Debts Must be Paid

Harry was sitting at his desk reading a potions text when Hedwig returned. As much as he hated the subject, he needed every edge he could get to keep Snape from failing him.

"Hey there girl," Harry smiled as he greeted the bird, "Did Hermione have a letter for me then?"

The white owl dropped two letters on Harry's desk and plucked the treat from his fingers with a gentle bark.

"Two letters?" she shook her head, "Maybe she already had one but wanted to send a reply to my letter? Oh well. Thanks Hedwig."

Harry smiled as he picked up the first letter and read through Hermione's words. A smile that turned to a frown when he got to the end:

P.S. In reply to your letter, don't get caught up in Potions books – Snape won't let you get a good mark anyway and you can not afford to drop your other subjects for him. Read something useful rather than something boring.

"That's odd," he muttered to himself before turning to the unmarked envelope, "Did she make a mistake?"

Mistakes did not seem like Hermione, so he opened the second envelope and skimmed the contents of the letter. Shock warred with confusion across as he re-read the letter, before giving way to rage as he glanced up at his owl.

"She ask you to give this to Dumbledore?" he hissed, getting a nod in response, "Good. Any more and you let me know. And Dumbledore can have this now." Harry took a deep breath to calm himself as he resealed the letter, "Would you like to rest a bit first?"

Hedwig shook her head and grabbed the letter as she flew off into the night once more.

"Be safe, girl." Harry whispered. He thought he heard a bark in reply before returning to his potion book. Time to finish the chapter.

. . .

Hedwig returned a little sooner than he was expecting, a third letter clutched in her claws.

"Is that from Dumbledore?" he asked her, and she shook her head in response, "Oh, Ron." he skimmed the letter before returning it, "Try not to get noticed." he whispered to Hedwig as she prepared for her flight, "I think it's about time I spoilt you a little and wouldn't want you to miss tomorrow."

With a soft bark of affection, the owl took off into the night once more. Leaving a few Owl treats in her dish Harry gave in to his annoyance and decided to try and solve his frustrations. Slipping on his Invisibility Cloak and a Weasly Wizz disguise he faded into the night. It was only half done and he needed to do some shopping.

. . .

Unfortunately, Diagon Alley was mostly closed through the witching hour, as even those witches and wizards who worked a full time job needed their sleep. Knockturn, however, was a different matter. Though his disguise made it patently obvious that he was disguised, the desire to pass unrecognised was common enough in Knockturn that nobody commented on it or attempted to see through it.

Shopping at this late hour meant that all the petty grey-marketeers where out selling borderline illegal items – nothing bad enough for the ministry to come looking for them, but bad enough not to be bandied about in the open. A snaggle-toothed witch sold him a second hand wand that she promised would muffle his magical signature enough to confuse most detection wards.

"Even fool the ministry search wards if you keep to little spells," she cackled, "Course, they don't really care what you cast or who is casting so confusing the signature only goes so far"

"How little is little?" Harry asked as he paid her for the wand.

"Depends on the caster," she confessed, "You force more power into the spell, it looks bigger on the wards. Especially if the spell can't use all the magic. I got a book of useful little charms that ought to be small enough for anyone that don't overdo it. Ought to be good for your little kids to practice too," She finished with a leer.

"Let's see it," he asked, thinking that the concerned father story was as good an excuse as any. It wouldn't matter who believed it, just so long as he had it.

. . .

After purchasing a handful of obscure books and potions Harry retired for a few hours sleep. Fortunately, long years of service to the Dursleys had somewhat inured him to the perils of too little sleep, and one of the potions he had picked up last night was an 'Antidote to a Sleepless Night, dangerous if used frequently' so he had a backup plan if things went wrong. As the Dursleys tended to ignore their 'Freak' boarder after food was on the table, Harry disappeared back into his room to read.

The little book of little charms looked to be an old republishing of an even older book, with a forward commenting that the Ministry had recently arranged to upgrade their detections to pick up muffled spells – and contracted the whole thing out to a drinking buddy of the minister that did an even shoddier job than the first crony. Or some such. Harry was a bit suspicious that it was so convenient, resolving to test it before trusting it, but the little charms in the little book certainly seemed effective – many of them seemed to be variants of those he already knew, sacrificing convenience for subtlety.

