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For disclaimer, acknowledgments and key features, please refer to Chapter 1.

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Transcendence

by oStilloDreamingo

Chapter 5 – Peering into the Muddy Depths, all you see is Mud

Saturday, September 28th, 1996

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Griphook cast a sidewards glance at the young wizard sitting on the dusty couch.

With his head bent low over his lap, only his perpetually messy dark hair was visible. The youth was taking in deep shuddering breaths and a black and gold cobra was milling over and around the wizard's torso repeatedly. The goblin was astute enough to recognize that the tears that had been pouring down Mr Potter's face were tears of humiliation and frustration and not those of actual grief and mourning. Wordlessly, Griphook placed the sheaf of documents he had prepared on the arm of the couch and excused himself to the porch while the sixteen year old wizard recovered his composure.

Resting languidly against the outer wall, Griphook crossed his slate blue, wiry arms and watched the carefree muggle teenagers chat animatedly on the lawn of the neighborhood house. The Fidelius charm protected the goblin from their gazes despite the fact that there was barely ten meters of space separating them. A frown darkened his heavily creased features. The overbearing childlike mannerisms displayed on the post-pubescent bodies of the muggles was utterly repulsive. Humans coddled their young excessively.

Disliking the sight of pink skin and bright shaggy heads, Griphook closed his eyes. The images of the skeletal remains that flashed behind closed lids were vastly more pleasing. Rid of their flesh, skin and hair, humans and goblins were remarkably alike. When Harry Potter had recovered from his brief lapse into unconsciousness, the goblin and the wizard had together explored the tiny cottage. Lily Evans' remains were easily identifiable by the shock of scarlet hair that had pooled beside her skull after the scalp had rotted away. The decayed shreds of clothing she wore were still recognizably feminine. James Potter's remains were discovered in the kitchen and were identified in much the same manner. Evidently the Dark Lord had entered Godric's Hollow through the back door on the night of the legendary attack.

Through the slightly ajar doorway, Griphook heard the sound of shuffling papers, indicating that the wizard had recovered sufficiently to return his mind to the task at hand. Griphook tracked the sound of the wizard's footsteps getting closer long before he heard his voice.

"He knew all along."

"Pardon me?"

The Boy-Who-Lived came out onto the cool porch to join the goblin, holding the Gringotts' folder in both hands. Griphook picked himself off the wall and studied the solemn young face before him. The intense eyes were very different from the muggle teenagers he had been observing only moments before. There were no tear tracks on his face, although his eyes were still red and puffy.

"Dumbledore knew that Sirius was innocent," the wizard clarified.

The silver flecked verdant eyes held a quiet wisdom that had been hard earned through anguish and experience. His skin was lily white and free of creases like that of an elderly goblin in deathbed, and he was not quite as obscenely tall as most humans. The hair on his head was the wrong colour but was as wild and thick as the mane of a baby ice drake and from his form fitted clothing the goblin could see that there was no superfluous flesh on his body. Griphook decided that this human was perhaps not quite as unsightly as most others of his race.

"He knew that Peter Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper. Look."

Griphook accepted the document folder from the wizard, and leafed to the page Mr Potter insisted upon. It really was none of his business but he had learned in his twenty seven years as an accountant that it was sometimes better to indulge the wizards and their need to share useless information.

"See here. October 24, 1981. Remus Lupin visits Godric's Hollow for the last time. Subsequently on October 25, 1981 Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, Mum, Dad and me are all in the house. That has to be the date when the Fidelius charm was recast changing the Secret Keeper from Sirius Black to Peter Pettigrew without Remus Lupin's knowledge."

Griphook nodded, indicating that he was following thus far.

"After that, Dumbledore visits Godric's Hollow on October 27, 1981. That means Pettigrew must have invited Dumbledore into the house, which means Dumbledore knew that Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper."

There a moment of silence when the wizard took a deep steadying breath. Mr Potter tapped at the parchment paper and then pulled back immediately as if he had been burned.

"October 31, 1981. Tom "Lord Voldemort" Riddle visits Godric's Hollow and kills my parents. The Killing curse rebounds destroying Voldemort's body, but does not kill him. Sirius Black visits Godric's Hollow and retrieves me. He leaves Godric's Hollow."

Harry Potter paused, closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, assuming the position Griphook had been in earlier. His thin pale lips curved into a bitter smile and he tipped his head up towards the sky.

"You know, in my first year, I had asked Dumbledore if I could visit my parents' grave."

"What did he say?" Griphook asked quietly, although he suspected that the question was rhetorical. To simply leave the body of one deceased was simply reprehensible in goblin tradition. Even the bodies of condemned criminals were treated with honour.

