Dimension Black- Chp- 4 (Patreon)

"Rituals?–those are dark in nature," Sirius said with a fury-stricken voice.

"This Peverell, he doesn't seem like a light wizard. His interests are toward the dark, rituals using creature parts as such." Sirius continued with a snarl.

"Don't be like that, Sirius. He's been helping me; my eyes are healed due to those rituals—he has also treated my malnutrition." Rose said with a nervous look.

"That's how they lure in innocent wixens, then he'll teach you Dark arts, followed by Unforgivables and so on." Sirius ranted, pacing in her bedroom, where they were seated.

"He will not—don't be so paranoid, Padfoot," Rose replied in a wobbly voice.

"No, I won't." Said a voice from the door, which was open. Both of them had failed to notice his entrance.

Sirius walked toward him, fire of determination burning in his eyes. "And I don't trust a word you say. If you're so good-hearted, then you would have adopted her legally, with the help of Dumbledore."

"I don't trust Albus Dumbledore; he's not as noble as he shows. And I was planning to adopt her legally, but her legal guardianship is already in the hands of Dumbledore." Harry said, looking him in the eyes.

"Hah—I told you, Rose. Any good sort of wizard wouldn't badmouth the headmaster; he's the best." Sirius said without looking toward the girl.

"And isn't that what I have been telling you, he's kidnapped you illegally from Dursley and—"

"I never wanted to stay there, Sirius. Didn't I tell you how much I despised them?" Rose asked in a little voice.

"But...but, Dumbledore said—" Sirius started at that, but began again.

"He didn't check on her," Harry said flatly. "I went to check on her; our families have ties."

"I found her half-dead on the floor, her walrus of an uncle ready for the second round of belting." Harry continued eyeing him dangerously.

Sirius spluttered, eyes going to Rose to confirm his words. The girl nodded, looking down at the floor.

"B-but Dumbledore said he checked on her regularly, her relatives were uncaring and unloving, but there's never been mention of abuse," Sirius said out loud, sinking back into his chair, head held in hands.

"He either lied to you, or his contact never checked on her. For I can't see him taking out time from his busy schedule to check on her personally." Rose took her own seat. This revelation has shaken the image of the all-knowing headmaster in her mind.

She had always seen him as someone who knew everything, but of course, the old man had too many duties to look into her well-being directly. The thought came out as bitter as it sounded.

"But he's Dumbledore, he knows everything," Sirius said without any emotion, his eyes had a faraway look.

"He doesn't, not really. You see him as the revered figure, a leader of light-side, as he has presented himself. But he's a human afterall, and no human is perfect." Harry said in a knowing tone, his view on Dumbledore was the same as when he was in school.

His thirty-five years of long life have taught him much, and one of those lessons was that no human is perfect, not even himself.

He sighed before exiting the room. He entered the library and worked through the old shelves, a bit rummaging, and he got an introductory text on rituals.

He returned to Rose's room, where Sirius was seated on his chair with an intense look on his face. His eyes focused on the wooden flooring, and his lips were unmoving.

"Here, it'll let you understand rituals and sacrificial magic," Harry said, passing the book toward his godfather. Rose looked at it with something akin to curiosity in her green eyes.

Sirius looked up at the book blankly before directing a cold glare toward him. "I know enough of rituals, I am a Black. My family grimoire is filled with these types of dark books."

Harry was annoyed now; his own godfather was the same. Idiotic beliefs, the man saw every piece of magic practised by the grey and dark faction as dark magic. It was such a narrow-minded view; Harry had tried to follow it, but couldn't. He was just too curious for his own good, nosy to an extent.

But this Sirius should be different; he hasn't backed down from using lethal spells while tackling Death Eaters. His track record was proof of his hypocrisy.

The Black family was always famous for Curses and collecting cursed objects. Rituals are not curses, as much as I know." Harry said sarcastically.

Sirius grunted, taking the book from his hand finally, but the look in Rose's eye told Harry how curious the girl was about the book.

"A second, please." He took back the book before taping once on its cover with his staff. The book was duplicated, and he handed one to Rose while returning the original to Sirius.

Peverell family's library was spelt to copy a book with a mere tap of a wand, but you couldn't move the copy or original tomb out of the manor ward. Harry could look into the ward and most likely disassemble it, but he didn't need that.

Sirius looked at the book before looking at Rose's copy; he then stared at her face unashamedly. "You shouldn't read that. I don't think it's wise."