At the back of the book was a charm to muffle a wand, with a note that it would need to be replenished weekly and would hamper any spell cast until it wore off, with a suggestion to acquire an inherently muffled wand for long term use. Harry resolved to check whether his new acquisition was inherently muffled or merely enchanted at the earliest opportunity.

The little book of little charms was written for the children of a previous age, so it was relatively easy to absorb once he had adjusted to the archaic language. He read it over his shoulder whilst giving Hedwig a thorough grooming. After she settled down for a good day's sleep, Harry sat at his desk and copied down a handful of the more useful spells onto a separate sheet of parchment for future reference before turning to read his other finds. Just because he had only intended to get a backup wand for emergencies didn't mean that he wasn't going to take advantage of the muffled wand now that he had one.

Unfortunately, the other books where not designed to be assimilated so simply and extracting useful information from a pile of books was not his primary talent. Glancing at the small pile before him, his heart sank as he began to calculate how long it would take to find the answers he needed, even assuming that these books had the information he needed.

"If only I could still rely on Hermione," he muttered to himself, thinking of the bushy haired girl who read so much faster than he could ever hope too, "She's good at distilling information for her friends. Unless..." an idea began to bloom in his head as he quickly skimmed through the remaining tomes, "There has to be a way, there has to be."

. . .

That night Harry slipped away from the house as soon as the washing up was done, reaching Diagon Alley while the shops and even Gringotts where still open. Wandering through the alley he stopped to pick up as many catalogues as he could lay his hands on before stepping into the Bank and walking up to the nearest teller.

"Mr. Harry Potter wishes to make a withdrawal."

"And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?" asked the goblin, in reply to which Harry produced the requested item.

"Very Well, Griphook!" the teller summoned another goblin to escort Harry to his Vault and back.

The journey was uneventful, with Harry quickly shovelling a small pile of currency into a mokeskin pouch before returning to the surface to find a pair of goblins waiting for him.

"Mr. Potter?" asked the taller of the two, pretending not to notice the wand that had appeared in Harry's hand "Gringotts wishes to inquire as to whether you intend to reply to our letter?"

"What letter?"

"The one we sent you two weeks ago regarding your inheritance."

"I don't believe we've seen it. No letters from Gringotts, nor reference to an inheritance," Harry frowned, "Thank you for bringing this to our attention, sir, I believe we shall have to increase the security around our mail."

"Happy to be of Service, sir."

"Would you happen to have a copy of the letter I can peruse?"

"You may take this one," The Goblin replied, handing an envelope over, "It is a follow up letter reminding you that the deadline expires in two weeks, and contains a full copy of the original for cases like this."

"Thank you again," Harry inclined his head towards the Goblin, "I may very well return to provide my response in person if I can not trust my mail."

"An honour to see a human taking his affairs so seriously," the Goblin replied.

. . .

After leaving Gringotts, Harry returned to Knockturn under the cover of twilight to revisit the witch who sold him his new wand. He found her making her way up the narrow alley and fell into step beside her.

"Good evening,"

"What you want?" she snapped, suspicion in her eyes.

"Regarding that wand you sold me yesterday..."

"Everyone knows muffles aren't as powerful..." she started to reply.

"Irrelevant." Harry snapped back, "Is it inherent or charmed?"

"You read the book," she muttered as she came to a stop, "You read it and understood."

"Yes, but that is not my answer."

"Inherent." she replied, "And thank you."

"What?"

"I wrote that book for my own children," the witch explained, "but you may be the first man outside the family to properly look at it. Nobody else ever asked that."

"Is the muffling charm subtle enough to go unnoticed?"

"If cast from a well muffled wand it is," she agreed as she started walking again, "The wands I sell are made from fragments of several other wands – it's the conflicting magical signatures that muffle the spell. Is there anything else you needed."

"Yes." Harry agreed, before explaining the type of magic he sought. The witch was able to point him towards a few of the less open sellers on the street before she opened her stall for the night.

. . .