"He didn't say anything really. Just brushed me off with pretty words and half truths. I had figured out that Dumbledore was corrupt from the letters he wrote to-"

He stopped short and shook his head ruefully, piquing the goblin's curiosity. He hated it when they did that. The wizard turned to give the goblin a whisper of a sardonic smirk. "I knew he was manipulative, but I never thought that he would stoop so low as to to send an innocent man to Azkaban. And for what? To gain custody of the celebrity infant?"

Griphook found himself trapped within hypnotic living emeralds, and found himself sympathizing with Basilisk victims. The wizard looked away and the goblin breathed a sigh of relief, which did not go unnoticed, for the wizard regarded him with his head cocked at an angle. The goblin looked down at the document he was holding and blinked in surprise.

"Albus Dumbledore visited Godric's Hollow twice since the demise of your parents. Once in December 1991 and again in June 1992."

It was left unsaid that the elderly wizard therefore had every opportunity to give Potter and Evans a proper burial.

Harry Potter looked darkly amused.

"Yes, I noticed that. Look at the date. It's right before Christmas in my first year. Dumbledore probably visited Godric's Hollow to get my father's Invisibility Cloak. He left me a note stating that my father left it in his possession. I did always wonder about that. I mean with three best friends, a lover, a bank vault and a will, why in Hades would my father leave a family heirloom with his school headmaster?"

He paused and then continued hesitantly.

"I can only guess about the second visit, but I don't think that I am guessing wrong. The second time he came to Godric's Hollow was while I was unconscious in the hospital wing of Hogwarts at the end of my first year. I think Dumbledore came to ransack the house looking for photographs and memorabilia when Hagrid had asked for them."

The wizard paused again and then added almost as an after thought.

"He stayed two whole days on that visit. I'm pretty sure he took everything else of value while he was at it. Can't see him wasting resources."

Griphook nodded. Yes, that was in keeping with Dumbledore's personality as far as the goblins were concerned. In goblin circles, the man was notorious for lightening the coffers of old families. Their confidentiality policy kept them from releasing the information to the general public. He gave the young wizard another appraising look, and allowed that maybe he had misjudged this particular human. Seeing the deep loathing for the Hogwarts' headmaster in Mr Potter's eyes, the goblin sighed inwardly. It was after all his duty to look after the financial needs of his client regardless of species. A court battle would ultimately be a useless waste of resources.

"It would be unwise to prosecute, Albus Dumbledore."

Harry Potter turned sharply, and regarded him through narrowed eyes for a moment and then chuckled softly.

"You misread me, Griphook. I would never consider going before the Wizengamot looking for 'justice'. I mean no offense to your race, but despite your standing treaties with wizardkind, I know that the Wizengamot will be too prejudiced to recognize Gringotts' documents as evidence. Besides, most of them think of me as a nutter and that Dumbledore is God. There is no getting through to religious fanatics until it is proven beyond any hint of a doubt that the god they worship is a false god. And that will take time."

Griphook shivered as a sudden gust of frigid air blew past him and spun about the wizard, ruffling his clothes and hair. The mini tornado touched nothing else and dissipated as sporadically as it had come.

"What was that?" Griphook looked around, eyes darting everywhere to see what could have caused the wind.

The wizard frowned thoughtfully and then glanced up at the sky as if remembering something important.

"That happens around me every now and then at Hogwarts, although it usually isn't quite that strong. I'm guessing we both felt it so strongly because we are currently standing in a muggle neighborhood so the magical dilution is nearly negligible. Muggles have something known as the 'Chaos Theory'. Have you ever heard about it, Griphook?"

Griphook shook his head.

"It is also called the 'Butterfly effect'. I could bore you with a potentially confusing exposition, but I think it would be better if you look it up yourself."

The wizard fell silent again and glanced back at the cottage. His eyes hazed over as if seeing the skeletal remains of his parents' corpses through the wall. Griphook remembered the blueprints and realized that the wizard was looking in the wrong direction. He was off by approximately thirty degrees. When the wizard spoke, his words held a tone of muted reverence.

"I don't know what kind of people they were when they were alive, and what people tell me about them sound much too biased to be true. But that doesn't really matter, although I would be lying if I said I don't care. What is important is that they gave up their lives protecting me. I would like to give them a proper burial if nothing else, but Isis tells me that the remains will crumble into dust if touched. I really don't like the idea of sweeping up the remains with a broom and a dustpan."

'Who is Isis? Oh yes, his familiar.'

Griphook eyed the modest cottage critically. After graduation from Hogwarts, Lily Evans had taken up residence in the cottage bequeathed to her by her parents, and that is where she remained until the day she died. It had been the scandal of the wizarding world that Evans, pregnant with Potter's child, had refused to wed him, or even set foot on his family estate. It was only after the birth of her child that she eventually relented and allowed Potter to move in with her to serve as father figure to her infant. The muggle-born witch had jokingly named the cottage 'Godric's Hollow' because of the number of Gryffindors that used to frequent her cottage before the war had begun in earnest.