"Be relaxed, Mr Black, the book only details the need for sacrifice, and a few rituals that can increase a wixen's magical ability, without harming them in anyway." Harry intoned calmly.

Sirius glanced at him with a narrowed gaze before walking out of the room. He sighed. It was going to be hard if Sirius kept him at arm's length.

(_-_-_X_-_-_)

2nd August, 1943.

Harry Potter was dressed accordingly as he had to venture into the Ministry today, and he had received his migration papers this morning from a normal-looking Barn owl.

The next step in his plan was to take his O.W.L and N.E.W.T, without them, his credentials were a bit weak. And he surely wanted to look into this guild system.

Moreover, those two certificates would allow him to study Alchemy, or any other subject listed in the mastery category. There were a dozen, but Harry only had an interest in a few.

Rune-based magic, Rituals, Warding, Alchemy, and Duelling. A mastery in each would elevate his standing among the guilds, and his unbelievable skills in some of those wouldn't be questioned.

So, here he was. Dressed in a white shirt, black pair of trousers and black shoes, underneath a black formal dress robe. No doubt that his sudden appearance would cause a stir; his venture in Knockturn Alley had seemed to form a general opinion of him in the eyes of Wizarding Britain.

With two quick jumps, he was in the alleyway with the red telephone booth. The gateway to Ministry, he walked to the booth and entered it silently. Popping a coin into the slot, he was greeted with the melodious voice of a receptionist witch.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magical Britain. Please state your name and business for arriving at the ministry." It spoke out in an emotionless voice.

"Lord Harry Peverell, here on the business of the Department of Magical Education." He spoke out, the fake telephone chimed before expelling a batch, with his name and reason.

Harry waited as the lift brought him down to the Ministry atrium, the female voice thanking him and instructing him to get his wand verified or something like that.

He walked down the dark wooden flooring, the lights giving out ian ndigo hue as they reflected from the blue ceiling. The golden symbols were moving around like a snitch, erratically and fast.

The ministry artium was as busy as with employees arriving by the floo on one side, while on the other side the fireplaces were barren of crowd. Harry avoided a few busy workers, steering to their jobs in haste, and at the other end of the atrium was a wand checker.

"Wand," He asked. Harry handed him his new wand. His staff was too volatile in the hands of others, and powerful enough to match the death-stick.

"Black walnut, and dragon heart-string. 12 inches." The man intoned, handing his wand back, not even once looking up.

Harry replaced the wand in the holster and took the way toward the education department. He entered the lift, crowded due to the late morning workers.

The occupants of the public lift eyed him warily and a bit curiously. No guess, his bearded look was giving him a mysterious aura, add that to the fact that he was literally an unknown person here. With only a name in the ministry archive and now a migration certificate, his name wasn't well known.

"Excuse me," He said, placing himself in the middle, as people hurried aside. Level seven was where he was headed. The departments for education and sports coexisted on the same level.

Harry was truly shocked when a mop of familiar red hair entered the lift, Percy Weasley. Of course, his presence shouldn't be surprising; the man had already joined the ministry as Crouch's assistant at the time of Harry's fourth year.

The man didn't say a word and closed the lift at his entry. It jerked forward, and people pushed him a bit forward due to the unwanted movement. Harry noticed Percy steadying himself by grabbing the hanging handle.

Slowly but evenly, the lift started to empty; there weren't many people to travel out of the ministry at this time of the day. When the lift reached level five, there were only six individuals in the lift, and Harry found a few glancing at his batch curiously.

It was not a reason for worry; most people had forgotten the history of the Peverell family. Confining it to just the pages of a children's fairy tale book, their accomplishments were forgotten and not usually mentioned.

The trinkets they had created spilling through the tides of time, long forgotten. His surname would cause riot into winzengamot, but that was not the issue right now—at present, his focus was on exams he would take today and tomorrow.

He exited at level seven, leaving a disguised individual behind, probably going to level nine, DOM. His two companion seeked their way and walked off toward the sports section. The education department wasn't that big much as he remembered, a crucial department that had suffered under the rule of Cornelius Fudge in his own world.

Subjects like warding, alchemy, runic magic, rituals, shamanism, and Magizoology were ignored totally. The Ministry had wiped out their curriculum and removed them from all the state-owned schools; educational reforms introduced by Fudge himself made some of them illegal to teach.

But here it was different; Harry found that the department here was vast. In fact, one of the biggest in the ministry, it shadowed even the Department of International Magical Co-operation.

