Disclaimer.1: Harry Potter, associated characters and universe belong to J. K. Rowling and Al. This work belongs to the realm of fanfiction without any intent to make profit.

Disclaimer.2: No aardvarks were harmed during the (tedious) writing of this chapter. They are still humping somewhere in the world, lucky bastards.

Memory refresh note (could be: previously on SRW): The twins are bad guys (rape younger girls and such, boo), and Kreacher sent one of them to St Mungo's. Padfoot, part of Harry and Weasleys guard to King's Cross, is caught by the pound outside platform nine and three quarters.

Chapter 14 – The Rubber Duck Conspiracy is hiring.

What the fuck is a puma doing in a London Pound Vehicle?

Sirius tried to growl menacingly, only to feel a sharp pain on his nose and to find himself pinned to the ground by sixty pounds of muscle and quite a few claws ready to pierce his hide and potentially tore him to pieces.

What the fuck? He thought again, fighting a growing panic.

The whole situation was making no sense whatsoever. He stayed unmoving for a couple of minutes, trying to find a plan. Subduing the puma in the van was almost impossible, but the Pound would soon separate them and he would apparate away at the first opportunity.

But as soon as the van stopped in a nondescript warehouse, the doors opened and the puma jumped out and trotted away, tail high, while two men were threatening him with huge muggle shotguns.

What the fuuuuck?

The whole situation was definitely spinning out of control, and his fight against panic was a lost cause. A shaking Padfoot had no choice but follow the men towards a set of doors and corridors until pushed into a room. The puma jumped on a table.

"Okay, Black, you can revert by yourself or we will force you. Your choice" said the taller of them.

Sirius considered his options and changed. The man pointed to a chair in a corner with the gun, and he half complied, standing defiantly in front of it. He was more astonished than anything: Death Eaters would not use firearms and vans, and the people were not openly hostile. He had the feeling that he was not really in danger, but he had a hard time understanding the situation.

"Wilkins? Stop fooling around, please, and secure the room."

The puma jumped from the desk and morphed in mid-air to land as a young woman, dressed in leather with a gun strapped to her belt. A twist of her wrist and a wand shot in her hand; she waved it around the room, making Sirius shiver as a ward was setting in place, likely a set of anti-whatever, animagus included. Then, she turned towards him and he felt his heart sink into his chest, falling backwards on the chair as his knees gave out.

"Hello, Padfoot, long time no see…"

"Hermione…?" he whispered.

"Sophie Wilkins, C.I.A." she replied, nodding to the others, "we need to talk".

"Sure there, Wilkins?"

"I'll be safe"

"It's his safety I'm more concerned with."

"He's not a Mal-something, Peter. He's supposed to be one of the good guys, he'll be safe."

Once the last man had exited the room, she sealed the door and straddled a chair at some distance, leaning her chin on her folded arms.

"That was a very foolish thing to do, Padfoot, escorting Harry to Kings Cross in plain sight. The Knight Bus was out of order for a reason, a dark-robed white-masked and skull-tattooed reason. For your information, Nott Sr. and a Death Eater wannabe named Gregory Goyle were shot down in an while attempting to ambush your group at Grimmauld Place, by one of our friends keeping watch in front of Number Twelve. You know, the place where the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found…"

Sirius blanched. "How can you know…the Fidelius…"

"Don't fret, Sirius, the Fidelius is still in place and working well, but Old Dumbledore was a bit careless when he summoned Hermione Granger to his office to deal with her…intrusiveness. The Secret was lying on his desk, and she was one of the first to be aware of the secret. Ironic, hm?"

"Where are we?"

"It doesn't matter. We wanted to talk to you for a while, we just got lucky today. Well, to be honest, we wanted to talk to the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black."

Sirius snorted.

"You are the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, aren't you?"

He shrugged, before replying half-heartedly "I am, so?"

"As such, you can petition to gain access to any vault owned by a member of the Black family stripped of his rights, like, someone sentenced to a life-time in Azkaban?"

He looked at her, bewildered, until realization hit. "You need me to access Bellatrix' vault?" he laughed. "Are you mad? Do you believe I'll be able to stroll down Diagon Alley and into Gringotts?"

"Of course not! We plan to relocate you to Switzerland in order to clear your name through the ICW, and then submit the request to Gringotts in Zurich, where you will access the vault and retrieve an item Tom Riddle left in custody of Bellatrix."

Sirius frowned.

"What's the catch?"

"The sooner we deal with Tom Riddle, the sooner your Godson will be free of whatever fate had put on his shoulders so far. That's my own agenda. Free Harry. Lucky me, my job at the Agency is to do whatever I can to get rid of Riddle, you know, because this guy is an Evil Axis by himself. If 'Bad Guy' was trademarked, all the patents would belong to him, and for once, we don't have even indirect responsibility in his rising, so we took the job. Oh, we don't really care for you Brits, but the world is not enough for the snake-faced bastard, we're saving our hides in the long run."

