.”

“Very interesting,” Harry said. He settled back in his chair as he tried to think of the runic sequence that would be needed to transport an item around. Sadly, he couldn’t quite manage it, so he set the problem aside as Ragnok got a reply back.

It took several minutes for Ragnok to read the reply before he sat back in his chair. He tapped one finger on the page for several seconds before he looked back at Harry. “So, I wanted to check something. When you entered the Wizarding World, there were two Ancient Families left. There are a number of Families in the Wizarding world who are old, but not Ancient and were once collectively called the Sacred 28. At any rate, the two Ancient Families were the Blacks and the Potters. Sirius Black was the presumptive head of the Blacks, and you were the heir of the Potters. Since neither of you was able to take up your titles, the Family Magic for both has fully faded. Which is going to cause some major earthquakes in the Wizarding World.”

“That sounds like you’re leading up to something, sir,” Harry observed. “Were the Malfoys one of the old families?”

“They were indeed. And with the death of Lucius and his heir, Draco, their magic has left England and returned to the Family in France. While it’s not gone, it’s no longer enriching the web of magic here,” Ragnok said. “Due to the war, a number of families on all sides died, and their magic is gone.”

“That’s not great,” Harry said after several seconds of thought. “What does that mean for me?”

Ragnok grimaced before he smoothed out his expression. “Well, we can’t fix what’s happening to your Family Magic in the here and now.”

“That does not sound great. And like you’re leading up to something,” Harry said again. He let his fingers weave together over his stomach and tried to relax as Ragnok built up to whatever he was hinting at. “Please just tell me.”

“Alright,” Ragnok said with a nod. “Due to all the reasons we’ve gone over, there’s no way for you to take up the Potter Lordship. Even before you came back with the information on who your soulmate is, the options available to us were thin. We can, and will, have you work with our healers to clear the potions from your body. But that’s not the major suggestion that has been put forth.”

“Sir,” Harry said. He had been doing his best not to be demanding, not to press, but the tap dancing around the topic was just making things worse for him. “Please just lay it out.”

“How do you feel about time travel?”

 

Chapter Two

 

“He can’t consent to the option of time travel until he’s clear of all the potions, charms, and curses he’s laboring under, Ragnok! Plus, you’re going to need his magic to boost the ritual, and he’s got limiters on his core!”

“Omis, I know all of this. We need to prepare our ritual space for the petition, so there’s no way we can do this immediately. You should have enough time to clear his system,” Ragnok snapped back.

Harry raised a hand and looked between the two dverger before him. “If I can put my vote in, I think I need to make sure that I’ve taken a leave of my actual job, so when Master Stoneheart does dose me with all the flushing draughts on the planet, I don’t cause any trouble with the Ministry. I’m sure it’s better if they don’t get interested in what we’re doing.”

“We can easily do that,” Ragnok said. “Do you need any writing supplies?”

“I have them,” Harry said. A quick turn of his wrist and he had a self-inking quill in hand with a sheet of parchment and an envelope. “I’m going to request a fortnight off to deal with my title. So, truth, but not the full truth to them,” he explained.

“Sounds good to me,” Ragnok said before pointing at Master Stoneheart’s desk. “Place the letter on the square on Omis’ desk. That will take it to our central mail distribution area, and they’ll get it to the Ministry.”

“Get out, Ragnok. I’ve got work to do,” Master Stoneheart said as she walked over to a wall of glass-fronted shelves. “Besides, you’re a sympathy puker, and I’m about to give Mr. Potter his first flushing draught.”

“Ick,” Harry muttered as he finished writing his note. “How bad is this thing going to be?”

“It’s going to be wretched, lad. And I’m certain you’re going to hate me before we get to the end of this,” Master Stoneheart cautioned. “But by the end of this, you will be in full charge of your mind, body, and magic. For the first time in years, you’ll be able to think without outside influence. So, you will be able to honestly consider the decision Ragnok suggested.”

Harry drew in a deep breath at that. While he currently felt normal, he knew he wasn’t. He knew that he was laboring under a burden that should have crippled him and somehow hadn’t. If everything went to plan, then in a day or two, he would be able to consider his options with a clear head. That chance, that possibility, was what let him take the potion from Master Stoneheart’s hand and knock it back. He just hoped that he could hold onto the feeling. It was going to be a long trip back to himself.

 

 

Harry gingerly settled into the chair across from Ragnok and sighed. “That was the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

“You fought Voldemort yearly and carried a horcrux for more than a decade,” Ragnok said incredulously. “And you also mentioned that you got bitten by a basilisk.”

“Yes, I know,” Harry said ruefully. “But those were pretty much over and done with quickly for most of the deeply fucked up shite. The horcrux was basically inert for most of my life, so it didn’t cause me any pain on a day-to-day basis. The last three days? All they were, was pain.”

“If there had been any way to spare you the pain, we would have,” Ragnok said softly. From Harry’s point of view, it seemed like Ragnok regretted what his people had put him through. “But there was no other way to get you clean of all influences.”

“Oh, I’m aware. Master Stoneheart made sure to explain everything to me, every step of the way,” Harry confirmed. He grimaced as he thought of his experience in the clutches of the dverger’s healers. “It’s been years since I’ve felt this clear-headed. While it was wretchedly painful, I’m not sorry I went through it.”

Ragnok nodded once and leaned back in his chair. “We were able to harvest the signatures of all of those who brewed the potions.”

Harry held up a hand and held up three fingers. “Let me guess, Molly Weasley, Severus Snape, and Ginny Weasley.”

“Molly Weasley and Severus Snape, yes,” Ragnok confirmed. “But the third and oldest, was Albus Dumbledore.”

“I didn’t realize that Dumbledore actually brewed anything,” Harry said. He grimaced as he thought things over. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He was very invested in keeping me under control. Now what?”

“Well, now that you are utterly clear of any influences, we need to go over what we’re planning,” Ragnok said. He pulled a parchment out of a desk drawer and laid it on his desk. “We’ve spent the last three days planning this whole thing out. Moving anyone through time takes a great deal of power, and the only way we know how to do it is through ritual. My conclave will be working to perform the ritual needed to send you back in time, and with your power added in, we believe we can push you back 6 years.”

“Exactly six years? Do you think we can push it back far enough so that I can try to avoid Voldemort’s rebirth?” Harry asked. If he could avoid being part of that ritual, that would mean that Cedric would survive.

“I can’t promise that, Mr. Potter. I know that we can move you back 6 years,” Ragnok said. Harry was no expert on dverger expressions, but he was sure Master Windrider was regretful that he couldn’t promise him any more time. “The ritual will be deeply taxing, and you will be going back to a body that’s been abused. Your best bet will be to get to the Bank and contract with us to take up your title. Once that process starts, we will do most of what we’ve done in this time.”

“But hopefully, without the three days of purging potions and healing,” Harry said grimly. “But I know that I will need some intensive medical care because it took me most of the year to recover from what I went through when Voldemort was resurrected.”