Harry eyed the several department boards, which were first divided according to years. The first department covered first to fifth year, ending at the O.W.L Subjects offered were the standard of his world, plus three more electives: Latin, Healing and Duelling.

In the sixth year, two more options for elective was added, and Latin coursework was completed in the fifth year. The two more electives were beginner's Alchemy, and Runic magic—merged with runes.

It was kind of presentable to look at, better than his own world's old curriculum. He nodded before crossing the hallway and entering the room with the 'Exam administrator' board hung outside.

A line of three desks welcomed him into the room, one witch and two wizards seated on those desks respectively. He approached the witch's desk with slow strides.

"I want to schedule my OW.L. and N.E.W.T. I have been out of the country and out of the reach, so I need to take them." He said.

The witchlooked up at him, squinted for a second before procuring a form from her desk. He was given a self-inking quill and sent to a desk to fill out the form.

"Please attach a copy of your migration certificate, for reference. And a small picture of yours, passport-sized." The witch said in a business tone.

Harry quickly filled his form, his father named as Ignotus James Peverell, and his mother as Elizabeth Peverell. Nobody would read his father's middle name; it was only used for official forms and certificates. Lily's name would be just too suspicious; he would be taking in the girl-who-lived, and if both of their parents had Lily somewhere in their names.

Luckily, he had the mind to bring his migration certificate with him to the ministry; he copied the certificate and passed it on to the lady at the desk. Who was now gaping at him, it seemed she had just recalled her history classes. Although Professor Bings was a bore, and only droned on about goblins, there were history journal talking about old families, laws and traditions.

Harry had smuggled one of them from Knockturn Alley, as the ministry under Hermione had become a sort of light-oriented. Not that Harry was against that, but it sure did make reading texts about pureblood and family magic seem like a declaration of his aligned interest.

Harry wasn't a pure-blood elitist, far from it, even against it. But he did want to know about the history of families; he had succeeded, even with Blacks.

"Lord Peverell, you'll have to wait for a few minutes. The question papers are being printed; it'll only take a moment." The girl stammered over her words, pressing a knob-shaped button on her desk.

Harry nodded before taking a seat in the comfy sofa in front of the receptionist's desk. After a few minutes, a man entered the room, dressed in formal robes, a red clipboard in his hand. He wasn't very old, nor was he young. He was in his late forties, at the most.

"Mr Peverell, you'll need to choose the subjects you desire to take exams in." He said, pushing the board toward him.

There was a list of subjects for him, and he scanned through the paper before ticking the ones he needed an O.W.L in. Transfiguration, Charms, Potion, Herbology, D.A.D.A, Astronomy, Arithmency, Runes, and Duelling.

Muggle studies, Divination, and Magical creatures wouldn't help him much. Healing and History were out; he had no interest in learning the latter. Healing for him worked with rituals.

Nine O. wasn't modest, if he said so himself. He wasn't Hermione, who chose every elective possible in the third year to gain knowledge. That girl should have been in Ravenclaw; even the claws agreed to that statement.

The man looked at the board passed back to him with an astonished expression, "Nine subjects? Mate, that would take two days."

Harry nodded. The man went back, and Harry had to wait for nearly fifteen minutes before the man returned.

"Mr Peverell, you'd take your theory and practical exams in two shifts, as you've taken nine subjects, we will have to adjust to that." The man said.

"Practical and theory, together would be two hours each... Duelling is only practical for thirty minutes at most." The examiner said in a no-nonsense tone.

(_-_-_X_-_-_)

4th August, 1994.

The exams actually took two complete days, in total sixteen and a half hours. He was sure his results would be good, but it wasn't fair, was it? He was getting his O.W.L in his mid-thirties, while normal students do it at the age of sixteen, or at maximum seventeen.

He was to get his results today and apply for the N.E.W.T. Luckily, Sirius hasn't been a pain in the ass for the last two days; in fact, he's been a completely different man, and Harry now could understand how this Sirius was different from his.

He was a bit more studious, not like Hermione studious, but like him studious when he was about to give his O.W.L. He would hang around with Rose most of the time, but when he was alone, he read the books Harry provided him and seemed to understand that Harry didn't want to cause Rose any harm.

It was also likely that he had asked about the details of Rose's ritual from her and would have found the one in that book. The book did mention it.

Rose, on the other hand, had been too curious, much more than he remembered himself to be. She had accompanied him while he made her nutrition potion. She followed his lead quite easily and helped him prepare two more potions for his storage.