"So you are the third faction? That's you behind all the shit that's been happening for a few months? Like the sudden deaths, the freak accidents?"

Sirius smiled.

"The Rubber Duck Conspiracy?"

Hermione made an undecipherable gesture, but the corner of her mouth rose slightly.

Sirius' laughter exploded.

"If you're part of the Rubber Duck Conspiracy, then I'm in!"

-x-

The train ride to Hogsmeade had been uneventful. With the Weasley duo cut in half, mischief had been kept at a low level. Harry had spent a few peaceful hours with Ginny, Neville and Luna. Malfoy had not made his usual taunting show and it's only once sitting at the dinner table that his absence was noticed by the students. The rumour mill was overexerting itself and soon the tale of multiple disappearances in the House of Malfoy reached Gryffindor table. The tales, in fact: first, Lucius was supposed to have eloped with a former Italian fashion model (1), then another one claimed that Narcissa Malfoy had gone to Spain with a flamenco dancer, and a third announced that both Draco and his father had bought a Harem in middle east and were settling in out there. Ron was making loud or lewd comments on each story, while Harry was trying to look mildly interested. Ginny made a questioning face, and he replied with a shrug.

Ginny was a friend, but not yet to the point that he could tell her that both Malfoys had been shipped far, far away from Britain the night before, and that a Narcissa Black had boarded a Muggle Plane to Argentina. Well, the last piece of information would be in the Prophet tomorrow. A decent bribe to a bitter wizard working in the Muggle Liaison office would be enough to ensure that the information would be made publicly available, something related to psychological warfare. Harry didn't care, for he had more important issues to deal with.

-x-

It all began with a distant noise, getting louder and louder. Then suddenly, all the members of the group instinctively ducked when the two jets flew above their heads, less than a hundred feet above the ground. Even the Dark Lord flinched. He was no stranger to the concept of aircraft, but he was not aware that those blasted Muggles had improved them to fly so fast, making so much noise. He was more surprised when they flew a large loop, slowing down and one of them simply stopped in mid-air, firing on an invisible target in the area, and he found the manoeuvre slightly disturbing: the aircraft where not supposed to hover this way. Then, it began advancing towards their location at the edges of Malfoy Manor's wards. Coming from another direction were two of those helicopters he was less familiar with, and something was amiss. As tempting as it could be, now was not the time to blast those Muggle idiots. He motioned all the Death Eaters but one inside the wards; it was always amusing to know that this pathetic rat would spend the next hour cowering in fear while keeping watch on the Muggles, too cowardly to suggest it would be as effective from inside the wards.

The Dark Lord immediately lost any interest in Peter Pettigrew's discomfort, he had more important issues to deal with; he was no longer able to get a grip on the boy's mind, his plans to get a hold of the Prophecy had all failed and Lucius was missing. His sources inside Hogwarts had reported that Lucius' son was not in Hogwarts, and there had been a piece of news in the Prophet reporting that Lucius' wife had left Britain by Muggle means.

Carefully hidden in a hole in the stone wall, Peter was watching the group of soldiers coming closer and closer. It looked like they were following the ward lines of Malfoy Estate, but something was amiss. Then it clicked. Two of them had their weapons strapped on their backs, and were holding…wands? Peter felt a rush of fear; the rodent inside was ready to flee, but the man realized that he was on the verge of making an important report to his Lord, to do something worthwhile, and carefully left his hiding place to…

Whoosh.

Something had grabbed him and sent him flying a couple yards away. He scampered off in a random direction to feel something trap his backside on the ground, before being toppled and sent in the air again. A cat? He'd been caught by a bloody cat, and…panicking, Peter was unable to focus and revert to his human form, and found himself caught by huge fangs and carried away. The cat – it was a bloody huge cat – ran for a while and suddenly dropped him. He shook himself, trying to get a hold on his fear, and abandoned his animagus form. But before he had time to get his wand, he saw a flash of red and the world went blank.

-x-

Once again, the atmosphere was tense. Dumbledore was having a hard time killing all the conversations around the meeting table and starting the Order of the Phoenix on this meeting's agenda, even if this agenda was quite simple, having a single entry: Sirius Black was missing. Many members were vocal on their theories: he had found a woman and his urges had got the best of him, he'd lost it and gone muggle, he'd been captured by Death Eaters who were planning to use him as a bait to catch Harry. He'd been arrested by Muggle Police, drunk in a gutter and being kept in a cell to sober up also had some favours.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore had to use all his authority to eventually regain some control over the meeting. "We do have an issue" he stated. "Not only did Sirius Black not from escorting the children to Kings Cross, but I'm also concerned about Remus Lupin, who should have contacted me a few days ago for a status report about his mission in France."

"Do you think both disappearances are related?"

"Even if Sirius if impulsive and foolish, I'd never second-guess Remus' loyalty."