"Is it your intent to reside in Godric's Hollow sometime in the future?"

Located in a remote muggle suburbia, the only value the property could have was as a shrine to Mr Potter's parents, but Griphook very much doubted that the wizard wanted nosy witches and wizards poking about his parents resting place as if it were some sort of tourist attraction. The wizard must have heard something in his tone for he gave the goblin a hard calculating stare.

"No, of course not," he murmured softly. "But you knew that already. What are you thinking?"

Griphook found himself once again trapped within the cold predatory gaze that somehow did not seem out of place in the youthful visage. He half expected to feel a Legilimency probe, yet was not surprised when he felt none.

"It is goblin tradition to cremate our deceased," he offered carefully.

A soft smile touched Mr Potter's lips and lit up his eyes giving the momentary illusion of innocence. Griphook realized that for the first time that night Harry Potter looked his real age and not five or six years older.

"You mean, burn down Godric's Hollow completely? Can it be done tonight?"

There was a faint tremor of hope in that young voice, but the goblin caught it nevertheless.

"It can be done immediately. I have power enough to bury the charred remains under the ground. We can then pour concrete over the top and mark it as a grave. It will cost you 220 galleons."

The wizard considered the idea for a moment. The serpent poked its triangular head out from inside the wizard's robes and hissed into his ear. The wizard frowned in response.

"No, leave it unmarked and disperse the ashes remains into the ocean," he said decisively. "Voldemort used his father's bone as part of his resurrection potion. I don't want anyone getting their hands on my parents." Calculating emerald eyes glanced around the neighborhood. "I can see a park and an elementary school only ten minutes away. Have a small house built here and sell it to a muggle couple. It should be a quick sell. I know the Dursleys hated it that Dudley and I had to take a bus to school, and envied that Polkiss family lived right opposite the school. Fat lot of good that did Piers."

'Will wonders never cease? A wizard with actual business sense?'

Griphook looked around and realized that the wizard was correct. He made a few quick mental calculations and realized that the property was rather ideally located for parents with young children, much like Harry Potter's.

"I do not know of this Piers."

Anger froze the wizard's face momentarily before vanishing like leprechaun gold. His voice was as cold as the breath of an ice drake when he replied. "Piers Polkiss, my elementary school classmate and friend of Dudley Dursley, my cousin."

His tone did not invite further discussion. Griphook let the matter drop. It was not his place to dig deeper at any rate. They did after all share a purely professional relationship.

"The cost remains the same. It will be done tonight. Perhaps we can visit Potter Estate after this. We can then return to Gringotts and have the requisition for the rebuilding and sale of Godric's Hollow signed."

The wizard cast a quick Tempus and then shook his head.

"We need to be quick. I will visit only long enough for the wards to accept me as the new owner. Then I must return to Hogwarts. It is already after curfew. I don't have time to explore. I promised someone my company tonight. He will be disappointed if I don't show up. I will stay to watch the cremation if it is alright with you."

'A beau?' the goblin wondered. The wizard was at that age, and he did possess the sinuous athletic build and flawless symmetrical features (marred only by his scar) that humans of both sexes found attractive.

"In that case, I will expect you in my office tomorrow morning at-"

"Eight is good. I will have to leave by ten," the wizard interjected firmly. "I cannot be available earlier or later."

Griphook nodded. He began inscribing glyphs using his blood about the property, sticking to common runes. Goblin runes were forbidden to be used while in the presence of humans. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Harry hunker down beside the combinations glyphs and study them critically.

"The Draconian Inferno and the Containment Circle..." the wizard muttered under his breath. "I read about them in my Ancient Runes textbook." The wizard glanced at him quizzically. "I thought inscribing runes in living blood is illegal."

Griphook nodded distractedly.

"Using living 'human' blood in any kind of spell craft is considered 'dark' by wizarding law. The law does not speak of 'non-human' blood." He carefully worked around the perimeter with the wizard following closely, observing the details. "If you wish to use these glyphs, be sure to use chalk or to dig the designs into the ground. Glyphs written in living human blood give off a particular aura signature that the Ministry is able to detect."

The wizard didn't reply, but gave a sharp jerk of his head in acknowledgement. Once the inscriptions were complete, Griphook asked the Boy-Who-Lived to cast an Incendio at the property. Griphook apparated out to give Harry Potter a few moments of privacy as he watched the entire cottage burn down to a crisp under the heat of the magical flames. The Draconian Inferno had the effect of multiplying the effects of the spell a thousand fold, easily incinerating even the concrete of the foundations.

