Harry Potter 1. The Vault

_**I Disclaim **_ownership of Harry Potter.  
**  
**_**Alert!**_ Gay sex and kinkiness aplenty! Out-of-characterness! Strange ideas sprouted from my perverted mind! Voyeurism! Guy-on-furniture intercourse! The possibility of a threesome developing. . . and maybe some slight bestiality as well! But hey, Harry's ancestors were kinky bastards, the lot of them, so it's only right to warn you guys about these things, right?

_**Pickled Brains:**_ This idea smacked me suddenly (like a cold fish, actually), but I was too amused by it not to write it, so here you have it! It'll be an _AU_ fic and the main paring will be between Harry and an _Original Character_ (OC) or two who will be introduced later on. So tell me if you like it, eh?

-o

**Chapter One:  
The Vault**

-o

"Is this it then? It doesn't look like much," sixteen year old Harry Potter commented, eying the rounded surface of the blank wall. It would have looked very much like any other vault door if it weren't for its lack of hinges, locks, carvings or anything that would denote it as a vault door . . . unless you saw it from the right perspective; maybe from very far away? Not to mention that it was made out of the same rock as the rest of the tunnel wall and didn't look to be able to open.

Okay, fuck it! So it didn't really look like a vault door at all, now that he saw it closely enough. There was just no way that he could fool himself into even _thinking_ it was a vault door.

Truly, if the Goblin hadn't told him this was the entrance to his supposed Family Vault (Yes, the words were sneeringly capitalized), he would have thought it was just an odd curved protrusion in the tunnel wall. As if the top of a giant stone sphere were sticking out of it: decoration maybe? After all, no one rightly knew what goblins perceived as art. Maybe a round bump in the wall was their idea of it? He briefly wondered what something like this would fetch in a goblin auction . . .

And would the lot include the tunnel as well?

Whatever the case, he was still standing in front of said bump, looking doubtful and waiting for some kind of proof that this _was_ a vault door.

"This is it, Mr. Potter," his goblin escort confirmed, obviously not thinking very highly of Harry at the moment as he waved at the still blank wall as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that the thing held his inheritance. Then again, he really couldn't blame the tetchy creature; he'd been asking nonstop questions since he arrived in Gringotts Bank. The pointy faced being was probably sick of him already, but then, he didn't much care for it; they should have told him about this vault from the very beginning and not waited until now!

And, okay, maybe not when he was eleven, but certainly when he was thirteen and had spent almost two full weeks in Diagon Alley! He remembered the three trips into Gringotts from those days _very_ clearly.

As things stood, he had received a letter from the goblins a week before his sixteenth birthday, grudgingly telling him that he had a vault to claim; a large, high-security vault. Of course, he was later told that according to Potter Family convention, he could only access his Family Vault when he turned sixteen, thus why they waited to inform him. Usually, a young wizard of the Potter Family would be escorted to the Family Vault by their father at a younger age, where he would be introduced to the _Potter Family Heritage_.

Yes, in capital lettering again; it was just that important.

Lovely, huh?

Well, they could have at least told him _that_ in their letter, but _nooo~_, he had to pry those answers out of the goblins along with everything else they knew about his accounts. It seemed they didn't want him to know about it, but were obligated to tell him for some reason. This revelation had him ticked off from the get-go, and he'd wanted to strangle a goblin since. However, the fact they couldn't avoid telling him for some reason put the little runts in a nasty mood, that's for sure. At least they later claimed it was because of family custom that they withheld the information, though they could have told him of the vaults existence —even if he couldn't access it— earlier.

As things stood, Harry still suspected foul play.

He was sure they'd probably wanted him to die before he turned sixteen so they could raid the vault. They were greedy enough for it, he'd recently found out. And who ever said they weren't, or that goblins in general were just misunderstood had obviously never actually met the little buggers.

But this was a special case, not because of who he was, but because this was the first time there was only a single living Potter in the whole family's history (though that was sketchy information at best; wasn't his father the last Potter before he was born?), and as such, there wasn't anyone to guide him through what he would experience in the Vault. At least that's what the goblins had told him after many direct and indirect questions.

Although the spiteful little blighters _couldn't_ lie to him, they were still a slippery bunch of rock-nibbling bastards and he had to grill them incessantly to get even _one_ straight answer. When he asked why he would need guidance, he was only told that it was something only known by members of his family, but that the Potters were known to be quite an odd bunch, with many unknown secrets. Since he was the only one remaining from the lot of them, well, it seemed it was now his sole responsibility to uncover those secrets.

To tell the truth, the concept was pretty exciting. And when he knew those secrets, well, he wasn't going to tell anyone, like he knew they wanted him to.

Wizards and Witches had apparently tried to get to the bottom of the Potter's success for _centuries_, and the only thing they could conclude was that whatever made them what they had been was contained within this very vault. It was not until the death of his father that his family had strayed into complete obscurity; though he also found out they had actually fallen out of the limelight earlier than that. The reasons for this were mostly unknown, but a great many people had been trying to usurp his right to the vault behind his back _and while he was still a brat_, at that!

The absolute nerve of them, right? Trying to steal from the orphan boy-hero of the wizarding world!

Apparently, though, they had all failed, and if he understood correctly, a few of them had even been eaten; though he didn't know how that worked. At first, he'd though there were dragons guarding the thing, but as he looked around at the blank stretch of wall with the odd bulging round spot, well, he really didn't want to know how it could have happened.

He sure as hell didn't see any dragons waiting for a crunchy snack, and if there were, he was sorry he hadn't brought the ketchup.

He'd heard somewhere that dragons liked their crunchy things with it, after all.

There seemed to be an unending amount of speculation surrounding this vault and his family, though, so it was hard to separate fact from fiction. He absorbed every detail like a sponge, however, since it was the most he'd ever found about his origins.

In fact, Harry had already heard that it was because of his family that all those inheritance stories and myths about a wizard gaining unusual powers and physical changes after their sixteenth birthday came into being. It seemed his family was not just odd, but 'special' in a way, though he hadn't found out how. Everything was very fuzzy, it seemed.

Apart from that, he had learned nothing concrete, just hearsay and rumours. The goblins themselves weren't too curious, which was only more confusing. But then, he'd heard some of them whispering among themselves when he entered the bank today. It was as if they _wanted_ to know, but were reluctant to even look interested. Maybe it was the same with them having to answer his questions truthfully as well?

Nonetheless, this was _his_ inheritance, his legacy, and at the moment all he could do was look ahead and step forward. Whatever mysteries lay within that vault, if it really _was_ a vault, he would know of them soon enough. The goblins would have to await his reprisal when he was better informed, and the people who had tried to usurp his heritage needed to be found before a suitable amount of retribution could be paid to them as well. He might be honest, caring and forgiving, but this was about his family and their legacy; he would give no mercy to those who tried to take it away!

Taking a deep breath and finally calming his mind somewhat, he looked down at the bored looking goblin. "How does it open, then?" he asked, looking at the supposed 'door.'

Damn, it _still_ looked like a bloated piece of wall and nothing else!

The goblin looked uncomfortable for a split second, before his face became bored once again, as if he were faking his lack of interest, before stepping forward and taking something out of his tunic-like coat and stopping about fifteen feet away from the door, if not more (he wasn't that good at telling distances). If he wasn't mistaken, the creature was even trembling, but he simply added it to his list of 'stuff to find out or ask Hermione about.' Harry saw a vial of, well, _something_, held in the goblins grasp as the creature seemed to rally his courage and uncorked the small bottle, flinging its contents at the surface of the bulge in the wall before quickly jumping back, as if afraid.

. . . And he could completely understand the sentiment of it.

For not a moment later the bloody wall split open and a freaking _tongue_ darted out of a stone mouth and _licked_ the liquid from the round surface. Eyes opened next as the stone tongue licked its stone lips while a nose and eyebrows sprouted, even as a jaw-cracking yawn emitted from the stone face of his _Family Vault_, who was shaking itself slightly and with each shake become more and more defined!

Holy shit! He scrambled away, startled. What the bloody hell was that? Talk about creepy!

There were supposed to be dragons or griffins or nundus or something, not a completely weird stone face guarding the vault! Who the fuck came up with this stuff?

He could only stare at it in incredulous curiosity as it smacked its lips loudly (it didn't even sound stony!) and blinked its huge eyes a few times. **"Well, that tasted awful,"** it said in a loud grating kind of voice, deep irritation on its tone even as it grimaced. The face seemed to come more alive as it grew slightly out of the wall and turned to the vaguely shaking creature. **"What the bloody hell was that, **_**Goblin**_**?"** the thing asked, its tone sharper and less grating, as if it had wet its mouth somewhat, while turning up the volume. In fact, the more Harry looked at it, the more fascinated he became; the face was that of a beautiful young man.

"It was wine, oh Great Guardia—"

The stone head interrupted the snivelling creature rather sharply, **"Yeah, yeah, cut the crap. I don't bloody well care for wine, and you bloody well know that, you useless ass-wipe!"** it spat. **"Now, tell me why I shouldn't fucking eat you right now for waking me up? What is this, the fifth time this **_**year**_**?"** The glare the face was giving the goblin was enough to melt steel, so Harry wisely kept his own mouth shut while staying out of sight of the, well, _face_.

"H-Ha-rry J-Ja-James P-Po-Potter is here to claim his _Heritage_," the goblin began stuttering his reply before getting a grip and finishing his statement, still visibly trembling. Harry had to wonder why the little beast was so afraid, but then, he really didn't care for the foul race.

"**Harry **_**James**_** Potter? Really?"** The expression on the stone face completely changed, going from blazing anger to morbid curiosity and crude, false amusement. **"That good for nothing waste of Potter sperm actually had a brat, then? And he actually came to pay **_**me**_** a visit? Well, where is the lad? I'd thought the line would have died by now, what with those skirt-chasing idiots avoiding the hell out of me,"** the giant stone face said spitefully as he looked around for him, seemingly doing it just for the heck of it.

"I'm Harry Potter," he said, stepping into the face's line of sight, more than slightly irritated at hearing the thing badmouth whom he assumed to be his father.

**"Eh?"** The stone face grimaced again when Harry stepped into the light, before shooting the goblin an intense glare, not sparing Harry another glance. **"Are you fucking kidding me, **_**Goblin**_**?"** the face questioned, spitting the last word, **"You telling me that that wasted piece of trash is a **_**Potter**_**?"**

"Hey!" he yelled, stepping even closer to the face and more into the light, his face flushing in anger, "Who the bloody hell do you think you are, you mutilated pile of stones?! Of course I'm a Potter!"

The stone face swung to look at him, its eyebrows raised. **"Hmm,"** it said, before seeming to lean further out of the wall to peer at him and his fuming expression, **"Well, you do seem to have the temper, and I admit that you have the hair too, but sonny, I've been guarding this here vault for more than fifteen hundred years and there hasn't been an ugly Potter to date, and you, my waify friend, are **_**butt ugly**_**."** It was a statement of fact, and it royally pissed him off. **"Now, **_**Goblin**_**,"** the head turned again, dismissing him, and seemed to curse the entire goblin race with only one word, **"I don't know what kind of stunt you're trying to pull this time, but it ain't gonna work, you greedy, insignificant piece of shi—"**

"Look here," Harry hissed indignantly, his green eyes flashing as he interrupted the face's barrage on the goblin, drawing himself up as much as he could in his tattered hand-me-down clothes and taped up glasses, while ignoring the narrowed eyes now looking at him, incensed. "I don't care how much time you've been guarding that damn vault, but you're going to let me go in and see what I have left of my family! I may not look like much, but you try spending ten bloody years being starved and mistreated and see how you turn up, you pompous stack of idiotic rock! So stand aside and let me in or I'll have you blown out of that wall!" he was yelling by the end, hands fisted as his magic started pulling at his fraying clothes, just waiting for his anger to be sharp enough and focused enough to blow something up.

Preferable something big, monolithic and resembling a face.

His every word seemed to be ignored as the face's expression turned suddenly indifferent. And when its mouth opened again, its voice was completely neutral. **"You say that you're a Potter, boy? And you were **_**mistreated**_**? How?"**

Too mad to explain anything and ignoring the terrified goblin that was pulling at his sleeve frantically, he shrugged, sending the goblin tumbling. "If you bloody well don't know that, then I don't have to explain it. Now, let me into my vault you overbearing, self-important, sorry excuse for a _door_," he finished, half sneering the last word.

Instead of saying anything, the face simply stared at him for a good five minutes, with him not backing down one bit as he glared with everything he had. **"If you are not a Potter, you do know that you will die for even approaching me, then?"** Was the only thing that it asked; its voice still completely neutral.

"I don't bloody well care," Harry snapped, "so stop assuming what I am and what I'm not and just do your job. And. _Open_," he finished in a hiss, the sibilant quality of parseltongue coming out at the last word.

The stone face seemed to shrug, as if he were simply brushing his comments aside. "**Very well, if you're so eager to die, then come closer,"** it instructed, **"and step within that circle in front of me."** The circle was carved on the floor and was just that, a simple circle, even if it was about ten feet away from the stone face; closer than the goblin had dared to approach. He stepped forward without pause and stood within the circle, still glaring, which garnered a raised eyebrow from the guardian. **"Well, they selected you well, at least; it's been six hundred years since the goblins found someone whose blood matched closely enough to the Potters to not die upon stepping on that."**

If anything, the face didn't sound at all impressed, and if it had possessed arms, Harry could have sworn they would be crossed as he was scrutinized. "Well, what next? Do you need my blood as proof or something?" he asked, his anger becoming a low simmer.

"**Oh? You don't know what you have to do?"** the face asked, a mocking tone in its booming voice, **"The Goblins didn't tell you what was expected of you, then? Tsk, tsk . . . they've gotten **_**sloppy**_**."** Amusement was slowly seeping into the guardian's voice, **"And, really, **_**blood**_**? What do you take me for, a vampire? No boy, only brainless dark wizards use blood to seal their vaults, as if they couldn't get killed and their blood stolen."**

"Then what do I have to do to get you to bloody well open up?!" he asked, more exasperated than anything by then. He just wanted to see what was left of his family, damn it! Still, at least the bloody thing was paying attention to him and not dismissing him outright. He couldn't say the comments from earlier hadn't stung, though. He knew he wasn't much to look at, but no one had ever told him so as bluntly as he'd been told now.

Still, he was severely unsettled by the smirk that developed on the guardian's face at his words, though the answer he was given stopped him short. **"It's easy, lad, just drop your pants and give me your best shot. If you really **_**are**_** a Potter, which I doubt, then I'll grant you admittance into my chambers. However,"** the booming voice turned grim, _**"If you're not . . . "**_ the threat of imminent death was left hanging, even as Harry tried to puzzle just what he had to do. Because, truly, maybe he'd heard wrong . . .

"Eh? Drop my pants? What do you want, for me to piss on you?" he asked, both incredulous and amused by the thought of pissing on the stupid face.

Laughter blasted out of the giant stone face. **"Really boy! Didn't those useless goblins tell you anything?"** the guardian asked again before he seemed to lean forward toward Harry, its face contorted into a leer. **"If you piss on me you'll simply die a slower death — No, what you have to do is drop your pants, free yer willy and spank it, boy!"**

Raucous, perverted laughter rolled out of the guardian again; heavy, booming, _mocking_. But Harry paid it no attention, too startled to react in any other way, "You want me to _what_?!" he finally exclaimed, dumbfounded, a flush spreading rapidly across his face as he registered what was being asked of him to open a bloody vault!

The face seemed to shake itself at his question, sceptical, even as it shot a measuring look at the still cowering goblin, before he turned to face Harry, a teasing smile spreading across its oversized features, **"You heard me, lad, release the beast, round the tadpoles and discharge the pearl jam in my direction!" **he answered smoothly, **"**_**come**_** on, don't be shy now."**

"Y-You want me t—to—to. . ." he paused, taking a deep shuddering breath, his face as red as a tomato, before asking the face in a loud whisper, gesturing somewhat discreetly, "_Wank_? Here?" He looked around, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was in the middle of a Gringotts tunnel, no matter how deep and out of the way! What if another cart came down? And what about the goblin watching even while cowering in the corner?

"_**Ho**_**~! Aren't you a sharp one, boy! Yes, **_**exactly that**_**, now come on, drop 'em and clean your pipes, else, you won't be getting into this vault, and that is **_**if**_** you are a Potter."** Well, he was at least getting the benefit of the doubt, now. But still, he had to _wank_ in front of the bloody guardian to prove that he was a Potter? What the hell kind of whacko made this stuff up? In fact, just odd couldn't quite describe this, he was sure.

"And how will that open the vault, then?" he asked, wanting to see if there was a way around it, though he knew it was more a stalling tactic than anything else. He had to pull himself together, damnit!

"**Simple, lad,"** the face answered lazily, as if he already knew he would balk, probably proving that he wasn't a Potter at all, **"While blood can be stolen, fingerprints faked and a magical signature reproduced, there is no way for anyone to replicate sperm, especially those of your family, and since they are all little Potters in the making, they can't be mistaken either, got it? Good. So drop your trousers and squeeze the cream from your flesh Twinkie — and make it fast for fuck's sake, I'm getting tired of this!"**

Harry could only huff. It made a kind of strange, if perverted, sense, and seeing how one actually had to _whack off_ in front of the guardian, the thing couldn't be faked. Really, this close the guardian could probably detect any enchantments as well. It had already stated that it knew if his blood matched with the Potters by just stepping into the circle, after all.

If anything, it seemed the Guardian was made with very complicated magic, and truly, whatever was in the vault that would need such protection must be pretty important for his family to go to such lengths to protect it. Just what would he find in there? As things stood, there was only one way to find out, it seemed.

Coming to this conclusion and seeing the expectant and impatient face of the Guardian, Harry sighed, having a good look around before zipping down his trousers and taking his considerably sized cock out into the breezy tunnel. He felt so naughty doing it, but it was strangely exhilarating. **"Well, that looks about right too,"** the big face stated thoughtfully, making him jump. He froze when he noticed the guardian eying his bits a bit too intensely before looking up to meet his eyes, the impatient, mocking glint in them gone and replaced with neutrality once more. Still, a moment or two passed and he still remained frozen in place, his hand around his flaccid dick, now embarrassingly aware of his audience, including the cowering goblin. **"Well?"** the guardian snapped him out of it, **"are you holding your sausage hostage, or are you going to start the five knuckle shuffle?"**

Blushing brightly, Harry began to stroke himself frantically, ignoring the sounds of disapproval coming from the Guardian even as he closed his eyes tightly and brought up one of his most intense fantasies to the forefront of his mind. He wasn't even at full mast when he shot his load, and though slightly out of breath, he wasn't really affected by it. It was one of those things that made him different from his year mates, though they didn't know about it. They just thought he had a big dick; they didn't really know of its rather diverse cumming capabilities. However, he'd done what he was asked, so he tucked himself in quickly and zipped himself up before meeting the disappointed gaze of the guardian. "What now?"

"**When I told you to make it fast, I didn't mean to only make a half arsed attempt at it, brat! Look, it didn't even reach half way! If you're really a Potter, what kind of Potter are you that you can't even shoot ten feet in front of you? That was pat****hetic! Ten feet is the minimum a Potter should be able to reach! Come on, try again."** And was it him, or was the guardian actually encouraging him? **"Well, boy, what are you waiting for, an invitation? And why did you put your dick away? Take it out and pet that one-eyed snake!"**

Of all the bloody— Argh! When he died he was searching each and every one of his ancestors and strangling the lot of them to death! Slightly pissed now, he yanked down his trousers so they rested around his ankles and took a deep breath while taking himself in hand, stroking slowly until he was completely hard this time. He ignored the few comments made by the stone face, who had whistled when his pants went down.

"**Well, well, well, going commando eh? That sure brings back memories! And you certainly have the Potter Balls; right big and plump pair you have there, lad, you should be right proud of them. Still, if you turn out to be a Potter, then we'll have to get you up to scrap, you're frightfully thin**** . . ." **

Harry ignored it, though the thought that he had something more in common with his family helped him relax, even if he still wanted to kill the lot of them and even if the only other thing he had in common with them was his abnormally large scrotum. He tuned the guardian's commentary out; the bloody thing wanted a good cumshot? Well, by Merlin, he was going to get it!

Bracing his legs while relaxing his muscles, he pulled and twisted his cock slowly, swiping at the head with his fingers as he stroked the long, thick shaft. His strokes were slow and deliberate, going from the very base to the head and twisting his palm around as he reversed his hold and stroked from head to base. It was a tricky manoeuvre that required some rather flexible wrists, but he had been blessed with those as well, thankfully. He twisted his hand this way and that, sometimes twisting the skin as well to add a bit of that pleasurable ache into the friction.

A moment later, he switched hands, seeing he was wankbidextrous; able to jerk off with either hand. While one hand was occupied with his dick, the other would be massaging his balls, pulling and cupping them both gently and roughly, in rhythm with his strokes.

He could already feel the pressure slowly building, and the soft appreciative murmurs from the Guardian were pretty hot too. Not to mention the feeling of adventure and danger he felt from whacking off in front of others, be they simply animated or a magical creature; it was both naughty and enticing, and Harry briefly wondered if maybe he was a bit of an exhibitionist.

His breathing was a bit more pronounced, but not laboured, and he upped the speed of his strokes from time to time, spicing things up a bit as his idle hand disappeared under his shirt to play with the skin of his stomach and chest, pinching a nipple from time to time.

He felt his balls begin to slowly rise, as if it were a particularly slow elevator, and the pressure became more and more pronounced; his breathing a bit heavier even as his heart started picking up speed, its steady thumping loud in his ears as the drafty tunnel's wind brushed against his heated flesh. His lips were parted and his pupils wide, his mind blank as he stimulated his body into release in a way that made it look as if it were an instrument that he was playing masterfully.

And when he felt he would burst, he took a deep breath and stopped, his hand tightening almost painfully around his swollen cock.

Opening his eyes, he smirked at the sight of the drooling guardian and the passed out goblin and asked, "You asked me what kind of Potter I was, right? That a Potter should be able to shoot these ten feet without a problem, right?" and when the Guardian gave him a dazed nod, eyes completely focused on his almost bursting cock and rising sac, he told him, "Well, this is the kind of Potter I am!"

And with that, he rocked his hips and pumped his hand frantically, not losing any balance, and still finding a way to look graceful while he kept squeezing his cock with both hands, his big balls rising rapidly, until suddenly, and with a lustful cry, a gigantic spurt of thick, ropy cum, shooting straight as an arrow and without spilling on the floor, hit the guardians face. A second later, another, even faster cumshot spilled forth and Harry continued his rapid stroking, milking himself for all he was worth as shot after shot of hot spunk hit the shocked guardian in the face.

His cheeks flushed and his eyes bright, Harry slowed down his pace even as his balls relaxed, immensely satisfied with the creamy streams of cum covering almost the whole gigantic stone face. "Well, how was that then?" he asked, his voice slightly cocky. It had been a long time since he'd been able to shoot that much at once; he was never alone for long enough to do it, even as he kept stroking himself. He was still hard after all, "or do you need more?" he asked, yanking slightly at his leaking member while he brought one of his hands to his face and began to lick it clean.

His last question seemed to snap the Guardian of his family vault into action, and in a move that surprised Harry, the stone face gave a deep hum as a long tongue came out and removed all of his spunk from its face in one smooth lick, before swallowing and closing its eyes, its humming reaching new levels, even as happiness seemed to seep into its expression, **"Dear Merlin!"** it exclaimed, its face seeming to lean eagerly forward, **"You really **_**are**_** a Potter! Bless you, dear child! I thought I would never be able to meet you! Welcome to your vault, Master!"**

The next thing he knew, the stone mouth opened once more and a long tongue darted out and encircled him, rolling him within it as he was pulled toward the stone face, his hand still grasping his straining erection.

But honestly, he really didn't care that much about it at the moment, since an instant later he was within the guardian's mouth, surprised by how warm and comfortable he felt even as he was licked from top to bottom and jostled comfortably around in that cavernous orifice. He felt like candy wrapped in colourful foil as all of his clothes were removed deftly, leaving him only with his glasses on before he was swallowed down a warm, spongy tunnel, feet first.

For whatever reason, he didn't feel at all in danger, and in fact he rather enjoyed the whole process. The trip down took longer than he would have expected, but the feel of the smooth, squishy, if somewhat constricting, surface as he slid down was extremely pleasurable, and he came rather violently a quarter of the way down, already more than turned on, not to mention highly stimulated by the licking that he had received, which had paid great attention to his throbbing member.

He decided, even as he came a second time half way down the trip, his body completely relaxed and more satisfied then he'd ever felt before, that he would give his family the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least. It might just be they were a bunch of kinky bastards, but if that was the case, at least he now knew where he got it from, making him feel as if he truly belonged; as if he had found his roots at last.

He didn't know what to expect, true, but he was looking forward to it nonetheless. His heritage, after all, awaited him.

**-****O●O●O●O-**

Bobby, for that was his name, had never been happier to be proven wrong, even as he felt the giddy excitement coming off from the new Master Potter as he made his way down into the vaults.

The boy was too skinny, though, and he frowned as he spit the horrible excuse for clothes his new master had been wearing, keeping only the wand, vault key and money pouch. It was shameful attire, but then, he didn't know the circumstances surrounding the last of the Potters. Oh, he'd known there was one still remaining from the family he had been made to serve and protect, but he didn't know who it was and there had been too many attempts by the goblins and others to breech him for him not to be doubtful of everyone brought before him.

Now, though, he hummed happily as his master came once again on his way down. It tasted magnificent, and truly, nothing tasted better in his opinion.

But he turned his thoughts outward a moment later. The young master would need all of the help he was able to provide, and that would take quite a bit of time, two weeks at least. So he looked over at the goblin and waited until the filthy creature regained consciousness. **"I have a new Master, Goblin, and so, from this day forward, all contracts the Potter Family upholds have become valid once more! Now, get out of my sight! Master Potter will call for you when he resurfaces from within my chambers."**

And with that note of finality, he melted into the wall, leaving it smooth once again, the only trace left of Harry Potter being a pair of too-large brown trousers which were horribly worn, a frayed and almost translucent shirt and two scruffy trainers that had a number of holes in them. There was no belt, only a length of rope, and no socks or underwear, for the goblin knew, even as he felt extremely inadequate because of it, that Harry Potter didn't wear any undergarments.

For now, though, he needed to report on this, for the Potter Family, the wealthiest and most previously influential, though odd, Family in the world, both wizard and muggle alike, would awaken completely for the first time in seventy-five years.

They would need to prepare, if nothing else. He could only hope they were ready to weather that particular storm.

-o

**TBC…**

-o

_**Pickled Brains:**_ What did I say, strange, right? And you can't imagine what my perverted mind is coming up with for the rest of this story! Because, believe it or not, this story _does_ have a plot, even if it starts with a spiced up version of that secret family vault cliché!

I hope someone, somewhere out there, enjoyed it, and if you did; well, leave me a review to let me know, okay?


	2. The Secret

_**I Disclaim**_ ownership of Harry Potter.

_**Alert! **_Mature content and magical furniture intercourse ahead.

-o

**Chapter Two:****  
****The Secret**

-o

Harry landed quite comfortably in what he deduced was a rather big, extremely cushy, lazy-man recliner chair. Or at least something that looked pretty damn close to it. He ended up sprawled and smelling faintly of cinnamon, something that surprised him since he'd expected to come out of that squishy tunnel a sweating, messy heap.

He _had_ come two times on his way down after all.

Still, he couldn't complain and he just allowed himself to sink into the sofa, or whatever it was, and closed his eyes, too lethargic to do a damn thing more at the moment. Truly, he had never experienced anything quite like it before, not because of how the entrance of his family vault worked, which was quite, well, _peculiar_, but because of all the times he _came_ in the process of actually gaining access to it.

He'd never been able to masturbate as completely as he had on this day either, so it was a rather new and enlightening experience for him.

After all, it would be a great impossibility that the Dursley's would actually leave him be while he 'cleaned his pipes,' especially with the grunting noises he was prone to make while doing it. On the other hand, when visiting at the Burrow someone was _always_ around him, and then he slept with Ron in his room, and while his best friend might not mind hearing him beating off a time or two, he knew his own release took time and was a complete mess; he didn't even want to think about what Mrs. Weasley would say in the face of the next day's laundry. Bathrooms were out of the question as well, since again, he needed time and people were prone to assemble a search party if he was missing for more than fifteen minutes.

Hogwarts, then, would have been an ideal place, but he'd always been stressed with something or other, which had kept his mind clearly away from such activities. First with the Dementors and Sirius in third year (which is when he'd started popping boners), then with the Triwizard Tournament in fourth, and lastly with Umbridge and his nightmares in fifth. Not to mention that a wanking session like the one he just experienced would've been almost impossible to pull off in a room with four other boys. Again, both because of the length of time he would need to find complete release and the absolute mess such an act would make. The variation of the Banishing Charm that could help him with that, after all, wasn't taught until fifth year.

So really, taking all of this into account, one could conclude that Harry Potter was a rather frustrated teenager. His pipes had _really_ needed the cleaning. So the fact that his Family Vault had provided even a slight help in that area was absolutely brilliant in his mind.

The whole assessment was a bit clinical, true, but those were the facts. Until now Harry simply had had to content himself with short half-wanks, as he liked to call them, to fulfill at least some of his very normal and very frequent teenage urges. He had to honestly admit; his pursuit of Cho last year had been more about finding a girlfriend than anything else. Maybe then, if he had the excuse of going out with her, he would have been able to find some time to be alone by himself at the very least.