"Loyalty to whom, Albus?" asked Arthur Weasley. "They are fiercely protective of Harry, and Harry had been acting different lately. What if their loyalties are to Harry more than to the Order?"

"You mean that Potter is building his own forces? That's farfetched" replied Snape.

"No. I'm rather thinking of this third group we've been talking about. We still don't know who they are, what their goals are..."

"The Rubber Duck Conspiracy" said Tonks with a smile.

"That's not a laughing matter" snapped Molly Weasley.

"Sounds a lot like college humour to me" replied Tonks "something Sirius would fully endorse in a heartbeat."

"Silence!" barked Dumbledore, more and more upset by his growing difficulties to manage his group. He could feel a headache coming on. "Alastor?"

"I had a tracking charm on Sirius' ring"

"Had?"

"Had, as in no longer have. When we noticed his disappearance at Kings Cross, a couple minutes after the train left, I checked it and it was still active, showing he was moving quickly on a geometric pattern consistent with a muggle car in London. Then, the signal simply disappeared, either behind a ward or after cancellation of the charm.

"Cold track, then."

"Can it be related with the Malfoys disappearance? Young Draco is missing from Hogwarts and his father has not been seen since New Year's Eve? Severus?"

Severus Snape shook his head negatively. "I don't have any information on the subject. The Dark Lord is most displeased with both disappearances."

"And Harry?" asked Tonks. "Does he know about Sirius...?"

"No, and we won't burden him with more reasons to worry."

Tonks scowled.

"I fear his reaction when he'll learn all the information you withhold, Headmaster. I'd be pissed by less."

The meeting remained fruitless and everyone soon left Grimmauld Place. When Albus Dumbledore entered his office, he found an Eagle Owl in a staring contest with Fawkes. He relieved her of her letter and smiled, seeing the seal of the International Confederation of Wizards. Even if Fudge had managed to have him stripped from his Supreme Mugwump status, he had still a lot of faithful contacts willing to keep him into the loop. He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

And his smile vanished at once.

-x-

Another day was starting at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dozens of students were having breakfast in the Great Hall, in various states of wakefulness. The mail had just been delivered and Daily Prophets were unfolded. A wave of murmurs rose immediately.

"Harry?"

Harry stopped eating to look at Neville who was sitting in front of him. He was greeted by the newspaper headline surrounding a picture of a happy wizard.

"SIRIUS BLACK CLEARED BY ICW"

Albus (etc) Dumbledore chose this instant to enter the Great Hall, and his facial expression told Harry that he had nothing to do with this piece of news.

Hermione, you're the best.

-x-

The first week passed quickly, the teachers reminding them that it was their OWL year, and had stepped up their workload accordingly. The sun had still to rise when Harry stepped out of Gryffindor Tower to make his way to the seventh floor corridor. He paced steadily thinking of a place to hide some junk and pushed open the door that eventually appeared.

"Oh, fuck me."

He had entered a cathedral, a cathedral dedicated to mischief, mistakes and misdeed. Facing him were alignments of junk, broken furniture, questionable items, books, clothes, jewellery, decayed food, rusty weapons, and even a stuffed troll. He almost missed the Horcrux inside his head. If Voldemort had hidden one of his in this room, he might have felt it through their link, but now, he just had to do it the hard way. The needle in a haystack way. Of course, there was no such thing as a Horcrux detection spell, or even a Dark Magic detection spell. His only way out of this mess was gambling on Voldemort setting a ward – whatever the intent – around the object, so he might detect it with a crude ward revealing spell he had found in Number Twelve.

Unfortunately, the spell often reacted to enchanted objects, and enchanted objects were common in the room. After three hours of scanning, he had to leave the place for breakfast, empty-handed, having barely covered ten percent of the room. He spent the morning in the library, wrapping up his Charms and Transfiguration homework, and was about to head towards the great hall when he noticed a tiny frame struggling to put a huge book back on the shelves.

"Let me help you…" he said, catching the book and lifting it.

"Thank you…eep!" the girl squealed recognising him. He blushed recognising her. She was the third year raped by the twins a few weeks ago. He forced a smile.

"You're Anna, aren't you?"

"Err, yes, I guess"

He raised an eyebrow, openly amused.

"Well, Yes, I am" she added.

He helped her put back another book.

"Are you okay Anna?"

She shrugged. "I guess".

He frowned. "Bullies?"

He saw her face darken, before she shrugged again dismissively.

"Anna, you must tell me, or tell a prefect if someone is bullying you or one of your friends. Whatever his House, okay?"

"Yeah" she replied in a bored voice, packing her bag.

Pushing his legilimency wasn't necessary, she was radiating anger and shame. He felt his own anger building. Bastards.

"Sorry?"

"What?"

"You whispered something..." she said.

"Did I?"

She stopped in her tracks. "You know" she whispered in a strangled voice.

'Oh shit.'