“I expect,” Ragnok said. He tapped the parchment, and Harry glanced at it. He had no real idea what the whole thing meant, and that pissed him off. He trusted that the dverger were helping him out of enlightened self-interest, but it would be nice to be able to confirm that by understanding the actual ritual plan that he was going to participate in. “When we do this, there will come a point in the ritual where you will essentially be dead, and since it’s your soul we’re sending back in time, I expect Lady Magic and or her spouse will hold you for judgment. If you pass, you will get sent back. They may or may not let you remember the judgment.”

“I take it this has happened before to someone, so you know this?” Harry asked. The thought that the world had been fucked up enough before to need a time travel ritual was both disturbing and comforting. Disturbing for all the reasons anyone could think of, and comforting, to have a record of the ritual, it had to have worked.

“Time travel is not our normal go-to to fix things, no. But we have done ritual work where magic and Magic are invited into our circle. The participants all say that they had a feeling that they were being weighed and judged,” Ragnok explained. “We do have records of times when things were deemed to be utterly dire, and the only option left was time travel, so we know that this can work.”

“That sounds like it hasn’t worked sometimes,” Harry said. He eyed Ragnok closely and grimaced when the dverger nodded. “Right. You also mentioned that you only do this kind of thing when the situation is utterly dire. How is my Family Magic and the Black Family Magic dying out ‘utterly dire’?”

“Remember what I said about earthquakes through the magical world?” Ragnok asked. “The loss of the Family Magic from the Blacks and Potters is just barely starting to shake its way through the world, and the sooner we work to fix that, the better.”

“Yes, but I thought you meant that metaphorically,” Harry said. He frowned as he thought things over. “The Blacks were related to everyone, right?”

“Correct. They were the backbone of the English wizarding world and beyond. With their Family Magic gone, even those only distantly related will notice that they’re no longer quite as powerful,” Ragnok said. “The Potters were powerful. They weren’t quite as prolific as the Blacks, but they still managed to marry into many of the major magical Families all through the world. With their magic gone as well,” Ragnok spread his hands in a ‘so there’ gesture. “We can’t afford to have that happen.”

“Because as much as your people have their own well of magic, the magic of witches and wizards still helps hide you,” Harry observed. “This is so fucked up.”

“It is,” Ragnok agreed.

Harry nodded at the parchment on Ragnok’s desk. “So that’s a ritual that you know how to do, right?” At Ragnok’s nod, he sighed. “When do you want to do this?”

 

 

It had taken Ragnok and his conclave an additional four days to put together the ritual circle needed to send Harry back in time. Harry had watched the whole thing from the sidelines as Master Stoneheart made sure to ply him with plenty of food, drink, and healing draughts. Other than being confronted with this ignorance in the face of ritual magic, it had been a relaxing time.

That had changed once Ragnok had confirmed that everything was in place. Harry had completed the cleansing bath that he had been sent through in silence as he tried to figure out what he was feeling. This ritual would send him back to the summer between his third and fourth year, and he expected that if it worked, he’d be waking up in the house on Privet Drive.

Thankfully, he would not be staying there. The him of that time might not have been able to figure a way out of his prison, but he was a great deal older and certainly more ruthless than his younger self. And he had more resources than he’d ever had before. Harry pulled the ritual robe he’d been given and nodded once to himself. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Welcome to our circle, Mr. Potter,” Ragnok said as Harry walked out of the room where he’d been prepared. He gestured to a stone altar, and a wave of magic left his hand to wash over its grey surface. “Please hop up on the altar. It’s been spelled to be cushioned and warm, so you shouldn’t have any problems with it.”

“I don’t need to do anything, right?” Harry confirmed as he slid up onto the altar.

“Right. Just try to be receptive to the ritual,” Ragnok confirmed.

“Okay, I can do that,” Harry said. He laid down and let his hands rest on his stomach as the conclave of dverger stepped into place.

The whole room was silent for several heartbeats before Ragnok started to speak. Harry couldn’t understand a word, but he remembered what he’d been told. Ragnok would be launching the wards to protect the bank from what was being done in the room, and once they were in place, he would start the ritual.

The thud of the wards settling into place felt louder than anything Harry had ever heard before. Every word spoken as the ritual began made his magic hurt, and he did his best to stay receptive. The feeling of anticipation built, moving higher and higher until he wanted to scream from the tension. From the insistent rhythm of the words being chanted around him, the whole event was coming to a climax. He could only hope that they were successful.

The anticipation and the words spoken crested together, and Harry could feel everything stop.

 

 

“What in the actual fuck, Potter!”

“Draco?”

“You’re dead!”

“Way to notice the obvious, Potter.” He stared at Harry and waved a hand at the area around them. “You’re in the place between life and death,” Draco snapped.

Harry looked around and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Everything around him was blurry, and he couldn’t pick out a single landmark. Taking in a deep breath, he tried to determine if he could smell anything. Nothing. “I don’t understand.”

“I loathe how ignorant you are,” Draco said softly. “The ritual you did with the dverger meant that your death helped fuel the ritual. And in the course of it, you came under the jurisdiction of the Zir, the Lord of Magic, who will judge your petition like Ragnok told you.”

“I get that,” Harry said. He eyed Draco again before he kept looking around the clear spot they were standing in. “What I don’t get is why you’re here. You died between the fifth and sixth years. How can you be here?”

“I’m your soulmate, Harry,” Draco said. “Where else am I going to be when you try to do a time travel ritual?”

“I…,” Harry stopped and thought that over and shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what to expect when I did this. I figured it was a long shot, and if I was able to get back far enough, I would be grateful for all the opportunities that gave me. And then work to have as honest a relationship with you as I can.”

“What else are you planning on changing?” Draco asked. He leaned back into the air surrounding them and crossed his arms at him. “Because I can think of a number of events that can be changed. Did you ask if it would be possible to go back to before the resurrection?”

“I asked. Master Windrider said something about ‘set points in history’ and how I can’t push things back far enough to fuck things up for Voldemort and save Cedric,” Harry said sourly. “But I am going to make sure that Sirius gets to the Bank so they can get him cleared. I’m going to make sure that I take up my title, and that I get a ward of some type to protect my mind and body. And make sure that Hermione gets one too because she was married to Ron when I did this.”

“She married the Weasel? What in the hell, Potter!” Draco said. He seemed utterly boggled at that news. “Why?”

“Supposedly, she loves him,” Harry said. He shrugged at the look that news got him. “I have no damn idea why. I figure if I was potioned to the gills, it’s a good bet they did it to her. Because there’s no way that she did that of her own free will. We talked about everything, the year we were on the run, and she never mentioned any romantic feelings for him.”

“She was powerful enough to shrug off most modification spells, so something that could slip in and change her will would need to be subtle,” Draco said slowly. “And you’re right, potions would be the best bet. Something certain that they could adjust and update as often as needed.”

“Right? It’s gross,” Harry said. He was deeply uncomfortable at the thought of what Hermione being potioned meant. “It’s only been since I was cleared from my own dosing that I’ve been able to consider that. Do you have any idea why we were such little bastards to each other in school?”