Her knowledge in the subject wasn't up to date, but his had been detestable, all due to Snape. The man's teaching skill was atrocious, add that to his extreme dislike of Harry and bullying. Horace Slughorn had been a better teacher, but the best teacher he had found was his mentor. Alchemy needs flawless proficiency in potions.

He has taught her as much as he can in limited time, and with a month left at his leisure before Hogwarts term resumes in September, he was confident that he could teach her much more.

And she needed it, especially if this world's future was as dark as his own. Voldemort was a real danger; he had thought about destroying all the horcrux before tracking down Tom. But the variation here meant his horcruxes were an unknown, as Rose wasn't a horcrux. And he was sure by the way this Tom had handled the war, that he had created less soul piece.

His study of alchemy has taught him that the anchors, horcruxes, weren't the only anchors to life. There were more, but none were as horrible. It was not the method; he had seen far more brutal methods to create a soul anchor, one of them even used the liquid of eleven pregnant muggles recently killed to fuel the ritual.

But none of them resulted in the user becoming a wraith, a helpless wraith at that. But Harry wasn't an expert in dark arts, no, his interests were strictly aligned with ritualistic magic. There might be even nastier ways to become a full-fledged immortal.

Cutting through his musing, the lift's door opened and deposited him on level seven. He walked to the department of education, usually the ministry sent an Owl with the result, but he had received a missive saying his N.E.W.T were scheduled for today. He's already checked out the subjects he had to take; Alchemy and Runic magic were essential for his cover.

He dropped Astronomy and Herbology; taking seven N.E.W.T wasn't a joke. For reference, Hermione took seven in their final year. Harry himself has taken only five N.E.W.T in his own world; taking seven was quite an achievement.

The man this time was gawking at him, not just staring. All of his willpower went into not giving a smug look; his N.E.W.T were scheduled for three days. Three exams for two days and a single one on the last, each exam, practical and theory combined, will take 3 hours.

His exams would be over by the 5th of August, and he would get his results on the 6th of August.

He glanced down at his O.W.L ' results: Seven Outstanding and two Exceeds expectations. That was quite good. Herbology and Astronomy weren't his best subjects, even if he was an alchemist by profession, or had been if that matters.

(_-_-_X_-_-_)

5th August, 1994.

Five out of seven of his N.E.W.T. were over; he didn't face much difficulty while writing those. The practicals were as easy, mainly Transfiguration, Charms and Potions. He was sure he would get good marks in those; today was his last two exams.

He was seated on a comfy sofa in the education department after taking his Runic magic practical exams; they weren't too hard on him if he said so himself. He was able to draw runes in the air with his wand without any problem; the main issue was his control of the magic.

His history with the Dark lord has led him to sway toward offensive spells more than other kinds. His arsenal was filled with defensive magic of all kinds.

The next exam was his alchemy theory paper, and then the theory of both alchemy and duelling. End of his exams.

The man who was proctoring his exams was Gerald Carrow, a person he didn't think existed in his world. That was one of the major differences between the two worlds.

The first war with Voldemort had been much less brutal; there were only a few cases of attack on Muggles and killing of famous Muggleborns. And as a result, the ministry under Harold Minchum never passed the bill to legalise unforgivabled to be used against Death Eaters.

The population was lush green here compared to his world, and he found several faces that he didn't know, if they existed in his world.

He followed the man and entered the room to give his theory of Alchemy. He sat down on the single desk in the centre of the darkly lit room. The paper he got was easy; the theory behind alchemy practices was not easy, but his year of experience gave him a benefit.

He would get the best marks if he had confidence in his abilities.

Soon, it was time for the practical. He was led into a stone-walled room, an alchemy table in the middle,e plain as a board. No circles or devices are placed.

"Mr Peverell, this is your practical for Alchemy. You will complete five experiments, and should succeed in at least three of them to pass." The old white-bearded man said, taking in a long breath.

The first was purifying a raw silver amulet, which was not one of the most skill requiring task, but did come under alchemy.

He quickly conjured vials and flasks and started collecting ingredients to purify the amulet. It took him only five minutes to complete the process.

And soon followed all the five experiments, the old wizard was shocked at his progress and was trying his best to find some anomalies. With his speed and skill, he completed the practicals in only twenty-five minutes. The last one was to find the cure for a disease on a mangy-looking rat; he did that with a little healing and more of alchemy. It was the rat plague, and he cleaned himself thrice before cursing the examiner black and blue.