"Hey, do you smell something burning?"

The muggle teenagers looked around part worried, part curious, but were unable to spot anything. The wizard glanced at them curiously. Evidently the Fidelius was nowhere near as foolproof as most would like to believe.

As the last of the flames died down, Griphook apparated back in and brought with him a dozen burly goblins who began the task of collecting the ashes so that they may be scattered in the sea.

"We can now go to Potter Estate," Griphook said, as the evacuation team continued their work. "Like before, your Potter signet ring will serve as portkey when tapped with your wand."

The wizard nodded and tapped his ring with the wand and intoned, "Potter Estate".

Griphook apparated to follow, and found the wizard standing in the overgrown front lawns and surveying the sprawling fortified Gothic manse with mixed feelings. Mr Potter held out his right hand, wordlessly requesting the Gringotts folder. The wizard quickly flipped through it to the visitor log for this particular property and then closed it again.

"Griphook, may I keep this folder?" Mr Potter asked politely.

'What, no threats, no demands?'

The goblin's opinion of the wizard went up another notch.

"The documents in the folder are copies and are yours to keep, Mr Potter. The originals cannot be taken out of Gringotts."

The wizard nodded and held out his right hand. "I will see you in your office tomorrow. Griphook, thank you for everything you did for me today."

Griphook clasped the hand briefly. The ebony silk of his glove was cool to the touch. "Pleasure doing business with you, Harry Potter."

"Likewise, I'm sure." Crystalline gaze still fixed firmly on the goblin, the wizard nodded thoughtfully and then said, "Spit it out, Griphook."

"Pardon me?"

"You have bad news for me, and have been looking for a polite and professional way to phrase it all night. But as you already know, there is no nice way around some things. Whatever it is, it cannot be worse than finding out that my parents' corpses were never given proper respect. Tell me what it is."

Griphook flushed dark blue with embarrassment. To be read so easily by a sixteen year old?

"The matter is not so very grave. An oversight has come to our attention and we wish to correct it."

The wizard grinned. "I am not blaming you for anything that isn't your fault, Griphook. Stop beating around the bush."

Griphook nodded. "We have discovered a vault into which all of your mail has been redirected to. The vault was created under your name by Albus Dumbledore, and the only exceptions to the redirection were mail carried by your personal owl, those of your close friends, Gringotts owls, and Hogwarts owls. The vault has never been accessed since it had been created."

"You mean, I have a vault full of fan mail? That does explain a lot." The wizard twitched his nose in disgust. "Script a standard Gringotts letter in my name explaining that I have never had access to any of my fan mail and have no wish to communicate with strangers and that I do not believe that the death of my parents is a celebratory event. Send back everything to everyone with a copy of that letter."

"There are many rare and expensive gifts in there. Are you sure you do not want to keep them?"

"Positive. I'm not going to let the wizarding world think that they have rights to my life just because they sent me expensive fan mail. I am rich enough to buy whatever I need; I don't need the charity."

"Very well. You will need to sign the original letter tomorrow, but I will warn you that sending back letters will cost you a sickle a piece and parcels will cost you a galleon. The total cost will be in the whereabouts of 3,000 galleons maybe even 3,500."

"That will be 3,500 galleons well spent," the wizard said dryly. "Also, put a notice in the Daily Prophet that all future fan mail will meet the same fate, that is, they will be returned unopened."

He snapped his fingers to summon his House-elf. "I will see you tomorrow, Griphook. Dobby, take me back to my rooms."

After the wizard had departed, Griphook stared at the empty spot for a few moments before apparating back to Gringotts. He admitted to himself that his new client pleased him. In life, Mr Potter's parents had been alarmingly coquettish, convinced that they could charm the Gringotts goblins with their dubious beauty and mannerisms as they did their own race. Harry Potter on the other hand possessed the reservation in mannerisms and the keen sense of courtesy that was prized amongst goblinkind.

Griphook had been removed from his position as vault escort and was permanently assigned to the Potter accounts after Director Ragnarok had gotten wind of the previous accountant's duplicity. It really was foolish of the now deceased goblin to allow himself to be tricked into being magically bound into servitude by Albus Dumbledore. Since it was a personal contract, it was not in direct violation of standing interracial treaties. The forced servitude had weighed heavily on Grimclaw's soul, and in the end he had been happy to have met his end as it became evident that was the only way the goblin would ever regain his freedom.