She was on the verge of tears, and he knew he had to do something. He grabbed her hand and brought her in a dusty unused passageway, then in a little room; he sealed the door, putting his schoolbag on a table and his wand of(on) top, before sitting on a stone bench. He exhaled and spoke.

"I Know. I know what the Weasley Twins did, and that's why one of them his missing"

"You hurt him?"

"Kind of. But it's not the point. I should have stopped them, but..."

"...but Umbridge would have got your hide"

"What?"

"It was part of the game" she replied calmly.

It was now time for Harry to feel his anger boiling. It could not be...He closed his eyes and counted form one to ten slowly to keep his temper in check. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, of course, they wanted to punish me for sneaking on them, but they were waiting for you to be in the area. They knew you go somewhere in the evenings, they had not(hadn't) guessed where, and that night they caught me with a spell and waited for you to leave the tower. Then they waited in this classroom and set the thing up, and we waited for a couple hours before you came back and they started their...game. Like, as if they wanted you to find them. They spoke about a map you have, and reckoned you'd check it while heading back."

Harry leaned back against the wall. "It was a setup?"

"They were just piling up benefits" replied Anna, "they reckoned that by giving Umbitch an edge over you, well, bringing her your head on a platter, it would be beneficial to their business. On(In) the short term, she would likely leave them make their deals inside the castle, and on the long run, she might smooth their dealings with the Ministry".

They stayed silent for a while, and she spoke again.

"Don't kill them. Yet. They are not worth the risk"

He nodded in silence.

"Very Slytherin in your reasoning, Anna"

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin" she said, shrugging.

"Did it?"

She nodded. "During my first Express ride, I had overheard some people complaining about Slytherin being the nest of all Dark Lords, so I begged it to be sorted anywhere but in Slytherin."

Harry snorted. "Your story sound familiar"

"I sometimes wonder if things had been different, if I'd been sorted there"

"You're a Muggleborn. I don't think it would've been a walk in the park"

She shrugged, bit her lip, and diverted her stare.

"I can talk to snakes" she whispered.

"What?"

"I can talk to snakes" she said forcefully, glaring at him, "like, I'm a Parselmouth, okay?"

Harry sighted heavily, groaning. "Why do things get more and more complicated?"

-x-

Hermione locked the door and dropped her keys on the kitchen counter. She unfastened her gun holster from her belt, and put it away in a drawer, before dropping on the couch. She let her stare wander round the little flat. A short hallway, a kitchenette behind a counter, single bedroom and a tiny bathroom with a shower, in a four-story building in Glasgow. Nothing much, but it was not a longer apparition jump to Hogsmeade than Moab to Boulder. She flipped open her cell phone and speed dialled her mother, while opening the folder Dave had given her.

"Hermione?"

"Hi mum. Had a safe flight?"

"Yes, everything is fine, thank you? How's Scotland?"

"Same as usual. The flat's nice enough." she replied, sorting the contents of the file. "It's weird walking the streets of Hogsmeade without the crowd of Hogwarts students." she added with a smile, noticing Harry's scrawl on a sheet of parchment. She put it aside and quickly skimmed over the remaining documents while making small talk with her mother.

Once the call was over, she made herself a cup of tea and went back to the couch, opening Harry's letter.

Hermione,

SNAFU here; most are gossiping about the Malfoy disappearance, and the staff has(have) been burying us under homework. I spent a dozen hours this week-end(weekend) combing the Room of Requirement and nothing emerged, but when used as a junk room, it's larger than the Great Hall, so I'm keeping faith.

There is a story I withheld, because I'm not proud of the way I handled things, but a new development happened;

A few days before Winter Break, I was walking back from the RoR, checking the Map, when I noticed the Twins with a third year in a room. I spied on them, and saw them raping her as a punishment. I was unable to help her, and I've been having a hard time coping with my inaction so far. But today, a chance encounter on the library allowed me to talk to her. Two issues arose:

First, the whole thing was akin to a setup. The Twins expected me to intervene and somehow implicate me, likely to gain some favours, or merely to have blackmail material on me. I don't really know. I've got the feeling they were just driven by their greed, but we must be extra careful with them.

Second, the girl is a Parselmouth. Her name is Anna Darbishire(2); she's a third year muggleborn from Linbury (Sussex), and looking into her family tree might be useful: we are so few Parselmouth down there that any information we can find is welcome; I brought her into the study group building around Neville, Ginny and me (you must know Demelza Robbins too).

Love,

Harry.

Hermione traced the love with a goofy smile before letting the contents of the letter sink in. She snapped out of her dream state and switched her computer on, writing a quick email to the agency. Then, she apparated to Hogsmeade and entered a nondescript cottage.

"Hey, Sophie, already back?"

"Evening, Dave. Can I borrow your fireplace?"

"Sure thing, love"

And with silent thanks, she tossed a pinch of floo powder in the fire, saying "St Mungo's Hospital".