He wouldn't have minded some help, of course, but then, he was already getting desperate by that time. Maybe that's why his temper was so frayed; even half-wanks had been few and far between during his last year at Hogwarts, and it was common knowledge that a growing boy needed more than that; far more, actually. Like, at least a couple of times a week.

Harry was lucky if he could get some one on one interaction with his hand once a _month_. And that was being generous.

But whatever, he already felt some energy returning, and though he wanted nothing more than have someone to cuddle with, the fact he was within his family vault was enough to make him move.

The first thing he noticed, of course, was he was completely starkers; only his glasses remained on his face. And though he was intensely embarrassed —for surely someone noticed the blush in his cheeks? — It was more out of self-consciousness than anything else.

Still, whatever embarrassment he felt was quickly gone as he took in his surroundings, even if he wasn't quite ready to leave the comfort of the recliner thingy he was lying on. Sprawled in. You get the idea. The thing, chair, whatever, had started giving his bare skin the lightest of massages after all, so why the hell would he stand up from it?

The distraction the room provided was obvious, though, seeing it was filled with a wide range of eye-catching things; he really didn't know where to look first, he could admit. From the spherical tanks of brightly colored liquid placed in each of the corners of the chamber and the middle of each wall, to the cubby holes and multiple compartments embedded into the stone walls themselves, holding any number of magical gadgets and potions, along with many things he couldn't quite identify. As he swiveled his head, he recognized three books within a small cubby, though those were the only ones in the rather large chamber.

It seemed to him his family wasn't really fond of reading; People after his own heart, he was glad to see.

Apart from the sofa, chair, _thing_, he was sunken into, sprawled onto, which was giving his feet some delicious kneading (making his whole body tingle as the soles of his feet were firmly rubbed), a small side table on his left and a fluffy looking rug at his right, the rest of the room was completely bare. There was no furniture or clutter, and nothing else taking up space apart from the seven spherical tanks of colored liquid. There was no gold or jewelry, though he did see a few small compartments with a necklace, rings or bracelets along the walls, but he couldn't see anything that would count as treasure or gold.

Not that gold really mattered to him. Everything else was fascinating enough, and as soon as this recliner finished that heavenly massage, he was sure to explore the lot of it. Still, as he half closed his eyes when a particularly knotted spot in his back was rubbed thoroughly, relaxing the muscles there, he finally noticed something he hadn't in his quick perusal. For in front of him, same as the entrance of the vault itself was a round protrusion in the wall, even if it was surrounded by nooks and small compartments.

He noticed it now, though, because the face of the guardian was slowly emerging from it, much like it had when the goblin had thrown wine at its surface. The difference was that its handsome face was now smiling while looking in his direction. **"Welcome again, Master Potter. My name is Bobby and I am the Guardian of your Vaults, Keeper of your Estates, Overseer of your family's Heritage and, from today onwards, at your complete service," **and Harry was sure that should he be able, Bobby would be bowing (and who the hell gave a fifteen hundred year old guardian a name like that? But then, maybe it was short for Robert?). As it was, the guardian was now smiling apologetically, **"I am extremely sorry for my rude behavior towards you, Master Potter, but the goblins—"**

He waved that off, "Stop right there. I know what those pieces of bat-shit have been doing, so you don't have to explain, what we need to do is find a way to get back at the little bugg—" and good gracious, he was going to give whoever made this overstuffed, massaging chair thingy his firstborn son at least, because he was in heaven as his scalp was being massaged by what felt like dexterous fingers. And what else could he do?

He moaned.

_Loudly_.

**"Ah, I see it is already working,"** he heard Bobby say, **"You are lying in your many great-great-grandfathers lounger, Master Potter. It was his wish for the family some five hundred years ago, when he arrived at the same spot that you have, only to fall into a normal, quite rigid, wingback chair. He was of the mind that a comfortable landing was a must and that relaxing before any business within the vault would be advantageous. Truly, there has not been a Potter until your great-grandfather that has not enjoyed it."** He could literally feel the grimace at the mention of his great-grandfather, but he didn't have a mind to ask at the moment.

Because, really, he was a sixteen year old boy! He was already hard again from the full body massage, and how his bum was getting a full rub down didn't help matters any. Then again, he didn't want it to stop, arching into the magical, skilful cushions as his hand made its way to his hard flesh, slowly stroking it while he pushed his bum down, enjoying the feelings he was receiving.

His eyes snapped open a moment later, though, when he felt his cheeks being parted, before they fluttered close with a groan as something silky started stroking at his entrance. Okay, he could see how someone could freak out because of that, but damn did it feel good! So, already liking this great-great-many-times-grandfather quite a bit by now, he continued stroking himself as that silky something began entering him, making him groan even louder as his body insistently, wantonly, pushed itself unto it, looking, hoping, for the feeling to increase.

**"Oh yes, you certainly are a Potter, young master,**" he heard Bobby say distantly, **"A **_**true**_** one at that."**

He really didn't care though, and shoved the comment to the back of his mind, though it did remind him that someone was watching, even if it _was_ a magically animated guardian. It gave him that same thrill it had back in the tunnels, though he had to admit it was warmer and cozier where he was . . . and _damn_, but that felt _good~_! He gasped, rocking himself into the hard, silky softness that had entered him, small at first, but steadily growing as he became accustomed to the sensation.

It was slick and warm, and of a completely different texture than the rest of the lounger, though the fingers massaging his scalp were quite different from the rest of the thing too. Still, as it grew and he pushed himself onto it, it touched something within him he hadn't known existed, making him cry out in pleasure. His hand came off of his cock, needing it as he did to brace himself better as his whole body joined in rocking into that delicious hardness, wanting it to hit that spot again.

_Needing_ it to hit that spot again. Because, _bloody hell_, it felt fantastic!

Not long after his hand left its place, though, something soft and furry seemed to wrap around him like a blanket and his throbbing member was soon completely surrounded by that warmth, bringing with it a whole slew of new sensations rushing into his brain, even as his sac was fondled gently by whatever-that-was, and _dear Merlin_, did it feel heavenly.

True, a small part of him wanted to know what the hell was happening, but the rest of him, a big and sound majority, didn't give a shit. He continued his rapid thrusting, even as he moved to better accommodate his straining, wrapped-up erection; moving downwards into the lounger and upward into whatever held his dick captive in smooth even movements; his muscles straining slightly from the effort, which added a delicious feel to the whole affair.

He was panting, groaning, moaning and sweating; his whole body alive with feeling, his mouth parted and his eyes closed. He heard nothing but the sounds of his own body; all of his senses were closed to the outside world. He could only hear his own breath, his own heart; the soft sounds made as his body hit the surface of the lounger, when that hard shaft was buried deep within him. He'd never felt something as amazing and all encompassing as this, and he _enjoyed_ it. He rejoiced in it; in the feelings and sensations it caused. He enjoyed the feel of that something sliding into him, the feel of his cock being engulfed by soft furry warmness; he liked the feel of his body as it strained, bending and moving in ways it was not accustomed to.

It was exhilarating, mind-blowing and incredibly hot, and he didn't want it to end.

He didn't know how much time he spent, lost in feeling, in need and desire, in the feel of his body and the pull of his lungs as they searched for air. He didn't know, and even as he came repeatedly, his cum seemingly milked out of him in great spurts, once, twice, three times and more; each making his muscles tense a little bit more every time, his tendons growing tauter beneath his skin and his balls becoming more and more compressed with each release.

His toes bloody well curled and he was sure his stomach muscles had never been as tense.

He was thrown into convulsions by the intensity of it all, his body trying to cope with the raw sensations being administered to it, not used to them as it was. Still, even as the strain became slightly painful while his flesh grew overheated, it only added to the symphony of feeling and sensation in his body; he felt as if he were an instrument being flawlessly played by a master, even as he continued to thrust up and down, his dick red and aching, his bottom pleasantly sore. And when he came once again, the last time, the comparatively small squirt much diminished from the massive gushes that had been released after so many, he did the only sensibly thing that his brain could muster at that moment.

He passed out, _overwhelmed_.

But, _galloping Hippogriffs_, his mind echoed with his last thoughts, _I want to do that again! _

**"Poor, lad, even when he tossed off before, he was holding back,"** Bobby whispered, gazing at his new master in both amazement and slight sympathy, even as the lounger settled and Shaggy, the fluffy rug that now covered the green eyed boy, finished cleaning him up while it expanded, tucking the last of the Potter's in; for a magic carpet, it seemed rather happy to be awake, snuggling into Harry as much as it could. It hadn't responded to more than a few Potters before, so the guardian knew that the boy had to be special, for the carpet, rug, blanket or whatever, to choose him.

**"Still,"** Bobby muttered to himself, watching the gaunt yet peaceful features of his young master in slumber, **"To maintain such a pace for more than three hours and eject so much, while impressive, means the boy hasn't been able to find complete release, well, maybe since puberty struck." **It was almost impossible to fathom, that a sixteen year old boy could have such control that he would ignore the urges of his body, of his birthright, for he was a Potter through and through. Anyone else wouldn't have given a damn and simply wanked to their hearts content, no matter the place or situation, but not this boy. Why though?

Potters had a natural urge to find pleasure and release, what with their dicks being what they were. For one to actually suppress those urges, well, it was unnatural in its impossibility, and yet, here was one who had seemingly done just that. And a teenager no less! The will that boy had to possess was probably immensurable.

Determination settled in him at this revelation. He would need to learn more about his new master, and quickly. Looking around the giant vault chamber, he concentrated and the lights lowered even as a jug of water and an empty glass appeared on the small side-table; it wouldn't do for the young master to become dehydrated, especially after he had expelled more fluids than was healthy. **"Explanations can wait until later. Sleep well for now, young master, I will be here when you awake,"** and with that whispered promise, he blended into the stones, as he always did.

He had a few things to do and a few goblins to interrogate. It had been a long time since he travelled anywhere but the chambers he protected, but there was a small outlet in one specific conference room, and he needed answers, and he needed them fast. Woe to the goblins if they didn't answer his call; they would apologize and make reparations, at the very least. Their race would be finished otherwise. They had, after all, broken many of their accords, and now that he had a new Master, simply by the lad entering the Family Vault, he had every right to demand retribution.

It was time to tighten the leash, and he was going to _enjoy_ it.

**-O●O●O●O-**

When Harry woke up next he felt better than he had in years; freer, as if a heavy load had been lifted from his shoulders. When he remembered what he'd done before passing out, well, he was sure one could have filled a bucket with his _load_; his balls had probably shrunk after all the cum he shot out, which immediately made him wonder where it had gone to, he should be swimming in the stuff. But he wasn't.

Strange, huh?

Cracking open an eye and spying a jug of water beside him, he suddenly felt thirstier than he ever remembered being, so he sat up and took the jug of cool, fresh water and drank directly from the pitcher, heaving a sigh when he was done. He'd almost drained the whole jug, which had refilled itself as he drank from it.

The next thing he noticed was that he was, once again, completely clean, followed closely by the warm, tickling feeling of fur against his bare skin, and of that same fur nuzzling his sides. He had to do a double take, until he noted that, yes, it was the fluffy looking rug which was now wrapped so comfortably around and against him, and, yes, it was furry on both sides, even if it was flat and square, like any other rug normally was. Though puzzled by it, he still petted it absentmindedly after it had nuzzled one of his hands for attention. It was strange, and rather cute, and he wondered if it had been this same rug that had given his cock such a sound rubdown.

It certainly felt like it.

And if it had, then the least he could do was pet it to its heart's content, right? It deserved it.

Surely, it was more than slightly weird, but he was already becoming used to it by now; after all, all this weirdness had given him the most amazing release (because he couldn't really categorize being stimulated by magical thingamabobs as sex) that he would have thought possible. After today, he wasn't sure if he would be able to deny himself as he had before; letting go as he had done simply felt too good to ignore.

He would need to find a place and the time to do it as well. Not doing so would be sacrilegious, even.

At the moment his bum felt enjoyably achy and his bits seemed quite recovered after their rigorous exercise. Pouring himself a glass of water, he relaxed into the comfortable embrace of the lounge chair _–thing–_ enjoying the mild massage it was giving him this time; it seemed it sensed that he wasn't quite up to another round, thankfully, though he was sure his teenage body could handle it if push came to shove, or rub. And he wouldn't mind getting something shoved into him again.

Hmm, yummy thoughts indeed.

**"Ah, good morning, young master,"** Bobby piped up, making him twist around a bit so he didn't have to sit up to look at the guardian and gave a soft greeting in return. He felt too lazy to do anything more at the moment, not to mention that the furry rug _–thing–_, whatever, had wrapped more comfortably around him, even as his hand stroked its fur idly. He could swear the thing was purring, even, or vibrating, since it made no sound. **"I see that Shaggy has taken a liking to you, Master Potter."**

"Shaggy?" he asked incredulously before looking at the rug. Well, its fur _was_ shaggy he supposed, and golden in color, but then, after what he'd felt Shaggy do to him before, he had to admit the name somewhat suited him, it . . . you get the point. "And please, Bobby," he said, turning to look back at the guardians face, "call me Harry."

**"Certainly, Master Harry,"** the guardian told him with a cheeky grin, making him give the giant face a lopsided smile. **"Now, there are a great many things to say, and a great many explanations to give, I am sure, but how about a bit of breakfast before we start on anything of the sort? I can start filling you in on your family as you eat."**

And with that, the lounge chair slowly reclined forward, leaving him in a comfortable sitting position with Shaggy curled around his lap and covering his legs, leaving him bare-chested. A moment later the side table appeared to twist and turn before it extended its top across his lap while food; eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, beans, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, jam, tea and pumpkin juice (not in that order), along with a few potion vials and fruits, appeared on its surface.

**"The potions are a base that needs to be ingested before you go into the blue tank of liquid magic, where your body will be healed of any injury or damage,"** Bobby explained before he had a chance to ask, **"Now drink them before eating and I will explain everything. If you have questions, you may ask them after I am done; it will be easier that way."**

It was bizarre. He had never felt quite as he did in this chamber in any other place, even in Hogwarts, which he considered as his home. He felt like he _belonged_ here, like nothing could harm him here . . . not even Voldemort.

And that was a powerful feeling.

So Harry simply nodded, somehow knowing that nothing would be hidden from him and that his questions would not go unanswered; Much like how he knew that he would be all right and safe while he was dropping through that spongy chute, and later, how it was alright for him to simply give in to the sensations the magical lounge chair and rug thing, Shaggy, he now knew, were providing. It was odd, sure, but then, he _had_ been told that his family was strange. So he picked up a fork, wiggled into a more comfortable position with Shaggy lightly fondling his sac, and started eating, more than slightly hungry, even as he listened to Bobby talk, telling him about his family.

**"Some two thousand years ago,"** Bobby began, and Harry startled at the number, slightly afraid that this would turn into a long ass lecture, **"seven very powerful magical objects were created; no one really knows how, or by whom, and there are many rumors and myths surrounding them; speculations that the gods created them, while others say that powerful sorcerers made them, but again, it was all hearsay and guesswork. These seven objects were made to house seven great spirits; spirits that became known as the Jinn, or Genies."**

Harry choked on a piece of sausage and had to get some juice to wash it down, even as the lounge chair patted his back gently. He remained silent, however, thunderstruck.

**"Yes, Genies are quite real, young master. As in the myths and stories, they are spirits with tremendous power that grant the possessor of their receptacle a number of wishes, as long as those wishes are not made for the revival of the dead, the manipulation of a person's free will or emotions, for wishing for more wishes, or to free the Genie from their vessel. Anything and everything else, is and can be done; the scale of it is only dependent on the power of the Genie involved." **

Bobby simply smiled at Harry's awed expression, for much like the wizarding world was only a myth within the muggle world, so were the Jinn a myth amongst all magical folk. **"Why do I tell you this, you might think? Well, Master Potter, I tell you this because your family came across one of these containers a few centuries after they were created. This is the secret of their prestige, of their fame and their fortune. Because of the Genie housed within my last chamber, generations of Potters have wished and made lives for themselves in any way that suited them best."**Struck almost speechless, Harry simply stared at Bobby in the face, mouth hanging open, even as he tried to articulate the questions that were running through his mind. **"Now, young master, please, continue eating. Like I said, you may ask questions at the end, so save them until then."** At Harry's tentative nod, the guardian continued, his voice grave, even if he could see the wheels whirling within the boys mind.** "However, while the first Potter's to become the Genie's master gained much strength for a time, they were reckless, foolhardy and greedy. They died for their ambitions, their wealth stolen, with their wishes now worthless; wasted. The Genie would have been forever lost if not for a small boy; Perseus Potter."**Bobby smiled,** "Perseus took the Genie's container and fled from his remaining family, not calling on it or wishing for anything, having learned his lesson after seeing his own father murdered because of his misuse of it, and his father's father before that. He came to Gringotts and claimed his Family Vault, which at the time was quite the same as any other. He dismissed his goblin escort and shut himself within the vault, where he finally called upon the powerful spirit and made his first wish."**Harry was, by now, engrossed in the story of his ancestor, almost imagining what he had experienced throughout his life. **"Perseus created me with his wish; a guardian for his family and their heritage: the Genie. He made the wish in such a way that I would become the Vault, a place out of this dimension where the Genie could be safely kept along with everything that the Potter Family possessed. Rules were created so that the Genie could not be misused again, and so Perseus wished for the Genie to follow them."**

And so the guardian recited the rules each Potter before him had to follow, that Perseus Potter had placed upon the Genie he now knew had to be in this very vault, and he found these rules to be more than reasonable: **"A Potter has to use his wishes for the family and then for himself. One wish, at least, should have permanence, so those that come after you might benefit from them. How you do this is up to you, but all the things you see in this chamber were wished into being by previous Potters for the use of their descendants. The Genie has been forbidden to grant a wish that would cause harm, or a wish wished with ill intent, for Perseus did not want his family to use its powers for evil. Lastly, a Potter cannot take the Genie's container from within my chambers, and no one but a Potter can come inside of me. Should the Potter Family perish, I am to leave Gringotts in search of a new Family to serve, should I find one worthy enough for that which I guard."**That explained quite a bit actually, including why everything within the vault looked so strange and, well, _magical_. Nothing looked like anything he had ever seen, and still, "You said the Genie's container was in this vault, where and what is it?" he asked, more than curious.

**"Ah, Master Potter,"** The guardian answered him with a mock-scolding tone, **"The Genie is within one of my other chambers; His vessel is a rather big ceramic vase."**

Finishing with his rather big breakfast, somewhat surprised he'd been hungry enough to eat all of it, he saw as the side-table returned to what it was before and the dishes disappeared before lifting Shaggy around his shoulders and settling into the chair more cosily, his balls still being gently handled. It was better if he found out about everything before going poking around; he was curious, yes, but if someone had the information and answers for him, he wouldn't go chasing around for them. Besides, he was confused about a few things, "Another chamber? I thought this was the only one."

Shaking his giant head slightly, Bobby let out a low chuckle, amused at the picture that Harry made, snuggled up with Shaggy like that. The lad didn't know just how special his new 'blanket' was. **"I have three main chambers at present, young master. This being the first, since it is best that you are aware of the things that your ancestors have wished for your use, so you might not waste your wishes in something that already exists. The second chamber holds your monetary holdings and information of your multiple properties, along with any pertinent titles inherited or wished for by your predecessors. The last chamber, as you no doubt already know, houses the vase in which the Genie resides."**

"Wow," that was a little more than he was expecting. Okay, so who was he fooling? That was a whole heck of lot more than he had ever imagined! It made him look at all of the stuff within the small compartments with new eyes. Everything within those compartments and cubby holes was left and wished for by his family for him to use (and his children after that). It was overwhelming, and just thinking that he might leave something for those that came after him made him feel amazing as well.

It made him realize that his destiny might not be as hard to overcome, with all of this at his disposal, with three wishes that could help him in defeating Voldemort! Maybe this is 'the power the Dark Lord knows not?' Whatever the case, this was the first time since he had heard the prophecy that he felt like he had a chance. Like there was, indeed, a future out there for him to grasp. Still, he remembered something from when Bobby had started his explanations. "You said there were seven Genies, and that the scale of the wishes depended on the Genie's power, so where are the other six? And what did you mean by the scale of the individual Genie's power?"

Harry could swear the guardian's eyes were sparkling, even as a pleased smile spread across its lips. "**You are a sharp one, aren't you, young master? Only one person has asked that before and the others only considered it briefly before dismissing it, not doing anything about it. Anyways, yes, there are seven Genies; apart from the vase held within these chambers, you might have heard of an old oil lamp in some tales, or that of a ring in others?"** he asked, smirking when Harry's eyes went wide.

"You mean to say that those stories about Aladdin were true?" Harry eyes were filled with disbelief.

"**I****ndeed, Master Harry,"** the guardian confirmed, amused at how the young man goggled at him**, "However, while there are references in history that might account for the other four Genies', it is my belief that their limitations don't make them as noticeable. The lamp contains the second most powerful of the Seven, just like the ring I mentioned, contained the least. Depending on their power, they can be very different from each other, and the wishes that you make of them can vary vastly. The ring, for example, can grant a multitude of wishes, but they are minor wishes at that, nothing that a powerful wizard could not accomplish, I am sure. The more powerful the Genie, the least amount of wishes it can grant, though the scale, diversity and power of the wishes increases."**

Almost too nervous to ask, Harry just blurted it out, "And which of them is the vase, then?"

"**Why, Master Potter**," Bobby answerer coyly, **"the vase contains the most powerful of them all, but you already suspected that, isn't that right? As it stands, the genie within the vase will grant you three wishes at most."**

Giving a jerky nod, Harry confirmed this. It certainly explained why his ancestor had gone to such lengths to secure its use. He took a deep breath and relaxed; glad for the distraction that Shaggy provided when he demanded some attention. Fishing for more information, however, seemed to be the best course of action. He could process it all as he found out about it. "So, what can you tell me about all of these things?" he asked, motioning to the chamber at large.

"**I thought you'd never ask, young master!"** The guardian was positively beaming, seemingly excited to share.** "One of the things I have been charged with during the years was to keep track of all those things your family has wished for. For example, those big coloured tanks are filled with liquid magic, each wished into existence to perform a certain function; the blue tank, should you immerse yourself in it, will heal any and all injury that your body has suffered. It will, in effect, cure your malnutrition, your eyesight, your stunted growth and anything else that might be wrong with you. It is the reason that a Potter had never died of disease."** It made Harry's eyes go misty, which Bobby didn't seem to notice in his excitement.

"**The golden tank follows in the same line as the blue one, only that this one will grant you physical strength and durability, **_**as if you had worked out all of your life**_**, I remember was the wording of the wish. After spending the needed time within it, you will be forever fit, though you have to decide just how fit you want to become. I remember a Potter that wanted to be the strongest man on earth and ended up with enormous muscles."** Harry shook his head, trying desperately to understand what the guardian was saying. It seemed impossible. All of it; it was simply hard to believe that such things existed.

"**After taking a dip in the green tank, the liquid magic will find your animagus form and**** allow you to transform into it as if it were second nature."** Upon hearing this, Harry became extremely excited, but then something occurred to him, if his father could just take a dip into the pool to become an animagus, then why didn't he? Had his father even known about Bobby? It made him remember what the guardian had said to the goblin. Now that he thought about it, had he really meant his father? He would have to ask, certainly. For now, though, he listened to what the stone face had to say.

"**The red tank contains a rather ingenious wish. Seven hundred yea****rs ago, one of your ancestors wanted very dearly to hold some strange and unusual power, but he couldn't decide on what to wish for; should he wish for wings to fly with without being an animagus? The ability to change form at will without being a metamorphmagus? He couldn't decide, so for his wish, taking the tanks of liquid magic as an example, like others had done before him, he asked for a tank himself; one that would grant a unique ability that would help you throughout your life. Some Potters have been gifted with the ability to manipulate one element or another, others with the ability to fly, or great mental prowess; even as a few have become undetectable, or able to heal any injury. Many still think that it is one of the best wishes ever made."**

Harry himself was amazed, and he lost himself in thoughts of just how his life would change while within his Family's Vault. He had expected many things, true, but none of them could really match what the reality of it was, and as the Guardian of his Vault continued his explanations, he became more and more excited.

Truly, the future as he knew it, as he was afraid it would be, would be completely different.

He would make sure of it.

-o

**TBC…****  
**

-o

_**Pickled Brains:**_ Well, what do you lot think? I figured it was fantastical enough to be fun, and just wait till you see what's coming up next!

Oh! And if you have any suggestions for wishes that his ancestors made, or for something Harry could wish for himself, I'm open for suggestions! The possibilities, such as they are, are endless!


	3. The Change

_**I Disclaim **_ownership of Harry Potter.

-o

**Chapter Three:**  
**The Change**

-o

He wanted to take a dip in the spherical tank of blue liquid magic as soon as possible, but Bobby told him he needed to wait for the potion he drank at breakfast to take complete effect. It seemed that it used to take more than a week for someone to be completely cured within the tank, something to do with a wizards personal magic fighting it off (thanks to a mistake in the wording on the wish); so someone wished for something that would prepare both their body and their magic for it, making the process smoother and faster. But even so, it still took three full days at its worst. So he was told he had to wait a couple of hours more, at the very least.

Thankfully, the potion was a one-time thing, and was usually given to a Potter child early on.

It was interesting how many wishes came in the form of potions, even if they weren't really that. Much like the tanks, they were simply liquid magic, only these ones were drinkable.

It wasn't really a hard wait. There were many interesting things to see in the first chamber of his family vault, not to mention the stories behind each and every one of them, which Bobby faithfully provided.

Harry had gotten off his lazy ass for this, at last, even as Shaggy became thinner and smaller and wrapped around him as some kind of loincloth. He would never say it aloud, but his bits had never felt as comfortable as they did then; nestled snugly as they were within Shaggy's furry hold.

It made him wonder if wishing for fur underwear might be a good idea.

He was surprised though, when Bobby laughed when he voiced this thought aloud and a cubicle on the left of the stimulation chair, as he liked to call it, lit up brightly. He found quite a stash of underwear in it, to tell the truth. They came in sets too; some were wished to provide perfect comfort, while others were wished to supply almost constant stimulation; but really, who would wear always-fondling-underpants?

The set Harry liked best, though, were the ones that was bigger (much bigger) on the inside while still looking perfectly normal on the outside; it was like Mad Eye's seven compartment trunk, underwear-style. Bobby told him they had a pocket dimension inside of them, and you could even charm a small breeze in them and feel, for all intents and purposes, as if you were airing out the family jewels.

Of course, Harry figured out their true purpose easily enough, or at least came up with a good reason to use them: because really, if you have an erection while wearing them, it wouldn't be noticeable. _At all_. And indeed, the wearer could walk quite normally while this was going on. The fact that they were indestructible, could change into any style of underwear possible and were permanently clean was not lost on Harry either.

"**Honestly, young master**," the guardian had answered to his incredulous stare when informed of this, **"Just how old do you think most of your ancestors were when they made their wishes?"** He didn't need more explanation than that. It was quite a sound wish to make if you were a randy teenage boy who would pop a gigantic boner at any turn. **"Indeed, Alfred Potter was rather more sensitive than the rest,"** Bobby told him thoughtfully at that.

He had to wonder, even if briefly, just what the guardian would tell Harry's _own_ descendants about him, but was too amused by the set of underwear that made your ass look '_damn_ good,' to care. He didn't even give the gold thongs that made anyone attractive enough squeeze your buns a second glance.

Still, after a few seconds of consideration he decided to take them with him. The ones with the pocket-dimension, of course (his ass looked perfect as it was, after all, and he would probably curse anyone who started groping him). A no brainer, eh? And as such, Bobby suggested he take a trunk especially made for that purpose, secret family compartment and all. After that, it was a simple black family trunk, much like the one he already had, but Bobby told him only a Potter would be able to open it. While it was bottomless, the most important feature was the round medallion-like fastening that held it closed, for Bobby's face was the guardian of the trunk, so its contents could not be accessed by anyone else but a Potter, or someone authorized by him. If the contents were somehow lost, the guardian could just summon them back to the vault without any problem.

A bit overprotective, right? Yes, well, Harry thought so too, but it seemed that a few of his ancestors had lost a few things, so it had become a necessity. The trunk was there so he could keep the items outside the vault when not in use, avoiding the automatic recall that would summon the items back to Bobby's chambers. At most, the items would be recalled to Harry's trunk, and if Bobby sensed someone trying to steal the trunk itself, then he could recall it and all its contents when necessary.

Harry dumped the few sets of underwear he had chosen into the trunk and continued to look around (he found some fur undies as well). And he found a rather big ring too. **"That's a groin ring, young master,"** the guardian told him when he asked, **"After putting it on, you will be able to either shrink or expand your penis' size at will, whether erect or otherwise. I hear it is rather useful, though I've never really understood why, when your family has such beautiful members. Then again, it was wished into existence only a few generations back, so I don't have much information about it."**

He was too curious about it to not try it, so he threw it in the trunk for later scrutiny (Bobby, being the guardian of the trunk, had the ability to sort everything within it). Besides, since the ring adjusted automatically depending on one's state of arousal, it seemed like something cool to wear, if for no other reason than the _Bling_, of course.

He tried very hard to convince himself of this fact, too.

It was when he was going through the potions that something occurred to him, and as he read the label of a lubrication concoction: '_it makes your dick rather slick_,' he asked, "Hey, Bobby? Why is it that everything here is so obviously, well, for boys?"