Harry did not stay out for long – he had to get back before his absence aroused suspicion, and the longer he stayed out the greater the odds that he would be missed. Concealing his new books under the bed, he changed in the dark and managed a good night's sleep. The following morning, with breakfast done, he skimmed through his new finds and was happy to see that he had been right.

"There is a way to do it then," a sly grin bloomed on his face, "And why not? It's for the greater good after all... and I will be offering her a choice."

His mind made up, he took up a fresh sheet of parchment and began to copy out the details he would need for his plan.

. . .

"You know, I found something interesting about you."

The voice woke Hermione from a sound sleep and her hand shot towards her absent wand. "Who's there?" she demanded.

"It's me," the voice answered, "Your... friend... and I found something interesting about you."

"Harry? What is it?" She asked nervously. She couldn't find her wand and was acutely aware that she was helpless. This wouldn't normally be a problem, normally she would be the first one to tell you that Harry was harmless... that she was safe with him. But something about his manner was... odd.

"I learned that you've been telling Dumbledore about me," Harry spoke with eerie calm, "That you betrayed me."

"But he's Dumbledore," Hermione protested weakly, "He just wants what's best for you,"

"Now now, Hermione," Harry mocked her, ""You know better than that, care to try again?"

"He said it was for the greater good," Hermione sobbed, "He said it would all be for the best,"

"You really think that it is okay to ruin someone else's life for the greater good?" Harry asked in an unnaturally level tone, "To make their choices for them, to enslave them, to make them your tool for the greater good?

"I'm sorry Harry," Hermione wailed, "So sorry."

"That may be, but you have yet to answer the question."

"He said it was for the best."

"Should I take that as a yes, then?"

"Yes." Hermione whispered, hating herself for what she had done and for lacking the courage to admit the nature of her crime in the months before the confrontation. Above all, she hated herself for ruining her friendship with the 'boy-who-lived'.

"Wonderful," Harry said with a smile, "I knew that I could count on you of all people to look at things clinically. If your goal is the greater good then your means do not matter, they are justified by the ends, are they not?"

"I'm sorry," she chanted, her head in her hands so she could avoid looking at those betrayed green eyes "Sorry sorry sorry,"

"Don't be sorry," he said gently, "You gave me the push I needed to do what is necessary."

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked fearfully.

"I'm going to serve the greater good." Harry said vaguely, "Do you remember our first year? When Ron and I rescued you from that troll?"

"Yes," she agreed, feeling sick for betraying the boy who had saved her life, "I remember."

"Excellent; now tell me: would you have survived had we not intervened?"

"No." Hermione drooped even more, "I wouldn't."

"Then you won't contest the fact that you owe me a life debt." Harry added grandly.

"You and Ron." the miserable girl answered, flinching at every word that came out of her former friends mouth.

"Surprised that you don't know this one," Harry's voice took on a lecturing tone, "As you where saved as a result of my actions and as Ron was there at my suggestion, your life debt belongs to me and me alone. That leaves out the fact that you where only in danger as a direct result of Ron's actions, which would preclude you owing him any life debt over this situation anyway. Do you understand?"

"Yes Harry, I understand."

"Good, very good. Can you tell me what I can demand of you because of the debt you owe me?"

"Anything," Hermione whispered, "Any One Act, even if it would result in my death." The girl's voice calmed as she spoke, as she begun to accept her fate.

"Correct," Harry said proudly, as if he were a teacher shining praise on a particularly bright student, "But don't worry; I don't plan to ask for anything that would harm you."

"You don't?" she asked with growing hope.

"Of course not," Harry said quickly, "I am your friend, after all, even if you did treat that friend ship rather... poorly."

"Yes, Harry." she said in a subdued tone.

"All that I require of you is that you assist me in a ritual," he explained, "One that will not result in your death or in any physical harm. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good," Harry concluded, "Read this. Tell me when you've mastered your part."

Hermione spent several minutes reading over the parchment he'd prepared that afternoon before recoiling in horror. "But... Harry, this... this would..."

"Will make you my slave, yes." Harry agreed coldly, "But don't worry, it's for the greater good, after all."

"But..."

"Shoe's a bit different when it's on the other foot?" he inquired with a cold, cruel laugh, "You should have thought of that before; now read."

. . .