-x-

With a sigh, Harry pushed open the wooden door to enter the Room Of Requirements in junk warehouse mode. He scanned his notepad and resumed his quest. He spent the next hour examining object after object, until he felt drawn to a corner. A dagger was lying on a dusty cushion and he levitated it in a spot of light to examine it. Revealing spells only showed it was magically active. He was very tempted to pull it out of its sheath; in fact, he was feeling a real urge to get it, a feeling so powerful it was arousing. Oh shit. He struggled to move away from the dagger, but was barely managing to keep his hand away from the hilt. After a few minutes of indecision, he eventually had an idea.

"Kreacher!"

Then almost frantically "Kreacher!"

Pop.

The elf appeared at his side, and after a few seconds raised his hand, his face torn by concentration. Harry stumbled and fell backwards.

"Thank you, Kreacher, I owe you one"

"Kreacher is not so sure. Kreacher felt very powerful magic. This was not Dark Magic, Master Harry. That was blood magic. Kreacher shielded it but it's already leaking through"

The elf waved his hand, flipping the dagger over.

"Master Harry should look at the dagger. Yes, those are the ways of an Old Bloodline"

Harry watched the elf dubiously, before squinting to have a better look at the dagger. He could make out snakes and Griffins.

"This Dagger is safe for Harry Potter" said the Elf, before popping away.

Feeling quite a bit silly, Harry walked closer. The pull was getting stronger and he felt desire burning. "That's a hell of a compulsion" he thought, eventually closing his fingers on the handle. He felt something run from the dagger into his body, forming a wave of pleasure that overwhelmed him.

He opened his eyes, blinked. He was naked in a deserted railway station, his penis still under the influence of the Dagger.

"Fuck. Yet another afterlife metaphor" he growled, more upset than embarrassed.

"Prongslet! Come over!"

He willed a robe to cover him, and it did. "I'm getting better at this" he thought, walking towards a waiting room. He stopped on the threshold.

"James?" He was surprised by the use of his father's first name, realising he was unable to call him 'Dad', moreover since the aforementioned man was sprawled on a couch, naked, with a blond woman noisily sucking his penis.

Harry wondered if he was relieved that it was not his mother, and incensed by his father's pampered prince attitude. James Potter laughed.

"You should see your face! As if your girlfriend never gave you a blowjob!"

The woman stopped her ministrations, and slowly morphed in a copy of Hermione, advancing towards him. Harry stepped back.

"Oh, you little wanker!" said James "I just know what's on your mind"

And Hermione became Ginny Weasley.

"Stop this!"

James sat up, a frown on his face. Slowly, Ginny began to grow taller, her breasts disappeared and her shoulders broadened. A spectacular set of male genitalia appeared between her legs and Harry was now facing a horny Cedric Diggory.

"You are a nightmare, Potter" growled Harry, throwing the dagger. The weapon hit James square in the heart, and he felt on his knees, bathing in the flow of blood.

Then he heard somebody clapping. There was no more blood, no more naked James Potter, no more Cedric or Ginny or Hermione. A man in his fifties, with unruly silver hair, was coming towards him.

"Well done, well done, young Harry. That was rather Freudian, wasn't it?"

"Who are you?"

"My name is Oliver Potter" said the man. "I'm Charlus Potter's"

"Grandfather, yes. Charlus' Grandfather"

"Oh, you know of your line?"

"An elf found it for me."

"Very unusual"

"Welcome to my life, great-grandpa" snapped Harry "What the fuck is this place? Did I die again?"

"No, no, this is just a dream, I guess. It's just because you found the Potter Ceremonial Dagger, it's been lost for a while, since my idiot of a son, his name was James, by the way, stole it for a reason I'd rather not know."

"I found it in Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes, in the Room where all discarded junk ends."

Oliver Potter huffed indignantly. "I daresay I should have disowned him. But he was our only son and it would have put an end to the Potter Line, something I couldn't consider."

"Yet another skeleton in the Potter Closet, uh..." said Harry with a smirk. Softening, he asked: "What is the meaning of this Dagger? Since it brought your memory into my dream, it's not something without significance, is it?"

"Yes, of course. This is a Ceremonial Dagger, something akin to a sceptre for the family head. It was of capital importance when Blood Magic was involved."

"Blood Magic?"

"Yes, a way to tie Magic – usually, in the fields of enchantment and warding – to related individuals. Its main use was protection and strengthening of individuals, but it was effective for cursing families, and thus was associated with Dark Magic and was ostracized outside the Ancient Houses. A Dagger like this one has been imbued with Potter Blood since the Roman Empire, providing an innate connection with our Magic. You should even be able to cast spells through it, but be careful, for it is almost sentient and can...have its own interpretation of your intent."

Harry nodded.

"It was a great pleasure to meet you, young Harry. I see great things in you, and I know that the Potter Line will live, and live to its expectations. Thank you."

"Wait, don't leave, I have so many questions..."