With the practical of all theory subjects done, Harry was being tested for D.A.D.A and Duelling N.E.W.T. at the same time. He would have to duel with one of the seasoned aurors, and remain standing for at least the first ten-minutes of the duel. At almost 33% time, it was a passing grade; for each extra minute, he would get a bonus. And if he outsmarted his opponent before 10 minutes, then he would pass with full marks; it was uncommon for that to happen.

Only a few duellists had managed to attain that feat, and nearly all of them were seasoned duellists of their age group or lower.

"Please enter, Mr Peverell. Your opponent would be Mr Robards, he's an experienced auror and would judge your skills in duelling." Carrow said in an even tone.

"You'll have to survive at least ten minutes to passing grade," The man continued. "Maiming and dark curses are not allowed; any magic deemed dark by the Ministry is restricted."

"This is a standard non-lethal duel. Wands ready," Harry had chosen to use his wand instead of a staff for this exam. It attracted too much attention, and he felt cheating with how powerful it was. So, a normal wand for him today.

"Duellers take three steps back...Bow...right now, Begin!" The black-haired man yelled.

Harry sent a disarming hex, but Robards erected a shield at the same time. His hex sliding off it like an egg from the wall.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled, directing another spell toward his opponent, who stepped back, letting the shield handle it.

Harry sent a few other spells, not letting his opponent get a chance to retaliate. A chain of Knockback jinx, Levicorpus and Incendio pushed the man further back, his shield still standing strong.

It was when Harry fired a well-planned, sloppy, stunning hex that Robards lifted his shield and batted the spell to his left. He started offensively, sending a flurry of common jinxes, which Harry dodged easily due to his seeker reflex.

Robards wasn't done yet; he quickly erected a translucent barrier of magic through an unknown spell and sent it toward him. Harry was familiar with this type of magic, adding 'Undūs' to any spell, except Unforgivables and a few dark spells, including Fiendfyre, it could be shaped like a wave.

Harry didn't waste a moment in thinking and fired a shield breaker, followed by a bone-dislocating hex. The shield breaker did its job, but Robards displayed his experience and batted his dislocater back to him.

Harry let it come near before catching it at the end of his wand, letting it shimmer there before an incantation changed its colour to red. He sent it back with higher speed, and despite his experience, the man failed to dodge it.

Five minutes of the duel have already passed, with no man looking to be on the verge of defeat. Robards left hand has swollen and red credit to Harry's last spell. A spell used to replenish blood, with the help of a potion. Seperately, it could cause veins to widen and let blood fill in. A moderately painful but useful curse. Not particularly dark in nature.

Robards began leaking it out, to lessen the swelling, and Harry used the moment to conjure two giant granite stones at his sides, one at each. His opponent was successful in his endeavour, but Harry had used the delay in the duel to his advantage.

Two stone crabs, two feet in height and width, stood at his sides. Equipped with strong stone pinchers and six legs. Clicking their pinchers, the crustaceans rushed towards the man.

Robards swore under his breath before firing exploding curses at the animated creations. He caught one of them on the right side, but it kept crawling on its remaining legs.

The other one, however, was turned into a bronze model, Harry's alchemy shining, a simple spell and the crab was a pure bronze model. Not only that, but each time a hex hit it, the crab divided into two, getting smaller with each division.

Robards looked up at Harry with a respectful look before steeling his nerve and conjuring a long, but thin, fire whip. The crabs started melting and stopped multiplying.

Harry's opponent wasn't going to underestimate him now, and he wouldn't let the man get back into the game. Seeing as his opponent was handling a fire whip, he conjured a water globe, the size of a horse and banished it toward his opponent.

Robards' eye widened as he noticed the huge ball of water rolling toward him, not falling as the liquid should. He apparated out of its way, but had to raise a shield hastily as his opponent sent a chain of spells toward him.

He looked at his opponent with awe and a bit of envy. The man was overly skilled, and it was clear that he was toying with him. The duel has already crossed the ten minutes marks, but man didn't look even a little bit winded.

His narrow build told a story of extensive physical training, the type duellists or auror went through. And those emerald eyes shone with unrestrained power.

So busy was Robard in his musing that he didn't notice the half-destroyed crab getting a hold of his left foot. He was startled and looked down to see his leg covered by a stone restricting his movements.

He didn't get the chance to look up as suddenly a spell hit him, his vision swam, and darkness overcome it. He fell on the ground, his leg still stuck to the floor.

Carrow noted 12 minutes, opponent knocked out. Giving full marks plus a bonus. He had never seen a man such as Peverell, at least not giving their O. or N.E.W.T. in such a short span, mind you, many adult wixen gave these exams till their late 40s.