“You mean aside from my learned prejudice?” Draco asked. At Harry’s nod, he shrugged. “I don’t know. At eleven, I was a little arsehole who had only a very limited exposure to anyone who wasn’t my parents and no idea how to interact with anyone in a civilized fashion. I also had grown up with both the popular propaganda of The-Boy-Who-Lived, and the tripe my father spouted anytime you came up.”

“Not a great combination, that,” Harry said with a frown. “I thought you knew the other Slytherins in your year?”

“Only in passing. I had very little exposure to anyone that my parents didn’t control. But they did expect me to gather my own court,” Draco said before waving that off. “Not really the important thing right now, Potter. Why did you do this? Why are we in this position?”

“We’re in this position because Sirius died and the Black Family Magic dissipated. We’re in this position because I was potioned to hell and back, you died, and I wasn’t able to take up my title, and the Potter Family Magic dissipated. Both of those things apparently were just too much for the dverger to tolerate,” Harry said.

“Well said, young Lion,” a deep male voice cut in. “My dverger can feel the ripples in the webs of magic through the world, and you not being able to take up your title was a ripple they could no longer ignore.”

“Who?” Harry asked as he slanted a quick glance at Draco. He was surprised to see the Slytherin down on one knee like he was before royalty.

“Kneel, Potter,” Draco growled. “That’s the Lord of Magic.”

“I don’t require that, young Dragon, but I do appreciate the gesture of respect,” the voice said.

Harry glanced up at where the voice was coming from and froze. Standing before him was a being who looked like a man, but very obviously wasn’t. Tall, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, the Lord of Magic was the most beautiful being Harry had ever seen. He could feel his knees try to buckle, and he locked them in an effort to stay on his feet. “Sir.”

“So, little Lion, you want me to bend time to allow you to go back to when you would be able to make the biggest difference?” Zir, the Lord of Magic, asked. “Why?”

“From what I understand, Family Magic comes from you and Lady Magic. And the wells of it for the Potters and the Blacks are closed due to our deaths. The Malfoy magics have returned to France, and there’s no telling how many Families in Britain have had their magics weakened due to those losses,” Harry explained. He kept his gaze directed over the Lord of Magic’s shoulder since he didn’t want to stare.  “But that’s only the effects of the losses of Family Magic. Going back would give us a chance to get rid of Voldemort much sooner, since I know where all the Horcruxes are. An added bonus would be that more people survive because Voldemort doesn’t kill them. And I can keep Umbridge from doing her part as well.”

“All good points, young Lion. But that’s not the only reason you want to go back. Is it?”

“No,” Harry admitted. He glanced at Draco and then back to the Lord of Magic. “Draco is my soulmate. I would like the chance to actually get to know him. All I know of him is wrapped in the rivalry that we had for all the years he was at Hogwarts. I would like to get to know what he’s really like.”

“Hmmm,” Zir hummed before walking around Harry. “I know my dverger worked to heal you before this ritual. Do you know why?”

“Master Stoneheart said that I needed to be able to agree to the ritual with a clear mind that wasn’t compromised,” Harry said promptly. “And I agree. Comparing how I felt before I went through the cleansing and after was night and day. If you are wondering if I’m going to be able to do what I mentioned? It’ll take time to do some of them, but yes, I will.”

“And will you deal with Dumbledore and his interference in the matters of Fate?” Zir asked.

“Yes,” Harry said softly. That had been one of the things he’d spent time thinking over in between bouts of purging potions. A careful review had shown him that Dumbledore had been either the root cause or contributing reason for all the hell in his life. And he wasn’t going to let that stand any longer than he had to. “Going to the Bank after I go back would have more than one conclusion, sir. It would get me away from my aunt, it would allow me to take up my title, and heal. All of these things would pull me out of Dumbledore’s orbit and out of his reach.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought this through. And you, young Dragon?” Zir asked, slanting a glance at Draco. “What would you do if you could be sent back?”

“Well, Lucius wouldn’t live for longer than it takes me to confirm I’m free of any spells or potions,” Draco said bluntly. “And my mother would be sent to a mind healing clinic because she desperately needs it. And once that’s done, I’d make sure to take up my title, visit the Book of Souls to get confirmation that Potter is my soulmate, and somewhere in there, pick a proxy to take my seat in the Wizengamot who will do what I say and not what some old bastard enamored with the ‘greater good’ directs.”

“And Voldemort?”

“Part and parcel of being Potter’s soulmate,” Draco said. “He’s a threat to Harry, and that means that he’s a threat to me. Not just for what he did to me when I refused the Dark Mark the first time around. When I take care of Lucious and assume the Malfoy Lordship, he’s going to want to kill me even more due to Harry.”

“Then he’s going to die as soon as I can manage it,” Harry snapped. “I’m not leaving that madman out there to destroy my family again.”

“I’m good with that too,” Draco assured.

“You two are so bloodthirsty. That’s good. You’re going to need to be ruthless. And pragmatic,” Zir said bluntly. “No matter how much you want to, you’re not going to be able to save everyone. Concentrate on saving those you must and take care of Dumbledore and Voldemort.”

“So, you will let us go?” Harry asked as he went over Zir’s words. They sounded like they covered both of them.

“Yes,” Zir confirmed. He waved a hand at the mist surrounding them, and a window opened in front of them. Nestled in the frame of the mist was Earth. “I will be rewinding time. I would suggest that you take advantage of that.”

Harry nodded once and turned to face Draco. “I…” He took a deep breath and nodded once. “I will do everything I can to get to the Bank the day we get back. I’ll get the ward, so I’m safe.”

Draco smiled and nodded before he sobered. “I’ll be taking care of my father the first thing. And then I’ll get to the Bank for the same thing.”

“Don’t take this as a slight against you, Draco, but you’re going to be fifteen. Will you be able to kill your father? We had shite for our DADA education, and he’s got to know that.”

“Oh, he’s aware. Every summer, I had tutoring in the areas that Hogwarts was weak in. The biggest one was DADA. I was very proficient in it,” Draco said with a smile. “Also, I’ve not been sitting on my arse while dead. I’m not fully a ghost, so no one could see me, but I did travel around and learn everything I could. It kept me from haunting you as you went about your life.”

“Should I apologize for everything with Ginny?” Harry asked, wary. His memory of Draco said that the blond had a temper when things didn’t go his way, and he did not want to set it off.

“Did you want to date her?” Draco asked.

“At the time I asked her? I thought I did,” Harry said with a shrug. “Thinking about it after I was cleared of all the potions and spells? No. Being around her is deeply uncomfortabl,e and the thought of doing anything else makes me ill.”

“Right. I’m going to leave all of that alone right now, but we will be talking about that whole mess when we have the chance,” Draco said firmly. “I did look, but I couldn’t stand to be around the two of you. She’s damn lucky I wasn’t able to manifest like Peeves.”

“I count myself lucky you couldn’t manifest that way,” Harry said after several seconds of thought. “Are you sure you want to do this? I made the decision for myself because I couldn’t let everything go. You’ve been at peace for the last five years. We’ll be heading right back into a war.”