Sitting down at his desk, Griphook wrote a letter to the curse breakers division requesting a team to take down the Fidelius charm on Godric's Hollow. He would have to wait for Mr Potter to come in tomorrow and sign the letter. He additionally requested that the team be composed entirely of goblins. There were many wizards in the employ of Gringotts; it was an unfortunate inevitability that they would support one faction or the other, be it Dumbledore, the Ministry or the Dark Lord. With a high profile client like Hadrian James Potter, the goblin suspected that he would have his hands full ensuring absolute client confidentiality. It was all in a days work for a Gringotts goblin.

As he diligently composed his fan mail rejection letter, he never did notice the House-elf that had apparated in to leave behind a black and gold cobra just outside of his office and then apparate out. The nearly three hundred year old serpent apparated into the office undetected and settled in to observe the goblin from behind the protection of her undefeated Notice-Me-Not charm.

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Back in his suite at Hogwarts, Harry stripped off his formal wear and pulled on a sweater and a pair of trousers. He cleaned his hands and face on a damp towel that Dobby provided. Harry concentrated on the metaphorical thread that connected him to his familiar and funneled magic to strengthen it.

:Isis, what's happening on your end?:

Harry was glad that their master-familiar bond had strengthened enough to allow telepathic communication over long distances.

:It isss rather dull. The goblin did sssome paperwork earlier. He isss now consssulting with a dwarf builder and isss choosssing plansss and materialsss for the houssse to be built. They are haggling about pricccesss. He isss telling the dwarf that nothing will be finalized without your sssignature on the document.:

:Good. Keep an eye on him, and make sure that you are not seen. If they detect you, get out of there immediately!:

Isis laughed. :I will! Worry not for me, Provider.:

Harry worried nevertheless, but allowed the mental connection recede. He briefly fingered the slippery material of his Invisibility cloak, but then put it away in his jade pendant. It was nearly midnight, so there really should not be more than a handful of students out of bed. He could handle them (or outrun them) if need be.

As he walked down the corridors that led to the exit to the lake, Harry considered his accountant's behavior. The goblin appeared perfectly professional and reliable at first glance, but Harry knew better than to put all his faith in someone who was essentially a stranger. The wizard had noticed that Griphook had for some reason refused to meet his gaze squarely the entire time, instead choosing to glance at his left ear, or focus on his brows. One explanation would be that the goblin feared a Legilimency attack, but according to Hermione, goblin tradition mandated Occlumency training for all of their children before they hit puberty, when they would be considered legal adults. Harry knew that the goblin's reasons could easily be something completely innocuous, but Harry preferred to err on the side of caution.

Harry ignored the couples here and there trysting in various alcoves and abandoned classrooms that did not have guardian portraits, but stopped short when he heard a familiar muffled curse.

'Ron?'

Harry stood there uncertainly for a few moments, wondering if he could maybe take a peek to see who the redhead was snogging after curfew. To his knowledge Ron was not seeing anyone, but then again, they had not really been on good terms lately. When Harry heard a remarkably familiar female moan (although he had never heard her moan before), Harry quickly darted over to peer into the torch lit niche and recoiled in disgust.

It was Ron and he was snogging Romilda Vane, not Hermione like he had originally thought.

'Hang on isn't she fourteen? I thought Romilda was a psycho Boy-Who-Lived fangirl.'

Harry did not know how long he was there, but he couldn't look away. It was like staring at a train wreck, it was so horrifying, you just had to watch. There was absolutely no finesse involved as both teens frantically pulled, bit, licked and sucked at each other. Harry started when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He turned around and looked up.

"Firenze?"

The smile flitted over the centaur's features before he turned to the alcove.

"Mr Weasley, Miss Vane, please separate," he said sharply.

The two of them sprang apart immediately. Both of them were flushed with disarrayed hair and swollen lips, and they were staring at Harry in horror. Harry was rethinking his decision to not wear his Invisibility cloak.

"Harry!" Romilda looked mortified. "We were just..."

"Mate, you can't tell Hermione!"

Harry glanced at the hickey forming on Ron's neck.

"Why on earth would she care who you're snogging?" Harry wondered out loud.

Romilda darted forward and threw her arms around Harry's shoulders and whispered urgently into his ear. "Oh Harry, it isn't what you think! I don't want him, only you! I just wanted to be good for you!"

Repulsed, Harry tore her arms off his body and stepped back. Romilda was using Ron as a practice dummy for his sake? Ron didn't seem to mind that his 'girlfriend' (is that the right word?) had just thrown herself at Harry.

"Harry, you've got to understand!" Ron was gesticulating wildly. "Hermione has this stupid crush on me and I don't want to break her heart!"

Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Was Ron really that dense? Hermione had given up on Ron in their fourth year when he had accused her of "fraternizing with the enemy". These days the witch could barely stand his presence!

"That is very noble of you, Mr Weasley," Firenze said dryly. Ron and Romilda looked up as if seeing their Divinations teacher for the first time. Really, how hard is it to miss a palomino centaur standing barely four feet away from you?