Perhaps Professor Black, Moody or Dumbledore would have gotten such marks in duelling or Defence Against The Dark Arts. But he couldn't say so with certainty, never.

The man was dutifully appreciated and congratulated; he was handed a brochure of the duelling guild. A guild led by a Polish war veteran, one who had fought in the Global wizarding war. His track record was fine, and his deputy was Professor Black, the D.A.D.A teacher of Hogwarts.

The man scrutinised the parchment before nodding toward him, a clear sign that he was intrigued. The paper was finely drafted; the only more expensive brochure was of the Alchemy guild. Led by the famed French alchemist, Nicholas Flamel. It wasn't surprising that the man had accumulated wealth over centuries and invested it in new alchemical discoveries.

(_-_-_X_-_-_)

Harry returned to a peaceful house, and with Sirius living here, it was truly shocking.

Rose was a quiet girl, same as him at her age. Fearful of the verbal abuse by Dursleys for speaking out of turn or making small noises, Harry had been a quiet child when he was in his fourth year.

The same was the case with Rose; what wasn't common between them was her drive to study. The Peverell library had been her host for the last few days. She wasn't as bookish as Hermione, but she did read quite a lot more than him.

Sirius had been a bit wary around him, but was getting comfortable with Rose. The girl spent most of her time chatting with Padfoot, the elves or writing letters to her friends.

Harry didn't stop her; the wards wouldn't allow a letter with tracking charms or other such magic into the house.

It was a real worry, as the news of her changed residence must have reached Dumbledore by now. And as per his memory, the headmaster was adamant about her staying with Dursleys, the blood protection said to be the ultimate shield for her.

Harry could confidently say that his wards would hold down any attempts to locate or harm 'The-girl-who-lived', she was safe here and he would make sure of that.

(_-_-_X_-_-_)

7th August, 1994.

Harry sat down at the breakfast table, some sort of porridge already placed in front of him. Credit to his elf.

Sirius and Rose were seated on his left, whispering to each other in hushed voices, while Padfoot glanced at him every so often.

His N.E.W.T. results were due today, the ministry was free during this time of the year, and without a mountain of papers to grade for O. and N.E.W.T, the results were to arrive early, too early.

He dug into the corn porridge, enjoying the simple taste of the first meal of the day. His elves were a godsend, and a good decision by him; their cooking was fantastic, and he was used to it by the first week.

However, his meal was interrupted when a regal-looking owl landed on the edge of the table, startling both Sirius and Rose out of their joined head conspiring.

A thick creame coloured envelope tied to its right foot, Harry grumbled before extending his free hand and unlatching the strap holding the letter tied.

"What's that?" Sirius asked curiously.

"Probably my N.E.W.T. results, they were due to come today." He replied without looking toward him, he snapped his finger, and the letter was opened to float in front of his face.

Ah! Good marks.

He's got seven out of seven N.E.W.T., outstanding all of them. He smiled to himself; it was better than the original five N.E.W.T. he had received in his world.

"What did you get there that got you smiling like that?" Rose asked, trying her best not look curious but failing at that.

He levitated the letter toward her with a wave of his free hand.

"That's wandless magic! I thought your elf did that for you," Sirius pointed a finger at him.

Meanwhile, Rose was busy looking at his results.

"You've got Outstanding in all of them, t-that's good, I don't think even Percy got Seven Outstanding," Rose said in awe.

"Seven outstandings? Hey, that's the same amount as Lily. She got seven outstanding and one exceeds expectations." Sirius grabbed the paper to look at it.

Harry let him and focused back on his porridge, with this completed he was now free to pursue mastery or look into guilds. Also, he was now legally allowed to teach those subjects to anyone asking of him.

Sirius handed him back his result, and he folded it before calling Jimmy to place it into his study table's first drawer.

"Now, for the whispering part you've been doing for the last half an hour, can I get the reason behind that?" Harry asked with an amused smile.

Rose looked up at him wide-eyed before glancing toward Sirius, who unsurprisingly nodded toward her with a wink.

"We've been wondering," she began, biting her lips in nervousness, a first proper request of him for something. "If we'd be able to attend the Quidditch finals on Tenth."

Harry blinked, so it was just that. She wanted to attend the Quidditch tournament? Didn't Weasleys invite her to join them?

But when he thought on that, it was clear, she didn't have that great of relation with the family of redheads. Apart from a few stray mentions of Ron's idiocy, the Twins' brilliancy with pranks, and her budding friendship with Ginny, she didn't talk of them.