“Potter, don’t be dumb. You need this version of me to go back with you. I’ve spent the years since my death learning. And, the version of myself in our 4^th year was a little arsehole who tried to sabotage you at every turn. Besides, Umbridge was a nightmare, and I need to help fuck her up,” Draco said. He stared at Harry and then smirked. “Besides, I’m going to enjoy messing with everyone.”

“Far be it from me keeping you from that goal,” Harry said. He glanced over at the portal and blinked quickly as he watched the world zip backward. “I don’t think we’re going to have a lot more time. Is there anything else we need to talk about?”

“Hmm…,” Draco shook his head briefly before he stopped. “Yes, there’s one last thing.”

“What?”

Draco moved forward and cupped Harry’s cheeks with his hands. “I would like to kiss you. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes,” Harry said. He leaned forward to meet Draco halfway. Draco’s lips were warm and soft against his, and the feel of the kiss lit a fire in him. He gasped as a flush of heat moved through him. When Draco broke the kiss, he pressed forward to kiss him and tried to taste him as well. Sweet, spicy, and addictive, the taste of Draco exploded across his tongue. Only when he felt slightly lightheaded did he raise his head. “You’re dangerous.”

“You have no idea, Potter,” Draco said with a cheeky grin.

“Alright, boys, break it up,” Zir announced. He sounded amused to Harry’s ear, and he pressed his forehead against Draco’s for a moment before stepping back and looking at Zir. “I’ve got everything pushed as far back as I can get it. Ragnok was correct, we can’t push this back before the third task, since that’s a fixed point. But I can drop you back in on your birthday. That will mean that at fifteen, you’ll be able to take up your title.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said. He felt a stab of grief for Cedric but pushed it away. There had been no way to save him, and all he could do was make sure he was well avenged. He reached out and took Draco’s hand. “I’m ready.”

“Dragon?”

“I’m ready, sir,” Draco confirmed. He gave Harry’s hand a firm squeeze, and that was all Harry knew.

 

 

“Wake up!”

Harry gasped awake as his aunt pounded on the door to his bedroom. Opening his eyes, he huffed as the whole room was one giant blur. Fuck it, his eyes were still shite. Rolling out of bed, he winced. He ached. Deeply and horribly ached from the aftereffects of the hell he’d gone through when Voldemort had been resurrected.

The door was banged on again, and Harry opened it to see his aunt about to hit it again. “Aunt.”

“You need to make breakfast,” she demanded.

“That would be a solid no,” Harry snapped. He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to say something. “I’m fifteen today. I’m going to Diagon Alley to take care of my business, and if I can manage it, never, ever come back to this house again.”

“You have to come back every summer,” she snapped. She looked faintly off stride as he laid out his plans.

“I really don’t,” Harry said. He firmly closed the door in her face and cast a wandless colloportus to lock the door. Since he wasn’t using his wand, the small bit of magic should fly under the radar. “Dobby.”

The house elf popped into his room and looked around. “Harry Potter asked for Dobby?”

“I did,” Harry confirmed. He pulled his trunk out of the closet and opened it. “I need to go to Diagon Alley, and I’m being watched. When I’m ready to go, I need you to distract whoever is watching me so I can go catch the Knight Bus.”

“Harry Potter doesn’t want Dobby to pop him to the Alley?” Dobby asked. He was gently wringing the hem of his pillowcase as he spoke.

“Are you able to do that, Dobby?” Harry asked.

“I can,” Dobby said. He snapped his finger,s and all of Harry’s belongings packed themselves in the trunk. “I’s able to help the great Harry Potter with this.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry said. It took him only moments to get dressed, and then he walked over to Hedwig’s cage. He opened it up and let his fingers drift through the feathers of her breast. “Hello, sweet girl. I’m going to be going to Diagon Alley and the Bank. Why don’t you go to the owlery there and wait for me?”

She churred at him and nibbled gently on his fingers before stepping onto his wrist as he pulled it out of the cage. When Harry opened the room’s window, he carefully held her out of it so she could take off. He had to trust that her own innate magic would keep her from being noticed. Once she was gone, he closed the window and touched the packing rune on the cage, and it folded down into its travel configuration.

That done, he added it to his trunk. Turning back to Dobby, he examined the house elf to see how he was doing. Other than the truly wretched pillowcase, he looked like he was in good health. Reaching into his core, he found what he had expected to find and tapped the bond he had with Dobby. “You bonded with me when I freed you from Lucius, didn’t you?”

Dobby grimaced and nodded. “Yes. Please don’t tell Grangy. I’s not want to be a free elf like she wants. That hurts and I’s not want to die.”

“I get it,” Harry said. He firmed up his side of the bond before he eyed Dobby again. “If you’re going to be my elf, you can’t go around in that pillowcase. I want you to get enough nice clothes, so you have something different to wear for every day of the week. They have to be actual, nice clothes, and you should have the Potter crest embroidered on the breast pocket of your shirts and waistcoats. You can get that done while I take care of my business.”

“Yes, sir, Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby breathed. “Are yous ready to go?”

“I am,” Harry confirmed. There was no way in hell he wanted to spend any more time in his aunt’s house than he had to. When Dobby held out his hand, Harry took it and grabbed his trunk with the other. “Could you please shrink this?”

Dobby snapped his fingers and the trunk shrank in his grip until it was approximately the size of a deck of cards. Harry slipped it into his pocket and then nodded. “Ready.”

With a second snap of his fingers, Dobby popped them into the entry to Diagon Alley. Time to get started then.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

Harry walked towards the Bank quickly. Thanks to Dumbledore and the damn Goblet of Fire, his face was far too well known in Wizarding London. “I should have bought a damn hat,” he muttered as he moved around a wizard standing in the middle of the Alley.

It took him only moments to walk up the stairs and enter the bank. He needed to speak to his account manager and eventually Ragnok. He was not looking forward to what he was going to need to do to get oaths from either of them to keep his secrets. Spying a shorter line, he checked the sign overhead to confirm he was in the right place.

“Harry Potter,” he said quietly as he presented his key. “I need to see my account manager.”

The dverger manning the desk raised an eyebrow at him and took the key. Harry had no idea what magic was embedded in the key, but he was sure the teller was getting something from it. “Wait here,” he was directed before the dverger sent a message out.

Harry stood waiting patiently until he was handed back his key, and he slipped it into his pocket. He added some kind of personal storage device to his mental list of needs because he could not keep shoving stuff into his pockets. That was just asking for them to be picked.

When a dverger stepped up beside him, Harry glanced at him before turning his attention back towards the teller. “Good morning.”

“You are Harry Potter,” the dverger murmured. At Harry’s nod, the dverger hummed. “Ragnok Windrider requires your presence.”

“Lead the way then,” Harry agreed. He followed the dverger to the same office he’d be in that morning, six years in the future. He held his peace through his escort, informing Ragnok of his identity. As much as he wanted to say that he had expected to have Ragnok’s attention, he really hadn’t. So, he needed to figure out how to go forward.

“Mr. Potter, what can the Horde do for you?” Ragnok asked. He was sitting at his desk, had his hands crossed over a large ledger, and was staring at him with a neutral expression.