"Ms Vane, you should not be out of bed. Mr Weasley, it was your responsibility as prefect to send her back to her bed. Ten points a piece from Gryffindor. You will both serve detention tomorrow with Professor Snape. Ms Vane, please return to your dorm immediately."

Ron flushed angrily. "You can't-"

"Shut up, Ron. Don't argue. He is a teacher!" Romilda hissed sharply, sensing danger. "Good night, Professor." Romilda smiled charmingly at Harry before dragging Ron away towards Gryffindor tower.

Her smile and her voice were remarkably similar to Hermione's. Harry wondered if it wasn't Ron who had the crush on Hermione, instead of the other way round.

"I thought you were going to be stargazing tonight..." Harry said once the Gryffindors were out of sight.

"I was. You did not come, so I grew concerned," the centaur explained quietly. The hand squeezed Harry's shoulder once more before releasing it. "I feared that ill had befallen you."

Harry felt an eyebrow go up on it's own accord (Yes, his eyebrows got a lot of exercise). That was a little dramatic. "I could have simply forgotten to come, you know."

The centaur shook his head in a fashion vaguely reminiscent of a stallion. "Mars burns ever brighter, and the constellation Aries is particularly prominent tonight."

Harry frowned. If he remembered correctly, constellation Aries was ruled by the planet Mars.

"I felt something too," Harry admitted.

Firenze looked surprised. "You are a Seer?"

Harry shook his head ruefully. "No, I'm just more magically sensitive than most. I have been in enough life changing moments to know what Fate's cold hand feels like. I can't read the natural elements like centaurs or act as a medium for prophesies like Professor Trelawney. All I know is that something important happened tonight, and that it had to do with me."

The centaur looked amused. "That would be the gist of it, yes." He brought his face close to Harry's and peered into his eyes. "You have been crying."

The words were said with the same sad solemnity the centaur used when delivering portents of doom and devastation. Harry couldn't help but smile at the idiosyncrasy.

"I had a rather enlightening and eventful evening," the wizard said wryly. When the centaur looked distressed, Harry added, "I just had some business to take care of. I'm okay now."

"It is late. Do you still wish to visit the lake?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, let's. I don't think I'll be able to get any sleep tonight."

Firenze looked curious, but did not push for information, something that Hermione, Ron or Remus would never have been able to do. His friends really were too nosy for their own good.

The centaur began walking away with Harry following closely behind. Once they were outside, Firenze paused and stiffened. Harry followed his gaze and spotted a trio of mermaids on the shore of the lake tending to their long mossy green hair.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked, concerned with the look of pain and longing in the centaur's eyes.

"I have not been welcome amongst my kind for nearly three seasons now."

Harry was confused. "Firenze, I don't see any centaurs."

The centaur blinked rapidly and stared at Harry in shock. "You cannot be so naive."

"So the rumours are true then. Harry Potter was raised as a muggle. That would account for your barbaric behavior. No proper wizard would ever want to be seen without their robes."

"Malfoy," Harry said neutrally as he watched the Slytherin step out of the shadows and look him up and down, his thin aristocratic nose scrunched in disgust. "Should you really be walking around in the castle alone at night? You have made any number of enemies last year while you were on the squad."

Malfoy narrowed his steel gray eyes. "Is that a threat?" he hissed venomously.

Harry noted that although Malfoy looked perfectly groomed as he always did, his features were sunken as if from loss of sleep and his eyes looked haunted. Harry could see his collar bones sticking out prominently indicating that the wizard had lost some weight.

The Slytherin was probably taking a stroll around the castle to stem his turbulent thoughts. Harry knew as he had taken midnight strolls around the castle many times in the past for the same reason. The feud between him and Malfoy had been pretty one-sided since his second year, when Harry had visited the Slytherin common room and figured out that Malfoy was exactly like Ron, just raised on different prejudices.

Harry raised his wand and Malfoy threw up a Protego. Harry was impressed by its strength and estimated that it would likely hold for fifteen seconds at most.

"Accio Firebolt."

Harry caught the broomstick in his right hand and offered it to Malfoy.

"Fly around a bit. It is safer. Summon Dobby when you are done. He'll bring it back to me."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes disbelievingly. The shield dissipated. "What are you playing at?" he snarled.

"If you get injured, Gryffindor will be accused and we will lose house points," Harry lied glibly. Malfoy would likely have a hard time believing that Harry was genuinely concerned for his well-being. Harry tossed the broomstick at the Slytherin who reflexively caught it. Harry frowned at the action. He had the same Seeker reflexes. Would he also instinctively catch something dangerous just because it was thrown at him?

"Change your mind, Potter?" Malfoy sneered misinterpreting the frown.