But Harry realised he was now speaking to a pile of rubbish in the Room of Requirement.

"...for you" he completed in a whisper. He spent the next few minutes lying on his back, observing the patterns of the intersecting arcs in the vaulted ceiling, his mind blank, before getting a grasp on himself and sitting up. He unsheathed the Dagger and observed it carefully. The blade was rather wide, two inches, narrowing at the two-thirds, for a total length that could not exceed ten inches. Harry had seen images of this kind of weapons in books on the Roman Empire – he'd been fond of this era and had read lots about it in the school library. It was looking like a Pugio, those daggers the Romans appreciated for their efficiency in close combat. It was a given that Julius Caesar' murderers had used pugiones.

But this one was quite different for the canon Pugio. If the blade was shaped like designed two thousand years ago, the handle was more recent, likely medieval in its design. He was puzzled by the carving of a Griffin with a snake coiled around one of his forelegs. An emerald was set in a side of the hilt, and a ruby on the other. Does that mean than Slytherin and Gryffindor were buddies? Or...Ew. He stood up and, no longer in the mood for a methodical exploration, wandered aimlessly in the room, holding the Dagger in his hand. He noticed that it was, from time to time, humming or vibrating slightly, as if trying to convey information, and wondered if it could somehow understand his intent to find a dark object and thus work as a Dark Magic Detector? At some point, he was almost convinced when it brought him in front of a closed cabinet. He carefully cracked open the door, and as soon as it was slightly ajar, frost started to spread around him, coming with an angst mood. Harry stepped back while a skeletal hand began to push the door open from inside. He tried to come with a funny mutation of a dementor but no idea could come, so he chose the good ol' Dementor One-Two and, thinking of Hermione, fired his best Patronus to the boggart. He felt backwards against the shock of the almost golden doe exploding at the end of the Dagger he was holding, rushing into the closet, making it explode as the boggart was crumpled under its hooves. A few seconds later, a cloud of dust was falling slowly over a heap of splinters. The Patronus was watching Harry, its head slightly cocked. Harry stood up and dusted himself, tentatively patting the doe. It was not solid, but he could feel the density of the mist, like thick foam.

"Thank you" he whispered, and the doe vanished slowly. He breathed slowly to pace down his heartbeat, before walking out of the Room. He was done with emotions for the day, and was in dire need of a shower.

-x-

Severus Snape limped passed the Gargoyle and waited for the revolving stairs to bring him up in front of Dumbledore's office. He limped into the room when the door opened and felt into the awaiting armchair.

"That bad, Severus?"

"The Dark Lord was most upset, Albus. He doesn't feel the brat anymore, and worse, he feels like his power his lacking."

"Lacking?"

"Yes; up to a few weeks ago, he had a huge amount of power available, and he now seems to come short rather quickly."

"Tom was always a powerful wizard."

"Yes, but he was convinced that the ritual that brought him back to life had made him stronger. But now, he feels like he tires faster, as if reloading his core was more taxing."

Dumbledore nodded. Snape was rubbing his eyes tiredly.

-x-

"'morning Wilkins."

"McElroy" replied Hermione with a nod "How was the week-end?"

"Fine, yours?"

"Pretty cool" she replied, sitting on the chair in front of the desk she was borrowing. She had just apparated into the secluded area of the Royal Air Force base near Edinburgh Airport where the Joint Task Force "V" was hosted. She put her mug of coffee on the side of her desk and switched her computer on; she had some research to do on one Anna Darbishire. Neither St Mungo's nor the Ministry of Magic had provided any information of importance about the girl: it was time to hit the Muggle world and its digitalized archives.

-x-

Harry entered the Headmaster's office. He'd received a note at lunch requesting him for a meeting and was relieved to see only his Head of House along the Headmaster.

"Ah, Harry, you're on schedule, perfect."

"Good evening, Headmaster, Professor McGonagall."

"Please take a seat. First let me tell you that you're not in trouble. This meeting is just related to the recent release of your Godfather. He wishes for you to join him in a fortnight to reacquaint." Dumbledore paused for the effect before adding in a conspirator's tone: "after all, you've not met for fourteen years, have you?"

Harry smirked.

"Where is he now?"

"In one of the Blacks properties on the continent. A chalet in Switzerland, in a place called Gstaad"

Harry nodded. He'd seen the name in those gossip papers Petunia was so fond of. He scowled. Trust Sirius to recover among the people of leisure.

"I'd be delighted. Do you know how he managed this stunt? I mean, being cleared by the ICW and all?"

"Basically, because Peter Pettigrew was captured by French Aurors who shipped him to the ICW. A surprising move indeed, since both the French Ministry and the ICW have not been understanding for a few months."

Harry nodded again. Hermione, you're the best.