“Thank you for your time, Master Windrider,” Harry said carefully. He had only the barest education on how to interact with the dverger without offending them, and the last time he’d talked to them, everyone had been distracted by circumstances, so his lack of manners had been ignored. So. “I would love to greet you properly, but at this point in my life, I’ve only been exposed to Binns and his wretched, prejudiced view of the Horde. So, I hope you will excuse any unintended insults I know I’m going to give.”

“Hmmm,” Ragnok stared at him in silence for several seconds before nodding. “Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Potter. You asked for your account manager when you came in. Why?”

“I’m fifteen, and I want to see if I can assume my title, and once that’s done, I need to get a personal ward that will protect me from everything,” Harry said bluntly. “I also want to see about getting my memories of the resurrection of Voldemort validated and published so no one can say that I’m lying about it.”

“We can certainly do that,” Ragnok said. He tapped his fingers against the ledger before he laid them flat. “We will need to test you to make sure that you meet the qualifications that your Family Magic has laid down. The ward is easily done, no matter what the result of the tests will be, but if you are able to take up your title, the signet ring for your Family acts as a personal ward.”

“That’s very good news,” Harry said softly. “I’m not sure if I won’t have a mess of potions in my system. I have reason to believe that I’ve been potioned or spelled to be loyal to Dumbledore and anyone he designated.”

“That’s… Not good,” Ragnok said. He frowned as he leaned back in his chair to look at him. “What makes you think that?”

Harry grimaced and tapped a finger against his lips. “To say more, I will need an oath to keep this secret until I give the okay to tell it or I’m dead.”

“You’re fifteen. Exactly what secrets do you have that would require such an oath?” Ragnok asked. He sounded slightly flabbergasted at what Harry was asking of him.

“Well, I can show you in a pensive, but I think the oath will be welcomed after you see the memory,” Harry said after several seconds of thought. At Ragnok’s nod, he pulled his wand out. “One thing I do know is that I need permission to even use my wand in the bank. Do I have your permission to extract the relevant memory to explain the secret at the heart of the oath I am requesting of you?”

“Is there any other way to explain why I need to make an oath?” Ragnok asked.

“Well, I do swear on my magic that what I want to show you is the truth as I know it,” Harry said. He smiled grimly as he glowed briefly with the magic of his oath. “And while the oath I’ve sworn is helpful, the true meat of the explanation is in my memory.”

Ragnok looked at him intently before his gaze seemed to move through him like he was looking at something Harry couldn’t see. He held his peace as the dverger thought things over.

“Please copy the memory then,” Ragnok said before he reached down to open one of the drawers of his desk. Harry wasn’t surprised when he pulled out a Pensieve and set it on his desk. Harry easily copied his memory of his conversation with Draco and the Lord of Magic and placed it in the bowl of the Pensieve. As soon as it settled into place, Ragnok confirmed the memory was unbiased before he dipped a finger into it and entered the memory.

Practicing his patience, Harry settled into his chair and watched the subtle expressions wash across the dverger’s face. He had no idea how the other being would react to what he was being shown. When Ragnok pulled his finger out of the Pensieve and stared at him, Harry shrugged. “Honestly, sir, you straight-up asked me how I felt about time travel, and after explaining the whole thing, I decided to take the chance.”

“Right,” Ragnok said after several moments. He stared at the puddle of memory in the Pensieve before gesturing at it. “Is this a copy?”

“Yes, sir, it is,” Harry confirmed. “I’m good with it being cleared, and I can show you a copy of you proposing the whole thing.”

“Please,” Ragnok said. He watched as Harry dissipated the memory and pulled a copy of the next one out and deposited it in the Pensieve. Harry tucked his wand away and let his hands rest on his lap as Ragnok confirmed the memory was as unbiased as the first before he dipped a finger in.

Harry held his peace as Ragnok observed his older self. While six years wasn’t the longest amount of time, the years had been memorable, and the difference between the Ragnok of his new now and his old then was stark. And frankly, he looked very different as well.

“I did not expect that,” Ragnok said after he’d pulled his finger out of the pensieve. “I did not expect either of those memories.”

“I can’t imagine how you would have, sir,” Harry said. He spread his hands out in a placating gesture. “I know I was shocked when the question was asked. But after thinking over the advantages of going through the option, it was the best idea that could be done.”

“Especially after what is shown in that first memory,” Ragnok said grimly. “I understand now why you wanted the oath. But you know that we are going to need to tell Omis what’s going on at least. And I’m sure your godfather is going to need to know once he’s cleared.”

“I expected that part, sir. And if we can confirm that Draco came back, he may have someone he wants to tell as well,” Harry said.

Ragnok nodded once before he ran his hands over his beard, gently carding his fingers through the strands. “I’ll make the oath. Time travel is not something that is done lightly, and for me to have suggested it, things had to be dire.”

Harry tried not to slump in relief. This whole bit had been one of his biggest worries. While Ragnok had been the one to suggest the whole time travel event, he hadn’t really offered any ways to convince himself. “Thank you, sir.”

The oath that Ragnok swore was through enough that Harry was sure he would never be able to say anything about his shenanigans. “Alright. Now that that’s done, let’s get you examined, make sure you’re healthy enough to take up your title, and get your ring on you as soon as possible. Which means that we’re going to need to tell Omis what happened.”

“Do we have to, sir?” Harry asked. While Master Stoneheart had treated him very well in the future, he really, truly did not want to go through that whole process again. The idea of having to, made him want to run for the hills.

“Oh, lad, if we didn’t, she’d do her best to throw us down a mine shaft,” Ragnok said with a laugh. “I’m not going to go against her when it comes to a patient. And you’re going to be her patient as soon as I can manage it. Your soulmate likely be as well. And that’s not even taking into consideration what your godfather will be facing.”

“He’s going to be thrilled to be healed. Once he’s not freaked out at the attention,” Harry said after thinking about Sirius’s possible reaction. “But he’s going to need it.”

“He will,” Ragnok agreed grimly. “Right. Testing, healing, title, and a ward if needed. Then we’ll work to get a marriage contract in place between you and your soulmate so no one can try to get either of you in a compromising position without punitive consequences.”

“I do have a question about that,” Harry said slowly. “And I’m not comfortable asking Draco this since he might consider it a slight against him…”

“And you think asking me is appropriate?” Ragnok asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m sure that there’s not actually all that much that surprises you, sir,” Harry said with a rueful smile. “And honestly, if I’m going to have to go through any level of purging and healing as I did in that future that won’t be anymore, nothing I do or say will be any more embarrassing than that.”

“Maybe for you,” Ragnok said, eyeing him carefully. “What’s the question, lad?”

Harry grimaced and then shrugged. “I’m male. My understanding from everything I’ve learned about Draco is that he is also male. We each have titles that will need heirs. How are we going to have kids? Do we adopt? How does it work?”

From the slightly baffled look that Ragnok had on his face, Harry was sure that he’d managed to shock him a bit. But he’d been thinking about the issue since he’d visited the Book of Souls and found out that Draco was his soulmate. And he couldn’t remember learning anything at Hogwarts about it, so he was going to ask.