Harry shook his head and didn't bother replying. Instead he tossed his head at the centaur, indicating that he should follow, and moved towards the lake.

"Wait, Potter."

Harry did not bother acknowledging the Slytherin and kept walking. Malfoy was just a spoiled little boy at heart, and would not be able to resist the temptation of being able to ride not just any racing broom, but a top of the line racing broom that belonged to the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry heard Malfoy take off the ground behind him. The Slytherin flew around Harry and hovered a foot off the ground in front of him.

"Last chance, Potter. Why are you doing this?"

Harry smirked. Just as he predicted, Malfoy was not offering to return the broom until he got to have a decent ride.

"Would you honestly believe anything I have to say?" Harry asked reasonably. He hadn't meant to sound so tired, but it had been a very long day, and he was looking forward to spending some quiet time with his new non-human friend.

The Slytherin's face lost some of its animosity, and looked at Harry with an expression that was disturbingly similar to Ron's when he regarded Dumbledore. Even the words he said were the same.

"It's true. You really are a nutter."

Malfoy flew away at top speed, completely heedless of the fact that his carefully gelled hair was becoming mussed.

"Should I be taking points for insulting a fellow student?"

"No, that would be favoritism. How about we leave that to the Heads of House." Harry flicked a smile at the centaur. "Besides, it wasn't an insult. Just an observation. The wizarding world has very little to do with things like logic, order or sanity."

"So, I've noticed," Firenze muttered, settling near the boulder, trying to ignore the mermaids that first glared at him balefully, and then proceeded to ignore his presence. Harry settled cross-legged on what he now thought of as 'his' boulder and began transfiguring small rocks into wet cotton balls (which was a lot harder than transfiguring them dry). They sat there for a long time in companionable silence broken only by the whispered conversations between the mermaids. Harry had noticed the building tension in the centaur's form. Even if he did not understand the words, Harry figured that the ladies were speaking ill of the centaur and Firenze found the gossip to be hurtful. It was past midnight when Harry finally decided to speak his mind.

"You will have to get used to it you know," Harry murmured softly so that his voice did not carry over to the mermaids.

The centaur looked upset, but some of the tension bled out of his form.

"How do you 'get used to it' as you say? How do you endure the slander and the ridicule of being shamed and marked?" Firenze asked bitterly.

Harry stared at the centaur's profile and saw traces of himself in his anguish. He rose to his feet and stood before the centaur forcing their gazes to meet.

"You learn to live with it. It helps to find people who will not look down upon you for choosing to be true to yourself. It will be difficult finding those handful of people without prejudices, but if you look hard enough and long enough, you will find them. Hermione stayed by me through thick and thin, and it was only last year that I realized how much she meant to me. Without her, I would be as alone as you are now."

The mermaids were pretending to not be eavesdropping on the conversation, when it was painfully obvious that they were straining to hear.

"Search long and hard? That is not particularly comforting. It sounds impossible to be able to find such people."

Harry did not know why, but the dismissive words made him feel angry.

"I am not trying to comfort you. Just spelling out facts as they are," he hissed into the centaur's face. "If you want instant gratification, then you can do what I did for the last five years before I finally decided to use my head. Find someone who will lie to you to make you happy day in and day out in exchange for wealth. Ron stood by me because I own a racing broom and because I get him expensive Christmas gifts. He abandoned me every time things started to get rough and believed every vicious rumour that circulated the castle. You have your teacher's salary and your beauty. Just don't expect it to buy you loyalty."

Firenze reared to his feet angrily. "You overstep your bounds."

Harry recoiled. At full height, the centaur was as intimidating as he was beautiful. Harry thought back to what he had just said and was suitably ashamed. A night without his familiar and he was already reverting to his callous, thoughtless behavior?

"You're right. I apologize. I had no right to say what I did. I was angry with Ron. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

The centaur seemed to relax, so Harry continued. "I stand by what I said earlier though. You mustn't let your pain consume you. It takes strength of character to stand up for your beliefs like you did. I am sure that there will be many people who would be honored to have your friendship. I am sorry to have upset you. I'll take my leave now. Good night."

Harry walked briskly through the corridors leading to his suite. He ran off his mouth, and now he had lost any chances he had at making a new friend! A Seer! It was practically his duty to look deeper than the surface. Harry wanted more friends that just Hermione who could actually see the person behind the scar. He heard hoofbeats behind him and paused, hoping against hope. Harry checked to make sure that there were no portraits around. Was he forgiven, or did the centaur intend to assign him detention?

The centaur slowed down his approach when he spotted the wizard, and slowly walked over to where Harry was standing.

"It is not safe for you to be walking around in the castle alone at night. You have made any number of enemies around the school by simply existing."