-x-

Hermione was frustrated. She had been working like a dog for a week for almost naught. Anna Derbishire's files were almost useless: orphaned, with no data about her birth parents, raised adequately by a foster squib family in York, good grades and few friends at school until Hogwarts, Holly and Dragon Heartstring wand. On another hand, Sirius Black's debriefing had been useless as well, and the last meeting had ended with her knee between his legs in order to help him think with his brain, for once.

Her last resort was a blood sample from Anna and a huge subscription to porn websites featuring barely legal women for Black, just to keep him busy. Thrilling.

-x-

The last Portkey dropped Harry in a wooden cabin. He had flooed from McGonagall's office to the Ministry, where he had taken an international portkey to Geneva, and after a thorough screening, he had been allowed a last ride to Gstaad.

He examined his surroundings, and tensed when the door opened. A bulky wizard eyed him, before asking with a thick Germanic accent:

"Harrrry Potterrr?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Follow me."

Harry wrapped his coat tighter and felt in step with the wizard, into the blizzard. They walked a short distance, and the man just nodded towards a door. Harry stepped inside, closed the door and opened a second one leading into a warm hallway. He hung his coat and scarf, dropped his bag on a bench, and entered.

"Prongslet!"

"Sirius! Freedom suits you!"

Harry had to admit that Sirius Black had never looked better. His muggle clothes were immaculate and fitting, his hair was perfectly cut and his goatee carefully trimmed. He radiated an air of aristocratic confidence. His eyes betrayed the overall appearance, for they alternated from a childish mirth to a haunted anguish, and it made Harry initiate the hug, for once.

Free from Mrs Weasley's bossiness, Sirius was soon brandishing a bottle of Polish Firewhiskey, and Harry knew at once bringing a vial of hangover potion had been a good idea.

-x-

When the last light went off, Hermione sighted and stood up. Keeping watch over Sirius' chalet until late had been a torture, with Harry inside. She patrolled around the building in her puma form, sniffing Harry's sent amongst the vapours of alcohol. Sirius was snoring soundly. Joining Harry in his room was tempting. Bloody sense of duty!

-x-

Harry woke up at dusk, an unpleasant taste in the mouth as only reminder of the bonding night with Sirius. He showered quickly, musing on his luck: his Godfather had been drunk quickly enough to spare him a night out with some 'nice ladies' of his acquaintances. He whipped himself a quick breakfast and stepped onto the terrace, a mug of tea in his hands. The sky was cloudy, and he wondered if a snow storm was coming. All was silent, without any sign of life. He could see the footprints coming from the cabin, and the prints of an animal around the chalet. Prints looking like those of a feline, a tad larger than a cat's. He smiled, losing himself in some fantasy of many other bright winter mornings with company and no Dark Lord around.

He was pulled out of his dreamstate by the smooth sound of feathers, as an Eagle was smoothly landing on the railing.

"Hey beautiful" said Harry.

The bird hopped and held his leg, where a roll was attached. Putting his mug down, he broke the intricate seal and read.

Dear Mr Potter,

It came to our attention that you are currently in Switzerland. Gringotts Global is eager to setup a meeting to address some important issues regarding your status, both legal and financial. If you are agreeable, Gringotts Global will provide you a two way portkey to our facilities in Bern.

Kashmeister Schwartzduk

Gringotts Global Asset Management.

"Good news, pup?" asked a voice behind him.

Harry push back a scathing resort and merely replied "I'd say interesting news. Have a look"

Sirius scanned the letter and let a low whistle.

"GGAM? Wow."

"What's with the 'Wow'? I reckon it's just Gringotts worldwide, a step above London Branch"

"Well, there's Asset Management inside. Sounds Grand."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and snickered: "Sounds like the good ol' Goblins Save The Day plotline, you know."

"You might get benefits from this meeting."

"Yeah, or learn that my father left me a billion galleons in gambling debts and a Betrothal Contract with Millicent Bulstrode"

"James was not a gambler!" replied Sirius, outraged.

"I'll take note you did not deny the Betrothal Contract part" grumbled Harry while writing a reply "have you ever seen Bulstrode?"

Nevertheless, half an hour later, the same Eagle was back with another letter, and Harry had to tap it with his wand to activate the Portkey. As he was feeling the telltale hook behind the navel thing, he heard the faint popping sound of a Firewhiskey bottle opening.

-x-

"He'll be there soon, are you done here?"

"Yes Director" replied Hermione. "Gringotts Global has been incommensurably helpful opening those files for us"

"So you found something interesting?"

"Definitely" she said, spinning her chair to face Pileggi. "Guess what?"

"Anna Darbishire is Harry Potter's long lost twin?"

She smiled.

"Anna Darbishire Grandfather is Marvollo Gaunt's squib son. Oldest son. Dumped as a baby by his parents, but never cast out of the family"

"Oh my..."

"Yes" said Hermione, pausing for the show. "Legally and Magically, Anna Darbishire is the true Heir of Salazar Slytherin."

-x-

Harry appeared into a sunlit circular room. As soon as he had steadied himself, two heavily armoured Goblins entered, taking position on the sides of the door, and another Goblin, clad in civilian clothes, came in.