There was nothing that made him think a woman had ever been inside the vault, or made a wish, at that. All the sexual toys, and they were a great many of them (Harry had already stuffed quite a few in his trunk), not to mention the weapons, gadgets or even jewelry, which would be the place that he expected to find the most female influence in, was, well, quite manly; the lot of it.

"**Ah, that was because Perseus' son, Caddaric Potter, wished, and I quote, '**_**for all those within my line to be blessed with extraordinary cocks**_**,'"** Harry choked at that, almost dropping the companion potion of the lubrication concoction: '_it prepares your hole for assault_,' the label said_. _**"Of course, because of the wording of the wish, every Potter since then has been, and will always be, well, **_**male**_**."**

And the guardian said it so casually too!

"**Several generations later, someone wished for me to approve every wish that influenced the whole line, since their son wanted to wish for every Potter to be 'always turned on.' Not a very comfortable thing, eh? The boy was thirteen though, and was just discovering the joys of **_**jackin' the beanstalk**_**, if you know what I mean,"** he explained with an amused, if suggestive, chuckle. **"His father managed to stop the wish before it was completed, and wished himself that a Potter would need to be sixteen years of age before their wishes could be granted."**

"I have a rather colorful family, don't I?" he asked with a fond smile, even as he looked over a pensieve that allowed a person to actually _relive_ a memory as if you were the person the memory belonged to. All these little tidbits made him feel even closer to the family he had never known. And looking over the things they had wished for, well, it was like having a peek at their deepest desires, even if the majority of those were completely shallow.

"**That you do, Master Potter. ****That you do."**

Something nagged at his mind though, and as he perused a few mirrors that allowed you to either see anything that you wanted to see, communicate with someone as long as they were close to a reflective surface, or see a chosen persons dreams, he figured out what it was, stilling as the thought seemingly paralyzed him. "Bobby?" he asked faintly, "What did my father wish for?"

Why hadn't he considered that before now?

The giant face furrowed in concern, especially when it noticed that Harry's eyes were particularly bright, but not in the teary sense. **"He never came within my chambers, Master Harry,"** he explained softly. "**You are the first Potter in almost eighty years to come and visit me**," the guardian's voice had gone both sad and dark.

"Why?" he asked suddenly, his eyes glazed as he looked toward the guardian. Why had his father never known of all of this? Of his own family, his heritage? Would they have died if he had been able to access the Genie? Would they have been safe?

Anger could be clearly seen in the giant eyes. **"Charlus Potter,"** Bobby almost spat, **"Your great-grandfather is at fault, Harry." **Only the fact he was addressed by his name snapped him out of his thoughts, even as he began to listen.** "He came to visit me when he was fourteen and in the company of his father, Magnus, and though he was informed of his Heritage and his History, he never came back. I awaited him after his sixteenth birthday, especially after I felt old Magnus die before it; He should have come to take the reins of the family, to renew the contracts, to review the estates, or at the very least, to give me leave of doing it in his stead. But he never came, and he denied his birthright. He married a **_**woman**_**, a Black at that. And so the contracts became dormant and the Potter family went silently into the night, their prestige lost, their hold **_**broken**_**."**

Bobby's eyes practically burned as he continued speaking, the chamber turning dark with his mood, betrayal thick in his tone, **"A betrayal to his line, and all those that came before it. And then he influenced those that came after him; His son never even came to see me! Though I assume he was told of the 'family vault,' since the goblins are compelled to do at least that, even if they might not want to. But he never came, and continued in his father's footsteps as well, and so did your father after them,"** he sighed, his voice softening considerably, even as the lights returned to normal. **"You, Master Harry, came, though. And that makes all the difference."**

So his father didn't even know about it, about all of this. But then, something struck out in his mind about the guardian's words, "He married a Black? Who? And why is that a bad thing?"

"**He married Dorea Black**** five years after his father brought him to me,"** Bobby told him, his booming voice neutral now.** "As for how marrying a woman is a bad thing, really, Master Potter! Don't tell me that you actually like them?"** the guardian sounded scandalized.

"Eh? What do you mean? Of course I, erm, like them!" Red suffused his face, a little too flustered to understand Bobby correctly. Well, what was he going to say to the guardian of his family history? That he was as gay as they came? That he would be the end of the family because of it? Because really! He couldn't see himself marrying a girl! Though he could probably endure it if it meant having a family of his own; maybe someone tomboyish like Ginny.

"**WHAT?! You **_**like**_** them?!"** And why was Bobby panicking because of that? **"Dear Merlin, maybe the Potter family was cursed, then? Maybe that's why Charlus married a woman? Could this be why he didn't come back? Ashamed of what had happened to him—?"**

"Bobby!" Harry called out, completely confused by the panicking guardian, "what are you talking about?"

**"****Oh, Master Harry,"** the stone face spoke in distress, **"A thousand years ago, well before I was given the task of approving those wishes that influenced the line, Arvie Potter wished for a way for two men to have a baby, and later wished for all of his descendants to be homosexual, so they might enjoy the same happiness that he enjoyed. Your Great-grandfather was the first Potter in almost one thousand years to marry a woman, and now you, oh, Master Potter, you are straight too!"** the guardian wailed as if the world had just ended, his tone both sorrowful and somewhat accusing.

Harry couldn't take it anymore, though. He _laughed_. And he laughed so hard his sides began hurting. Hysterically, even. He'd been _so_ afraid, so very afraid that something was wrong with him. He'd been hiding it for so long, too! No one knew his preferences, and he hadn't planned to tell anyone about them. But now, now he found that his family, his whole family, was exactly like him! That he was born like this!

And, damn it all, did it feel good to know!

It made all of the things in this vault make so much more sense as well! Though most of the things within it could be attributed to randy boys making the wishes, there had been several toys that were hard to explain, even under the banner of experimentation. But no, all of his ancestors were as bent as he was, and probably flaunted it!

He told all this to Bobby and more, and literally poured his soul to the guardian, telling him about how he was raised in the muggle world and the amount of prejudice they held about the issue. The guardian, of course, was ecstatic, even if it still didn't explain why his great-grandfather had never come back to the vault.

It made him realize that his own father was probably gay as well; had he hidden it too? Had he truly fallen in love with his mother? It seemed like it, from all the stories he had heard. But then, maybe she was also a way to hide his true nature; Hadn't Sirius said that he had chased his mother, and no one else, for years?

"Hey!" he exploded, realizing something, "you said there was a way for two guys to have a baby?" he couldn't keep himself from being excited. He had always wanted a family, a big one at that, but he was almost resigned to the fact that it wouldn't be possible with his preferences. He was sure that that desire would have driven him toward a girl at one point or another, if nothing else did.

**"****Of course, Master Potter,"** Bobby told him, still happy about Harry being as gay as the rest of his family. Odd family, remember? **"You wouldn't be here if there weren't. Nevertheless, there is a small tank of liquid magic over there, in the most secure compartment within this chamber, this one full with pink, translucent liquid. With a collective use of magic and 'potions,' the two fathers prepare it, making a link between the small tank and themselves, like a magical umbilical cord, before they, well, pour some baby batter into it. The tank will do the rest. From feeding to making sure that the fetus is healthy while it develops, taking whatever information is needed from your tadpoles to make it. The magical link creates an unbreakable bond between the parents and the child, one even stronger than that of normal childbirth. When the babe is ready to be 'born,'" **Bobby explained, a smirk covering his gigantic face, especially at Harry's mesmerized expression, **"Well, a magical stork forms out of the liquid and delivers him to his parents."**

"What? Are you serious?"

"**Of course, Master Potter,"** Bobby smiled, **"Never doubt that the Genie of the Vase has a sense of humor. Now, how about you get your scrawny ass over to the blue tank? It is time you enter it."**

"How do you know?" Harry asked, curious, though he would have wanted to ask more questions about his family, even as he walked over to the tank, "And how am I supposed to get in it?" The thing was taller than him! And there weren't any ladders or anything to climb to where the entrance was at the top.

"**I know because your magic is visible beneath your skin, Master Potter. It gives you th****at delightfully 'glowy' quality."** Was that sarcasm? He wasn't sure, seeing as the guardian had been speaking properly most of the time, **"As for how to get in, well, Shaggy? Care to do the honors?"**

"Wha—?!"

He didn't get to finish his question though, since Shaggy unfurled from around him, leaving him starkers for a few confusing seconds, before he —the rug, stupid, not him!— was growing in size and wrapping him in a comfy roll. The next thing he knew, he was flying, blinking his eyes when his glasses fell from his face, before suddenly finding himself face down on top of the blue tank, blinking owlishly at the thick blue liquid. Still, only one though crossed his mind, "Wow! You can fly, Shaggy? That's brillia—!"

And then the flying carpet, rug, thing, _dropped him_, as if loosening his grip, and let me tell you, falling through that tube of long soft fur felt delicious to his bare skin. And as he fell into the viscous liquid and righted himself, he wondered briefly if Shaggy might be able to do that again . . . and make it last longer, too—

He didn't quite remember anything after that.

**-O●O●O●O-**

It would normally take a few hours for a minor injury, maybe a day for a major one. Bobby expected Harry to stay within the Healing Tank for the full three days, if not more. The boy's body was too messed up not to warrant it.

Potters were tall, and while not generally broad, they always had a graceful, imposing physique. Harry, however, was short, his growth stunted; his hair, while the same as his ancestors, was rough and dry. His skin, while tan, was dehydrated and unhealthy. His eyesight was poor, his muscles were atrophied, his knees knobby. The guardian could easily count the ribs on the boy's chest and the way his stomach looked sunken and hollow was more than slightly upsetting.

And that scar; that vile scar on his Master's forehead, that would be the most difficult problem of them all. But the liquid magic would get rid of it, he was sure. Harry Potter would come out a whole new person, and Bobby couldn't wait to see him.

Already he could see the young man's body filling out, growing, his hair becoming shinier, and his skin healthier. But spending the days watching the boy would do no good, so as the days passed, he prepared and reviewed all the information delivered to him. He found out about the state of affairs on the outside world and updated all of his files. He checked on all those properties he couldn't influence directly, and started reviewing all the old agreements. The goblins were already tumbling over each other to do as he asked, and he was glad that it was only a small group of them that had been conspiring against the Potters.

They were quickly dealt with, of course, the magic of their agreements not being satisfied until the very last one was found.

It was quite a lot to take in, true, since it was the first time he had been disconnected from the world as he had been, but he'd been around for too many years, _centuries_, to be caught flatfooted. And so he learned and fixed and arranged, preparing everything that his Master would need, preparing for the day when the Potter name would shine once again.

The third day came and went though, even if Harry looked completely different from what he had before, and so the Guardian waited and watched, amazed at the changes, and even more astonished at the time it was taking; truly, the young wizard was in dire straits to be taking so long, and indeed, his magic had to be helping the process along instead of fighting it, because the Tank alone could not change him so drastically.

On the fourth day, however, it happened.

No flash of light came, no boiling water or anything gaudy of the sort. Simply, Harry Potter opened his eyes, and that was that. **"Shaggy, please, help young master Potter out,"** he told the anxious rug, still surprised by how attached it was to the last Potter. Harry swam up and Shaggy easily pulled him out, and though he'd been submerged in something that looked to be liquid, it was anything but. So the boy was completely dry.

Still, when deposited on his feet Harry Potter quickly stumbled, and would have fallen right on his face if not for the furry rug.

Stronger, he might be. Healthier he certainly was, but that didn't give him the coordination necessary for his completely different body; he was taller, broader and had more mass than he'd ever had before. His bones were heavier and even his hair looked thicker too, to say the least.

And Dear Merlin, but if the boy was well endowed before, well, now he was severely hung! Bobby knew that the sizing groin-ring would truly come in handy now.

**"I am certain you are not the least bit hungry, Master Potter,"** the guardian spoke up after Harry was comfortably floating on top of Shaggy, having fallen a few times already, **"So I propose you go immediately into the Physical Strength Tank, the one with the gold magic. Even if you are at the peak of your health, being at the peak of your strength will help you gain your balance faster, especially if you ask for the build of a martial artist or something of the sort. The liquid magic will make your body flexible and balanced enough that walking again should not pose as much of a problem as it is proving to be now."**

"That might just be the best, Bobby," the young wizard said wearily, his voice smoother, even as he tried to stand up again. He was stubborn, if nothing else. Of course, the second he tried to move his feet to walk, he tripped all over them. Sighing in defeat, Harry simply shook his head, "Yeah, definitely the Gold Tank. Shaggy?" He didn't even have to say anything and the rug quickly picked him up and took him to the mouth of the Tank, "so how does this one work?" he asked the guardian.

**"When you enter the Tank the magic will show you, by way of images, how your body can be enhanced physically. From brute strength to balance, flexibility, speed and any number of other variables will be shown to you to choose. Of course, all the 'choices' given to you will be the best suited for your body, and the whole process is far more complicated than just showing you images and you choosing, though no one has been able to explain it better than that."**

"Right! So it's one of those things you have to do to understand, eh? Well, let's give it a shot!" And with that, Harry plunged in.

And thus the next few weeks passed, with Harry going into each and every tank, only pausing slightly to gain an explanation of its workings. He didn't need to eat, bathe or anything of the sort during his days within the liquid magic, since the magic itself took care of such things.

His animagus form had pleased him greatly, though, and Bobby couldn't really contain his surprise at the sight it made, even as Harry pranced around in it before going into the next Tank. He took almost two days in the red liquid magic, and even after that no special power manifested itself, which the guardian said was extremely rare. Usually people got at least a hint of what it was at first. But then, it also meant his own personal magic was affected by it, and that would prolong the process of manifestation, which meant his ability was probably more powerful than most.

The last Potter didn't really see himself as a powerful wizard, no matter how much Bobby insisted that he was. Bobby had never seen a Potter as powerful as his current young master, and that was saying something. While Harry hadn't seen just how striking he looked now, Bobby saw, and he knew that the last Potter was, indeed, rather special.

The next tank that Harry used contained bronze colored magic within it, and was the one he found to be the most convenient of the lot. And since it was the Tank of Knowledge, well, it was rather useful to have. True, you couldn't learn everything there is to learn in a few days, but if you took a dip in it every now and then, you could learn quite a bit anyways.

As it stood, while Potters usually test for one or two masteries when the time was right, thanks to the knowledge contained within this tank they could easily go for more. At the moment, Harry only stayed in it for enough time to learn or relearn all school related knowledge. He was surprised by the amount of gaps in his learning, and looked wistfully at the Tank after he came out, but the fact stood; you couldn't really absorb too much at any one time or your brain would turn to mush.

Literally.

Still, it took only a day to learn the last two years of schooling at Hogwarts, and some hours to cover the gaps in his learning for the previous years. And while this was enough in many subjects, Harry became rather interested in Mastering Defense and Charms, maybe even Potions as well, but that would take more time, and more than a few dips.

For now, though, he decided to stay within his vault until he had to leave for Hogwarts, and decided to go into the Knowledge Tank a few more times, for at least a few hours a dip, so he could learn Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Occlumency, Dueling and a few other subjects that he thought he needed to learn for now.

He would see about a way to visit his vault during the school year so he might continue gaining as much knowledge as he could. At the moment, he was thirsty for it, especially after he understood how useful just knowing things could be.

For one thing, Harry didn't feel quite as stupid as he did most of the time, and though the way he gained it was not exactly fair, it still didn't deter him from continuing with the practice.

**"You have to understand, though, Master Potter,"** Bobby told him after his second dip within the Knowledge Tank, **"That you will not find all of the knowledge in the world within that Tank. It is but the accumulated knowledge of your Family and as such, it is still quite incomplete. True, things like the core branches of magic are covered rather nicely, but the last time it was updated was at least ninety years ago. As much as you learn with the Tank, you must remember you are not learning everything there is to learn about the subject,"** making Harry understand the abilities of the liquid magic better, **"So you must continue learning yourself, and maybe develop more of those magic's on your own so that might add to the well of knowledge that your family possesses. I have it on good authority, in fact, that no one in your family has ever studied Alchemy or the Mandarin language, and that's just the tip of the iceberg."**

Still, even knowing this, and having promised himself that he would add to the knowledge of the tank, at the moment he needed the current knowledge more than he needed to expand it, though he understood what Bobby said perfectly well. Already he had noticed how he knew some curses and jinxes, as well as other, more recent, charms that were not covered by the Tank, so he added those in, even if they were a small addition.

Apart from all of this, Bobby had taken his measurements and ordered a new wardrobe for him, even as letters were delivered to Dumbledore and his friends explaining the situation as best as he could and without revealing any family secrets. He was sure they would have worried when he didn't come out from his visit from to his vault, but hoped they hadn't become too frantic over it.

In any case, though he practiced his magic after Bobby returned his wand and kept looking around the mass of treasures within the first chamber of his vault, he didn't find anything as, well, _enjoyable_, as his experience in the Tank of Silver Magic.

Hopping Hippogriffs! It was the most ingenious wish in the whole vault, in his sixteen year old mind, and that was saying something. After all, while all other teenagers his age had to stumble along blindly and experiment clumsily, his family had a bloody magical tank filled with magic that taught you how to have sex!

Now tell someone that that isn't just bloody brilliant!

So Harry spent almost three days within the silver tank, learning and experiencing sex in _almost_ every way. After all, he had experienced enough pain in his life, so he wasn't exactly fond of it, and thus he skipped that part of the experience and some of the nastier stuff as well, but still experienced all the joys and delights that the tank had to offer.

It gave him a whole new degree of confidence in himself, that's for sure.

It was also after he came out of this last tank, a few days at most, after having looked and explored every inch of this first chamber that Bobby told him something he had been waiting for quite a while to hear. **"I think you are ready to go into my other chambers now, Master Potter. Indeed, it is high time for you to meet your family's legacy, its Genie."**

"Really?" He asked, already trying to imagine what a genie would look like, even as his brain turned to the question that had been plaguing him ever since he found out about his family; just what was he going to wish for?

Did he even dare make a wish now? Was he ready to make such a decision? Did he have to make a wish right away, for that matter?

If nothing else, he could meet his family's genie and hope for a flash of inspiration should a first wish be needed, so he nodded towards Bobby, mindful that September the first was right around the corner, and with Shaggy wrapped tightly around himself like a toga, he told the Guardian firmly, "Then take me to the next chamber and lets meet this Genie."

Smiling, the guardian responded in kind, **"Then hop into my mouth, young master, and I will take you there,"** before his lips parted and his tongue lengthened so Harry might sit comfortably in it.

Because really, what better way to travel is there but riding in a big, dexterous tongue?

So when Bobby became rather frisky, Harry could only say a laughing _"Hey!"_ while he was swallowed in every sense of the word.

-o

**TBC…**

-o

_**Pickled Brains:**_ So, how was it? Not a lot of action here, but I need to set up for the rest of the plot, and yes, there is a plot, so explanations were needed and changes needed to happen and such. Do you like it? If you did, then review!

Please?


	4. The Jinn

_**I Disclaim **_ownership of Harry Potter.

_**Alert!**_ Here there be pervert-ness.

-o

**Chapter Four:**  
**The Jinn**

-o

It was with a lazy smile that Harry exited the Guardians mouth, Shaggy wrapping around him like a fur toga once again as he slid out of that marvelous tongue. It was because of this and his overly relaxed state that it took him more than a few blinks to actually notice his surroundings.

And yes, get your mind into the gutter!

Harry could have sworn his jaw unhinged itself in the next few seconds, even as his eyes blinked rapidly as a way to see if what he was looking at was real. For in front of him was a chamber the same size of the one he just left, and indeed, the same shape as well. The difference, however, was rather obvious.

Because while the first chamber was practically empty apart from the giant tanks and the nooks and compartments set into the stone walls themselves, this chamber was full to the brim, of, well, _gold_.

Everywhere and as far as he could see.

Gold.

There was not even a slight bit of silver or bronze. Just gold and the sparkling shine of thousands and thousands of diamonds, rubies, sapphires and any other sort of valuable stone. And it was overflowing everywhere in mounds as high as the ceiling!

"**This, Master Potter, is your fortune,"** the Guardian behind him whispered, **"While it might look rather impressive, it does not make you the wealthiest person in the world, though you are quite high in the scale, even if that could change should you so desire."**

"This is all mine?" Harry asked faintly, and for a boy used to having nothing (His trust fund was only enough to get him through school and give him a leg up afterwards, after all), what stood in front of him now was more than shocking.

"**Yes, ****young master,"** Bobby whispered again, as if he understood Harry's reaction in some way, **"It is all yours. And it is the base of all of your family's fortune. It was wished some time ago that this room always contain the same amount as it currently has, be it in gold or whatever currency rules the world's economy, and no matter how much you take out or spend, it will always refill to what you see before you."**

Harry whipped his head toward the stone face, his own expression set into disbelief, his mouth opening and closing without a word coming out.

"**So while you might not be ****the wealthiest person on earth, you are the most economically stable person now living."**

Looking back at the mountains of coins and the piles of precious stones Harry Potter suddenly sat down, feeling somewhat faint. If what Bobby said was true, he could buy anything he wanted! He would never want for anything material, and indeed, he wouldn't need to work a day in his life if that's what caught his fancy.

This, above all else, explained why the nature of most of the permanent wishes left behind by his family were, well, somewhat frivolous. True, there were a great deal of unique things in the first chamber, but most of those were for the betterment of the Potter line and a great deal of help for each and every one in the family.

Truly, as things stood, he could dedicate his life to living it, and enjoying it in whichever way he wanted. If he became an Auror, it should be because that was what he enjoyed above all else. With all this money he could help so many as well, he could do so much good . . . however, it opened the question, what did he truly enjoy? What did he want to do?

Working for the Ministry didn't really appeal to him, and if he were honest with himself, though he liked Quidditch, he didn't see himself doing it for the rest of his life.

It would bear thinking about, though.

"Bobby?" he asked, looking out at the vast amounts of shinning _stuff_ filling the room. "What did my ancestors do with their lives?"

"**I don't quite understand, Master Potter."**

"I mean, what did they work in? Did they have jobs? What did they do with their time? That kind of thing," he very suddenly wanted to know this very much, like a drowning man needs air, and as he looked back at Bobby's face it filled with understanding.

"**Well, Harry,"** the guardian answered gently, startling him with the use of his first name, **"They found something they loved and shared it with the world. They were teachers, healers and artists; they were leaders and philanthropists. Many involved themselves in research of a great many areas, while others loved to travel and explore. Your family is filled with a great many adventurers, and though they gave credit of many of their finds to their partners, they have been the ones to lead the Magical World into change and advancement. Not to mention that they have always found someone to love and share their lives with as well. I cannot say that I have ever seen another family whose loved life and lived life as much as yours has done."**

The guardians tone was both warm and sincere, and Harry smiled at the description, grasping onto it with both hands, feeling secure at the first sight of footsteps he could now see himself following as well. Still, something else drew his attention. "How have you been able to see any other family's though?"

"**Well, young master, do you think that I stay in these chambers all the time?"**

"Well, yes, actually," Harry smiled sheepishly.

"**Ah, while that may be somewhat**** true, I do have an avatar I use both as a way to conduct family business and to live a somewhat independent life as well. So you see, Master Potter, I have a great amount of experience apart from being a face in the wall, even if I have not been able to leave without a living Master to activate my more human form."**

"Well, we'll just have to do that soon then," he decided, knowing that Bobby must have hated being cooped up in Gringotts, even if he might have been 'sleeping,' "Now, did you say there were documents here as well?"

"**Thank you, Master,"** Bobby told him in reference to allowing him use of his avatar. **"As for the documents detailing your holdings, titles and estates, they are in the compartments you see at either side of my face, but if I might make a suggestion?"**

"Sure," he said, looking at what he had though had been wooden panels or something, but now saw them to be rows upon rows of drawers, probably filled with files.

Hogwarts started soon though, how would he be able to go through all that?

**"Since you start school tomorrow," **was he really that transparent? **"And you don't need any property or have use for any titles until your seventeenth birthday, why don't I tell you about the most important things when you have time during this next year and allow me to take care of the details of running your estate? It is what I have been made to do after all."**

"That sounds brilliant actually," Harry said in relief. Truly, his family had thought about everything, haven't they? Well, apart from finding a way to avoid becoming nearly extinct, that is. It was strange, though, and maybe he could do something about it.

It was worth the consideration.

"**Now, as long as you are aware of what sits within this chamber, I see no reason to del****ay your visit to the Vase. I'm sure the Genie is as anxious to meet you as you are of meeting him."**

And looking around once again, and then at the rows of drawers, Harry understood why he was brought here first. Almost anything material was at his disposal. Damn it, he could even buy a country if that was what he wanted! So wasting a wish on material things was useless, and seeing how he had access to so much knowledge, not to mention magic, the list of things he could wish for thinned dramatically. Truly, the impossible was the only things left to grasp.

Things normal magic couldn't create.

Like immortality or world peace or something like that, though he doubted those were possible; one would go against the natural circle of life and death and the other would be impossible without the manipulation of free will.

So what could he wish for? That was the question, wasn't it?

"Yeah, let's go," he finally answered, lost in thought.

It was in this state of mind that he entered Bobby's mouth once more, so this time nothing exciting happened during the transition. Harry just couldn't imagine what to ask for, and at the same time, he wanted to wish for Voldemort's defeat. But he couldn't wish for someone's death, right? Besides, if one wish dealt with the Dark Lord, then what about his Death Eaters? Not to mention the werewolves, vampires and dementors, among others.

Which reminded him, he needed to contact Lupin soon, especially after he found out about that cure for lycanthropy in his vault. True, it was liquid magic and not a potion, but it was something that would never be found in any other place, and then, what would happen should it get out that he had one?

Peter Potter had been the one to make that particular wish, and it was only made after he was infected with Lycanthropy himself while on his seventh year at Hogwarts. The boy had made it his family wish, for a cure to the curse to be available in the vault should what happened to him happen again. Since he made the wish the day after the full moon he was bitten, no one ever knew that he was ever a werewolf.

For all intents and purposes, he was only attacked by some wild creature, and that was that.

This was some centuries before someone wished for the Healing Tank, of course, but then, the Tank couldn't be taken out of the vault while the lycanthropy cure could.

And as he thought of this, his face settled in determination, everyone else could screw themselves, he would tell Remus about the cure and let the man make the decision. He would deal with the consequences when they appeared.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Bobby's mouth opened once again, and he was gently pushed out of it, sliding onto his feet smoothly, though he had to briefly wonder if the guardian would always lick his arse when doing that.

Not that he was complaining or anything.

In any case, the chamber where he found himself was rather small, but cozy. Bobby's face took almost a whole wall, while the opposite wall held a tapestry with the Potter Family Tree. A small fireplace graced the right wall, while the left wall was bare.

A couch, arm chairs and a low table with a beautiful crimson ceramic vase made up the rest of the room. It was homely to be sure, and the flickering fire gave the small chamber a warm light. A woven carpet of crème with crimson highlights completed the look.

Still, while the vase gathered a lingering glance from the young wizard, it was the tapestry that drew his complete attention. Never had he seen a record of his ancestry and as he moved closer to it he couldn't help but smile as he saw the names embroidered into it.

This was his family. This was where he came from.

And they were all guys. Well, except for the last couple of generations.

He didn't know how much time he spent there, gazing at the names, recognizing the ones that Bobby had told him about. He saw how Perseus wasn't the first of the line, even if it was with his name that the thread changed from bronze to gold, even if Perseus' own grandfather and father were stitched in silver thread. That was when the vase came into the family's possession, he knew, and he couldn't help but find the symbolism appropriate.

However, it still left more than fifty generations of Potters since Perseus.

Still, such a great family, such a large legacy, almost two millennia of history, all reduced to only one person. Him. It made something shift into perspective, that's for sure. So he promised, right there and then, that he would restore the Potter's to what they once were, better even. He would make them into a family everyone could look at and respect, a family that the world could admire.

And it was with this resolution in mind that he turned his back on the tapestry and sat at the edge of the couch, in front of the vase.

Truly, it was a work of art. Not exactly big, but not small either. It was made of ceramic, though he was sure that it would never break, with dragons etched into its sides in crimson, white and gold colors. The flames reflected on its surface made the images come alive, and Harry could only watch, entranced by the sight of it. It looked like the dragons were ready to leap out of the vase at the merest indication.

Strangely, Bobby didn't speak up once, though he could see the emotions clearly on the giant face.

Strengthening his resolve, he gently extended his hand and rubbed the sides of the vase. The bubbling of liquid magic from within the vase startled him though, even as it burst forth and slipped over its rim, spilling onto the floor before seemingly frothing upwards until first an outline could be seen before a rather tall middle-aged man with black hair and silver sides stood in front of him, his face holding a small smile.

"Harry Potter, I assume?" the man asked in an accented voice, the smile growing at Harry's nod, and he could see genuine happiness in that smile, "Bless my soul, Master Potter, but if I haven't wished for this meeting for a great many years. Eighty years or even more, to be precise. I have watched you and your family from afar, waiting for this day, hoping against hope that you would come to this vault, that you would find my vase and that you would call me to your side, as so many Potter's have done before you."

The man, genie, wiped a stray tear from his eye, and Harry himself could feel the pure emotion the being in front of him was projecting, the sincerity. "I wanted so much to intervene, to take you with me after your parents were murdered by Voldemort, but the rules that tie me to this realm prohibit it, and though it saddened me greatly, I had to content myself with watching and waiting."