Harry regarded the centaur with some confusion. Is that all he had to say. Did he come to throw Harry's words back at him. The wizard berated himself for letting himself hope.

"I scored a double Outstanding on my DADA OWLs. I can take care of myself."

The centaur looked distressed. He lowered himself to the ground until he was at eye level with the wizard.

"I let myself forget that I am not alone in my pain, that there are others like me." he said softly. Raising his right hand, Firenze ghosted his fingers over the jagged scar on Harry's forehead, mimicking Harry's actions at the beginning of the term. "We are not the only ones that have suffered scars on our bodies and our hearts. In the course of the war, there will be many more like us. Will you forgive me my conceit?"

Harry shook his head in surprise. "You're apologizing? It was my fault. I pushed too soon and too hard. I shouldn't have been so ham-handed. That's Ron's specialty."

The centaur smiled. "Then we have forgiven each other?"

Harry felt himself mirroring the smile. "I guess so. I will see you tomorrow after curfew?"

The centaur rose to his feet. "Come see me in my classroom. You can do your homework while I read the flames."

Harry nodded and allowed himself to be walked back to his suite.

"Good night, Mr Potter."

He flicked his blue eyes towards a portrait. Harry got the message. The centaur was aware that the portraits were the headmaster's spies.

"Thank you for walking me back. Good night, Professor."

Harry clicked his portrait door shut, and breathed a sigh of relief.

:Isis, I think I made a new friend.: Harry projected to his familiar who was still at Gringotts.

He felt her rapidly shuffle through his memories.

:I cannot leave you alone for a moment, can I?: she said dryly.

:I'll try extra hard not to put my foot in my mouth again, Isis.:

Harry felt his familiar's confusion. She never did understand limb related quips.

Dobby appeared in front of him looking concerned.

"Something wrong, Dobby?"

"Former master Draco Malfoy summoned Dobby to give back Master Harry Potter Sir's broomstick. Dobby checked for spells, but there were none." The House-elf looked very confused. "Former Master Draco wanted Dobby to be giving you this. Master Harry Potter Sir is to be returning book to former Sir once read."

Harry accepted the thick book from Dobby with some puzzlement. He hadn't expected a thank you gift. Ron had never been so gracious. But then again, he did come from a poor family, a claim that Harry could not even begin to fathom. How could you continue to remain poor if you had a husband and a son working for the Ministry, a son in a bank, another in a dragon preserve and two who were the wealthy proprietors of a joke shop? All of the above were mid to high paying jobs, and unless the Weasleys suffered from some kind of hereditary gambling problem, or were frequently burglarized, how could they possibly be so poor?

Harry glanced at the title of the book. It read in stark bold letters, 'Non-Human Civilizations for the Idiots and the Unwary'.

'A dummy series for wizards?'

Harry let the implicit insult pass and put away the book on his night stand, resolving to read it the next day once he was done with his club meeting. He had purchased a book on Non-Human Civilizations when he was in Diagon Alley, but the book was a difficult read, and went into insurmountable detail. Maybe this book will be easier to get through. Harry was beginning to understand Hermione's love of knowledge. On his part, it wasn't so much an overt affection for books as much as compensating for those little things you supposedly picked up if you were raised in the wizarding world.

Harry fell asleep sitting down on the bed. Dobby caught him and tucked him into bed. The wonderful thing about having a House-elf was that they were able to anticipate your every need, be it current or future, even if you were still ignorant. Dobby considerately switched his casual wear with his night wear with a snap of his fingers and apparated to Potter Estate to spruce up the place. His master would need a bolt-hole soon, and Dobby would make sure that it was ready for his master when the time came.

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Author's Note:

I was rather surprised when I had finished writing this chapter, given that I have exams looming over the horizon. Writing a page or two every other day can apparently go a long way. I will try to have my next chapter released by new years eve, but again, I am not making any promises.

My beta readers tell me that the first half of this chapter was dull reading, and I will admit that yes it is a little more detailed than was strictly necessary. I had fun trying to write from a goblin's perspective. I wanted to use this chapter to bury the past and build a rapport between Griphook and Harry. The support will become a critical plot element later on, and I don't like using massive plot dumps. I prefer building things up in a hopefully progressive and natural manner.

So what do you guys think of my portrayal of Firenze. There are very few fanfictions out there that treat him as a major character, so I feel like I have a lot of room to play around with his personality.

Also, does it look like I am needlessly bashing Dumbledore and the Weasleys? My beta reader keeps telling me that this is not a fanfiction, but more of a anti-Dumbledore/Weasley rant. Seriously guys, I don't hate any of them. Just pointing out some things that niggled me while I had been reading the series.

Anyhow, please do review. As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

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