“Should I have asked Sirius?” Harry asked when Ragnok stayed silent.

“Honestly, lad, I’m going to suggest it, since we’re a different species from you. But in regards to how two wizards in a relationship manage their heirs… some wizards with the right ancestry can get pregnant. If that’s not possible, the Horde has ritual wombs that can be used when a ritual external conception is needed,” Ragnok explained. He smirked at the shock Harry had to be wearing on his face. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to help with this sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I’m going to ask Sirius for the species-specific talk,” Harry said faintly. “Wizards can get pregnant?”

“They can if they have any Veela heritage,” Ragnok confirmed with another smirk. Harry was sure that Ragnok was alluding to something, and he thought he might have a clue as to what it could be. If his supposition was correct… “Any other questions?”

“None right now,” Harry said. He had a lot to think about and contemplate. “Will I be meeting Master Stoneheart here? Or in her office?”

“Here,” Ragnok said. He wrote out a quick note and set it on the runic communication pad before pointing at the pensieve. “She’s going to come in here quickly, so I would suggest you prepare that.”

Harry nodded once and pulled his wand out to disperse the memory copy and copy the first one before adding it back into the bowl. He performed the spell to confirm bias and shared a nod with Ragnok when it came back good. He’d barely straightened back into his chair when Master Stoneheart walked into the office.

“Ragnok, you requested my presence for a consult?” she asked.

“I do. But first, you need to watch two pensieve memories, and then swear an oath because there are some extenuating circumstances involved with this,” Ragnok said calmly.

“I can see who is in the room with us. I’m going to guess that whatever is in there concerns him?” she said, gesturing at Harry.

“It does. It also concerns us,” Ragnok said. He gestured at the pensieve. “Please.”

Master Stoneheart eyed him briefly before she dipped her finger in the memory. While she was busy with that, Harry pulled the second copy out. “If I’m going to keep doing this, I think I need to keep a permanent set of copies available, but I don’t feel comfortable having them lying around.”

“We can get you a dverger made dimensional store. Once they are closed after being keyed to your magic, you will be the only one who will be able to add or withdraw items,” Ragnok murmured. He penned another note and sent it off. “I’ve requested a selection of stores that are capable of being used in a war be sent up.”

“That will be very helpful,” Harry said. “I’ve never used one, but my understanding of them is that I can store anything in them and it will be utterly safe?”

“As long as you know you stored an item in your dimensional store, you’ll be able to pull it back out,” Ragnok explained. “If you forget it? It’s gone unless you direct the store to empty itself. And depending on what you’ve got in it, that might not be wise.”

“Because you can put damn near anything in them and the amount is basically infinite?” Harry asked.

“The ones that we will be offering you, yes,” Ragnok said. He hummed in satisfaction as a small tray appeared on his desk. He passed a hand over the tray and picked up two and set them aside. The rest of the tray he shoved to the side. He tapped his selections and waved at Harry. “These are the best ones for you, I think.”

Harry glanced over at Master Stoneheart and then slanted a glance at Ragnok. “Sir?”

“She’s going to be a bit longer, I think,” Ragnok said after looking at her for a moment. “But you might want to make a choice soon.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. He walked over to Ragnok’s desk and stared at the two stores sitting on his desk. They were in the shape of a wide wrist cuff, and the inner surface of each was covered in runes. He didn’t have enough knowledge of runes to figure out what they meant. The outside surface of the cuffs was blank, and each of them had a sheen to them that wasn’t quite silver, but he wasn’t sure what it was. “What is it made of?”

“For a war store, we use mithril. They’re ready to be used, and you could certainly use them now. No matter which one you choose, I would suggest that you have your house crest engraved on the outside of them so no one can get any ideas,” Ragnok said. He smiled as Harry shot him a startled look. “The work to do this is damn expensive, both in magic and materials. You need to make sure that no one thinks that they have any right to it.”

The hum Harry let out was involuntary, but he didn’t try to hide it. He reached out to touch the first one and cocked his head to the side as he contemplated the small device. It wasn’t quite right. Moving to the second he touched it and smiled. “This one is mine. And I think the first one is for Draco. Can I purchase both?”

“Certainly,” Ragnok said with a smile. “And we’ll teach you how to use it correctly. I suggest a ledger so you can keep a running list of what’s actually in it.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Harry said. He stepped back as Master Stoneheart started to stir.

“What in Mahal’s name was that?” Master Stoneheart hissed as she pulled her finger out of the pensieve. “What have you gotten us into Ragnok?”

“You need to watch the second memory before I get into that,” Ragnok said firmly. He waved at Harry and opened a drawer in his desk to pull out two memory vials. “Move the first memory into this,” he directed. “You can store it in your dimensional store once it’s mated to your magic.”

“I’m not going to like this one either, will I?” Master Stoneheart asked as Harry pulled the first memory out of the pensieve and added the second.

“No, you won’t. If you want, I can show you a third set of memories, but they will only make sense once you go through this one,” Harry offered. “It would be the three days before this one.”

“Let me get through this one then,” Master Stoneheart said after several seconds. She took a deep breath and then dipped her finger into the mist.

“While she’s doing this, let’s get the dimensional store attached to your magic so you can safely carry those memories,” Ragnok said. The sale of the two cuffs took only moments and Harry picked up the one that felt like his and slipped it on. He followed the directions Ragnok murmured to the letter and felt it lock into place. Once that was done, he was able to move the vial into storage.

“That makes me feel better to know that I have that safe,” Harry said softly.

“I expect,” Ragnok said. He tapped the second cuff and raised an eyebrow at him. “I charged both to your trust account, so don’t be surprised if there’s appreciably less in it.”

“I’m able to afford it, right?” Harry asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a statement regarding the balance of my trust account.”

“We send out updates for all accounts on the first of each month,” Ragnok murmured. He flipped open the ledger sitting on his desk and started running a finger down the length of a page. “The last one was sent out and we show that it was received.”

“I didn’t get it,” Harry said. “Where did it go?”

“We’ll need to confirm that,” Ragnok said grimly. He closed the ledger and tapped his fingers on it. “I think we will need to do an audit on your accounts once you are able to take up your title.”

“I think so too,” Harry agreed. He stepped back as Master Stoneheart came out of the pensieve, cursing a blue streak. “I didn’t do it.”

“I know you didn’t,” she snapped before she took a deep breath and held up a hand in apology. “I’m sorry, I’m not angry at you. For me to have had you in my domain for three days means that you were very ill, or very potioned.”

“I was both as far as I know,” Harry said as he moved the memory into the last vial. He waved a hand at his head before he said anything else. “I can show you the days I spent with you if you want?”

“Hmm, no, not right now. I don’t want the possible knowledge to influence me,” Master Stoneheart said. She turned to look at Ragnok and frowned. “Let me get this oath out of the way and then I’m going to take my patient down to my office and start working on getting him healthy.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Harry said warily. He held his peace as Master Stoneheart gave her oath and it settled into place. “How scared should I be?”

“How much healing do you think you will need?” Master Stoneheart shot back.