Confusion was prominent in his mind as the Genie, who Harry now noticed was wearing a deep blue set of wizarding robes, came around the left of the low table and bowed at his feet, "My name, Master Potter, is Nicholas Flamel, and as you have called me through my vase, I am now at your service. _Your wish, _dear master_, is my command_."

Shock raced across his mind at that and Harry couldn't help but watch the kneeling Genie —supposed wizard, famous alchemist— with incredulity, "N-Nicholas F-Fla-Flamel?" he asked, and though his voice had deepened and smoothen after his dip in the Healing Tank, at that moment it held a rather squeaky quality.

"Yes, Harry Potter," the Genie answered as it raised its head, even if he didn't rise from his kneeling position, "For while I cannot be freed from the Vase, independence from it was granted to me by a wish some seven hundred years past. I took the Flamel name and along with my wife, Perenelle, we have lived as wizards within the magical world, called back only when we are needed by our masters."

"And is your wife . . . ?" he asked, even as he slumped in the couch, overwhelmed.

"Yes, Master Potter, Perenelle is one of the Jinn," and at Harry's confused look, explained, "The Jinn, or Genies. There are seven of us in all, all part of my family; my wife, Perenelle and I, my daughter and son, and my brother, his wife and their own son. We are the Jinn; the last ones in this realm."

"But I thought that apart from the vase, the lamp and the ring, all others were lost?" Asked Harry, remembering what Bobby had told him. He didn't notice the quick look exchanged by the guardian and Genie though, "Then again, Bobby didn't tell me if they were or not, which means that your wife has a master as well, one that allowed her the same freedom as you, right?"

Smiling widely, Nicholas nodded, pleasantly surprised by the young wizard, who even if he had been watching from afar, and knew of him, he had never really met. "Exactly, young master. We were very lucky in that regard."

"How about the rest of your family, do you know where they are?" Harry asked, now concerned about the Genie.

Nicholas chuckled before standing up and sitting on the sofa as well, noticing how Harry made no move to stop him and even moved aside unconsciously to give him space. He could already see why Shaggy had taken a liking to the young man, seeing as the picky rug was snugly around its new master. "I know where all of them are, Master Potter, since we live in the same dimension. If you are asking if I know where their receptacles are, well, that is another matter."

"Oh, but if you live in the same dimension, why do you live as wizards then?"

"That is rather easy to answer, Master Potter. Tell me, what would you prefer, a small place where only seven other people lived, or a big place where thousands and thousands of humans interact; where there are so many things to see and experience that you would need multiple lifetimes to see it all?" Nicholas asked smiling as Harry's face contorted in understanding.

"Exactly," The old Genie said, "And our masters blessed Perenelle and me with the ability to wander this planet as normal wizards unless called upon. But alas, our time ran out when the Sorcerer's Stone, which was the grounding item that allowed us to stay as wizards, was destroyed," he explained with an amused tone of voice, "So you see, our next great adventure was really just a journey back to our home, young master."

"But I'm sure that you know all the details of that," Nicholas stated, straightening as he did so. "And that is in the past, the future lies in your hands, Master Potter, so tell me, what is your wish?"

Nodding at the change of subject, Harry asked, "Do I need to make a wish now? I'm not really sure what to wish for. I know that I want Voldemort and his Death Eaters gone, but I don't know if there is a way to wish for that. At the same time, I've never had much in my life, and I don't think it's really sunk in everything that I currently own. Would it be possible for me to think for a bit before making a wish?"

Nicholas looked at the boy in front of him and saw a young man with an enormous burden on his shoulders, and indeed, the possibility to lift it with but a few words. But then, he could also see that the weight of that responsibility made the young wizard cautious, and he knew that given enough time, the teen would find a way to use his power wisely. So he nodded, knowing that there were very few Potters who didn't waste their first wish rather foolishly. "Certainly Master Potter, now that you have summoned me, I am at your service. You need only call me and I will be at your side. However, if you find that you know what to wish for, you can simply say my name and your wish, and it shall be granted."

Harry Potter slumped into the couch at those words, a sigh escaping his lips before he straightened, and new energy seemingly flowing into him. "Thanks Mr. Flamel! I thought that I would have to make my wishes quickly, and then I was nervous that anytime I said 'I wish' I would waste one of the wishes on nothing but a mistake. Still, can I ask you a question?"

Though surprised by the last, Nicholas simply nodded, "Of course, Master, I am your servant now. Answering questions and indeed, giving advice is the least of my duties."

"Well," Harry started before hesitating, even as his thoughts turned toward Voldemort once again, "If you had my three wishes, what would you wish for to get rid of Voldemort?"

Of all questions the boy could have asked, that was certainly not the one he had been expecting. Truly, he was a remarkable child to even ask such a thing, because while the Potters were nothing if not kind masters, they were sometimes self centered in one way or another. Indeed, no one since Perseus Potter had ever asked him his opinion on their wishes, until now, it seemed.

Smiling warmly, he leaned forward and placed a hand on the teens shoulder, drawing his green gaze to his, "If I had the power you hold at the moment, I would first evaluate if there was really a need to use it on something as vile as Tom Riddle. Personally, I would not waste a single one of my wishes on him and instead I would search within the things that my family left me, and the knowledge and gifts they wished for my use, and use those to rid the world of Voldemort's taint."

Wide green eyes stared unblinkingly at his own, and Nicholas had never seen such intensity in a gaze, even as they seem to cloud over in thought, "You're right," Harry muttered absentmindedly, probably trying to remember what could help him from his vault.

"I would recommend that you take with you the book that details each and every whished item within your vault, and those made, bought or enchanted that were valuable enough to be stored here, Master Potter. It could help you find what would suit you best. Still, if I might ask you a question?"

"Sure," the boy nodded at him, his eyes slightly more focused.

"What power did you receive within the Red Tank?"

That brought the boys focus back once again, though the answer surprised him, "I don't know yet, it hasn't manifested. Bobby told me that it should be really powerful since its taking so long, though."

It hadn't manifested yet? Well, that certainly hadn't happened before. "And how much time did he spend in the Tank?" Nicholas asked the Guardian, who had been silent throughout their conversation.

"**Forty hours,"** was the neutral response, which shocked him to the core. It usually took less than six hours for someone to gain a magical gift or otherwise from that tank, but almost two days? That was unheard of! It made him look at the only remaining Potter with amazement. If he took so long in the tank, then that meant the boy had to be incredibly powerful, and his magic had probably gotten involved as well, which was rarer still.

"Then I suggest you wait until you know the limits of your abilities before you make a wish, Master Potter, especially in the case of your new Power. For now, though," he paused, considering the circumstances of what he planned to do, but already knowing the young man in front of him deserved this more than anyone else, "take this."

And with a snap of his fingers, a simple gold ring materialized in the air in front of him, "It will protect you and help you in anything that you may wish."

Harry looked at the floating ring and then at Nicholas before nodding and taking the golden band from the air before carefully sliding it into his pinky finger, which garnered a raise eyebrow from the Genie. Immediately after he put it on, it shrunk down to size, and if he wasn't seeing it, Harry would have thought he wasn't wearing it, it was just that comfortable.

Still, what surprised the young wizard more than anything was when the ring glowed slightly and a cat leapt out of it; It was a little on the small side and completely black, with a narrow, elegant face and grey eyes. Its tail was long and curved downward in a sweeping arc, even if its paws were slightly bigger than a normal cats and its ears was rounded as well.

The cat itself was sitting in the couch in front of him, looking toward Nicholas with what Harry could only say was a curious expression, "This is Master Harry Potter," the old Genie addressed the black cat, "You are to guard him and protect him."

The cat seemed to nod seriously at Nicholas before it turned toward him and jumped onto his lap, where he made himself comfortable. If the purring was anything to go by, it rather liked the way that Harry was petting it too.

"His name is Alden, Master Potter, I hope you look after him as he will look after you," Nicholas told him, smiling all the while, "He is a magical cat, so he is more than capable of protecting you, should you need it."

At that, Harry couldn't help but look at the black cat, and yes, he could feel right off that it was special.

"Now, if that is all, I should depart and you, young master, should get ready to leave for school. Oh, and one other thing, if you tell Alden where you wish to go, he will transport you there, regardless of any protections surrounding it. So, for example, he could bring you back to your Vault from Hogwarts, or from here, within Gringotts, to Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

"**Hey! That is just unfair, Nicholas!"**

Twisting around, the Genie addressed the stone face, "And how is that unfair my dear Robert?" Grumbling answered this question, and Harry was amused by the darkened color of the stone face's cheeks, not to mention that now he had the answer to the guardians true name. "What was that, Robert? I couldn't hear you."

Huffing, the stone guardian answered louder, **"I said that Master Potter should use the regular ways of transportation."**

"You just want to have your wicked way with the poor lad, don't you?" Nicholas said in amusement.

Laughing at that, Harry shook his head, "Don't worry, Bobby, I like traveling the regular way too much to leave it altogether. Besides, with Alden here, I can visit you more often, right?" he asked, picking his new companion up and looking him in the eyes, even as the cat blinked its large gray eyes at him before licking the tip of his nose, making him laugh.

"Good, now that that's resolved, I shall really take my leave. Master Potter, call me anytime, again, I am at your service," and with that, the Genie disappeared. No pop, no flash, not even a small disturbance in the air. He was simply gone.

"That's brilliant, isn't in Alden?" he asked the black cat, even as he snuggled it close, "Still, I should get everything ready for school tomorrow, right?"

"**Certainly, Master Potter,"** Bobby answered, even as he extended his tongue for Harry to sit in.

"Yeah, let's go to the first chamber, I need to double check my trunk," and with that, he patted Shaggy a bit and the front of his furry toga expanded without a word. Smiling, Harry tucked the small cat inside the new space where he snuggled against his bare skin, its grey eyes closing.

Truly, Hogwarts wouldn't know what hit it.

**-O●O●O●O-****  
**

"How was the boy, then, Nicholas?" A rough voice asked him right as he appeared.

"Master Potter is a rather unique young man," he answered briefly even as he greeted his wife warmly and found a seat.

"Unique enough to give him the ring?" the same voice asked, persistent.

"Yes, Myron, special enough to deserve Alden's protection," he said.

"Then he is certainly a noble boy," a melodic voice joined in, "to so quickly gain your trust, Nicholas."

Smiling at his sister in law, he nodded, a smile finally appearing on his face, "Yes Faridah, he is. Indeed, if it were for him, I would have been granted the freedom to roam earth once more. I saw it in his eyes as we spoke, as he asked about my family. He would waste his wishes on everyone but himself, if given the chance, and he even asked me what he should do with the wishes that were his to make!" he said, expecting the surprised expressions that greeted this announcement.

"Then he is a special master, indeed, beloved," Perenelle spoke up.

"Even if we only spoke for a short time, I have already become fond of the lad. I know that if I had stayed a bit longer, then he would have started asking all the right questions."

"Indeed?" Myron, the Genie of the Lamp, asked, skeptical.

"Yes, dear brother. That boy," he said in wonder, shaking his head to dispel the fain stirrings of hope, "That boy could bring about what we have always wished for ourselves. He is that special."

"Then we will have to guard his steps," Faridah said immediately, fiercely.

"And guide his heart," Perenelle said in turn.

"I would have to meet him first, before falling into foolish dreams," Myron told them gruffly as he stood to leave, but then he paused, "but if you think he will be the one, I will look forward to our meeting."

And with that, the second most powerful of the Jinn left, but Nicholas smiled. Hope, indeed, was a powerful thing. And this time, Nicholas was sure that that hope would bear fruit. He had seen it already, reflected within emerald green eyes.

All they had to do now was wait, and guard, and serve, and see.

It was all they had left.

-o

**TBC…****  
****  
**-o

_**Pickled Brains:**_ Well, waddaya lot think? Review!


	5. The Stray

_**I Disclaim**_ ownership of Harry Potter.

_**Alert!**_ There are a lot of them, but the majority of them are in the first chapter, so go take a look, eh?

-o

**Chapter Five:**  
**The Stray**

-o

"Master Harry," he whispered, shaking the young man's bare shoulder slightly, "It's time to wake up."

Really, he didn't want to do it, but the young wizard had told him to wake him up early so he might better prepare without having to hurry. It was a reasonable request, of course, but he had his own reasons to be reluctant.

" . . . Master Harry," he repeated softly.

He didn't want the young man to leave, after all.

As it turned out, Harry Potter was not only beautifully handsome on the outside, but more than unique on the inside as well; the teen had a shining soul that overpowered even his new amazing good looks. Now that he had grown into his own skin in more ways than one, and gained confidence in himself and his own actions, Harry was able to project his inner self far more freely than when he first arrived at his family vault. The young wizard knew his limitations now, knew his mind and his body and had come to terms with them, though his acceptance of his destiny were still somewhat sketchy, and his emotions, while stable, where still rather on the raw side of the spectrum.

Yet, as he had gotten to know him, Bobby couldn't help but grow fond of the youth, which, while not strange, was not a common thing for him either. He usually served more as an aloof guide and a trusted guardian, not to mention a dexterous tongue. With Harry, however, he felt the stirrings of both affection and familiarity, and instead of just a guide he had found himself in the role of friend and confidant; sometimes a bit more. He'd become a part of his master's life, and if he read Harry's intentions correctly, he doubted he would be forgotten as easily or ignored as readily as many of the previous Potters had, whatever their good intentions.

After all, he was merely the guardian of their vaults; A mere business acquaintance most of the time.

It felt good to feel so wanted, though he still didn't exactly know how he fit into the boy's life; he just knew he did, that he had a place in it. And as he turned his attention back onto his charge, he smiled.

It was a smile that held equal amounts of affection, soft amusement and obvious lecherousness, for indeed, while Shaggy did cover Harry's taut stomach, thin as a scarf as he was, the rest of his master was clearly in view of the Guardian.

And what an excellent view it was, as well.

Yes, cue the perverted thoughts, why don'cha?

Maybe it was the change in perspective, or maybe it was the carefree look of the teen as he slept, but Bobby took his time taking in the details he had missed before, even with the young wizard walking around in the buff for the past few weeks.

Harry Potter was handsome, beautiful even, but those words didn't really do him justice. Bobby could say without a doubt that he was the most striking Potter to date. An honest to Merlin diamond in the rough; it just took some severe magical polishing to bring out his real brilliance, is all. True, the young wizard had the unruly hair common to all Potters, but it still managed to look different as well; more soft or silky, blacker than night and wilder than normal. His face, with his unique eyes, straight nose, high cheekbones and pouty lips was both sharp and soft.

An uncommon blend, to be sure.

His tall, lean body, now filled out, was again, both soft and sharp. It was subtly muscled and though Bobby knew that his master had a great amount of strength, he also knew it was in its balance, speed, reflexes and sleekness that he distinguished himself. Like a jungle cat coiled and ready to pounce. All of his muscles where smooth and lightly defined; his peaches and crème complexion hiding more than it let on.

Truly, Harry's body was a spring ready to be unleashed while hiding this fact quite readily, and the Guardian couldn't really understand how it had developed in such a way or indeed, how Harry had chosen to develop it to reach such results.

His eyes roved while taking in his master's features; from the flat, smooth tummy, to the long, hairless legs and amazing calves; the width of his shoulders, the definition of his collarbone and the enticing twitching of his pectorals as he dreamt. Yet, none of this really compared to what he thought was his master's best feature; for truly, never has a Potter, whished for or not, possessed such a breathtaking cock.

It had been above average before, such that Bobby had wondered how the young wizard could walk straight without the use of some supportive underwear, or, indeed, how he could walk without hurting himself with it swinging around unchecked, especially if the lad went commando as much as he suspected. Now though, now it was simply _large_ and Harry still walked as if he didn't have a third, flaccid leg weighing him down.

And dear Morgana's shapely rear, but if it wasn't the most beautiful thing he had ever seen when that wonderful dick started to fill out and thicken, when it began to lengthen even more and those glorious balls tightened beneath that heavenly rod of pulsing muscle, of silky _smooth_ skin…

"Bobby, you're drooling," a sleepy but flat voice said, breaking into his thoughts and making him wonder where it was coming from. "Oh, and Booby?" that same voice floated through his mind once again, "How about you stop nuzzling my balls and petting my dick and get me some breakfast?"

"Huh?" he blinked, finally noticing he was kneeling beside the recliner and his face was pushed into his masters crotch, and indeed, that he was gently stroking the hefty member while he nuzzled that wonderful sack and combed his fingers through the messy little shock of silky hair at the base of it, which was remarkably similar to the young wizards head-hair, surprisingly enough. "Ah, of course, Master Harry," he finally said, registering what had been said, but not really bothering to stop his nuzzling as breakfast appeared on the side-table for his master to eat. "Enjoy your meal, Master," was his muffled response.

Now, if he could just get the young Potter's blood pumping, maybe he could get something to eat as well . . .

Sleepily, Harry sat up slightly, looking at him evenly as the chair straightened itself from its completely vertical state. "You want me to eat while you're fondling my bits?"

"It shouldn't prove too difficult a task for such a skillful wizard as you, Master Harry," the guardian said, still nuzzling into the young wizards crotch, his eyes closed in blissful contentment and surprised delight when he felt his master member harden slightly in a twitch.

_Now_, if he could simply break the boys will and iron control and get something more than a slight twitch . . .

Cue the e~_vil_ cackling, here.

Shaking his head and grabbing a fork while looking slightly more aware, Harry started digging into his breakfast, seemingly ignoring the kneeling guardian and the fingers caressing up and down his length. "So, is this the avatar thingy you mentioned before?" he asked, looking up from his plate, or better said, he looked down from his plate toward the face pressed into his lap.

Alden, his guardian-cat, was still sleeping around his neck, his locomotive-like purring still ongoing.

"Mmhmm," Bobby answered with a nod into his scrotum.

_Really_, Harry thought, shaking his head slightly once more as he scooped up some mash potatoes into his fork, _I just need to get used to the guardian of my vaults being a shameless pervert_.

Not that he minded in any way, really, since he suspected himself of being a shameless pervert as well. Not to mention that all of that nuzzling _did_ feel rather good, even if he had to hold himself in check, lest he be late and miss the Hogwarts Express. One thing he had learned quite well in the last few weeks, if nothing else, was that he was not one for a quickie, at least as it pertained to his own release. He needed time to enjoy the experience, time to relax and time to find more than half the pleasure, as he had been used to doing; he didn't want to live the half-wank-life he'd lead before, certainly.

But anyways, he didn't really mind the guardian's actions. It was just a part of what made him unique. Not to mention that Bobby's avatar was nice on the eyes as well . . . ok, _very_ nice on the eyes. He looked to be in his twenties, with honey blond hair, smooth features and dark blue eyes; his baby-face, along with his compact build and average height would have marked him as easy pickings if you didn't know any better.

And, indeed, Harry had to wonder if Bobby had not made the avatar look like that for just that purpose; to be underestimated and taken for a pretty boy and nothing more.

He had to stop mid bite and hold back a groan as Bobby took his flaccid dick and popped the head into his mouth, his fingers tracing idle, _innocent_ patterns (if the look filled with angelic, sparkling eyes was any indication) into his inner thighs. But _Merlin_, if the ancient guardian wasn't a bloody _tease. . ._

He had to clamp down on his arousal rather viciously because of it.

Leaning back and glaring down into the too-wide, guiltless looking navy eyes, he finished chewing slowly and took a drink of pumpkin juice to wash it all down. Honestly, what was he going to do with him?

Setting his mind on ignoring the guardian as best he could, he quickly finished his breakfast, severely tempted into playing the guardian's own games and simply using his feet to fondle the blonds' own crotch. However, he knew that such could degenerate into something that would make him more than slightly late, and he didn't want that. So he stood up, cock still in Bobby's mouth as the guardian followed his movements and tried desperately to ignore it while he placed the sleeping Alden in the recliner before staring at the kneeling, pouting guardian until he sheepishly released his slicked cock from his mouth.

It took all of his considerable willpower not to pop an enormous boner quite awhile ago, true, but he was determined, and if there was anything he could count on, it was his sheer stubbornness. After all, how else would he have avoided his teenage urges for so long otherwise?

It was time to get ready, though, and checking his new wrist-watch he confirmed that this was the case. "Is everything ready, then, Bobby?" he asked, petting Shaggy slightly to let the fuzzy carpet know that his clothing-like duties were at an end.

As the furry toga disentangled itself from him, leaving him completely naked, Bobby finally stood up with a huff, still pouting, and quite starkers as well. "Yes, Master Harry, everything is ready."

"You know, Bobby . . ." he started, stepping up to the guardian and pulling him in for a kiss before the blond could register what he was doing. He poured all of his gratefulness and affection into that kiss, even as he enveloped the smaller figure into his arms, his hands sinking into silky blond hair and grasping a rounded bum, respectively.

It was a friendly and teasing exchange, and when Harry pulled apart, he made sure to kiss both of the guardian's cheeks as well, ". . . thanks, for everything. You really can't imagine how grateful I am."

"I am only doing my job, Master Harry," Bobby answered dazedly, his cheeks slightly pink and amazement written plainly in his face.

"Whatever the case, I appreciate it," Harry told him earnestly, leaning down and kissing those swollen lips once more before taking a step back. "I know that you'll be busy for the next few weeks, but try to do something fun as well, eh? Get to know how the world has changed and try to find your place in it once more, you hear?"

Bowing slightly, eyes mysteriously shiny, Bobby smiled, "It will be as you command, Master Potter. I will do my best."

"I know you will, Bobby," Harry said, shaking his head ruefully, "I know you will."

"Good," the guardian nodded firmly, "Now, I packed your new wardrobe into your trunk, along with some spending gold and other necessities. It should be enough to hold you and have everything you might need until I am finished getting the Potter Estates and Businesses in order. Oh! And I also left you an outfit in the bathroom for you to wear."

"Were you able to locate Hedwig as well?" Harry asked, slightly worried of how his precious owl would have reacted to his prolonged absence, not to mention the rest of his friends, the Weasleys and Dumbledore; while he'd sent letters explaining things vaguely, he was sure that it wouldn't satisfy them. Then again, maybe now they would know how he felt when they kept him in the dark after fourth year.

"She will be waiting for you at the train station, Master Harry."

"Good, that's a relief," he sighed, knowing he would still probably get cuffed around a bit for leaving her waiting without word from him.

"Now, Master, if there is nothing else, you should take your bath and get ready while I take care of everything else," the avatar said, straightening as he gestured to the door of the bathroom that had appeared overnight.

"Yes, like getting some clothes on, right?" Harry asked cheekily, giving the guardians behind a firm slap as he headed toward the bathroom door, eliciting a startled yelp.

"Why, you insufferable little bas—"

He couldn't help but laugh at the wide-eyed expression of Bobby's face, a hand firmly over his mouth, and he rolled his eyes, not knowing why the guardian was holding back his witty insults and perverted words, like those he had heard upon meeting him for the first time. "You shouldn't hold back on my account, you know," he said suddenly, stepping up to the startled Bobby and taking the hand from his face. "You can be yourself without worry, I don't mind. Frankly, all the politeness will grate on my nerves faster than anything else," he said, and with a last, reassuring kiss, he turned and entered the bathroom.

He knew he wouldn't see the guardian again for a bit, and he would miss just chatting and learning about his family, not to mention the vast amounts of knowledge the guardian held, but he also knew that there were a great many things Bobby would have to do to reestablish the contracts, check on the properties and generally inspect the whole of his family's estate before any free time would be available to him.

Indeed, it had been Harry's idea that Bobby start on all of it as soon as possible, leaving the soon-to-be sixth year to make the trip to the train station with Alden's help.

And as he entered the hot water of his prepared bath and relaxed, looking over at the robes he could see across the room that had been set out for him, he turned his thoughts over to Hogwarts, his friends and the wizarding world, and he wondered, not for the first time, how they would react to the new him.

**-O●O●O●O-**

It was ten o'clock in the morning, with platform nine and three-quarters just starting to become alive, that Harry Potter arrived.

He wasn't really noticed by any of the milling witches and wizards, and truly, there was no indication he had arrived at all, since he made no sound upon his arrival. Indeed, unless someone had been watching straight into the last compartment of the middle cart of the train on the very moment of his appearance, no one would rightly believe his form of appearance.

For dressed in an open emerald-green cloak, black trousers and button-up shirt, Harry simply appeared in said compartment both already seated and with a book in hand, a black cat sprawled on his lap and his trunk appearing in the overhead compartment.

"Thank you, Alden. I have to say, that was the smoothest form of magical transportation I've ever experienced," Harry said, scratching the proud looking cat under his chin as it flipped completely so Harry could scratch his belly as well, something he immediately obliged with.

While putting down the small book he was reading, Harry waved the window open, having seen Hedwig heading in his direction; Even as different as he looked and as stealthily as he appeared, it looked like his snowy owl had immediately sensed his arrival.

When she glided in and settled on his outstretched arm she gave a delightfully happy _hoot_, which surprised him a great deal, seeing he was expecting to be pecked half to death. "It's good to see you as well, girl," he murmured, taking his hand from scratching Alden and petting her slightly, more than happy to have his familiar with him once more. "Now, I don't know where you spent the time I was away, but I'm glad to see you okay. However, I'm afraid your cage is with my other things, which will hopefully be waiting at Hogwarts for me, so I don't have any treats for you or a comfortable place for you to rest."

The sound of loud purring and wide grey eyes caught his attention, though, and before he could register just what was happening, Alden simply _meowed_ in an almost lilting tone, not having moved from his sprawled position in his lap . . . and a perch with both water and food beside it appeared by the compartment window.

He had to blink, once, twice, and then shake his head, not really understanding what had happened. And yet, while he'd been shocked speechless, Hedwig had made her way to the perch, eaten a few treats, drank some water and settled down with what was clearly a thankful chirp.

Purring once again caught his attention and he couldn't help but start scratching his new feline companion, still dazed and looking at the owl-stand in the compartment. He didn't wish for it, he was sure, since he had to specifically say Nicholas' name, along with saying 'I wish,' which he knew he hadn't done. He, himself hadn't conjured it, and though he now had the knowledge of how to do such things, he still needed to practice the spells and master them, something he hadn't done for conjuring yet . . . so where had the stand come from?

"_Meow._"

Huh? Looking down at the sprawled feline, he saw wide grey eyes once more, blinking innocently up at him . . . _too_ innocently.

"It was you?!" He asked, incredulous, while picking the small black cat so that he could look it in its whiskered face, and found himself shocked when he received a nod in response. "You conjured the stand?" he asked softly, his own eyes wide as he received another nod. "Well . . ."

He didn't know what to say.

What had Nicholas told him about Alden? He distinctly remembered the Jinn saying something about protecting him, but never anything like this. But then, Alden _was_ a magical cat, so maybe it could do magic like a wizard did?

Interesting.

"I don't know how you did that, or why, since I thought you were only supposed to protect me, but thanks Alden," he said, petting the purring feline where he knew he liked it, snuggling it close to himself, before picking up his small book. It would be an hour before the train left after all, and he preferred to figure the black cat out when he had a bit more time and a bit more privacy.

After all, anyone could just walk into the compartment or look through the window; he didn't want them to know he had a cat that could do magic.

Indeed, he wanted to find out if he actually _did_ have a cat that could do magic first.

And so, he settled on waiting before solving this particular mystery and continued reading the small journal where all of his ancestors wishes were recorded, loosing himself in the past of his family and the why's of each of their wishes, if they choose to leave them in the journal.

He was particularly amused by a few gadgets that were used for housekeeping and wondered what his relatives were thinking when they wished for stuffed animals to do their cooking, cleaning and other various tasks. And as he hadn't seen the cooking crocodile, the cleaning cow, or indeed, the laundry lama, then maybe they were still in the last Potter property where they were used.

However, as he kept reading, his mirth clearly contained, he stumbled upon something that peeked his interest immediately.

Mirrors.

He had seen them before, since some of them were in the vault, but he hadn't paid too close attention to their description. And damn, but they would be useful; especially the one that you could use to observe anyone or anything you wanted; the all-purpose watching-mirror. Not a terribly good name, true, but that particular mirror could not be blocked by anything; no ward or enchantment, no magical or muggle tricks could fool it.

A terrifyingly cheerful grin spread across his face; especially as he started to think just how many of Voldemort's plans he could interrupt if he kept a watch on the evil doer throughout the day. _Every_ day.

Oh! The dastardly plots that could be thwarted!

Quickly, he stood up and magicked his trunk down before fishing some parchment and a self-inking quill out of it. He needed to write this down, along with a few other objects that were sure to be helpful as well and that he had seen a few pages back.

It was as he was sitting down with the journal once more that he chanced a look outside at the platform. It was starting to look busy now, and there were a number of students loading onto the train, not to mention their families seeing them off and what not.

That was not what caught his attention, however. Such could be solely attributed to a lost looking boy hobbling slowly across the platform, wincing with every step he took while looking around, not with the amazement due to the Hogwarts Express, but with a forlornness that shouldn't be in such a young face.

The boy looked lost, afraid and alone.

And as Harry swept his gaze across the platform, he became angry that no one had taken notice of the child, a first year, if the new-looking trunk was anything to go by. Not to mention the black school-tie that went with the muggle-acceptable part of the uniform.

It didn't take more than a second sweep to truthfully ascertain that no one was looking out for the boy and before he could even register it, he was walking out of his compartment and locking it with a few spells.

Students made way for him as he stalked passed them and witches and wizards got out of his way after he stepped out of the train. He doubted they had noticed exactly _who_ he was, but he was glad they weren't making a nuisance of themselves.