It was strange to think that she was not that close to the Weasley clan, recalling his own close relation with the family. And even if she didn't get the invitation, it was natural for her to want to see the finals.

She was as big a Quidditch fanatic as he, as he had seen her making rounds of the vast grounds of Grim Manor with Sirius on brooms. Both of them seemed to enjoy those private moments. Sirius probably saw both Lily and James in her, while she saw him as a potential father figure.

Harry wasn't a father figure to her, and he was happy with that. He didn't want an awkward relationship of being a parent to his own alternative self, no matter the world. He was more of a strict uncle, or elder brother, as she saw it.

She even called him 'Uncle Harry' once, much to his amusement. She had been really awkward for the next few hours, until he had explained to her that it was fine.

But now for her request, "The Quidditch Finals? Huh? I've surely heard about it; the newspapers have been yelling about it for the last week."

Sirius looked at him with wide puppy eyes, "You know, Black, you're a grown ass man."

The man sighed before glancing toward Rose, who was doing the same thing he was doing moments ago, but with much more effect.

Truly, Lily Potter's face and those puppy eyes would be the doom of Harry. He sighed before nodding to himself, "Okay...Okay, cut that out. I'll look into finding some tickets, but you, Black, will be on polyjuice potion for the whole duration if you want to come."

"Of course, my lord Pevrell. I'll be on my bestest behaviour." He said in the most innocent tone he could use.

"That isn't even a word. And paint me surprised, but I don't believe a word coming out of your mouth." He replied with an easy grin, which was copied by the man quickly.

(_-_-_X_-_-_)

Dumbledore eyed the husk of the house on Privet Drive furiously, an expression which was nearly unfounded on his face. The reason for that? Those despicable humans who called themselves Dursleys.

He had left the family to their misery, not reversing the transfiguration or lifting the curses from their name. They deserved that, the kind of abuse they inflicted on a girl, a family, nonetheless, infuriated him.

He had thought them to be a bit strict and partial, but he never imagined them torturing Rose. The girl was physically assaulted many times, and he found it nauseating that he allowed it to happen.

He should have checked on her personally, but his duties as Headmaster, Chief Warlock and Supreme mugwump have consumed all his time. He had placed Arabella Figg, his own squib spy in the neighbourhood, but it seemed the lady was too involved in her Kneazels to keep an eye on Rose.

He would have to look into that, too, but for now, Rose had been taken away from the Dursley household by that mysterious man.

He had noticed their image on the Daily Prophet, but didn't give it any heed. Categorising it as another fake news run by the papers.

He was wrong; the man had taken her away and seemed to keep her somewhere hidden. He couldn't be a good wizard if his venture into Knockturn Alley was any proof, but no one knew about him curiously, and no one had any idea where Rose was.

He tried to locate her through a letter with a tracking charm, but it had been returned in two days. The letter was not opened.

Even though Fawkes refused to carry a letter to the girl, he was worried for her. Her safety was of paramount importance; he couldn't the repeat the mistake he had made with her parents.

So, here he was. Standing in the neighbourhood of Privet Drive, contemplating ways to find her and place her into a secure household. The Weasleys would, for now, Molly and Arthur were great parents, and Rose was somewhat close with Ginny after she had saved her life two years ago.

He vanished from his spot and appeared in Hogsmeade village. The trek to the castle was slow, but it was expected due to his old age.

He crossed the corridors and climbed numerous stairs to finally reach his office. The gargoyle statue moved aside at his presence, and he climbed the last set of stairs to reach his office.

The door swung open, and he saw Severus and Minerva standing there, one had worry etched on her aged face, while the other seemed unmoved by the recent developments.

But Dumbledore knew Severus was hiding his emotions behind the mask of Occlumency; he himself was used to doing so.

Minerva looked up as he entered the office, "Did you find her, Albus? Is she fine?"

Albus sighed before shaking his head negatively. "It seems dear Miss Potter has left the house of Dursleys, and her current location is unknown."

Snape sneered. "Nothing new, as I see it. The girl is as reckless as her godfather," The spit the word, as if the mere mention of Black burnt his tongue.

Minerva looked at him with disapproval. "Don't. Rose is a very responsible girl; she would never leave the security of her family home."

"Like she didn't just last year," Snape said sarcastically. "We all know of her reckless nature, roaming around the Diagon Alley, while her parents' suspected murderer was at large."

"She was scared. She didn't have anywhere to go, her muggle family..." Her defence was cut off by Snape.