“I’m malnourished, I was hit with the Cruciatus several times when Voldemort was resurrected, I think I have some form of a limiter put on my magic and I may have been dosed with loyalty potions at one point or another. I have no idea what else might be going on, but I’m sure it’s not good,” Harry said. He reached up to touch his scar and sighed. “And I think I have a horcrux in my scar.”

Both dverger blanched white before Ragnok stood up and walked to stand in front of him. “Lean down,” he directed. Harry did as ordered and suppressed a flinch as Ragnok placed a single finger on his scar. The feel of the dvergers magic washing over him was alien, but it didn’t feel bad, just different. “There’s something there… If there is a horcrux in there, we can take care of it in ritual. But first, you need to be healthy enough to survive it.”

“Which means that you need to come with me,” Master Stoneheart confirmed. “And we will do our best to get you set to rights.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Master Ragnok, Draco will make his way here as soon as he can, and I have no idea what his condition will be when he gets here.”

“I’ll send him down to Omis when he gets here. And I’ll pass on the cuff,” Ragnok said. He patted Harry’s shoulder before returning to his chair. “She’s going to take good care of you now.”

“I know,” Harry said. He turned to face Master Stoneheart and bowed to her with one hand over his heart. “I am at your service, Master Stoneheart.”

“Flatterer,” she said with a smile. “Come on. Let’s get this started.”

 

 

Chapter Four

 

Waking up was a surprise.

Draco blinked up at the canopy of his bed and exhaled slowly. They’d done it.

Rolling out of bed, he carefully got dressed and picked up his wand. He hadn’t touched his wand since the day he’d died and he had no idea if it would be attuned enough to him to actually work anymore. The surge in his magic when the hawthorn hit his hand was mild and he frowned at the lackluster response.

Despite the disconnect, he was sure that the wand would do he needed and if it broke from the strain, he wouldn’t cry from the loss. He was no longer the spoiled brat he had been. Draco expected that he was going to need a custom wand, one built for him, and one that would grow with him in the years to come.

A quick check of the time confirmed that it was almost time for breakfast. Reaching out his senses, he tried to get a heads up on the magical currents of the house. He could barely feel his Family Magic and he knew that it was muffled due to Lucius being Voldemort’s slave. From what he remembered of this time in the first timeline, his father had been months in recovering from his meeting with the Dark Lord.

Given everything then, this was the best time to push Lucius into attacking him. Draco took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

“Draco,” his mother called as he walked into the breakfast room.

“Mother,” Draco said simply. He ignored his father entirely as he settled into place and tapped his plate with a fingertip to let the house elves know he was ready to get his meal. He wasn’t willing to pull his wand out quite yet because he didn’t need to give in to temptation. When his meal appeared, he started eating without any further interactions with his parents.

His parents exchanged several glances as they continued to eat their own meal. His father tried several times to engage him, but Draco ignored him. He could tell his actions were pissing the man off and he was counting on it.

“Are you ignoring me?” Draco kept his peace and continued to eat his breakfast. He was actually having a small bit of fun pushing Lucius off kilter, because the man did not take it well when he wasn’t the center of attention.

His mother hesitated for several seconds before she cleared her throat. “Draco, what is going on with you?”

“I’ve been researching what it means to have the Dark Mark placed on me,” Draco said shortly. From everything he remembered, he’d been researching what he was facing and quietly freaking out. The information he’d found had informed his decision to refuse the Dark Mark the first time around and he was going to use the same information to get his father to lose his shite. “I have no wish to be a slave to a monster. And I find it offensive that my father has submitted to Voldemort and contaminated our Family Magic with the echoes of his madness.”

“He’s our Lord and we owe him our loyalty,” Lucius snapped. “You will do what I say and take the Mark when it’s time!”

“No,” Draco said softly. He placed his utensils on his plate and leaned back in his chair to stare at Lucius. “I will not. I will not subjugate myself or my magic to that madman. And unless you can replace me as your heir, Lucius, there’s not actually all that much you can do to make me.”

“How dare you!” Lucius hissed. He flushed with anger before he took a deep breath and pushed back from the table. “You are my son and you will do what I say!”

“I will not,” Draco said. He cocked his head to the side as he watched Lucius pale and then flush with the rising tides of his anger. “My magic will not be destroyed by you.”

“The Dark Lord requires your service!” Lucius shouted.

“I’m not yours to sell off, Lucius!” Draco snapped. “There is nothing that you can do that will make me take a knee for that monster of my own free will. And you know that’s the only way it can be done.”

“You will do what I say!” Lucius said again.

“No,” Draco said simply.

“Then you will die,” Lucius announced.

“Then I will die free. Which is more than you can say. You are his slave in life and you will be in death as well,” Draco said with a cruel smile. “I think I’ll have the better part of that deal.” The scream his father let out sounded deeply frustrated and Lucius pulled his wand out to point at him. “Are you sure you want to do that, Father?”

“Sectumsempra!” he hissed.

Draco rolled out of his chair and ducked as he cast a wandless shield spell. He did not want to get hit with that damn spell. He ignored his mother as she moved to get away. He didn’t have the time or the attention to spare for her. His wand hit his hand without a word and he fired a silent Diffindo at his father’s legs under the table. There was no tell-tale shimmer of a shield around them and he smirked when he heard Lucius scream in pain.

The chair he’d been in was hit by a Reducto and Draco reinforced the shield he had surrounding him. The splinters fell around him and he slid to the side as Lucius struggled to stand. The wandless spells he was using seemed to be knocking the older man off balance and Draco fired off an over-powered bludgeoning hex. It punched a hole in the table and hit Lucius broadside. “Not doing too well there, Lucius,” he taunted.

A second Reducto was fired at him, and he could feel the power of it pushing against this shield. His father was cursing him out in a steady stream of invectives that he was ignoring. He didn’t need to listen to the man lose his damn mind. He just had to kill him. From what he could see, Lucius had lost the use of one of his legs and from the wet edge to his breathing, he was sure the man had several broken ribs.

All good things because so far, he’d managed to not get injured. He had no idea if he’d be able to finish the fight without shedding some blood, but he was going to do his best to avoid it. Since the table and chairs were still between them, he fired a wide ranged Depulso at it to send it crashing into Lucius.

As he moved out of the way of Lucius’s next curse, the edge of it burned through his shield and he could feel the flair of pain as the cutting curse clipped his arm and curled around his back. “Fuck!”

“You won’t win, son,” Lucius hissed. “I’m stronger than you and I know more than you do. Experience will win.”

“Not today,” Draco grunted. He pulled in a deep breath and fired off a set of bludgeoning hexes at Lucius. The first hit his father head on and the second hit the remnants of the table that were surrounding him. The first was absorbed by the shield that Lucius had pushed out as soon as Draco had started talking. The second hex shattered the table and sent the shards of wood through the overloaded shield and impaled Lucius, nailing him to the wall. “Not ever.”