Should he be any less focused on his goal, he would have noticed the awestruck looks he was receiving, along with the intimidation accompanying that awe almost equally. After all, with his cloak flapping dramatically behind him he cut a more than impressive figure.

However, he took no note of this and simply made his way toward the blond eleven-year-old who, on closer inspection, looked to be on the verge of tears as he limped forward, not looking up or to the side anymore, as if his only focus was putting one foot in front of the other.

The boy stopped, though, when the shiny tips of Harry's Dragon-hide boots appeared in his line of sight, followed quickly by a set of black-clad knees and finally a full body as Harry gracefully squatted in front of the small looking child.

The last Potter wondered if he had looked as thin and small as this boy did when he arrived at Hogwarts, since he looked more like a nine-year-old than anything else. Still, as he looked the child over, Harry could see the same drawn appearance he had once sported, where even the school's uniform, which was supposed to be fitted, looked to be hanging off of the boy's thin frame.

Taking in his appearance, Harry registered the long, wavy blond hair, wide, _too_ wide sea-green eyes and a button nose. He would bet a thousand galleons that the kid had the most devastating puppy-dog eyes known to humankind, and indeed, a few too-cute animals that were simply born with such a skill.

But he was going off on a tangent . . .

"Hey, there," he started speaking, not giving the kid a chance to react negatively to his sudden appearance, "You look like you're having some trouble, there, do you want some help?"

Speechless, the blond boy simply nodded, looking wide-eyed at Harry's softly smiling face. "Good, then," Harry nodded, and before the boy knew what was going on, he was comfortably settled on the teenage wizard's back and his trunk was floating gently behind them.

More surprised than anything, the young new wizard watched spellbound as everyone made way for them, where before he had to push his way through. Even more, he was amazed by how easily he had been picked up, and even by how his trunk was following gently behind them. He hadn't even seen his helper pull out his wand or do any of the things Professor McGonagall had done when she was showing him that magic was real.

What surprised him more than anything, however, was how warm and safe he felt with the black haired wizard. No one had ever held him as gently, or made him feel as safe as he was at that moment. Heck, he had never felt as safe as right then and there. As things stood, his eyes closed without his consent as he leaned into the warmth simply radiating out of his new companion, hoping and wishing it would last.

When he felt the boy carrying him stop, he opened his eyes sleepily, and had to blink a bit as he saw his trunk rise up and settle itself alongside another, more fancy looking one. The next thing that registered was the beautiful snowy white owl that hooted a greeting at him before settling down on its perch once more, not to mention the black cat that was peering up at him with one large, grey eye.

"Well, now, how about we get ourselves settled, eh?" Harry spoke up as he maneuvered the kid around from his back. At first, he was going to set the boy down, but the grip around his neck prevented such an action. So Harry simple kept moving and sat down with the kid in his lap, as if he were going to do so from the very beginning. By the way the arms around his neck softened even more, he guessed his second of indecision had gone unnoticed.

When they were comfortable enough, Harry took out his wand and started waving it around the boy, introducing himself as he did so. "Anyways, I'm Harry, Harry Potter, and I saw you were limping a bit as you made your way to the train. Could you tell me what happened?" he asked gently.

"I, hm, sprained my ankle," the blond boy muttered shyly, ducking his head so that the too-long blond hair would cover his face.

"Ah, I can see why you could mistake that," Harry told him, even as he frowned slightly at the condition of the kid, now knowing there simply had to be more to it than that, "But I'm afraid that it isn't a simple sprain, buddy, you actually broke your ankle."

"W-wh-what?" the kid asked, startled.

Nodding, Harry gently explained, even as he shifted the boy in his lap so that he could access the wounded area more easily and inspect it without magic, "Yeah, it's not a complete break or anything, more like a hairline fracture, but it's still there. I'm actually surprised you could walk on it to tell you the truth."

"Wi-will it be alright?" he was asked in a low voice.

"Yup," harry replied chirpily, "I can fix the bone, but there's some swelling and damage around the ankle that I won't be able to help with because I don't have the potions necessary for it. Still, I can help it along a bit, not to mention make it comfortable for you. Would you like that?" he asked, not wanting to do more than what he was doing without a bit of consent. Even if it was a choice between staying in pain or not, it was still a choice and that would give the undersized boy a little more confidence in his current situation.

Even if he seemed to be getting mightily cozy with Harry in such a short span of time, it was still better that he avoid startling him or anything of the sort.

"Would you, please?" And yes, those were some deadly puppy-dog eyes, for sure. And Harry was certain they were not even at full power! He shuddered at the thought of just how utterly overwhelming they could be when at full strength.

Voldemort would quail beneath their might!

He coughed a bit, getting his mind back on track.

"You bet," he finally replied, and with a fancy twirl of his wand and a numbing charm, Harry began to work, noticing the fascinated look on the first year's face as the pain went away and then his shoes started untying themselves, both of them, since Harry wanted the kid to be comfortable, and then his socks came off and rolled themselves up before plunging into his shoes, which started to march up the walls and into the overhead compartment.

Smiling when the kid giggled at the antics of his footwear, Harry observed the swelling around the boy's ankle and flicked his wand at it, satisfied when the bone healed and the inflammation diminished considerably. Another deft swish of his wand and the ankle was securely wrapped and chilled to further lower its inflammation.

He would need to take the kid to Madam Pomfrey after the feast, true, but that would be it. Afterwards, well, he would see what would happen, though he'd be sure to keep an eye on the boy anyways.

"There you go, that's the best I can do at the moment. When we get to Hogwarts, I'll see about getting the school nurse to finish the job, eh?"

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," the boy told him softly, even as he snuggled up to his chest a bit more.

Chuckling, he gave in and hugged the kid to him, somehow knowing that he was starving for both comfort and physical affection. "It's not a problem, kiddo. But call me Harry, eh? When I hear someone call me 'Mr. Potter' I usually wonder if I've done something wrong and if there's a detention waiting for me because of it."

Light giggling answered him and he grinned even as the kid gave a huge yawn. "Heh, sleepy, are we? You should go ahead and take a nap if you're tired. And don't worry; I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" came the muffled question.

Eyes softening, Harry drew up his cloak and tucked it around the small boy while he rubbed soothing circles across the kids back, "I promise."

It was a particularly easy promise to keep, as well. Nothing on the league of 'I promise to save your life,' or 'I promise to stop Voldemort soon enough,' kind of promises, which he had made to himself when he thought Sirius was in danger and later, after he heard about the prophecy.

This was a promise he could live easily with.

As things were, it wasn't a minute later that he could feel the steady breaths of deep sleep against his chest, and Harry couldn't help but feel protective of this little boy; he reminded him too much of himself not to. Besides, he thought, as he took his wand with his free hand and summoned his family's journal once more, this time charming it to float comfortably in front of him as he directed the pages to turn with a gesture, the kid was just too cute not to melt his already soft heart.

The one question he was most curious about, though, was just what the little blond boy's name was? And after that, what was his story? But as thoughts arose in his mind about asking McGonagall or Dumbledore about the boy, he squashed them, somehow knowing it would be better if he got the information from the source.

It was something Harry himself didn't have until he met Bobby, something that he could become for this small little boy who seemed to trust him, for whatever reasons.

He would be someone who would be there and listen, no matter what.

-o**  
**

**TBC…**

-o

_**Pickled Brains:**_ By Merlin, talk about a change of pace from the start of the chapter and the end, huh? It completely threw me for a loop, I tell ye', but the cute little orphan-boy just appeared and didn't want to go! I swear! Those puppy-dog eyes, they be deadly things!

Anyways, it doesn't really matter, so review!


	6. The B'ob

_**I Disclaim **_ownership of Harry Potter.

_**Alert!**_ Fluffy stuff in this chapter, so watch for it!

_**Pickled Brains:**_ I'm being held captive by the cute little orphan-boy! Even my perverted muse is cooing over the brat!

-o

**Chapter Six:**  
**The B'ob **

-o

The train was already moving by the time something drew Harry's attention from the small journal, which he was almost finished with in fact, and toward the door of his still mostly empty compartment. But now that he wasn't so engrossed in his ancestor's wishes, he had a moment to briefly wonder where his friends were.

A very short moment, at that.

And though he was somewhat curious as to their whereabouts, he wasn't really ready for the peace and quiet of his own compartment to be broken, where only the deep breaths of his new blond lap-warmer, the soothing and locomotive-like purring of his cat-protector and the cooing hoots coming from Hedwig's perch were in evidence. Even the steady plodding of the Hogwarts Express seemed to enhance the peaceful atmosphere of his compartment.

His _empty_ compartment.

It was a novel experience he was having here, obviously.

As such, when that peace and quiet _was_ shattered, his reactions and reflexes, and indeed, his actions, were firmly justified.

In his own mind, at least.

It didn't matter who the person that slammed the door of _his_ compartment open _was_. It could have been Merlin himself, come from beyond the grave to make him his apprentice for all that Harry cared at that moment. Only one thing mattered to him, and it was that whoever was making such a racket was going to wake up the little boy sleeping in his lap, the cat purring at his shoulders and the owl hoo-_hooting_ in her sleep (though Harry rather thought it was snoring, even if he'd never tell Hedwig that).

"Bloody hell, mate, here you are! Hermione, I found hi—_hmph_!"

In a distant part of his brain, Harry recognized the redhead right away, but best friend or not, he couldn't just let him stampede into the compartment, which had been very silent as we have obviously established, and wake everyone up without taking at least some kind of action. So he wasn't even half aware of the silent wave of his wand that sent the youngest male Weasley hurtling out of the compartment, nor the complementary charm that shut the door on his face.

The last Potter was sure he could have counted the freckles on his startled friend's face, but then, some things _are_ impossible, even with magic.

Really, Harry was quite dumbfounded, still staring at his wand, which had appeared quite unexpectedly into his hand, when the door to the compartment was opened once more, this time in a more gentle manner, and Hermione's head poked in and seemed to freeze in place, even as her eyes rolled wildly in their sockets and took everything about him and the compartment in.

She looked really, really weird while doing that, too.

"_Harry_!" she hissed, surprise and worry marring her tone. And not a little bit of reprimand as well. She wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't even subconsciously berate you when she spoke.

Shaking his head, he simply made a shushing motion with his hand, which was still holding his wand, and gestured to the sleeping boy in his lap, which seemed to surprise her even more. After all, the boy wasn't more than a visible lump on his lap, which could be missed on first sight, or confused with him getting really, _really_ fat during the holidays. Sitting up a bit and settling the kid more comfortably in his lap while arranging the left side of his cloak more securely around him, he twirled his wand above the young blond and set up a volume control charm around him. While it wouldn't cut the sound off, it would make it so he would only be able to hear things at a whisper.

Alden had disappeared into the overhead compartment, severely startled, but he could feel the kitty-glare being aimed at his friends. Hopefully the magical cat wouldn't retaliate anytime soon.

"There now, come in Hermione," he said in a normal tone of voice, sure that she would have recognized the wand movements, though he wasn't sure she'd notice the dislike radiating out of the out-of-sight feline.

She did, however, give a double-take at Hedwig's perch, and of course, Hedwig herself, though his dear owl seemed oblivious to the curious gaze.

"Harry?" she asked as she slowly slid the compartment door open, revealing a rumpled looking Weasley behind her.

"The one and only," he answered with a roll of his eyes and a little wavy salute, "and now that we've cleared that up, how about you come on in? I suppose you guys were on a Prefect's meeting?"

Nodding at his question and cautiously stepping in, she seemed to look everywhere she could before her eyes settled on him, her gaze disbelieving. Ron, however, had no such restrain, or indeed, no such curiosity; he simply closed the door and flopped across from him on the compartment, "What the hell was that for, mate? How're you? Mum's been bonkers since you left on your birthday, y'know. And who's the waify midget?" he asked, gesturing vaguely in his lap-warmer's direction.

A flick of his wand, which was still in his hand, somewhat explaining Hermione's current carefulness towards him, and Ron's head was suddenly thrust forward curtsey of a well-placed head-cuffing charm. "He's not a waif or a midget, you know, just an injured firstie, and I'm fine. I would have been better if you hadn't startled the hell outta me when you barged into the compartment like that!"

"Right, sorry about that," the redhead said, massaging his head sheepishly. "But c'mon, how've you been? We heard you were safe or whatever, but not where you were, you know?"

"Ah, well, that's a bit hard to explain," Harry started, only to pause when Alden made his presence know by meowing harshly from above, though it sounded like a particularly bad insult to him. "But first, where's all your stuff? And Ginny for that matter?"

"Oh, yeah! Our trunks, Pig and Crookshanks are over with Neville, I'll go get them now. Ginny, though, I think she's with Dean," Ron explained with a shrug while he made his way out, "I'll be right back."

"Harry?" Hermione spoke up, once Ron had left, making him very aware of her curious gaze.

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked her calmly.

"Is that really you? You've, well, _changed_," she commented, leaning forward slightly, "And when did you learn silent casting?" she asked, seeming to want to ask a hundred other questions, only to stop herself, "And, well, what happened this summer?"

He knew, at that moment, that things were different.

It was like an epiphany, or at least what he thought one should feel like, though maybe a bit less tingly. Time seemed to pause for his thoughts alone, and he could clearly see the questions, the dozens of questions, behind his friend's brilliant brown eyes. And he understood something then, seeing her like this; cautions and tentative.

He _had_ changed.

He _was_ different.

And while he had acknowledged this on a subconscious level, having experienced everything that he had in the last three weeks; it was something else to face those changes face to face, especially in the face of someone who knew him so well. He hadn't realized it at first, what with Ron's easy clicking into their established friendship, but then, that was because of the redhead's ability to simply go with the flow.

It was something he had learned the hard way during their fourth year, Harry remembered.

Hermione though, she needed to know the why's and how's of things, the reasons and the answers. For her, his changes would be all too apparent.

Shaking his head as time seemed to resume around him, he answered her, softly, gently, while absently running his fingers trough the head of silky blond hair resting on his shoulder. "It _is_ me, Hermione. You could say that I've come into my inheritance. My family, the Potters, there are some things in their vault, _my_ vault, at Gringotts that helped me more than a bit. Things that I have to keep secret; I don't think I can say any more than that. My change of appearance, my proficiency at magic, everything is due, in one way or another, to what I learned and experienced in that vault; it's where I've been for the last month."

And that seemed to be enough, really. Hermione straightened a bit and a small, relived smile spread across her face as she nodded, "I see; as long as you're alright, Harry."

It seemed too easy, really, her acceptance. But Harry knew better than that. Someone had wished for it to be so; that everyone would accept a Potter's explanation of the family vault at face value. Curiosity, after all, could make people do extreme things as the ancestor who'd made the wish could attest too.

"But you'll have to tell us a bit more than that sooner or later," and okay, but maybe not all wishes worked out as they should. But at least it would buy him some time, right? "Now, how about you tell me about the little boy in your lap?" She asked him, her voice suddenly full of girlish enthusiasm and motherly concern all rolled into one.

It was a rather sudden change, true, not to mention the change in her tone left him blinking slowly at her. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't the only one that had changed this summer.

Smiling, he nodded at the wrapped ankle resting to his right and started explaining, somewhat vindicated at the look of horror in her face when he told her the state the little blond was in when he found him.

Halfway through, Ron came in, trunks floating behind him and excuses on Neville's behalf on his lips as he flopped beside Hermione while the luggage was stowing itself away into the overhead. Pausing only slightly to fill Ron in on what he'd told Hermione, he continued his story and soon enough they were speculating on what could have happened to the kid.

Still, it took both his and Ron's cajoling to keep Hermione from going immediately in search of the professor who they heard was supposedly riding the Express, though Harry finally managed to convince her otherwise. As things stood, it was a few hours later, when the lunch-lady appeared, that Harry made his first action in the fatten-Goldie-up-some campaign, as it would come to be known in the coming weeks.

He bought out the trolley, _literally_.

Thankfully the old lady had more goods stocked at the back of the train, so there wouldn't be any starving students because of him.

"Hey, wake up buddy," Harry said gently as he shook the boy gently awake, smirking when he saw large eyes blink up at him and that button nose scrunch up cutely in confusion. As the kid looked around, disoriented, Harry just went blithely on, "It's good that you're awake. I have to admit, I don't know what's worse, the deafening growls coming from your stomach or the loss of feeling in my legs because your bony bum is cutting off my blood circulation. I tell you, I'll be glad to feel my toes in a year or so . . . "

Much blushing and eye-averting followed his remarks, but Harry at least gained feeling in his legs again, even if the kid now seemed to have glued himself to his side, much to Ron and Hermione's amusement. "Now, before we do anything else, I think that introductions are in order. So let's see, that great lout over there is Ron, and the beautiful young witch at his side if my best friend Hermione."

"Hey! Are you trying to hit on Hermione?" Ron asked suspiciously, though Harry could tell he was laughing on the inside.

"I might've," Harry answered vaguely, grinning when they managed to coax a smile out of the little blond. "Now, you remember me right?"

"Harry?" he was asked tentatively.

"Exactly. And that means that you know all of us, and we know none of you," he said with a wink.

"Cooper," the kid answered softly.

"Cooper, huh? I like it," Harry told him, ruffling his head.

"You do?"

"I do," he nodded decisively. "Now, how about we get some food, eh? I don't know about you, kiddo, but I'm starving, so pass me some pumpkin pasties, they're right beside you, yeah, those ones, thanks. The other ones are cauldron cakes and those are chocolate frogs and those over there . . ." he went on, explaining what everything was, especially since there was a lot of everything almost spilling out of the seats and into the floor.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the first year began to open up and started asking about each of the wizarding snacks and sweets, about Hogwarts and its Houses, about Harry and his friends, and just about everything else under the sun, just chattering away with Harry for a good long time.

Across from them, huddled up into each other and smiling at their best friend, Ron and Hermione were eating silently.

Well, almost silently.

"He looks happy," Hermione commented in a whisper as she sipped on some pumpkin juice.

"He does," Ron nodded around a mouthful of cake, "I've never seen him so, well . . . "

"Animated?" the brunette put in.

"Yeah, animated. It's like he's enjoying hanging out with that midget," the redhead muttered.

Hermione just turned to look at him incredulously, "That's because he is, Ronald Weasley!" she huffed, "Honestly, can't you see it?"

"See what?" the lanky teen asked defensively.

"Look at them, and look at them closely. Copper, doesn't he look a lot like Harry was in first year? I bet that little boy is an orphan as well, something Harry was sure to notice. Do you see how he's treating the boy? It's almost like, well, almost like he's adopted him . . . almost the same way he treats Hedwig."

"Like a pet?" Ron asked, trying to see what Hermione was.

"No, you idiot!" she hissed, "Not like a pet, but . . . like _family_," she finished softly, and as Harry explained something with grand gestures that seemed oddly graceful for her once drawn and thin friend. She couldn't help but notice how Cooper seemed to hang on his every word, the way he seemed to look up to Harry and how the little boy seemed to get closer to her friend at every turn, beaming with pride when Harry complimented him and relishing when his hair was ruffled or his shoulders were squeezed.

She could see how the small-looking boy soaked up Harry's affections, and couldn't help but see the too wide eyes and hopeful glances he sent the black-haired wizard as well. If anything, Goldie, as Harry had called him several times because of his shining golden hair, seemed to have adopted Harry even more quickly than Harry had.

They looked like brothers of a kind she had rarely seen before.

The kind of brothers that were protective of each other, that were closer and loved each other more fiercely than a dragon and their young or even magically bonded twins.

Or at least, that was what they were starting to look like as each second passed by, and for some reason she couldn't explain, Hermione felt that something special was going to happen because of their meeting . . .

. . . something _magical_.

**-O●O●O●O-**

They were playing a raucous game of exploding snap, with three of them somewhat bewildered that they hadn't been interrupted by Malfoy and his gang. Still, they had a whirlwind of fun and games and chatter flowing all through the rest of the trip.

Cooper had completely changed from a shy, somewhat scared boy to a rather happy bundle of energy, though that could be attributed to the box of chocolate frogs he'd gobbled up all on his lonesome.

Harry, for his part, was very relaxed as the announcement for the imminent arrival at Hogsmeade Station came. Smiling at his now hip-hugging little friend, they all changed into their school robes under Hermione's stern looks, though there was some hopping on Cooper's part since his injured foot couldn't really hold his weight.

It took a steadying hand for his robes to finally settle into place, but they managed it somehow, someway. Indeed, it even took a bit of magical help to accomplish such a difficult job as putting some robes on an eleven-year-old.

But then, that's what magic is for, right?

So it was that when the train stopped and the three Gryffindors made their way out of it, everyone they passed noticed the golden head poking out from behind Harry Potter's back, though general cooing from the female populace seemed to be the most popular reaction.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" came Hagrid's booming voice from one end of the platform.

"Well, I guess that's us, then," Harry said as he turned toward the half-giant, "I'll see you guys at the feast!"

"Yeah, see you there, mate," Ron nodded, patting Coppers head, much to the young boy's chagrin. For some reason Harry was the only one who could ruffle the kids hair without earning himself some very cute growly noises, even if they didn't tell the boy that it was cute in any way.

For indeed, the blonds' growling was quite a fearsome thing . . .

. . . Bah! Fine, it was adorable, but don't tell the kid that, alright?

"We'll save you both a seat, then," Hermione said, as if it was a foregone conclusion that their little companion would be sorted into the Lion House. "Now come on, Ronald, I can see Ginny and Neville waiting for us."

And without further ado, she dragged the redhead toward their waiting friends, leaving them on their own, "I guess it's you and me now, kiddo, so how about we get you your first sight of Hogwarts, eh?"

"But aren't you supposed to go with the rest of the students, Harry?" Cooper asked even as he tightened his grip on the emerald-eyed wizard.

Nodding, Harry just waved at Hagrid when he caught the groundskeeper looking in their direction, "Nah, I'm sure they'll make an exception just this once," he told the boy firmly.

"Hey there Harry, how've you been?" Hagrid greeted him with a handshake and a great booming voice, "and who's the little feller' here?" he asked.

"Hey Hagrid, I've never been better, and this is Cooper," he said, hitching his burden up to get a better grip, "and he has a broken ankle, so I'm helping him to his sorting until he can see Madam Pomfrey."

"Yer' a good lad, Harry," he said with a wink at Cooper, "And I see ye've grown a bit too. How 'bout you come visit me tomorrow fer tea, yeah? Now, I need ter get the firs' years to Professor McGonagall." Straightening up with a grin, he rounded on the gathered, nervous looking kids, and gestured them all to follow, "C'mon then, follow me! Mind yer step!"

Harry got more than his fair share of looks from the gathered first years as he went with them, but once they caught a glimpse of Copper at his back, they seemed to mostly ignore him, probably too nervous to give him more than a passing thought.

Down the steep narrow path, slipping and stumbling along, Harry and Hagrid were the only ones seemingly able to keep their footing. "This is why I'm helping you out, kiddo," he suddenly said to Cooper, "just think what would have happened if you had braved this path with your ankle as it is!"

The blond boy just winced, giggling at Harry's melodramatic shudder, and gave a quiet 'thank you' all the same.

"Oh, watch it there, bud," Harry told a stumbling kid that had been on his way to kiss some dirt. Holding Goldie to his back with one arm, he still managed to catch the other boy before he fell. Truly, those tanks of liquid magic where an inspiration!

Breathing in relief, the rather tall kid just nodded as he gained his balance once more, flashing a smile in Harry's direction, "Thanks."

"It's not a problem."

The heads-up from Hagrid about being able to see Hogwarts right around the bend came almost exactly as Harry remembered, and he couldn't help but smile at the noises of amazement coming from the gathered first years. Cooper was practically speechless, looking open-mouthed at the looming castle with its shining lights and many turrets and towers.

When they reached the boats, Harry boarded without a problem and settled Cooper beside him, even as the kid he had helped earlier climbed in front, flashing them the same wide grin as before, looking more excited than nervous by this time.

Really, Harry couldn't help but share in that excitement as well. He had almost forgotten how impressive Hogwarts looked from the lake and just how magical it seemed as they approached it on the small boats.

"It's huge!" Copper exclaimed from beside him, "When they told me it was a castle, I didn't really believe it. But it _is_ and it's humongous!"

"And just wait till you see the inside; full of ghosts and moving staircases and paintings, and suits of armor and a whole slew of other, _magical_ things."

"Ghosts?" the blond asked, startled, "ghosts are real?"

"Well of course," he told him as he ruffled the boy's hair again, "I'll introduce you to some of them, if you like."

"Oh! Can you introduce me to some of them too?" the boy in front of them asked, his dark eyes almost disappearing into the night as he twisted around to stare at them.

"Sure," Harry nodded, "Just come and find me if you end up in another house, eh?"

"Heads down!" Hagrid called from the front, and Harry grinned when he almost butted heads with Cooper in the process.

When they came out of the tunnel and into the underground harbor, everyone stepped into the pebbled landing and then started up the stone stairs and toward the big wooden doors atop of them. With a resounding knock, Hagrid stepped back and waited for the doors to open, and just like in his first year, Professor McGonagall was waiting there, looking exactly as impressive and intimidating as he remembered. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

He just grinned at her when she caught sight of him, and he could see the disapproval in her thinning lips. Setting her sights on Hagrid, however, she nodded, "Thank you Hagrid, I will take them from here," and as she gestured them to follow her, she turned around and led them into the entrance hall. His reprieve, however, was not to last, since she rounded on him rather too soon for comfort, "And what, may I ask, are you doing with the first years, Mr. Potter?" she asked, eliciting surprised gasps and exclamations from some of the kids.

"Did she say _Potter_?"

"Is that really him? The _Chosen One_?"

"The who?" some muggleborns asked, only to be excitedly filled in.

"Hey, I can't see the scar, are you sure it's him!?"

Ignoring them, however, Harry simply hitched Cooper up so that he was in sight of the professor and moved his arms in such a way that his wrapped but still swollen looking ankle was visible, things that McGonagall immediately took notice off.

Grinning, he decided to do something that he had never dared to do before . . .

. . . Joke around with the Deputy Headmistress.

"Didn't you know Professor? It's because I've been promoted!" He said cheekily, still grinning when the Transfiguration teacher raised an eyebrow at him.

"Promoted, Potter? And what position have you been promoted to, pray tell."

"Didn't anyone tell you, ma'am? I have a badge and everything!" and before McGonagall could register he had his wand in hand and a conjured, violently purple, enormous badge was on the lapels of his robe; and just as quickly as the wand had appeared, it was gone. The bold golden lettering even glittered a bit in the torchlight, gaining the attention of all.

And it was his first piece of conjuration too! He was _so~_ proud!

McGonagall, for her part, actually blinked at him, startled.

That is, until she took note of what the badge said. "Tell me what, Potter? And what exactly is a **B'ob**?" she asked, suddenly reminded of his father when he just kept grinning at her.

"Well, ma'am, it's a temporary position, last time I checked, and though it's not as prestigious as a prefect, it is no less important."

"And what is it, then?" she asked, a little impatient this time.

"Well, for this night, and this night only, mind, I am a _Beast 'o burden_, ma'am, responsible for carrying wounded first years to their sorting," he explained grandly and with a bright nod and a grin, earning a few laughs and giggles from the firsties, "and I got a rather cute one too," he added in a stage whisper to the Transfigurations professor, making Cooper blush and burry his head behind Harry's shoulder, so he could barely be seen.

And was it him, or was McGonagall's lips twitching?

"Very well, Potter, but we shall have words; my office tomorrow morning. Now," she turned to the gathered and much more relaxed looking kids and started her usual speech, "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly . . ."

Harry just tuned her out, preferring to check out the rest of the midgets, as Ron often called them. It was odd, really, that they looked so small. He knew that he had grown quite a bit because of the tanks of liquid magic, but still, it didn't hit him as much as it did then just how much height he had gained.

People's reactions were also much more subdued than what he was expecting, though after hearing that 'Chosen One' comment, he had to wonder if his new looks didn't just fit into their preconceived notion of what he should look like, even to those that already knew him. And while McGonagall led the way into the Hall's side-chamber, Harry couldn't help but wonder, if only briefly, if maybe he would be more able to fill their expectations of him this time around.

Whispering and the loud chatter of many voices speaking caught his attention, though, and he waved at a few friends when they waved at him, standing in line as he was with the rest of the first years.

And just when had they entered the Hall, anyways?

The chatter, if anything, got even louder as more and more of the student body recognized him, though he was rather more attentive to the reactions of the Headmaster and Snape than anything else.

"Now, Cooper, just wave at all the nice people," he said loud enough for his voice to carry.

Goldie, grinning shyly all the while just did as Harry said and waved at the students that waved back, drawing more than a few laughs. The chatter, however, died out when McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat in its stool and it began to sing, followed closely after by the sorting.

There were quite a lot of first years in this class, almost double Harry's own year, but then, he supposed that without Voldemort around to sour everyone's mood, there would be a lot of baby-making going on after everyone was sure that the big bad evil wizard was gone.

"Johansen, Brian," was called and sorted into Hufflepuff, before 'Kensington, Cooper,' rang out, along with a pointed look from McGonagall in his direction.

Looking over the first years as he was, Harry, of course, didn't really notice.

"Harry," his passenger called, jumping a bit in excitement.

"What's up kiddo?" he asked, noticing Dumbledore's twinkling eyes set on him and waved cheerily at the old man, who nodded and smiled at him in answer.