"Mr Potter, welcome to Gringotts Global, I'm Kashmeister Schwartzduk"

"My honour and my pleasure, Herr Schwartzduk. May your gold flow as well as the blood of your enemies."

The Goblin bowed in response.

"Please, follow me."

It was a short walk to a circular room. As soon as everyone was sat, Schwartzduk went to the point:

"Mister Potter, we are very thankful for your time, because we have lots of discrepancies in your affairs and it will be beneficial for all of us to sort them out. This room is held in a time field, so your agenda won't be too much disturbed, whatever the duration of this meeting, although I hope it will not exceed a few hours."

Harry nodded.

"The first issue is legal: even if the Potter family is not a Most Noble house, it's nonetheless an Ancient family and as the last living heir, you are entitle to some benefits, like claiming your status as Head of House as soon as your eleventh birthday, even if, for obvious reasons, the level of autonomy you get is quite restricted, with more responsibilities given each year. The curious thing is, even if the Potter ring is still in its chest, you appeared a few days ago as the Head of House. Since you're over fifteen, you are now considered an adult with regards to the law"

Harry smiled.

"Can the bonding with another Family Heirloom have triggered such an event?"

"Such as?"

Harry reached into his lower back where the Dagger's sheath was fixed to his belt and detached it, laying it on the table. Then, he slowly unsheathed the weapon. The Goblins did not hide their surprise.

"That's a surprising event" simply stated Schwartzduk.

The portkey dropped Harry at Sirius's chalet a few minutes after his departure. A slightly annoyed Harry, for he was not able to tell if the five hour long meeting had been really useful. Granted, he was now aware that he was free of Underage Magic restrictions, that he had a few million galleons here and there, a manor in Wales and a castle in the Highlands available. Plus an Island in the Maldives archipelago, but it was rather useless in the short term. (3)

The chalet was empty, bar a note from Sirius telling that he had gone 'downtown' to run a few errands. Harry groaned to the thought of what those errands could be. Since the alcohool reserve was far from empty, he guessed they were involving busty blondes. He sliced open a loaf of bread, stuffed it with Aosta ham, a handful of pickles and left towards the forest. He walked for half an hour, until reaching a high point, with a gorgeous view of the valley and far beyond, where a high mountain with a smooth summit was seemingly topping all others.

"That's the Mont Blanc, Harry. Western Europe's highest summit." Said a voice behind him.

"I knew that, Hermione" he replied without looking at her.

"So I'm no longer the walking encyclopaedia at your service? Ohh poor me, useless and rejected, without goal in my life? What shall I become? What can I do to..."

"Start by shutting the fuck up and kissing me, woman!"

Hermione snorted and complied. There were time like those where being assigned to VIP protection had its perks, sense of duty be dammed.

-x-

Harry portkeyed back to Hogwarts reluctantly. Childish godfather aside, staying in a chalet in Switzerland with his bodyguard was more compelling than blending in an overall hostile crowd, confined within the walls of a cold and mouldy castle. He was not looking forward resuming classes, he was not looking forward sleeping alone and under a silencing charm to keep away his dorm mates snores, he was not looking forward eating in the noisy Great Hall, and he was not looking forward spending hours in the Room of Requirements searching for an item enchanted with Dark Magic. He buried himself in his homework, but even this task was over long before curfew. He then decided for a trip to the Owlery to check on Hedwig, and on his way back, found himself driven to the seventh floor and Barnabas the Barmy.

The Room of Requirements was its usual self, full of garbage and he was tempted to leave at once, but eventually chose to wander aimlessly. There was little time to curfew and he was about to head back when he felt the Dagger vibrate. He stepped back and forth and the weapon's vibrations seem to vary accordingly, so he unsheathed it and held it like a water diviner's rod, circling slowly until the Dagger evaded his grasp and sunk itself into a chest. A blue chest with bronze linings. He opened the chest using his wand and there, lying on a mouldy cushion, was lying a goblin-made diadem.

Author Notes

(1) Retired Italian fashion models remain fashionable for quite a long time. Bar one (personal vendetta).

(2) Even if I've been an enthusiastic fan of Jennings books (by the way, Jennings and Darbishire came out as "Bennett et Mortimer" in French), this story will not evolve into a Jennings/Harry Potter crossover. Although the plot bunny sounds compelling at first.

(3) Hear hear! You got a bit of the Goblins doing the Fiscal and Legal mojo, that's another cliché down, Goblin Greeting included. Take note that I'll spare you the shopping spree: there are borders one should never cross. And don't waste time googling Kashmeister, I made up the title to have something sounding Germanic.

(4) As a matter of fact, it seems to be a bit tricky to see the Mont Blanc from Gstaad, but not impossible, according to a test I ran with Google Earth. Please suspend your disbelief, I had to let Hermione use her signature 'lecture mode'.