"... has pampered her. Just like her father and Godfather, little spoilt—"

"You are wrong here, Severus." Dumbledore interupted solemnly.

Minerva looked at him sharply. "What do you mean by that? You promised that those muggles would treat her right."

Snape looked intrigued now, but still not worried.

Dumbledore stapled his fingers together under his chin as he sat down behind his desk. His eyes found the remorseful eyes of Fawkes before he focused back on his deputy.

"It seems our calculations weren't right. Miss Potter's living conditions weren't ideal." Dumbledore accepted.

"Your calculations, Albus. I always stood against her living with those vile muggles." Minerva retorted heatedly, her thick Scottish accent deepening the effect.

"Well... How bad can it be? Slytherin welcomes abandoned and harassed children each year." Snape said in a superior tone.

"There were hastily cleaned blood spots on the floor, which I confirmed to be Rose's, "Albus admitted, eyeing Snape.

The man's narrowed gaze fixed on him, then it was over as if it had never been there.

"B-Blood? Merlin, what must happened to Miss Potter for the..."

"She was physically abused," Albus said, and Minerva was on her feet. Furious eyes searching Albus' for confirmation.

"Huh? A slap or two isn't physical abuse, headmaster." Snape sneered, but Albus had no interest in his degrading remarks.

"I told you, Albus, I did. They were the worst kind of muggles. I've never met someone so vile. Excluding Severus' ex-comrades." Minerva said with a bite in her tone, and Snape shrank back.

He didn't want to poke the Scot; she was already infuriated. And an angry Minerva was so very dangerous. The graves of Titan Yaxley and Reginald Travers could attest to that.

Severus was clever, a master of potions, a good duellist and an expert in Dark arts. But Minerva, she was one of the few Transfiguration masters with numerous apprentices under her belt, an under 20, under 24, and under 26 duelling champion, and a brave woman. He respected her as much as her students did, and feared her the same.

Albus, on the other hand, was unconcerned on that side; the woman was his apprentice, but he was going to get an earful.

For now, the location of Miss Potter was a mystery.

(_-_-_X_-_-_)

9th August, 1943.

"How did you get the tickets for one of the premium boxes again?" Rose asked as he trickled behind him, Sirius confined to the Grim manor due to a prank this morning.

The elves had to work the whole morning to clean the corridors, which had been colored orange by the man. He had whined and pouted, which didn't suit a grown man, but wasn't allowed to accompany them.

Harry was here to look into a few books that weren't available in Peverell Library. And Rose was accompanying him to buy a few reference books for the old tombs of his library.

She stuttered around, talking continuously, and it showed how unattended she had been. A child vying for the attention of someone she considers a close friend or family member. Harry has that with Sirius, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Ginny, the Weasleys and his few attentive professors.

Rose, on the other hand one had two close friends, Hermione and Luna. Ginny was more of a housemate, Ron was a prat, Sirius didn't understand her problem, the Weasleys weren't close to her and nor was any professor, except McGonagall.

Her and Rose's relationship here was different from his relationship with the head of his house. She had been supportive of him, but not overly. Here, however, Rose was allowed to go to McGonagall for any problem she had.

"I have a lot of gold to spare?" He tried, and Rose giggled at his answer.

"You sound somewhat like Malfoy; he's always boasting about his money and father." She said with a wave of her hand.

"Oh, don't compare me to those pompous peacocks, will you?" He replied easily with a grin.

"Well, you don't look like 'em. That's a plus point, if you ask me." Rose said as they entered Flourish and Blott.

"You know they are related to you through your great aunt, and closely at that," Harry said, looking for a section of books on Runes, Runic magic and Transfiguration.

Rose made a face, "Don't remind me."

She moved toward the romance and mystery novels. Typical teenage behaviour.

He was venturing through the second shelf when he heard an unmistakable voice; he would recognise its owner anywhere. And if she were here, then Rose was in immediate danger.

He waved his hand, and his staff appeared out of thin air. He rushed forward with the staff raised in the air. Ready to fire a chain of spells if Rose needed saving.

He crossed the second shelf, and his breath hitched as he found Rose under the scrutiny of the most dangerous witch in the world.

Bellatrix LeStrange.

He moved forward hastily, a shield already shimmering in front of his ward. The maniac woman staggered back with wide eyes and looked up toward him.

Rose was unmoving, glancing toward him and Bellatrix frequently.

"Rose, stay back. Let me handle this." He said moving forward, and finally, his eye met the purple of Bellatrix's.