"Harry, it's my turn to be sorted!" he exclaimed, "So step on it."

"Oh? Is it now?" Harry turned toward the sorting hat and found the stool empty of a first year and McGonagall almost glaring at him.

"It _is_!" Cooper told him promptly.

"Are you sure?" he asked, just to tease the little boy a bit more.

"Aw, come on, mate, I'm starving here!" Ron called out from the Gryffindor table.

"And how's that any different from any other time of the day?" he asked back, making half of the hall laugh at the now red redhead.

"Mr. Potter," the foot-tapping, tight-lipped, now glaring Deputy Headmistress said sharply.

"Geez, okay, okay," he surrendered, throwing his arms up a bit and walked gracefully up to the stool and depositing the giggling blond on it, "there we go, now, aren't I a good _B'ob_?"

He was answered by the unlikeliest of people, since it was the Sorting Hat that spoke up. "Certainly Mr. Potter. You have done quite a splendid job as a _B.o.b_ from what I can see of the lad's recent memories. Now, however, do be quiet and let me sort the boy, after all, a _B'ob_'s duty is not finished until their cargo is in his or her new House table and under the supervision of a Prefect."

Harry didn't know whether to laugh at the stupefied expression on McGonagall's face upon hearing the Hat's very serious verification of his supposed title, or the amazed faces of the rest of the first years, who just ate it all up.

He hoped someone had gotten a picture of it, though. He would pay some good money to have a copy.

Sidling up to the transfiguration teacher until she regained her composure, though, he whispered so that only she could hear him. "Professor, he had a broken ankle when I saw him and while I was able to fix that, I'll still need to take him to the Hospital Wing when the feast is over, would you mind providing me a pass?"

Nodding briskly, she answered him, "Certainly Potter, but what if he ends up in another house?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He won't," he said with certainty.

"If he does, however, I will have one of the Prefects accompany you."

Their conversation was cut short, however, when the Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," into the hall, which received a standing ovation, with much foot-stomping and clapping just to make sure.

Making his way toward the awestruck blond, he easily swung him up onto his shoulders, making the cheering, if at all possible, double. He gave an 'I-told-you-so' look at McGonagall before he walked over to where Hermione and Ron where saving him and Cooper a seat, near where all the rest of the first years were sitting.

They made their way over amongst a lot of back-slapping and congratulations for Cooper, who seemed like he couldn't believe they were making such a racket for him.

But then, he really didn't know just who Harry Potter was.

Through it all, though, Harry had to be very careful so that the blonds' ankle was not jarred in any way.

It was, indeed, a task only fit for a _B'ob_.

"Welcome to Gryffindor, Cooper!" someone, Ginny if he wasn't mistake, shouted, and a flash went off as Colin grinned from above his camera.

The rest of the feast went in a blur, to tell the truth, and Harry didn't really register much else of note and simply enjoyed the feast as much as he could, chattering away with his housemates and getting to know the other first years as well, somewhat glad that they welcomed Cooper into their midst's easily enough.

He _did_ have to answer quite a few questions though, both involving his little blond friend and his new looks, not to mention questions about if the DA would be continuing and how his summer holidays went.

When the Sorting was done and the new teachers were introduced, Harry and the rest tucked into the food with abandon, as teenagers are wont to do, and the feast, if at all possible, became even more festive.

For some reason that escaped him, Voldemort wasn't even mentioned once. And really, that was a good thing in his book. By the time pudding was served they were all soundly stuffed and the first years were looking more than a bit sleepy. Cooper himself was nodding off something awful and Harry had to even stop him from planting his face into his treacle tart.

Not that that wouldn't have been hilarious, but the kid _was_ injured.

If anything, he was glad his charge had eaten so well, though a stomach settling potion wouldn't be amiss, he was sure.

**-O●O●O●O-**

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed when Harry entered the Hospital Wing, Goldie sleeping soundly on his back, "What on earth are you doing in my ward so early in the year?"

"It's good to see you too, Madam Pomfrey!"

"Cheeky brat, what is it then?" And as Harry hitched the first year up on his back, she was suddenly right beside him, fussing over them, "And who is this?" she asked.

"This is Cooper," he told her as he made his way toward one of the beds, "I saw him limping on platform one and three quarters with no one doing anything about it, so I picked him up and found him with a broken ankle," and he continued as she nodded along, waving her wand over the boy, "It was a hairline fracture, so I managed to heal that, and lower the swelling a bit as well."

"Good job, Mr. Potter, this is some rather spectacular spell work you've done. In fact, it's just a matter of a few potions and he'll be right as rain, though the rest of him isn't in the best of conditions, really," she said, clucking in disapproval, and as she bustled off to find the potions needed, Harry just sat down and looked over the sleeping boy, curious as to the two charms he had seen the nurse performing on him.

In any case, there were actually some things in his vault that would help Cooper get better sooner, but he would have to talk to Bobby about it first, not to mention that he would probably need to talk to Cooper about it as well.

"Now," the nurse came beside him, handing him a few vials before heading toward the sleeping boy and vanishing some potions down his throat, "give him those in the morning when he wakes up and he'll be right as rain. After that, have him come along later in the week and we'll start working on the rest of him, hmm?"

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey," he picked the kid up, who was rather limp by now, and pocketed the potions, "Thanks for everything."

"It's not a problem, Mr. Potter, and thank you for taking such good care of the lad."

Nodding goodnight at the nurse, Harry sighed softly, feeling quite tired all of a sudden, and headed towards Gryffindor Tower, thankfully finding no one on the way and thus having no reason to use the pass that McGonagall had given him.

After a sleepy greeting to the Fat Lady and finding a deserted common room, he headed up toward the first year dorms, more than a bit surprised when he found two of them, both with six and seven boys in each. Really, he didn't remember there being so many first years! When he noticed that the only one with an empty bed was the one with seven boys, with all of the other firsties sound asleep, Harry made an executive decision and dragged himself and Cooper up towards the sixth floor of the tower, where his dorm was.

He found everyone still up, which he had expected, bent in a huddle of sorts and talking quietly in a corner, so he quickly took Goldie towards his own bed, stripped him down to his undies and tucked him in, making sure to leave the potions the boy would have to take on his bedside table, before joining his year mates and flopping bonelessly next to Seamus, only to find the lot of them staring at him oddly.

"What?" he asked and saw them look as one toward his bed and the visible bundle resting there, "Did you see how many first years there are? I'm not gonna risk waking that can of worms up! I'm tired enough as it is."

Somehow, though, he couldn't really interpret the looks they were sending him and sharing between them. It was as if there was an entire conversation going on that he wasn't aware of, if only because they kept smirking at him, the bastards.

One way or another though, he would find out what was so funny, damn it.

-o**  
**

**TBC…**

-o

_**Pickled Brains:**_ Did you see the title of this? I don't know where the heck it came from, but every stick I thought to clobber it with, broke, so there! I couldn't beat some normalness into it, so maybe it's just special. That doesn't mean that you lot shouldn't leave a nice review anyways, you hear?


	7. The Trunk

_**I Disclaim **_ownership of Harry Potter.

_**Pickled Brains:**_ All right! New chapter for y'all! I'm hyper to hear so many people are having fun with this fic! I always say there's too much depressing shit in the fandom, so it makes me giddy to know that y'all like all the nonsense I write!

-o

**Chapter Seven:  
The Trunk**

-o

There are a great many things Harry Potter was used to, and a great many others that had been ingrained into him and his behavior. One of these habits however, was one he'd acquired during his early years at the Dursley's and it manifested in two ways, as far as he was aware.

The habit in itself is simple enough; Harry was a silent sleeper. Apart from nightmares and Voldemort-induced visions (which were relatively new occurrences, now that he thought about it), it has remained that way even after so many years away from his relative's gracious care (Oh, and you can just _feel _the sarcasm in that one, eh?). As such, he didn't really make any noise as he slept and, more importantly, he didn't _move_ while asleep.

At _all_.

He didn't toss or turn. He didn't snore or sniffle. His sheets didn't rustle and his bed didn't creak, whatever its condition (and let's face it, the bed he'd slept in while at the Dursley's almost wailed in pathetic misery at the merest twitch! _Especially_ after being used by his dear, _dear_ cousin).

But anyways, at Number Four any noise would visit his Uncle's walrus-like wrath upon him, something he always tried to avoid as a child, not to mention that moving about would earn him quite a bit of bumps and bruises during his early years, seeing that the cupboard under the stairs was not exactly roomy.

As such, when he woke up that first morning at Hogwarts, he was somewhat disoriented.

Why, you may ask? Well, after catching up with his dorm mates (and pretty much gossiped about manly topics), Harry had stripped and put on his sleep pants before crawling onto the other side of his bed. He remembered this quite clearly, in fact. He'd fallen asleep on his side with his back toward the blond first year.

This, however, was not how he woke up.

At all.

Indeed, as he blinked his green eyes a few more times, he finally concluded that he really _was_ awake, and yes, he had moved while asleep. Or, better yet, he thought wryly while looking at the mop of bright blond hair resting on his shoulder and under his face, _someone_ had moved him in his sleep; someone who was clearly far too cozy at the moment, although he couldn't say he was any less comfortable himself.

Had it been anyone else, Harry would have probably reacted much differently. And really, had he been anyone different, he would probably have some blood circulation issues to deal with as well. Then again, other lads his age would probably have freaked out, had they found themselves in his place.

But really, he was Harry _Potter_, and though he recognized himself as somewhat of an inexperienced pervert, little kids really didn't do it for him.

And anyways, if anything, Harry was only feeling warm and fuzzy because of his current situation, and couldn't help but ask himself if this was what it was like to have a family, or a brother, or really, anyone close enough to comfort and take care of . . .

(_Aw_, and isn't Harry a right sap in the mornings?)

For if you haven't figured it out by now, little Cooper seemed to have moved rather spectacularly during the night. Harry was somewhat bemused at the new position, really, since he was firmly on his back and Goldie was comfortably stretched on top of him, his legs on either side of Harry, though they were bent and his feet were resting on top of Harry's own thighs. Bare-chested as they both were, Harry could feel each and every breath the boy took, deep and even with sleep, along with the warmth that radiated from his small frame.

It was . . . _comfortable_. Supremely so. And the weight on top of him was more than a bit relaxing. It was a constant reminder he was not alone and there was someone there with him, and indeed, he felt quite well rested because of it.

He decided right then, since it was a Sunday, that he'd wait 'till Cooper woke up before moving; that is, unless it got _too_ late. He had that meeting with McGonagall to go to still. Who knew what the old witch would do to him if his skipped it, right?

She would probably hiss at him with her kitty-claws extended and scratch him something awful!

. . . He had to chuckle at his imagination, just for that.

Moving his arms, he settled the little boy more comfortably and started playing with his soft hair, content to think on the upcoming year, even as he finished kicking off the blankets. It wasn't hot, per se, but it wasn't cold either. Still, even from his position, he could see just how painfully thin the sleeping first year was. Nothing as extreme as he himself at that age, but still very noticeable; he wondered, not for the first time, just what had happened to the kid and hoped all the same that it wasn't anything too bad.

At the moment, he didn't know what he'd do if it was.

Probably something foolish, though.

"Hmmm," Cooper murmured sleepily, doubtlessly reacting to his touch while burying his face on his neck and curling more into his chest, if that was at all possible. Harry had to wonder if the little guy would burrow between his ribs next, and chuckled at his own thoughts.

"Good morning, Goldie," Harry smiled. The boy was just too cute for words.

"Hmmph."

"You can go back to sleep if you want," he told the younger boy softly, rubbing circles onto his back and still running gentle fingers through his soft golden hair.

"'M up…"

Laughing, Harry ruffled the boys hair a bit and waited as the little blond seemed to stretch without moving, a tightening and relaxing of muscles, before he abruptly sat up on his stomach, eyes half closed and looking like he was still sleeping, narrow shoulders hunched forward and hair tousled wildly to his right.

Harry had never seen a worst case of bed-hair in his life, that's for sure.

"I'm up," the kid grumped more clearly as he fisted his closed eyes.

Grinning even more, Harry folded his hands behind the first year, not wanting the kid to slide further down his stomach and into dangerous territory. His legs had already suffered enough under the kid's scrawny bum, thank you very much; he didn't want to think of the anguish his crotch would experience under the same treatment.

Still, it was adorably funny to see the kid trying and failing to wake up. In fact, he looked like he would fold in two and go right back to sleep at any moment. That is, until he opened a bleary eye a bit wider and took in his surroundings.

Confusion was the boy's first reactions, even as he blinked those big eyes of his and looked around without comprehension. That is, until his gaze came to rest on Harry and a small tentative smile made its presence known on his face.

"It's still early, you know, so we could get some more sleep in before grabbing some breakfast," Harry told him with a quirk of his lips.

He would _not_ laugh.

He wouldn't!

Not when the kid was unaware of how his hair looked at that moment (and honestly, just how could it all be pointing straight out from the right side of his head?), or how he hadn't stopped rubbing his face as he looked around.

But really, when the boy's face turned rosy on top of all that, he couldn't hold in his chuckles anymore, even as he poked the boy's tummy a bit, eliciting more than a few strangled, sleepy giggles and faint warding off motions as the blond tried to squirm out of reach.

It wasn't long before an all-out tickle-fest started and shrieks of laughter filled the room, even as his four-poster shook because of their playful wrestling match. And really, even as his breathing sped up and his own laughter joined that of Cooper's, Harry couldn't really remember when he had been as carefree as he was now; as playful as he was now. He wondered, not for the first time, if he had really changed so muc—

His thoughts, however, were abruptly interrupted when the slick little blond escaped his hold and somehow latched himself to his back and pinned him to the bed (and do get your filthy minds outta the gutter, eh?).

Not to mention that Harry _let_ him win . . .

Hey, why the doubting faces? He _did_ let the scrawny little blond win! End of story. _Hmph_.

Giving up with a laugh, sweating, smiling and breathing heavily, the two boys stayed like that for a while more, even after their breathing was under control. Cooper himself seemed comfortable enough lying on Harry's back so the older wizard let him stay there.

Again, it was comforting.

"Harry?" the small first year asked softly.

Turning his head toward his right shoulder, where Goldie's head was, he responded in an equally soft tone, "Yeah?"

The boy didn't answer right away, just tightened his arms around Harry's chest a bit more, but Harry could see he was thinking, so he let little guy gather his thoughts and waited. It wasn't a long wait though, but he knew whatever Cooper wanted to say, it was important. "Thank you," the boy said, not meeting his gaze, a blush staining his cheeks.

Confused and not exactly in a position to have a conversation, he called on his magic and his will, and before the blond blinked, their positions had changed and they were both laying while facing each other; Harry's green gaze settled firmly on Cooper's blue-green eyes.

"Huh? Wha—?"

Smiling a bit, Harry winked, "Its _magic_," was his whispered answer. "Now, you're welcome, though I have no idea what you're thanking me about, bud."

Looking down and closing his eyes, Cooper seemed to steel himself, and when those clear eyes opened once again Harry was surprised by how old they looked, even if they didn't meet his own gaze straight on, "I—I've always been alone, you know?" the golden haired child said softly while he fidgeted with the blankets, his eyes set on his twiddling fingers, unfocused, "Even at the orphanage, I've never really had any friends. It was a small orphanage, see? And most of the kids there are younger than me . . . I, well, I was always picked on at school because I was smaller than everyone else, and somewhat shy, I guess," he whispered, a tinge of pink on his cheeks becoming an almost permanent fixture.

Harry's heart ached at the sight, and he wanted nothing more than to pull the boy into a hug, but he didn't want to interrupt. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone is to listen. It was why he had grown so attached to Sirius after so short a time; he had listened and not judged, he had let him pour his heart out without interruption; he had _been_ there when no one else was.

And then he had offered something that he had never received; comfort and affection. Mindlessly and without question, Sirius had given him that and more.

It was, above all else, what made him love his godfather so much.

It was the reason his death hit him so hard. Not because he was his godfather or a link to his parents, but because he was the only one, until he met Bobby recently, who had accepted him for himself right off the bat.

It was why, as Cooper continued to speak, Harry just sat back and listened, offering whatever comfort he could with his presence.

"My parents abandoned me there, you know? In the orphanage. I wasn't wanted and everyone knew it. I was teased for it. Not to mention the strange things that always happened when I was upset. And when I got my Hogwarts letter, well, I didn't know what to think . . . I, well, I thought it was a bad joke, really," tears seemed to gather at the corner or his eyes and Harry's heart clenched just the slightest bit; why would he cry because of his letter? "But it wasn't a joke and I . . . I was happy, so very happy when I found out about it, and even more so when Professor McGonagall then took me to Diagon Alley . . . And when I came back to the orphanage, everything was great; I . . . I was going to a new school and I thought well, maybe I could make friends there? Maybe I could fit in there . . . ?"

The boy paused again and wiped at his face, his features reddening more in embarrassment, he guessed, but the next thing he knew, the little blond surged forward and latched onto him with a strength that surprised the last Potter. And what could Harry do but to hold him just as tight? He knew about loneliness, after all.

It was a horrible thing.

Still, when the boy continued his voice was soft, muffled by Harry's chest, " . . . I, I was s-so happy . . . " Copper continued, his breath hitching before he seemed to control himself with a deep intake of air, "B-but, well, not everyone was happy for me, and . . . and then I had to make my own way to the Platform and I thought everything was going to be the same; that I'd be alone again, and it was like that at first . . . " Harry could feel the tears against his skin, but he ignored it, rubbing soothing circles across the first year's back. He knew there were gaps in what Cooper was telling him, the broken ankle (and how it come to be broken in the first place) being the most glaringly obvious, of course.

But then, that wasn't what the kid was talking about was it? Harry didn't even think that Cooper had wanted to say all those things himself. Nonetheless, when the blond continued speaking, Harry was listening, ". . . I was ready to give up, you know? I asked for help at first, and then I just wanted to get on the train. It hurt so much! But then . . . then you were there, and you took care of me and helped me . . . I, no one's ever helped me before, _ever_. So . . . I mean, thank you for that," Cooper finished with a whisper, clinging to Harry with as much force as he could probably muster, as if he was trying to say a million other things as well, but couldn't find the words for them.

But Harry understood, so he just hugged the kid back just as fiercely. He hugged the boy in a way that told him that he was welcome, that he was there now; that he would be his best friend, if that was what he wanted. He felt that something about this kid was special, if for no other reason than he reminded him of himself. He would make sure that he was safe, at the very least.

And it was all the response the younger boy needed, as well.

It took some time before Copper calmed enough to loosen his grip, but Harry didn't mind, and he didn't let the boy go either. He wouldn't ever turn the blond away, not after learning at least a bit of what his life had been like, and he wanted Cooper to know that. However, there were potions to be taken and a meeting to attend, not to mention that Harry needed to start practicing more of his magic. He wouldn't be able to go back into the Tank of Knowledge until Bobby had finished bringing the Potter accounts up to date, but he could always cement what he had already learned until then.

Not to mention he hadn't seen Alden around and he was starting to worry for his guardian-cat. If nothing else, the feline could have at least help defend him against McGonagall, right?

Shaking his head slightly and focusing back onto the boy in his arms, he drew the blond closer.

"Hey, kiddo?" he whispered into the boy's ear, moving until he could see the boy's clear eyes, until they were nose to nose, "I have some foul-tasting potions that you have to take so that your ankle doesn't give you any more problems, you hear?" he asked with an easy grin, poking the kid on the ribs until he got a nod, "Then let's get up and you can take a shower. Honestly, boy, you stink!"

"Hey!" Cooper protested with a wavering smile that finally settled as the mood shifted, "I do not!"

And, well, it didn't take Harry too much time to win _this_ tickle-war, or to get Cooper to drink his potions for that matter, before showing the boy over to his dorm and in the direction of the bathroom, thankful there were a few other first years hanging around, a couple of which immediately latched onto the little blond and asked him how he was doing.

Harry was glad for that and the blonds' spirits were pretty high by this point, as well. As it was, he told the kid he would see him at lunch and headed back toward his dorm.

Breakfast would have to wait, considering the time.

Thankfully, though not strangely, the majority of his dorm mates were still sleeping, most likely because of sound dampening charms placed on their curtains, though Neville had probably woken up pretty early if his bed's neatness was any indication. As things were, the morning was half-way done and he set about getting ready to go and meet his Head of House.

He had to wonder just what was it that McGonagall wanted with him this early in the year . . . But then he remembered his stunt during the feast and, well, you remember that too, right? Hopefully he wouldn't get _too_ many detentions . . . though with any luck he wouldn't get any at all.

Afterwards, well, he would have to see . . . it _was_ a Sunday, so maybe he could find a quiet place for a few hours and practice the _five knuckle shuffle_. He sure as hell needed the exercise, that's for sure.

Then again, maybe he should start looking for some _real_ help with that, too, eh?

**-O****●O●O●O-**

"Enter," came the brisk answer from inside the office.

Harry opened the door and walked in gracefully, feeling quite refreshed after his morning shower. Not to mention that he'd found Shaggy stuffed into his trunk and was happy to have the enchanted furry thingamabob close to him once more . . . he had grown rather fond of it, after all.

At the moment, it was wrapped around his right wrist, looking to the whole world as a spunky little wristlet; A very wiggly, _teasing_ little wristlet at that. But Harry didn't really mind, seeing as he had grown accustomed to much worse during his stay at his vault.

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall," he greeted his Head of House with an easy lopsided smile.

The Transfiguration Mistress welcomed him in kind, and Harry was glad her lips weren't pressed together and she wasn't glaring at him in any way. It meant he wasn't in trouble, or at least not _too_ much trouble. However, he had to wonder, even as he accepted a seat across her desk and some biscuits, what this meeting was about.

As it happened, though, Harry didn't really have to wait too long to find out.

"I admit to being rather upset with your display last night, Mr. Potter," she began, getting right to the point. "However, after speaking with Madam Pomfrey and Miss Granger about the surrounding circumstances I find that few could have done any better, or eased that child's transition into Hogwarts with as much success as you have obtained. For that, I award twenty points to Gryffindor."

"Thanks you Professor, but I would have done what I did for anyone, really."

McGonagall gave him a nod at that, "And you should be commended for it, Potter, because few others would have done the same; or gone to the lengths you did," she raised her hand when he made to speak once more, so he remained silent, "Now, when I first asked you to come to see me, I fully intended to award you at least two weeks of detention and would have deducted as many points as I have awarded you, not to mention I wanted to know what had possessed you to act in such a manner.

"Upon confirming young Mr. Kensington's injuries, however, I see that your actions were fully justified; nevertheless, seeing as you are already here, I thought we might discuss Mr. Kensington's condition as well as your course selection for your N.E.W.T level classes."

"Thanks ma'am. I actually wanted to talk to you about my options for classes as well, since a few things happened during the summer holidays that have made me reconsider my options."

"Indeed?" The Deputy Headmistress asked, looking somewhat surprised, before she nodded and gathered some parchment from atop her desk, "Let us leave that for last then and talk about Mr. Kensington first. There are a few things about him that you might help me clear up."

"Wouldn't you know more about him than me, Professor?" Harry asked, confused.

"That's just it, Mr. Potter, I hardly know anything about the boy, and I was the one who delivered his letter to him," she told him, and it was obvious to him that she was rather worried about the kid. "He was an unusually quiet child, all things considered, and he didn't ask any questions during his trip to Diagon Alley. In fact, until last night I thought the boy was mute," she finished flatly, and this took him quite by surprise, since even if the boy was muggleborn, magic would have allowed for at least that to be confirmed. "There are no records of the lad, not in the Muggle world and not in the Wizarding world. For all intents and purposes, he appeared in that orphanage one night out of the blue."

Harry blinked, surprised that McGonagall had told him so much, even if only to tell him that they didn't know enough. "Then where did he get his name from, Professor?" It was the only thing he could think of at the moment.

The Deputy Headmistress simply leaned back in her chair and looked at him over her square spectacles, "As far as I have been able to uncover, the name, Cooper, was known to the child. Kensington is a surname given to him by the orphanage," and was he seeing things or was McGonagall looking at him a bit too intensely?

"If that's the case, what can I do to help, Professor?" he asked her, noticing some small signs of dissatisfaction in her gaze, as if she were expecting something else from him, and though he had some idea of what it was, it was still too soon to take such actions (not to mention how he didn't want to commit himself to something so serious without more thought). He would wait until Cooper was acclimated before he asked the boy anything; he refused to interrogate his little friend or take advantage of any of the trust the kid had placed on him, as he was sure was McGonagall's desire.

Sighing softly, the Transfigurations Mistress seemed to discard a few thoughts as she reached to shuffle some papers into order. "Well, let me know if you learn something of import about his situation. Some things about it just don't sit well with me. Apart from that, just keep doing as you have done, Mr. Potter, and keep an eye on the lad."

Nodding confidently, he smiled a sudden smile at his Head of House, startling her slightly. "I'll keep both my eyes on him professor, as often as I can spare them, and make sure he is as safe and as happy as I can make him."

And was it him, or was that a smile he was seeing at the corner of the old professor's mouth? Either he was growing into quite the inspirational speaker or his Head of House was getting softer.

Whatever the case, it was a wonder to behold, that's for certain.

"Then I will thank you for that Mr. Potter," she told him with a firm nod, "Indeed, if this is the care you show to the younger years, I regret that you weren't selected as a Prefect for Gryffindor House."

Laughing slightly, Harry shook his head ruefully, "Me? A _Prefect_? Are you sure you're remembering who you're talking to, Professor?"

She gave him quite a stare at that, and his smile widened at the sheer sternness in the look. There was the Professor McGonagall they all knew and behaved for, "I assure you, Potter, I am perfectly aware. Now, you mentioned having a change of mind about your subject selection?" She questioned, changing the subject as she retrieved a particular sheaf of parchment from the pile.

Harry simply eyed the files a bit as he nodded; his green eyes stark on his face, "I uncovered quite a bit when I searched within my family history. As it turns out, my Great-Grandfather denied his inheritance when he married Dorea Black, and since to inherit in the Potter family, the Patriarch has to bring the Heir to the Potter Vault and introduce him to the Family Guardian, it also means that my Grandfather and my Father were denied their heritage as well, under different, but linked circumstances."

McGonagall quickly filled in the blanks though, "But since there was no Potter Patriarch, the Goblins were _obligated_ to inform you in his stead," she nodded, as if putting the pieces of a puzzle together, "But for your Vault to have a Guardian . . ."

"A fully sentient Guardian, at that, Professor," he clarified, feeling a sort of guilty pleasure in seeing her so shell-shocked. Hogwarts was only semi-sentient, and with so much magic being performed within it throughout a thousand years . . . well, without knowing any better, someone could be led to believe that the Guardian of his vault was well over three thousand years of age, if not more. While such was probably true, being able to actually _prove_ that he belonged to an unbroken magical line of such an age would lift many an eyebrow; pureblood or not.

"But then—" she began.

"It means that I am _filthy_ rich, Professor McGonagall," he told her in a somewhat dismayed tone of voice, though he'd already come to terms with these facts himself. "It means that my family holds a great many titles and properties (though I'm not certain if any of them are still valid, or what they are), and even more investments; that the Guardian of my Family's Heritage is practically demanding me to find a bright and beautiful boyfriend to make plenty of Potters with. It means, Professor, that there's a whole load of other options opened for me as well, and that I don't have to be an Auror if I don't truly, fully want to . . . " he trailed off, blinking his large green eyes at the stunned Transfigurations Mistress. "Professor?" he asked probingly.

"A—a _boyfriend_, Potter?!" she asked in a stutter.

Brightening, he gave her a happy nod, "Isn't it wonderful, Professor? There's specific legacy magic for that, so I won't have to settle for a girl just to have a family," he told her, and through those spells (and potions) _did_ exist; they had other kinds of uses than the ones he was implying.

More fun uses, at that.

As well, he preferred her not to know about the Potter condition for now, though he was sure it would re-surface sooner rather than later. It made him pause a bit too; did it mean the last three generations of Potters were black sheep in the history of the family?

"I—I see," she remarked dazedly and blinked at him before seemingly gathering her wits about her and shuffling the papers in her hands unnecessarily. "And just how would this impact your studies, then, Mr. Potter?" she asked a bit gruffly, still processing what he'd told her.

"Well, I actually made a list of the subjects I'd like to take, along with a few other requests regarding my future education," he told her as he took a sealed letter from one of the pockets of his robe and handed it to her, the wax seal with the Potter coat of arms quite prominent on the thick parchment. "The reasons for my selections are in there as well. If there are any problems or if you have any questions, there are directions on how to contact my Family's Guardian in that letter. Since he is, for all intents and purposes, my magical guardian now, it falls to him to arrange for my suitable education until such a time as I can take matters into my own hands, as it were."

Blinking slowly again, McGonagall took the letter and nodded, _still _trying to process all of what he had just revealed. He remembered having been in a post-orgasmic haze when most of this news was broken to him, though, so he could sympathize a bit with her. "Well then," she said as she slowly put the letter down and looked at him once more, "I will read this and contact your Guardian, Mr. Potter. Should I have any other questions I will call on you as well. Until then, you are dismissed."

How she pulled herself together so quickly, Harry didn't know. But then, she was probably used to dealing with all sorts of things, so he nodded his ascent and headed out of her office, a smile beginning to pull at the corner of his lips.

That had gone better than he had expected.

Now, he still had time to go down to Hagrid's Hut for some tea before lunch. It should be enough to tide him over at the very least, not to mention give him a chance to catch up with the gentle giant.

