At breakfast Lucius told Harry and Draco that he had some business to attend to and that they were to stay out of trouble. Draco nodded his understanding while Harry hid a smirk behind his tea cup. After Lucius left, Draco told Harry about Lucius' idea of involving his friends in the search for the horcrux's. Harry nodded his agreement over a mouthful of toast. He swallowed then said, “I think that's a good idea. Hermione needs to see us together and Neville and Ron are both badgers at research. No matter what Hermione says about Ron.” He noticed Draco's expression, realized what he'd said and stuck out his tongue. “Ugh! Wouldn't want that nasty thing in my mouth either. Hurry up and finish. You can write to Ron and Neville. I'll write to Granger.” “Yes, and after we write, we can go out and work on our routine.” Harry poured more tea and pushed the sugar over to Draco. “That's good. We need a chance to work out all the kinks before we go up to full speed. I was thinking though. I do think that the routine would be better with four fliers rather than two, maybe we should put off ... no, we need to teach the others. That being Weasley and Longbottom.” Harry nodded. “You're right on both counts. You want to include Ron and ... Neville? Have you lost your mind?” Draco snorted. “No, I haven't. Ron's a sure bet. Neville can be taught and I'd really like to try. On looking at him, he's ... under Augusta's thumb much too much and she's ruining him.” He made a motion with his cup. “And I know what you're thinking, but Father and I have changed our coat. If I would have done it for ... Greg or Vince, why shouldn't I do it for Neville? Think about it.” “Oh, but now all we have to do is convince Neville to go behind his Gran's back.” “Leave that to me. Now, finish your tea so we can send out those letters. And, I have to admit, I'm not looking forward to dealing with Granger. Girl hasn't got any sense at all.” Harry sighed, “No, she really doesn't. She's book smart as all get out but she doesn't have the street smarts of a two year old. She'll go running to Dumbledore with anything we tell her, no matter if it's a good idea or not. However, Dumbledore already knows about the horcrux's, he told me, so that won't hurt anything. We just need to make sure that she doesn't know anything she can't ... share.” Draco looked relieved, he'd been worried about convincing Harry to keep secrets from Hermione. He knew that they could trust Ron and Neville, if they could be convinced to give their word. Ron, he wasn't too sure of but Neville, he knew, he could bully if he had to. “Ok. Letters, then fly.” So they left the breakfast table and wandered into the library, genially arguing about how to convince the Grangers to let Hermione come to Malfoy Manor; and, more to the point, how to convince Hermione to come. . Lucius knew exactly where The Motorcycle was. There was some question as to whether it had been made by Sirius Black or James Potter, but Lucius was sure that both men had been in on its construction. Why Hagrid had it now was, no doubt, due to Dumbledore. This was neither here nor there to Lucius. If the machine had belonged to James, Harry was due to possess it through him. Sirius Black had willed all his possessions to Harry at his death, so Harry was still entitled to it. He wasn't exactly sure where the actual machine had come from, nor what brand it was, but Harry would have it, intact and working, on his birthday or Lucius would know the reason why. So it was that he was knocking on the door to Hagrid's hut early in the morning. “Open up, you oaf.” Lucius had knocked on the door twice with the head of his wand-cane and saw no reason to wait any longer. The door opened and Hagrid glowered down at Lucius. This didn't do much good as Lucius could look down his nose at a giant. “You! Wa'd ya wan'? No innercent hypogriffs ta butcher here.” Lucius snorted rudely. “It attacked Draco. Vicious. Now ... I want Harry's motor .. thing. Hand it over.” Hagrid didn't even try to pretend that he didn't know what Lucius was talking about. “It's 'arry's. 'e'll ge' it on 'is birfday.” “And how are you going to accomplish that, you lout. He lives at Malfoy Manor now. The wards would never let a half- ... whatever you are ... through. Besides, I want all the spells verified before I give it to him.” Hagrid started to say something but Lucius cut him short with a sweep of his hand. “Do you really want him tumbling out of the sky because some spell timed out? Idiot!” Hagrid thumped down the stairs at his front door and grumbled as he led Lucius around the side of his hut. “Well, no. An' I ain't done nofink wiv it. Not bein' what you could call up on such things. Dumbledore sees to it from time to time. There!” He pointed to a small item on a shelf in the shed behind his hut. Lucius summoned it to him and