He watched as the light faded out of his father’s eyes before he walked over to the corpse and pressed his wand against his forehead. There was no movement, but he wasn’t going to take a chance and fired off a piercing charm between his eyes. “You are getting salted and burned before we drop your ashes into the family crypt, I swear to Zir,” he muttered before he pulled the Lords Ring off Lucius’s finger. Grimacing at the blood that covered it, he quickly cleaned it before slipping it on his finger.

His Family Magic hit like him like nothing he’d ever felt before. He had nothing to compare the sensation to and all he could do was ride out the rush as his whole being was examined by the collective magical inheritance of his family. Draco kept breathing as it felt like everything inside was being hit with repeated scourgifies. It hurt like a motherfucker.

“Draco!” his mother called as he hit his knees from the overload. He forced his eyes open and saw her fluttering around him. “Why did you do that?”

He hissed as the last wave of Family Magic washed over him and then retreated. “That hurt.”

“Draco, why did you kill your father!” Narcissa demanded.

“Because I’m not going to have our family destroyed by Lucius’s insanity,” Draco snapped. He carefully stood up and took a deep breath before walking to the fireplace to throw some floo powder in to get the aurors in. He wasn’t going to hide his father’s death, or his part in it.

 

 

Draco leaned back in one of the chairs in the main library as the Aurors dealt with the mess he’d made of the morning room. Most of the aurors were giving him wary looks and he didn’t mind that they’d shuffled him off to get him out of the way. The break was giving him time to get used to the changes in his magic due to his assumption of the Malfoy Family Magic.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm the roiling mass of magic at his core. When he’d agreed to go back in time, he’d been sure that he would be able to handle the influx of magic. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Everything hurt, and it was only grudgingly getting better. He needed a healer and he didn’t trust any of the ones at St. Mungo’s.

“Lord Malfoy, can you tell me what happened?” an auror asked.

“Who are you?” Draco asked.

“My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt,” he said. “I’m one the departments senior aurors and I’ve been assigned to this because I am up to date on all the Noble Protocols, so I’m not going to overstep.”

“Thank you. I’m not actually all that worried about that,” Draco said wearily. His energy levels were dropping quickly. “I know one of the aurors took my wand to test it for some reason.”

“Good. We’ll be recording that information and will return it to you soon,” Shacklebolt said. He pulled a small notebook out of a pocket and opened it to take notes. “Please let me know what happened.”

Draco sighed and let his head thump against the back of the chair. He started explaining what he’d done, without the motivation he had. It sounded disturbing enough as was. “When I declined to take the Dark Mark, my father decided to kill me. I decided not to die.”

“Good on you,” Shacklebolt said shortly. “It’s likely that we will be reaching out to you to go over this in a more formal format. Please stay in the country.”

“I’m going to call the family healer and getting my wounds taken care of. And then I’ll be heading to the Bank since there are things I need to take care of regarding my title.”

“Understood, Lord Malfoy,” Shacklebolt said. “Please be aware that if we do call you back in for additional questions, they may take place under Veritaserum.”

The sigh that Draco let lose was heartfelt. “I’ll make sure I have my solicitor as well.”

The hum Shacklebolt released was thoughtful and he didn’t say anything else as he closed up his notebook and left. Draco pushed his will out and summoned a house elf. “Master summoned Droopy?”

“I did,” Draco confined. He glanced at the elf and winced. The little creature was dressed in rags and it made him deeply uncomfortable. “Droopy, I need you to go to the Family healer and let them know that I need them to make a house call. Once you have done that, go back to the rest of the house elves and let them know that I want them to wear a proper uniform with the house sigil on the pocket.”

“Yes, Lord Malfoy,” Droopy said with a smile. He popped away as Narcissa walked in.

“Mother,” Draco said. He waved his hand towards the chair across from his. “Please sit down.”

“Why?”

“Why, what mother?” Draco asked.

“Why did you kill him? Why today?” she asked. She looked frustrated and slightly scared, and Draco had to suppress the urge to comfort her. There were too many strangers in their house for him to reach out like he wanted.

“I am not going to go into everything, mother,” Draco said softly. He waved a hand at the sounds coming out of the morning room. “But there was no way I could accept what Lucius had planned for me.”

Narcissa drew in a deep breath as she looked over her shoulder. “This is going to cause so many issues, Draco. You won’t be safe.”

Draco smiled grimly. “No one will be able to touch me, Mother. We’ll discuss this all later. But first I need to actually get healed. Our elves will be getting the Family healer here and once I’m healed, we will be going to the bank to get a handle on what’s going on with our money.”

 

 

Draco walked into the Bank and glanced around. It had been years since he’d been there and he didn’t quite remember who the account manager for the Malfoy Family was. But he had the key to the main vault and his ring should help get smooth things over.

“Lord Draco Malfoy,” he said quietly, presenting his key. “I need to talk to my account manager.”

“One moment, Lord Malfoy,” the dverger clerk said softly after checking the key. They quickly jotted a note and placed it on the runic communication array. “Is there anything I may be able to assist you today?”

“No, but thank you,” Draco said, shaking his head. “I need to speak with my account manager.”

Really, he needed to speak to Harry, but he had to trust that his soulmate was getting himself taken care of. He had his own mission to deal with and he needed to trust. Draco pressed his toes against the sole of his boot and counted to ten in French. He didn’t want to trust. He wanted Harry to be standing in front of him so he could make sure the man was safe.

“Lord Malfoy, please follow me,” a dverger called. Draco turned and noticed the dverger waving at him from a door between the clerk stations.

“Thank you,” Draco said before turning back to the original clerk and thanked them sincerely for their assistance. He got the impression that the dverger was pleased at his courtesy. “After you.”

Draco kept an eye on the scenery around him as they walked to a private office. There was nothing to tell him where he was in relation to the relation to the area of the bank he knew. When his escort opened the door to an office, he walked in and then froze. “Master Windrider. I was not expecting you.”

The dverger chieftain smiled grimly. “I’m sure. I’ve taken over your accounts due to special circumstances. I understand that you introduced yourself as Lord Malfoy?”

“I did. I took the lordship from Lucius this morning and donned the ring after he breathed his last,” Draco reported bluntly. Everything he’d privately learned about the dverger said that they valued plain speaking with no hidden meanings. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that the Malfoy name is no longer associated with Voldemort or any type of shady dealings.”

“Congratulations on your assumption of your title,” Master Windrider said. “Gringotts welcomes your business.”

“Thank you,” Draco said. “There are several things I will need before I go any further forward.”

“What are these things that you need to do? If we can supply it here at Gringotts, we will do so,” Master Windrider said with a smile. He flipped open a pad and uncapped a fountain pen.

“I would like, if possible, to contract a dverger healer to do a complete health assessment on me. I need to make sure I’m fully healthy,” Draco said. He’d been thinking about the issue since he’d been seen by the Family healer. The man had done his duty, but Draco had found himself deeply uncomfortable since the healer had been contracted by Lucius and he had no way to confirm that he wasn’t ignoring any issues. “I also need to make sure that my Family ring hasn’t been corrupted due to Lucius wearing it while in the service of Voldemort. And finally, if the ring has been corrupted, I’ll need it cleaned and a ward placed on it that will protect me, in mind, body and soul.”