Destination in mind, he turned down the corridor, humming a catchy tune under his breath.

He looked like a canary that'd gotten the better out of a cat.

**-O●O●O●O-**

It wasn't until well into the afternoon that he actually met up with Ron and Hermione, seeing they had missed each other at lunch. Afterwards, however, they managed to spend the rest of the day catching up and meeting with their other friends, all of them quite happy to use the free day to laze around to their hearts content.

Quite a few of the students were outside and in or around the lake, and Harry had even seen Goldie and a few other first years running around the lawns playing some kind of game.

He was happy to see it actually, since the kid seemed to be fitting in nicely.

Still, it wasn't until after supper that he found some time to slip away on his own. With excuses of being a little tired and going to sleep early, he headed toward his dorm room, intent on getting a few things from his trunk.

It wasn't that he had anything to hide, really, but he didn't want to embarrass his dorm mates when he set about to unlocking the hidden compartment of his family's trunk. For as all things Potter, it too had quite a _unique_ lock (the hidden compartment that is). So when he reached his room, he tugged Shaggy from his wrist and threw him in his trunk's direction, watching as it expanded and floated down gently to the foot of his bed.

He, on the other hand, headed over to the bathroom to brush his teeth and relive himself, for even though he wasn't sleepy at the moment, he was sure he would be after he was done.

Or at least, that was his plan.

No sooner he returned to the room did he discard his shoes and robe, while slowly taking off the jeans and t-shirt he'd been wearing, along with the rather comfortably tight emerald green boxer-briefs which were enchanted to cradle his bits in a warm, soft grasp. Folding what he could wear again and throwing what he couldn't in the room's laundry basket, he walked toward Shaggy and his trunk stark naked; something he'd gotten used to in his vault.

And really, maybe he should see if the other boys minded it very much? It'd be a relief to stay in the nude in their room at the very least.

Kneeling in front of the rounded corner of the trunk, Shaggy thickening under his knees to provide him better support, which he was glad for, he gently tapped a simple combination on the edges of the seemingly regular piece of luggage. But then, nothing was quite regular when it came from the Potter's Vault, now was it?

It had to be more than magical, and certainly perverted, or it wouldn't really fit with the family motif.

This was proven all the truer when the small face holding the regular lock of the trunk seemed to come alive and grow to twice its size or more, and then smoothly moved from its place in the middle of the trunk and to the corner where Harry was kneeling at, allowing for maximum comfort for the unlocking process.

Bobby's face blinked and its gaze zeroed in on his throbbing erection and opened its mouth eagerly, and Harry couldn't help but wonder again just where his ancestors came up with this stuff, even as he eased his cock into the willing entrance, his knees easily sliding onto either side of the trunk's smooth edge while he paused to get used to the sensation.

It was warm and wet and perfectly, _deliciously_ tight, and his breathing became deeper because of the sudden attack on his senses, his mind focusing solely on his considerably hard shaft. Oh, it wasn't really Bobby, true, just a semi-animated representation of him. But still. _Still_ . . .

It had a sinful mouth.

A miniature guardian for those treasures taken outside of the vault.

Taking hold of whatever he could, Harry simply started ramming into it with abandon, giving himself immediately to the feeling and not caring for any foreplay. He was hot and he was horny and he had a willing trunk to fuck and that was all that mattered. So he did just that, groaning when Shaggy flexed and wrapped around his legs, reaching and caressing his ass before gently cupping and massaging his large balls.

He groaned low in his throat at the contact and pumped into the tight luggage as sweat began to bead across his heated skin; he closed his eyes and allowed the sensations to wash through him as he continued in a fast but steady rhythm, his breaths reverberating deeper in his chest when Shaggy pulled at his balls and panted in heated desire when the trunk sucked him in turn.

Harry didn't know how long he fucked his trunk, as time seemed to lose track of him until he could feel the wonderful mounting of pressure at the tip of his toes, the first signs of a slow, drawn-out release, because Merlin help him, but he was going to enjoy himself while he could!

Throwing his head and closing his eyes, he arched his back and placed his hands on his hips as he ploughed on, his swollen member coming almost completely out of its tight confines before being swiftly pushed back in as he set a new, more frantic rhythm, the muscles of his legs and back rippling, his skin moving with them at every one of his measured thrusts.

"Bloody hell, Harry, wha're ye doin?" came the startled question from the doorway.

Turning without losing his pace, but laying a steadying hand on the trunk, else his cock lose its way, Harry found Seamus staring back at him from the door of the room, a look of dumbfounded incredulity on his face.

"Shut the bloody door, Seamus!" he grunted out between thrusts, not even the slightest bit embarrassed as he turned around and kept fucking his trunk (and damn but did he like the sound of that), the curve of his ass becoming more prominent with his new position.

Still, when he heard the door being shut and then locked (which startled him somewhat), he didn't really expect to see anything but an empty room when he glanced back from the corner of his eye, certain he would need to speak to a traumatized Seamus later on about what he saw.

What he found, however, were a pair of lust-filled blue eyes firmly fixed on his tight behind as the Irish boy palmed his growing erection through his trousers.

_Well_, _would you look at that_, Harry thought with a smirky smile, _wasn't this an interesting turn of events?_

With a mild shake of his head, he quickened his pace. After all, he still needed to open his trunk. He would deal with Seamus after that was done, and hopefully the other wizard would be up for a bit of fun after he was finished. The sight he made at the moment; his skin glistening and his firm ass clenching with each thrust, should be inviting enough, surely.

Though he could freely admit that Seamus had quite a cute ass himself; after all, he'd seen it more than once. His smirky smile, if possible, turned just a _tad_ bit predatory.

Well, maybe he could have himself an irish lad before bed?

Relentlessly, he continued plowing into his luggage, his imagination soaring.

-o**  
**

**TBC…****  
**

-o

_**Pickled Brains:**_ And no, Seamus won't end up with Harry. Though if anyone's opposed to a pair of horny teenage boys (or this pair of hot and sweaty lads) jumping at each other's bones, well, too bad.

Anyways, how about y'all leave me some reviewing goodness, eh?


	8. The Playmate

_**I Disclaim **_ownership of Harry Potter.

_**Alert!**_ Boy-lovin' yonder!

_**Pickled Brains:**_ Bloody hell! This chapter was like an unruly child that couldn't decide on what it wanted, and I mean it quite literally. It's the only chapter I've ever had to re-write, and it's taken more than one re-writing at that!

But I've had it! I wash my hands of it and give it to y'all to deal with it! _Hmph!_

**-**o****

Chapter Eight:  
**The Playmate**

-o

The sound of his breathing was harsh to his own ears, for the rest of his surroundings were particularly silent. Harry enjoyed it, however, and the intense gaze focused on him as he pounded into his trunk more and more erratically made the experience all the hotter.

Merciful Merlin on a Motorcycle, but he was more turned on than a steaming engine!

The feeling reminded him of the day he'd first met Bobby and wanked in a Gringotts tunnel. Afterwards he'd become too used to the guardian to really revel in his recently discovered exhibitionism. He didn't know what the hell Seamus was thinking by staying inside the room while he was actively fucking something, true, but he enjoyed the sandy-haired boy's presence none the less.

The heat of Seamus' stare, the lust in his eyes and the small hitches of his breath as he pleasured himself while watching Harry were like sunshine and water to him, and he was but a tree basking in its presence, soaking it all up. He literally flourished under the scrutiny, and he _loved_ it. Being watched while in such a state was a rush he could only compare to flying.

It made him harder; it made him feel _sin_fully wicked.

After his changes, he didn't feel a need to feel ashamed at his actions, nor was he embarrassed by his body. In fact, here, in the semi-privacy of his own dorm room, Harry was actually _flaunting_ himself and enjoyed doing so. In fact, he really, really hoped his other roommates wouldn't mind seeing him starkers from now on.

He stretched his muscles and flexed his shoulders and made the most delightful, breathy, taunting sounds he could manage, all for the sake of his lust-bound audience. He clenched his ass and slowed his pace so his fellow wizard could take all of him in. Indeed, he particularly enjoyed the various stumbling and cursing fits Seamus suffered when Harry leaned forward more than necessary and displayed his tight bum to advantage.

But he was too close to his peak to think about any of that for much longer. He knew Seamus was leaning against a bed-post somewhere to the side, leisurely stroking his covered erection. The flush of arousal and the glistening of his parted lips only spurred Harry onwards. Maybe he should just pause and banish those concealing clothes and pounce on the cutely entranced blond?

His green eyes glazed at the thought. Bloody hell, if discovering his family heritage hadn't turned him into a horny bugger.

However . . . he took a steadying breath, he didn't want to scare the other boy away. Instead he took his time, fucked his trunk and kept an eye on the randy lad. After all, he had to be careful if he wanted to have a roommate beneath his sheets tonight, right? Then again . . . the sandy blond probably didn't have enough blood flowing into his brain to think straight and even consider fleeing!

Gasping when the trunk sensed his imminent release and starting bloody well _sucking_ like a vacuum, Harry lost all shred of coherent though and sneaky plans and simply shagged his luggage stupid.

Hair plastered and wet, skin beaded with perspiration, Harry's world diminished to just his throbbing, burning, pulsing shaft and the slick, _tight_, hot mouth it was in, magical or not, when, like a gunshot, he came in a blinding moment of blissful sensation.

It was raw and sudden, like a tightly coiled spring that's unleashed without prompting. Pleasure coursed through him as wave after wave of feeling washed throughout his body. For a moment he felt everything from the bead of sweat sliding down his back to the almost painful tension of his leg muscles as they trembled in exertion.

Only his heartbeat sounded in his ear as his lungs took great gasping breaths to fill themselves once again. How much time it had taken him to find release, he didn't know, but the soreness of his body attested to quite the marathon.

He was only dimly aware of the sharp sound his trunk made upon opening its most secret compartment, and he noticed it soon enough when the lid opened fully. But he ignored it for a moment.

One, two, three and more times he came into the trunk, happy to know that the second compartment was now open, but too caught up in the waves of pleasure cresting and crashing through his body.

His skin was aflame with heightened feeling that unhurriedly diminished as load after load was released into the lock of his trunk, until only his throbbing member registered in his mind and satisfied lethargy started setting in, his body bent over his trunk, awash with satisfaction.

Finally sated, he started pulling his softening key out of the tight confines of the magical lock and sat back on his heels, his breathing labored even as Shaggy started drying him up, which he was grateful for; he knew he was sweaty after licking his lips and tasting it for himself. Eyes closed, he tried to regulate his breathing, even as his half-hard cock slid out of the trunk as clean as can be.

He was more than glad when Shaggy expanded under him and he practically sprawled in its furry hold. Great Merlin, but that was _good_.

Relaxing, he only opened a lazy eye when the rustle of clothes made him remember his audience. Seamus was still beating off; his baby blue eyes were firmly attached to Harry's now free half-mast woody. He looked completely zoned out; eyes glazed, muscles slack and a hand slowly working up and down his clothed erection.

The other boy looked sexily cute like that, he had to admit.

Opening his other eye and splaying a hand over his taut stomach, he made his cock twitch, and could only watch in fascination as Seamus' speed increased a bit and his nostrils flared slightly, as if he could catch Harry's scent from where he stood.

Well, there wasn't much left to question now, was there? At this point, he doubted he'd scare the other wizard off if he did anything, and indeed, he dared to think that if he _did_ do something the irish boy would actually enjoy it.

"See something you like, mate?" Harry asked the other wizard with an easy smile, his hand gently grasping his shaft.

This was the risky part. Since he was faced with a fine specimen of _Teenejus Insecurus Hormonus_, or Insecure Hormonal Teenager, he had to be especially careful. Nevertheless, he was confident he had more than enough to tempt his dorm mate into doing something naughty with him.

Sadly, Seamus continued to be a bit out of it, and ignored his question.

Sniggering a bit when Shaggy crawled up his sensitive sides, leaving his legs and everywhere else completely dry with his passing and his half-hard prick now entirely clean, Harry shrugged. Hopefully Seamus would come around sooner rather than later.

As Shaggy continued to move, he became curious about how the magical fur-thing did what it did. Harry didn't know, but he was still thankful for it, even as it left his back dry as well and moved to wrap around his head and moist hair. If he didn't know any better, he would say the rug was made out of enchanted _liquid_ fur, or maybe some kind of magical shape shifting creature that fed on fluids or some such. He hadn't finished his family's wish-log, however, so he didn't know of Shaggy's origins quite yet, though he dearly wanted to find out about it.

It was a nice little mystery all of its own.

Sighing when he was completely dry, Shaggy returned to the floor and Harry sat cross-legged on top of the rug, ignoring the look Seamus was sending his bits as the teenage wizard pumped his covered cock a bit faster, his gaze blank.

He had to wonder what images were running through the others imagination to keep him as out of it as he was, but then, even he had to grudgingly admit that he looked pretty good now.

It was kind of flattering too, and though he wouldn't have minded giving his roomy a hand, there was still the business of his opened trunk to deal with. He smirked a little, however, when Shaggy started fondling his balls and he heard Seamus' breath hitch.

Truly, he wouldn't have minded given the other boy that hand or more.

Opening the inner lid of the hidden compartment, he found nine velvet covered cubbies of different sizes and with different contents. He took the mirror out first, and watched, impressed, as the little nooks rearranged themselves and the empty one where the mirror laid suddenly had something else inside of it; the new nook a different size and depth.

He knew he could shuffle everything randomly and even request a specific item, but at the same time he was also aware that anything he took from it would return to the trunk if it wasn't used by him in a month's time, or someone took it without his consent or knowledge, though that was a more recent security measure.

If that happened, he would need to retrieve them from the vault-linked space, which meant opening the secret compartment _again_.

Not that Harry was against the idea of fucking his trunk over and over again, mind, but it would become a bit tiresome if it turned into a regular occurrence.

Possibly.

Maybe.

Peeking over at Seamus from the corner of his eye, he took in the other wizard's flushed features, along with his closed eyes and lolling head. He looked hot like that. It was a pity he needed to deal with the trunk and its contents now; otherwise he'd have to fuck it again if it closed. He didn't think he'd be able to do that today without the rest of his roommates walking in one him.

The question remained . . . should he deal with the trunk while Seamus came in his trousers, or should he go suck on the boy's cocksicle and just have a second tumble with the magical compartment tomorrow?

Decisions, decisions.

Making up his mind when a third option occurred to him, he found his wand and quietly stunned the blue-eyed teen, a devious grin flashing across his features as he caught the flushed lad with another flick of his wand and levitated him onto his bed.

The sight of the boy sprawled on his four-poster with a hand on his tenting trousers was quite tempting too, but he forced himself to ignore it for a bit more, even as his dick twitched in protest. He had to deal with his trunk, and do it quickly.

_Then_ he could have some fun.

Taking the lubricating potions as well as some of the enchanted underwear from the secret compartment, Harry also picked up a few toys he wanted to try out and some of the more interesting knick-knacks that could become useful during the next month. Just to be safe, he also shuffled amongst his stored things and picking out a few that caught his eye.

When that was done, he closed the lid of the compartment and watched as the semi-animated face which guarded the magical luggage shrunk and returned to its proper place. With a slight push of the inert face, the normal compartment of the trunk opened and Harry made quick work of storing the things he had around him, making sure to leave the mirror on top.

After all, the mirror was what he'd been looking for in the first place.

Satisfied in more ways than one, he stood up, still completely starkers and made his way to his bed, knowing he would have to deal with the mirror tomorrow. Today, after all, he had a blond cutie in his bed.

The question was, however, what should he do with him?

Smiling an impish little smile, Harry waved his wand and moved Seamus onto the center of his bed and climbed up after him. He unlocked the door to the room with a spell and closed his curtains, and just to be safe, Seamus' curtains, with another. Dim light bloomed inside of the canopy and Harry took Seamus' hand away from his waning erection before sprawling on top of his blue-eyed roommate.

Hmm, nice and cushy.

He wiggled a bit to get comfortable and nuzzled the Irish teen's neck for a bit. He was taller than Seamus now, though he wasn't all that heavy. He was still slightly surprised that the other sixth year had stayed in the room and even more so that the boy started tossing off to the sight of him.

If that wasn't a sign, then Harry didn't bloody know what was.

He wondered, if only for a short time, if any of his other roommates would have done the same, but doubted it. Dean and Ron were as straight as they came, and Neville, while sweet and shy, was no less attracted to girls than the other two; he was just less vocal about it, and his eyes strayed less than most teenager's eyes did.

But then, he was kind of glad of that. Seamus was really the only one of his dorm mates that had turned his head when no one else was looking. With his large eyes, slight frame and messy hair, the lad was certainly cute enough.

Whispering a very mild "_Enervate_," even as Shaggy went back to being a wristlet, he waited for the boy beneath him to wake slowly.

His wand was quickly stored away without too much trouble as the blond under him groaned awake while making some rather delightful sounds.

And then his eyes opened and he yelped in surprise, freezing in place.

Harry had expected to be thrown off, so he was very pleased not to be. Sliding to the other teen's side he got uncomfortable by his weight Harry curled up comfortably, allowing enough room for Seamus to leave if he wanted.

He didn't, though, and Harry smiled.

The boy was stiff as a board, however. Probably nervous, though Harry was happy to see that he wasn't nervous enough not to be stiff _all over_.

Slowly, he slipped a finger through the gaps between Seamus' white, button-down shirt, and rested his head on the other boy's shoulder, willing him to relax. The blonds' breathing was nervous and slightly panicked, so he dared to speak for the first time.

And he did so soothingly.

"Relax, mate," he whispered, a crooked smile tinting his words with humor, "I won't bite if you don't want me too."

He almost laughed at the jolt his bedmates tented trousers made at this declaration. Not that he had his head tilted to watch such a thing. No siree. He was just admiring the view and just _happened_ to see a twitch in Seamus' trousers. . .

. . .Bah, he couldn't even convince himself with that one!

He almost shrugged at his thoughts, but instead spoke once again, "I saw you, you know, beating off. It was rather inconsiderate of you."

Seamus tried to stutter something at this declaration, probably an apology or something ridiculous like that, but Harry didn't let him.

He pouted, "You should have asked or something," his fingers swirled upon the other boy's flat stomach, making the muscles there twitch while he unbuttoned more and more of the blonds shirt. "I would have helped you out with your . . ." he traced the waistband of the irish lad's trousers, ". . ._ problem_."

And Merlin knew if it wasn't fun to talk that way! Harry almost giggled at his own words.

. . . Maybe he should purr a bit?

The blonds' breath caught and he's thoughts quite obviously stuttered to a halt as another part of his body caught on to what Harry had said and took over the blue-eyed boys mouth.

". . . You mean?" Seamus' shaky, somewhat breathless voice asked. Harry found it surprisingly interesting that Seamus' second brain could have so much coherence of thought.

Harry's hand's stilled and he pressed himself against the other boy, his recovering erection burning against a cloth covered thigh. "I do," Harry whispered in Seamus' ear, his breath hot, his voice simply _oozing_ naughty things, "I can . . . _kiss_ it better."

Seamus groaned, his breath coming up short. "Just kiss it?" he asked both nervously and huskily after a moment. Harry siled at how sexy the usually clumsy boy sounded.

"I could _do_ other things too," he replied on Seamus' ear, marveling at how Seamus's skin turned pink in slow, easy to follow steps.

The irish wizard's hands clenched on the sheets and he gave a little jerk of the hips, obviously imagining the same things Harry was; his eyes were closed and his breath was quickening as he asked, "What kind of things?" in a broken whisper.

And who would have known that Seamus Finnegan liked it when you spoke dirty to him?

Well, somewhat . . . what he was saying wouldn't even register as dirty in Bobby's dictionary.

Harry pressed his body even closer and nibbled on the other boy's ear, his own hips rubbing slowly and smoothly against the blonds' clothed body, "I could . . ." he smirked, "use a healing charm on it," he finished brightly.

"A . . . _what_?" Seamus asked, the whole seductive mood broken as the other wizard opened his eyes and looked incredulously at him.

"Yes, well," Harry's wand was suddenly in his hand, poking at the other boy's erection, "It seems like you've hit yourself. It's incredibly swollen," he lifted himself up on his elbow to looked into Seamus' disbelieving face with an innocently naïve expression, "I could still kiss it and make it better though?" he asked cheekily.

"You prat!" Seamus growled and pounced.

Harry laughed and let himself be pinned by the other teen, glad that his little prank had worked so well. "I wasn't the one perving, you know?" he asked flippantly and watched the guilty blush spread lightly across the other boy's cheeks.

Heh, it seemed that the irish lad's brains had switched once again. Fast reaction, that.

"Yeah, well, you looked bloody hot doing . . ." Seamus paused, blushing a bit more, "what _were_ you doing, anyways?"

Harry wondered how long it would take for his dorm mate to notice the rather compromising position they were in, along with his state of un-clothed-ness. Just a little move of his hips and their erections would get rather well acquainted. But then, it was better if they settled whatever misgivings could arise from the situation first. "Me?" he asked with an innocent smile, a hand on his bare chest, "I was just buggering my trunk."

He grinned as the other boy sputtered a bit more.

Tilting his head, he fluttered his eyes artlessly, "Why? Would you rather I be buggering you instead?"

Seamus' fair skin flushed brightly and Harry laughed again, amused to note that the other boy's blush was rather fetching; nothing like the botchy, clashing and unflattering ones of the Dursley's and Weasleys.

He sobered a bit though and placed a hand on Seamus' side, "I wouldn't mind, you know," he told the other boy sincerely, "I _am_ rather more bent than what could be considered normal, so I wouldn't really mind having a roommate with benefits," he finished irreverently.

". . . With benefits?" Seamus asked more amused than flustered after his little confession, which meant that his little game had done the trick; it had eased the other sixth year into making the decision himself while getting him to relax. _Success_. But then, Harry was made of awesome.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, his hands carefully pulling Seamus' shirt from his trousers and touching the exposed skin of his back, though he wondered when the other boy's shoes had come off (he could swear he levitated him fully clothed). "We could, you know, touch each other," his hands disappeared beneath the shirt as he pulled the other boy closer, their erections coming into sudden contact, "Maybe share a kiss or two," and they were suddenly face to face and Harry gave the other boy a peck on the corner of his lips, "things like that," he said with a shrug, pulling back again, "whatever you want to do."

Seamus simply stared at him, blinking, "ar, are ye sure? I—I dunno if I'm completely bent meself," he said somewhat self-consciously.

Harry just rubbed his back, enjoying the slow leisurely way that their hips rubbed against each other, and the warmth of the other's skin beneath his fingers. They were both hard, though not spectacularly so, and Seamus seemed to relax a bit more with each moment that passed. "I can help you find out," Harry quirked a smile, "we could just play around a bit. Like I said, whatever you want," he shrugged again.

Tentatively, almost shyly, Seamus' hands caressed his arms and shoulders, feeling the firm muscles and tracing their outlines. He was obviously thinking.

Smiling a bit wider, Harry finished with the last of the buttons in the other teen's shirt and he set out to explore this new expanse of skin. He had to admit, Seamus was rather fit. Oh, he didn't have all that many visible muscles and such, but he was rather trim all the same; he had a wonderfully flat stomach and a modest build.

If he were asked to define it in one word, cute would cover the whole of it. Seamus, after all, had the perfect body to compliment his baby-face.

"Hmm," he hummed in consideration, "Then again, if I snag myself a boyfriend or something, you'll have to find yourself another playmate," he told the other boy with a wink.

Seamus laughed this time, discarding his socks in an unconscious movement before he pressed their bare chests together and buried his face on Harry's neck, finally losing all of his nervousness in his hilarity.

Harry didn't mind; he was glad the other teen hadn't really freaked out and that he wasn't tense any more. At first, he was all for sucking his roommate off, or at least trading hand jobs. By the utterly shameless way Seamus had stayed in the room with him, Harry had thought the other boy was as completely queer as he was. However, now he knew that the blonds' hormones had caught him by surprise and was glad that he'd been cautions and light in his approach. Hopefully, now he had relaxed and seemed fine with his suggestions they could experiment a little.

After all, while he had loads of _simulated_ experience from the magical tanks, it would've been counterproductive if things in the tank had been better than the real deal, and he was just itching to try a whole slew of things.

In fact, there were a few stretches he could practice to prepare his body for the more fun bits, though thanks to the other tanks, he wouldn't have to do anything extreme.

Blinking away his thoughts, his hands glided across the smooth skin of his roommate's back. "I think you have too many clothes on," he whispered on the other boy's ear.

"Mind taking them off then?" he was asked, Seamus' voice completely at ease now.

"Demanding wench, aren't you?" he teased, and had to dodge the smack headed toward his head. Still, he complied with the demand and soon after they were skin to skin; the heat of the contact both arousing and comforting.

That night they had fun, and though they _played_ quite a bit, most of their touches were exploratory in nature.

And while they didn't play _too_ hard, they had more than enough fun kissing and groping and getting to know the other's body. After all, there were a lot of firsts going on, and by unspoken agreement, they decided to take their explorations slowly.

**-O****●O●O●O-**

Morning found Harry awake on his bed. He could see the grey light of dawn against the closed canopy of his four poster bed. It was a pleasant morning as well, and the warm body curled against his chest was a part of that.

After fooling around and indulging in more playful shenanigans than the two of them had even been involved in together, Harry and Seamus had gone to sleep early. They didn't do much, really, apart from enjoying themselves and exploring the boundaries of their rather new agreement; which involved quite a bit of groping and pinching, fumbling touches and shy, sometimes hesitant overtures.

Harry didn't mind it, and though he wasn't clumsy himself, thanks to the knowledge he had gained of such matters in his family vault, it was still all rather new to him. Knowing and doing, after all, were quite different things, and he enjoyed getting some hands on experience.

And no, you perverts, that doesn't mean that anything_ really_ naughty happened!

_Hmph_.

What they _did_ do quite a bit of, and spent most of their breath on was, of course, snogging. And if anyone needs a more descriptive answer than that, well, you could say they swapped enough spit to fill a few gallons, or played tonsil hockey for hours!

Whatever you want to call it, they enjoyed doing it, and that's that.

However, Harry found that waking up next to a warm body again was rather more pleasant than he would have expected, and it wasn't all due to the warm and protective feelings he had towards Cooper. It had been somewhat overwhelming as well, especially for someone like him who'd never experienced such harmless physical closeness until now. It warmed him, and the small smile pulling at the corner of his lips told of his contentment.

The fact that his right hand was having a ball exploring and caressing the curves and contours of Seamus' bum only added to the experience, to be sure.

With their legs intertwined, the sandy-haired head tucked under his chin and their chests pressed against each other, he was sure he could have spent the whole morning there. But alas, today was the first day of classes, and though he suspected that his own schedule wouldn't be all that busy, there was still a lot for him to do.

First on his list was sorting those things he'd pulled from the secret compartment of his trunk, which he didn't want to do in front of the rest of his dorm mates, lest they become too curious about the strange looking objects.

Sighing regretfully, he pulled gently away from Seamus, amused when the Irish boy protested in his sleep, and slipped out of bed. He made sure his bed-mate went right back to sleep and then headed over to his trunk, Shaggy having already slipped from his wrist and wrapped himself around his waist, growing larger and enfolding his legs until it settled into a very comfortable, very whole, pair of furry sleep pants.

They didn't have a seam or anything, which made them all the more comfortable, not to mention that the sleek, silky fur felt wonderfully against his skin.

Running a wondering hand across the thick fur, Harry marveled at how it had transformed into just what he was going to search for. The fact it did it without prompting and that it could actually do such a thing only brought more questions about its origin and functions to his mind, but he pushed them away for now.

He was sure there would be information on Shaggy in one of his family's record-books, if not in the wish-log, so he just had to be patient. He'd already promised himself he wouldn't skip ahead, less he miss something important.

Waving his wand at the bundle of clothes beside his bed, he sent the lot of it to their dorms hamper. Thankfully, since it was only Seamus' clothes, the other guys wouldn't suspect that the two of them had been doing anything, and had probably assumed that the pile belonged to him.

While he didn't mind if any of them found out, he didn't know if the other wizard was of the same mind.

Shrugging, he settled cross-legged in front of his trunk, opened it, and began sorting through his things, taking special care to leave the mirror apart while arranging his school supplies in his book bag, while separating the others by use.

Most of the questionable toys he hid in a secure box, knowing Ron was in the habit of looking though his trunk when he needed something.

When that was done, he put the mirror in the book bag, took out a change of clothes and fingered an extra item while closing his trunk.

It looked rather remarkable, and most wouldn't know what it was for by simply looking at it. It was three inches long and three inches in diameter, made out of seemingly one single thread of gold that swirled, looped and intertwined into a graceful and beautiful armlet. But then, it wasn't really an armlet at all, even if it looked like one.

It was a ring.

And it had a very specific use, wished so by one of his ancestors. After inspecting it top to bottom, and spending at least ten minutes doing so, Harry gave a little shrug and tapped Shaggy on his crotch with a finger.

Obligingly, the enchanted fur parted and his flaccid willy popped out, looking rather chipper, if he did say so himself.

Then again, after last night the little chap was sure to be in high spirits, right? With experienced fingers, he lifted it and pulled on it gently, letting out a sigh as it twitched and swelled slightly before settling comfortably in his hand. He took the ring, and with the carefulness of someone doing a vital operation, Harry slipped the golden ring around his cock until it passed the head and waited.

He was expecting it, true, but it still surprised him, as, after ten seconds, the ring moved and, well, _uncoiled_ slightly, before it began to shrink and elongate; the single golden thread that made it moving and adjusting to his length and the graceful swirls changed, moved and twined together in new patters, covering his shaft from the base to the bottom of the head before looping thinly across his balls.

It fascinated him how it didn't feel at all uncomfortable as it began to settle and even more as it seemed to flatten and sink into his skin, taking on its hue. Oh, he could still see a faint outline in the pattern of his skin, but he didn't feel it in any way.

He knew that there was a way to make it visible, and one to make it rise from his skin to provide friction or so the details on the wish had explained. But its primary function wasn't that.

Extending his index finger, Harry placed it on top of an intricate spiral below the head of his cock and traced its graceful curve three times, thinking of what he wanted and grinning when it felt as if he was touching his own skin.

A moment later, his dick and sack began to shrink ever so slowly and before he knew it, mesmerized by the sight as he was, his long, thick and usually cumbersome member was, for once, a comfortable size; still bigger than most, but not unusually so, for while Harry had always been proud of his equipment, and had even become accustomed to its size while he grew up, it had always been somewhat in the way.

Be it while flying or running, or swinging around because of his lack of underwear, or squeezed awkwardly tight into undies, which used to be a few sizes larger than his body needed, even, it had become a constant itch that could not be scratched.

Now, however. . . Well, now he felt quite better than before, unless he was walking around completely starkers.

With a low relived laugh, his hand entering his furry pants to fondle this new and interesting development, he stood up and headed toward the showers.

After all, he needed to get ready and it would be best if he tinkered with his new enchanted ring while under a spray of hot water.

He needed to get reacquainted with himself, and besides, he'd always been curious to know how other boys felt when tossing off, what with the reduced size of their equipment compared to his.

Maybe he'd be able to do it all with one hand, even!

He cupped his balls and skipped into the bathroom; he was already hard.

**-**o

**TBC…  
**

**-**o

_**Pickled Brains:**_ It took me ages to decide how far Harry and Seamus would go in their little sexual misadventure. After all, while I'm completely shameless and wouldn't have really cared one whit about the situation (taking it as far as I could) it would have shortened the plot quite a bit in this instance.

How, you ask? Well, because if Harry went all the way with Seamus now, it would cut down the amount of things he could do with whom he ends up, without it getting somewhat repetitive in my head, if y'all understand that.

I'm enjoying how Harry is turning out as a character, and I don't want to make him as completely shameless as I am. I'm actually basing some of his character on a friend of mine who's a complete sap, an utter softie and a romantic at heart, even if he always says that I'm bullshitting him.

Still, leave me reviews and all, I command thee!


	9. The Mirror

**_I Disclaim _**ownership of Harry Potter.

**_Pickled Brains:_** Alrighty! Sorry I've been away for so long. I was shipped out of town for work rather suddenly last year and forgot to take all my notes and fan fiction files (Not that I would've had the time or the means to write and post anything anyways). Still, when I finally got around to it, this chapter came out like projectile vomit after a good, hearty hangover!

In any case, lemme know if there're any inconsistencies in the story, eh? Though I've revised it recently, it's always better to have a few more people on the lookout for plot-cheese of the Swiss variety, right?

-o

**Chapter Nine:**  
**The Mirror **

-o

"Heya, mate! Why didn't you wait for us?" came Ron's morning greeting as he plopped down on the opposite side of the table him, sounding cheerier than Harry was used to hearing from his best friend, especially with this being the first day of classes.

"Good morning Harry," Hermione chimed in soon after while setting her heavy school bag down.

"G'mornin' guys," he answered them absently as he leafed through some of the general reports of his estate. Bobby had given them to him so he could familiarize himself with his properties and general assets, which would help him once his Magical Guardian began reporting on their current state of affairs. Thankfully, it was nothing specific, just a list of what he already had; their location and whatnot.

"What're you readin'?" Ron asked, serving himself a heap of breakfast foods.

"Hmm, what?" he looked up, noticing absently that the Great Hall was full. "Oh, just some paperwork I have to deal with," he told them, not wanting to go into specifics and remembered the previous question, "And I didn't wait for you because I woke up pretty early."

"What kind of paperwork, Harry?" Hermione inquired.

"Just some stuff about my family, don't worry about it," he waved her off, "I'll tell you once I can make some sense out of it."

"If you need any help, you just need to ask, you know," she pointed out.

"I know. Thanks."

It didn't take long after that for Hermione to start inquiring about classes and remarking on her expectations now that they were at N.E.W.T level, along with all they would be able to learn throughout the year. Harry simply listened with one ear and answered as vaguely as possible while he neared the end of the sheaf of parchment he was perusing.

Honestly, why the hell would one of his ancestors buy a plot of land in a city _under_ the North Pacific Ocean, in the Midway Mer-kingdom? How the hell did one even go there for a visit? Start from Hawaii and swim a few hundred miles north? Was there even a way for him to go there?

He would have to look up this ―he paused and flipped through the file, ah, right― this Jasper Potter in the wish-log. Maybe he'd wished for something that turned him into a merman or helped him live underwater? Harry fervently hoped it wasn't that the man had been a fish animagus or something, because then it'd be a complete waste to own land in a Merpeople City!

. . . No to mention greedy and selfish of him if such were the case; it sounded like a pretty interesting piece of property if what he was reading was true.

Oh well, Harry would see if he'd be able to pay it a visit. If Jasper Potter didn't wish anything to help him get there, maybe a stash of gillyweed would work, right? It would be a fun place to see, to be sure. The trip in and of itself should be exciting. He was certain there was some mer-language (or was it mertongue?) in the Tank of Knowledge, or maybe there was some trinket that helped one learn it—

"_Ahem_," he jumped and looked up to meet the stern gaze of his Head of House. "I've been trying to get your attention for quite some time, Potter," she raised an eyebrow and handed him a square piece of parchment, "Here is your timetable. Please verify that you're signed into the correct classes. We will also meet again this week to discuss your other arrangements."

"Right, thank you Professor McGonagall."

Taking the sheet, he looked at his schedule and gave a slight smile; Transfiguration, Charms and Magical Creatures. Not an impressive class load by any standards, but just what he needed. It gave him enough free time to practice the magic he'd learned from the Tank of Knowledge, along with more than enough time to research and learn the more recent pieces of information.

The fact that Bobby would start coming over a couple of days a week, half-way through September, to teach him what he needed to know to manage his estate (by taking him to the vault so he could use the Knowledge Tank, of course) was taken into consideration as well . . . not that he'd actually have to manage anything; that was Bobby's job. However, it was a pretty solid excuse to get him out of the castle.

"Professor?" he called, grabbing McGonagall's attention after she'd finished speaking with Neville.

"Yes, Potter?"

"I need to speak with the Headmaster, do you know when he would have some time available?" he asked.

With a curious expression, the Transfiguration teacher just flicked her wand towards the Head Table before turning towards him again. "And your schedule, is it to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a nod.

With a tilt of her head and a pause, McGonagall riffled through the papers in her hand and handed him a note, which upon closer inspection showed a rather random phrase; _Toothflossing Stringmints_. Immediately understanding that it was the password for Dumbledore's office, he nodded his understanding. "You have the morning free until lunch, you may meet the Headmaster at any time this morning, Potter."

"Thank you, Professor," and with that, she was gone.

"What does she mean you don't have classes until after lunch, Harry?" Hermione asked worriedly, "What about Potions?"

"I'm not taking Potions anymore."

"What?" she almost screeched in surprise before snagging his schedule and stuttering over its contents. All of his mornings were completely free. He had Care of Magical Creatures on Mondays and Thursdays after lunch, Charms on Tuesdays and Fridays after lunch, and Transfigurations on Monday after Magical Creatures and Wednesdays after lunch. This only took the first two periods in the afternoon, meaning the he also had two free periods before supper.

Luna and a few others had already asked him about the D.A., and with half of his afternoons free, he didn't see why he shouldn't. Not to mention that it would allow him to practice his curses, jinxes and hexes on other people. Now he only had to wait until McGonagall could authorize his use of a spare classroom for independent study, and the response of the other teachers about his request for independent tutoring in their respective subjects. In this way, and thanks to the Tank of Knowledge, he was sure he'd be receiving lessons in more advanced magics soon enough.

"Way to go mate," Ron pitched in after reading his schedule over Hermione's shoulder. "I'm _so_ jealous. Mum would string me up by my toes if I only took three classes!" he said, looking mournfully at his own timetable. While it had a lot more free time than their previous years, it was nowhere near as empty as Harry's own.

"Why are you only taking three classes, Harry? What about Defense, Herbology, Potions and Astronomy? Especially Defense and Potions! You _need_ to take those, Harry! I know for a fact that you qualified for all of them. And I thought that you wouldn't be taking Care of Magical Creatures, choosing Herbology instead!"

Ignoring his friend's huffy tone, Harry leaned his elbow on the table, propped his chin atop his fist and smiled in amusement while he waited her out. Her rant lasted for at least five more minutes, whereupon she pointed out his irresponsibility, his job prospects should he not change his class load _right this instant_, etcetera, etcetera . . . "Done, are you?", he asked during her first lengthy pause. She blushed and he winked at her. "Now, answer me this, how will Astronomy, Herbology and Potions help while fighting Voldemort? And in Defense, how did I learn almost everything I know in the subject?"

He eyed the people around them that flinched at his question and raised an eyebrow at their eavesdropping, finding it supremely funny how the lot of them turned scarlet. "Well . . ." Hermione paused, obviously seeing his point, before visibly rallying around an idea, "But don't you need Potions and Defense to be an Auror?"

"I don't really want to be an Auror anymore, Hermione. After I learned about my family a lot of what I thought I wanted changed." He looked over at Ginny from the corner of his eye as he said this. "So I'm going to concentrate on staying alive first, and if I need to take extra classes to compensate afterwards, then I'll just do that."

He didn't dare tell her about the advantages he now held, both for her sake and his own. Not to mention his plans to take the Ancient Runes and Arithmancy O.W.L.'s at the end of the year, along with a few other things Bobby was helping him line up (Like a chance to retake those same exams in a few of his other subjects). As well, he hoped that the lessons Dumbledore had promised earlier this summer would compliment his own self-study and maybe give him a bit of guidance in where to direct his efforts.

"Besides," he continued, finally storing the files into his book bag, "I'll be getting extra lessons from my guardian a couple of times a week to compliment what I'm learning here and I'm sure that the teachers will be willing to help me out as well. I did this with McGonagall's approval, after all."

Hermione just pursed her lips and nodded tightly, though he could see her worry clearly. Ron, however, happily finished his breakfast, "Why did you take Magical Creatures, then, mate?"

"Ah, well," he scratched his neck sheepishly, "I still needed to take a minimum of three classes and Hagrid's class was the easiest by far, especially since there's really not that much homework, which'll leave me enough free time to work on other things."

"Well, good luck with that. I wouldn't want to see what kinds of things Hagrid will come up with for his _advanced_ classes."

Harry grimaced a bit, imagining just that. Hagrid probably had a pet Nundu named Spot living somewhere in the forest. In any case, while he didn't hold the Groundskeeper's love of animals, he'd always had a certain fascination for the more mythical of magical creatures.

"We better head over to Potions, then. Ron?" Hermione pointed out, looking at her watch.

The red-head nodded and all of them stood up to leave. "We'll see you later then, Harry."

"Yeah, I'll see you guys later."

They parted ways, and Harry walked down the table to tussle a mop of bright golden hair, ignoring the indignant cries expertly. After all, he could see the smile spreading across the first years face. "Hey Coop, how're you today?" he asked his little friend, snatching the boy's timetable from his hand and nudging the boy's half-full plate of breakfast closer to him. "Eat while I check this out," he pointed with his now withdrawn wand while perusing the first year's schedule.

He valiantly ignored the heartbreaking pout aimed in his direction and simply jabbed his wand at the boy, who's pout evaporated when a few more sausages tangoed onto his plate; burst of music and all. "Hey! Don't put more stuff in my plate, I'm already stuffed!" the blond exclaimed in mock indignity.

Harry grinned at the kid, putting the timetable down after confirming that it was pretty much the same as the one from his own first year. All other firsties had fallen silent at his arrival, with those who lived in the wizarding world openly gaping at him. "You're too skinny, kiddo," he poked the small boy, "so you need to eat more."

Cooper looked at him for a moment and harrumphed before spearing a sausage and munching on it exaggeratedly.

Harry smiled and stored his wand while serving the boy some pumpkin juice, slipping a small dose of a potion Madam Pomfrey had given him for just this occasion. If he wasn't mistaken, the School Nurse had probably given Oliver Wood some of the same potion after the first time she'd checked on him, since he was able to eat a lot more afterwards and Oliver had hovered around him more than necessary back then.

Grinning, he pushed the juice to his little friend and waited until he drank it, satisfied when the blond began eating with a little more vigor. With a final hair-ruffle at the little blond head, and a promise to show him and his new friends around the castle after his classes, Harry went on his way, determined to get his talk with the Headmaster out of the way as soon as possible.

Of course, as he made his way out, he also remembered to pinch Seamus' cute behind, laughing when the other wizard jumped and winking at him when their eyes met, happy when a faint blush spread over the Irish boys face because of it.

It was a good start of the school year.

**-O●O●O●O-**

"Toothflossing Stringmints," he recited and waited for the Gargoyle to leap to the side. It was only a matter of moments before Harry found himself within the Headmaster's office.

"Ah, Harry, my boy, do take a seat," Albus Dumbledore greeted him and gestured him absently towards a cushy chair with the large quill held in his left hand. It was really the first time he'd been in the Headmaster's office without being called there first, or because of some dire circumstances, so he was surprised to see the old sorcerer pouring over a dusty tome, a quill scratching smoothly in his left hand, obviously reading something while writing something else.

How the old wizard did that baffled him, and Harry craned his neck to confirm that, yes, Dumbledore was reading something completely unrelated to what he was writing.

Huh, that must cut back on his workload, but still, just how much concentration did one need to pull it off?

He was startled out of his thoughts by a tea set appearing in front of him. Looking up, he met the amused eyes and slight smile of the most powerful wizard alive, even as the parchment he'd been writing on rolled up and stored itself. "I'm somewhat surprised to see you in my office quite so soon, Harry. I was planning to schedule our first lesson for the end of the week. However, things are known to change unexpectedly," he gestured towards the tea, "so please, help yourself before we discuss whatever has brought you here today."

"Thanks you, sir," he replied, shaking his head in mild amusement as he began running through outrageous ideas of how Dumbledore was able to do all the things he did. Did the man even use a wand to conjure the tea? Or maybe there was a house-elf under his desk waiting for the Headmaster to give him orders by way of his wiggling toes? In the end, Harry shrugged it off.

The old wizard was just so, well, _magical_. Any other description didn't do the man justice.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes; Dumbledore paging through his book, Harry drinking his tea and ―Harry quirked a smile― Fawkes hopping on one leg while preening his tail feathers skillfully.

When he put his cup down, more relaxed than when he'd entered the office, Dumbledore set his book aside and spoke up, looking curious, but happy because of his presence. "Now, what can I do for you, Harry?"

Reaching down into his book bag, Harry took out an oval mirror which couldn't be more than a foot and a half at its longest. Its frame was simple and graceful, made of a mixture of both dark and light wood, with their natural grain seemingly following in the same direction as its shape.

"It's really about what help I can give _you_, sir." Standing up, he placed the mirror in front of the Headmaster before tapping the frame three times with his wand. Dumbledore simply watched on, bushy eyebrows upraised as he stared curiously at the mirror.

"Who seeks what I might show?" a smooth, light, whispery voice asked from within the mirror. Harry saw the Headmaster lean forward in interest as the mirror rippled and the shadow of a face appeared on its surface.

"I do. Harry James Potter," he told the mirror, who turned and nodded towards him.

"It's been quite some time since a family member has sought to use me. Tell, Master Potter, what do you want to see?" The question was both wistful and happy, as if the mirror was glad to be of service once more.

"First things first; what is your name?" he asked the mirror, curious about the intensity of the Headmaster's gaze but ignoring it for now.

The silvery surface of the mirror rippled and the shadow of the face came forward, just as silvery in hue as the mirror itself. It was the young face of a mischievous teenager with long hair, and Harry could see the wide grin aimed in his direction. "I'm called Evander, Master Potter."

"Well, Evander, you already know my name and this is my Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

Evander rippled as if waving and sent a beaming smile toward the old sorcerer, "Greetings, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Greetings, my boy," Dumbledore answered in kind, obviously tickled by the mirror's upbeat personality. After the giggly, gossipy, disapproving or disparaging remarks of every other mirror in the wizarding world, Harry could understand the sentiment all too well.

Evander _hmph'd_ and glared huffily at the old sorcerer. "I'll have you know that I'm not a boy! Nuh-uh, I'm well over . . ." the mirror trailed off and darkened in thought before he snapped back to attention in a flash of silver, "I'm well over five hundred years old! So if anyone should be referred to as being young, it would be you, _kiddo_."

Harry couldn't help but crack up laughing, and he wasn't surprised when the Headmaster's brief chortle joined him as well.

"I apologize, sir," the old wizard told the mirror solemnly after their chuckles had died down, "but I'm afraid that being as old as I am, I have become accustomed to not finding anyone of greater age than I. Please, forgive an old man his habits."

Evander huffed and deflated visibly. "Yes, well, that's quite alright my good sir," and with a solemn nod at the Headmaster he turned toward Harry, who was still smiling down at the mirror. Evander grinned back at him, "So what do you wish to see, Master Potter?"

Winking at the Headmaster, Harry placed a hand on the frame and stated clearly, "Show me Tom Marvolo Riddle, the self-appointed Dark Lord Voldemort," he said firmly.

Dumbledore's head whipped around to look at him, startled, while Evander looked at Harry with a puzzled expression for a bit and opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it. With a shrug, the face vanished and the surface of the mirror rippled once again.

Harry wondered why the Headmaster looked like he was holding his breath, but paid it no mind. After a few seconds Harry looked in confusion when a small, two handled cup perched somewhere within a Gringotts vault faded into view instead of Voldemort. It was quite delicate and Harry could make out the engraving of a badger on it before the image changed.

The view came into focus again and they were soon seeing the length of Knockturn Alley, where Mundungus Fletcher was standing in a darkened corner showing off a thick, heavy gold locket with an ornate '_S'_ on its face. Harry glanced up briefly when Dumbledore took in a sharp breath but left his questions for later, since a new view was becoming clearer in the mirror; a view of the seventh floor corridor appeared and then a door to the Room of Requirement opened into a huge space filled with junk, where the mirror's sights moved quickly to show a tiara atop a statues head.

Lastly, the mirror faded into a view of a forest and a rather unmistakable python waiting to pounce on its prey, before the surface of the magical object rippled one more time and finally settled into the terrifying features of Voldemort.

It stayed still this time and Harry was confused as to what all of those objects had to do with anything, but he was startled out of his thoughts by a free, carefree laugh escaping the old sorcerer in front of him. "Harry, my dear, dear boy, do you know what this is?" he asked joyously.

Still bemused, he nodded, "It's a mirror that shows you anything and everything that you might want to see."

"Not everything, Master Potter," Evander's voice came from the mirror, though his face remained unseen. "I cannot show the past or the future, and there are things that I can never find . . . and boundaries my sight can never cross."

"I already figured as much, Harry, but that wasn't what I was referring to." Still smiling, Harry could see that it took the old sorcery some effort to control himself. "However, first things first," and with a wave of his wand and a flash of his still blackened hand, parchment and quill were summoned before him. Quickly, the Headmaster wrote a few sentences before taping the page with his wand and sealing the now letter-shaped parchment with wax. "Fawkes, quickly. Take this to Alastor."

The phoenix just gave a thrill and leapt into the air, grabbed the letter from the old wizards hand and disappeared in a flash of fire.

"What were those things that Evander showed before focusing on Voldemort, Professor?" Harry asked hesitantly. He was almost sure that Dumbledore's letter to Moody had something to do with it.

The Headmaster focused on him and considered him closely, before he stood up from his chair and stopped in front of Harry. Without answering his question, Dumbledore extended a hand and brushed trembling fingertips across Harry's temple. Where his curse scar used to be located, now only smooth skin graced his features. Slowly, Dumbledore pulled away, looking into Harry's confused green eyes. He could see the old warlock hesitate and throw a few glances toward his pensieve and the multitude of small vials surrounding it. ". . . Truly, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." Refocusing on him, the old warlock nodded to where his scar used to be, "This happened during your stay at your vault, then?"

"Yes, sir," he responded, and left it at that. The spells protecting his family's secrets wouldn't allow the Headmaster more than that before they redirected his attention, Harry was sure.

"Very well, Harry," he nodded before returning to his place behind his desk. "I admit that the lessons I promised to give you were about those objects Evander showed us, since they are tied irrevocably to Voldemort. Alas, to truly understand their significance, you would need to know how a young Tom Riddle _became_ Lord Voldemort. So I had planned to tell you all that I know about him throughout the year, and as often as time would permit me to meet with you, seeing as I have been and would have continued to search for information on those same objects and their number for well over a year. In fact, I've been researching them since Voldemort's return at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. It was because of this that my exile from Hogwarts last year didn't affect me as much. With no ties to the school, the Wizengamot or the ICW, I was free to trace Voldemort's history, though I was a long way from discovering what we now know."

"Then . . ." Harry trailed off, looking toward Evander, who was still showing a meeting between the Dark Lord and his minions.

"Yes, exactly," Dumbledore waved toward the mirror, "This mirror of yours has not only confirmed all of my theories, but answered many of my remaining questions about the number and location of those objects. You cannot begin to imagine what this means for the war, Harry," he raised a hand to stop Harry from speaking, "But worry not; I will explain it all to you this coming weekend, and keep my promise to you. It will take me until then to arrange a few things, now that I find myself with more free time than I was expecting this year. If you would allow me to borrow Evander, I'm sure that my efforts would be all the quicker."

"You have that right, Headmaster!" Evander piped up.

Nodding at Dumbledore's inquisitive look, Harry gave his permission, "That's one of the reasons why I brought him to you, Professor."

"Very well," The Headmaster said gratefully before returning his attention to the mirror. "Could you widen the view, my dear Evander?" the Headmaster pressed on, and it was then that Harry noticed the old sorcerer's blackened hand once again, which has been covered by the long sleeve of his robe until now. It remained as blackened and burned as when they had met Slughorn all those weeks ago. However, before he could question the Headmaster about it again, Evander did as Dumbledore requested and Harry could now see several Death Eaters standing around Voldemort. "Can we listen to what they are speaking about?" the old wizard asked eagerly, sounding both younger and happier than he had in quite some time.

"I cannot, but I can repeat the words, Headmaster," Evander paused. "They are a nasty lot, aren't they? They're talking about kidnapping someone. And this flighty fellow is a rather ugly git . . ."

"Flighty?" Dumbledore asked, while Harry's eyes drifted back to the Headmaster's hand periodically, his thoughts speculative . . . He was certain there was something in the Potter Vault that could help with it.

"Yes, well, Voldemort means flight from death, right? It's a bit presumptuous, isn't it?"

"It is indeed. Harry? Could you deactivate the mirror for a few moments?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"Of course, sir."

Before he could speak, however, Dumbledore held up a hand. "Thank you for everything, dear Evander. I'm sure that we will speak again soon."

"Certainly, Headmaster!" the mirror chirped in reply.

Harry tapped the mirror's frame three times with a wink at the young face reflected there, and soon found himself gazing at his own reflection.

"Harry―"

"Sir," he interrupted, "before you ask me anything, could you tell me what happened to your hand?"

"Ah, this?" the Headmaster asked while uncovering his blackened hand unconcernedly. It was shriveled and ugly; burned black by some magical means, Harry was sure. "This is a story for another time, Harry. Truly―"

The green-eyed wizard shook his head. "I don't want the full story, sir, just to know what caused it. If I know the cause, there is the possibility that something in my family's vault could help."

Dumbledore considered him for a few long moments; his brow's creased as he examined his burned-looking hand. "Truly?" the old warlock asked softly, "If that is the case . . ." he hesitated and sighed. "It was caused by a terrible curse, Harry. Only through quick thinking and more than a bit of skill on my part, did I manage to return to Hogwarts in time for Professor Snape to arrest the curse's progress. Alas, we have yet to find any more information on it."

Harry nodded. At least he knew the damage was caused by a curse, which meant that while the small bottle of liquid magic meant as a general curative that would leave someone alive and strong enough to reach the Tank of Healing wouldn't work on it, the Tank itself would surely be able to restore the Headmaster complete use of his hand.

The question was, then, would he be able to take Dumbledore into the Vault? He would need to ask Bobby about it, that's for sure.

Finally, he looked over at the Headmaster, who was peering at him from atop his half-moon spectacles. "I'll look into it, sir."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Splendid, Harry. I thank you for your efforts. However, I'm afraid I don't have more time to give you today, since something rather important has come to my attention. Still, I have to ask; why did you bring this mirror to me?"

"Well, that's rather easy to answer, isn't it, sir? While I could have kept it for myself, you and the Order can put it to better use; if you have people watching Voldemort and his Death Eaters night and day, every day of the week, you can help a lot of people. Maybe you could even disable Voldemort's operations indefinitely!" Harry leaned forward eagerly, having thought about this since he'd first laid eyes on the mirror. "Just imagine, Professor, you'll know when they'll attack and who his targets are. Using the mirror, you would only have to ask and it will show you each and every one of Voldemort's supporters, even those within the Order, so another Pettigrew situation can be avoided. You need only ask it to show you who is under the Imperius Curse, and the mirror will give you the answers!"

Smiling at Dumbledore's astounded expression; the young wizard leaned back in his chair again. "I'm giving it to you, professor, because you can save lives with it, and keep Voldemort at bay with its help while I get ready to face him."

The old wizard smiled a small, proud smile at him before turning his attention back to the mirror, his expression turning somewhat grave and somewhat thoughtful. "Such magic should not be possible, and those arts that could produce similar results usually come at too grave a cost. Do you know where this mirror comes from, Harry?"

He could see what might be worrying the old wizard, so Harry was quick to allay his concerns. "I do, sir. And I can tell you that the magic which created this mirror isn't what you're imagining. Later on, when I have a better idea of the enchantments protecting my family's secrets, I will tell you in more detail if you want, sir."

"Certainly, my boy," Dumbledore responded, standing up and casting a few spells upon the mirror, probably to see if he could figure it out, "Hmm. Yes, I can see what you mean; old and very powerful magic, true, but thankfully not magic originating from the Dark Arts. Before we go our separate ways, can you tell me what you know about the mirror, my boy?"

"Of course, sir, but let me activate him first." Tapping Evander's mirror three times, Harry identified himself once again before turning to Dumbledore. "Evander is tied to my family, Professor. I can lend him out for one month at a time, and I have to see him and authorize his use again before that time runs out or he will be recalled by the enchantments that protect him, and end up within the Potter Vault once again."

"Remember that I can't be used against you or your family for that very reason, Master Potter," Evander piped up.

Dumbledore nodded and Harry grinned at the mirror. "Apart from that, Evander can answer all of your questions better than I can, sir. However, before you can do that, I should formally introduce you so that you might use the mirror as a friend of the Potter Family. I have to warn you, however, that if Evander is handled by someone who whishes me or my family ill, he will disappear from their grasp and return to the Vault. I suggest you ask him to locate those who would use him properly within the Order instead of risking it by letting him be handled without checking."

"I see." the Headmaster nodded, "A most ingenious security measure."

"Now, Evander?" When the face in the mirror came forward and smiled, the young wizard placed his hand on the mirror's frame, "I am Harry James Potter, and I would like to formally introduce you to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore; Did I get that right, sir?" Dumbledore smiled and nodded when he looked at the old wizard.

At the same time, Evander's silvery face rippled before he too, smiled. "I recognize Albus Dumbledore as a friend of the Potter Family. Please tap me three times with your wand and then touch my frame, Headmaster Dumbledore."

The Headmaster did as told, causing Evander's surface to ripple once again.

"That's it, Professor. You just need to introduce him like I just did for someone else to use the mirror," Harry said, standing and picking his bag up, "I know that you have other things to do today, so I'll take my leave. If you have any questions, please let me know."

"Of course, my boy," Dumbledore told him gently, "And again, I thank you for this. As soon as I have a free moment, I shall call upon you. I already have more than a few questions. However, we shall leave that for another day."

"See you later, sir."

"Off with you, then."

Shaking his head, Harry decided to find a spot by the lake and practice some of his wand-work. Hopefully McGonagall would find him an empty room to use for his stories soon. As well, maybe he could catch up to Hagrid and ask him about his first class this afternoon, that way he could prepare . . . maybe climb into a suit if armour if necessary.

-o

**TBC...**

-o

_**Pickled Brains:**_ There we go then. I bit more serious than previous chapters, but I wanted to get the heavy stuff out of the way. With Dumbledore taking care of the Horcruxes for now, Harry is free to be a kid and have fun! Not to mention begun his search for a suitable boyfriend.

Anyways, I've been reviewing my reviews and I have to give David305 a big fuzzy puffskin! Thanks for pointing my 'Oopsies' for me! I've gone over the ones you pointed out and fixed 'em. Also, if anyone is interested in Beta-ing the already posted chapters, could you give me a shout out? Thanks!

Apart from that, I'm hoping this chapter stays as one of my more serious ones. I admit that my writing groove isn't completely back, either, so bear with me while I get into a more lighthearted mindset for the upcoming chapters.

Now, _review!_


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