opened the rather dusty box. “You do take such good care of other people's things.” Lucius sneered at Hagrid who just gave a grumpy grumble. Lucius shrank the box and pocketed it, hoping he didn't do the motorcycle some damage. He nearly flinched when Dumbledore spoke from right behind him. “Well, well, Lucius, to what do we owe this visit?” “Collecting something of Harry's that you have had overlong. Do tell me, won't you, if you have anymore of Harry's possessions in your ... keeping.” Lucius sneered at Dumbledore with a new fury, born of the knowledge of what Harry had been put through because of this man's meddling. “No, no, I don't believe I have anything else of Harry's. But I would like to speak to you about ... one of his residences. Black House, as you well know, was opened to me and a ... social club of mine. We've been unable to enter since early ... March? I believe.” “Yes. I was told that someone was using Black House unauthorized. I'm afraid it is closed until further notice. It ... was evidently vandalized while under your ... care.” Lucius raised a supercilious eyebrow. “Doxies in the curtains. Merlin only knows what else. I only managed to read the first few lines of a three page assessment before I gave up in disgust. Truly appalling. And you say your social club was using it? Perhaps I should send you a bill then. Humm?” Dumbledore sputtered a bit then just turned around and left without further comment. He would speak to Harry when he came back to school. The boy couldn't refuse to let them use Black House, Sirius had allowed it, so would Harry. Lucius smirked at Dumbledore's back well knowing what he was thinking. He, Lucius was sure that Harry was going to be an unpleasant surprise for the headmaster. Head manipulator, more like. He pulled himself out of his speculations and turned to leave. “ 'scuse me. You really 'arry's guardian now?” “Yes, if it is any of your concern.” “Jes' ... 'e's a good lad, 'e is. You ourt a be good ter 'im.” Lucius knew that Hagrid couldn't keep a secret, no matter what, so he decided to sow a few seeds. “Yes, Harry is a wonderful young man. I find it no chore at all to treat him just as I treat Draco. Spoiling both of them is such a pleasure. Especially Harry, my treasure, he has had so few good things until now. The ... er ... Dursleys kept him in a cupboard.” Hagrid looked surprised and shocked. “Yes, quite. I'm sure Dumbledore knew ... something was not right. He had to have. Out of my way.” And with that, Lucius waved Hagrid aside and left. . Harry wrote two letters, one to Ron and one to Neville, inviting them to come to Malfoy Manor the next day for tea. He sent Ron's with Hedwig, who was glad for the exercise. The letter to Neville he sent with one of the large Malfoy eagle owls. This letter he'd sealed with his Potter family seal, he was sure that Augusta would insist on reading it. The one to Ron, he sealed with his new personal seal. Draco, on the other hand, had to write a letter to the entire Granger family. He was sure that Hermione would give his letter to her parents to read. He didn't object to this but it did make his job harder. When he was finally done, he showed the letter to Harry who just approved it with a shrug. Draco sealed it with his seal ring and sent it off. The replies from Ron and Neville were prompt and accepting. Harry didn't bother to hide his delight. He did miss his friends. “Draco, why don't you ever invite any of your friends over?” Draco made a face. “They're not friends, they're only acquaintances.” Harry glowered. “Oh, fine. Pansy is a slut, Father was considering making an offer for her but not now. Vince is ... ok, I guess. Greg is a responsibility. Daphne, I like, but not enough to marry, so I have to be careful there. Theo is a vicious gossip and can't keep a secret. Need I go on?” Harry shuddered. “No, I thank you. That was positively dismal.” Draco suddenly looked sad. “I know.” He forced himself to brighten. “But ... things might be different now. You think?” “I'm sure. I can't wait to hear back from Hermione. And ... you're not to aggravate her.” “Oh, damn. There's goes this week's entertainment.” Harry just glowered at him, eyes twinkling. “Rotten snake.” Draco gave him one jaw dropped look then started laughing. . Lucius went to a charm master's shop with the machine. He was hoping that the man could see what needed to be done to ensure that the motor-thing was in good condition and none of the spells and charms that made it work were weak or had completely failed. He was astonished to find that the charm master was a tall, bulky, valkyrie type with short cropped, grizzled hair, wearing a rumpled robe. She entered the main part of her shop when a small bell tinkled upon his entry. “Hello. Malfoy, isn't it?” Lucius refrained from sniffing, or making any sign that he found her appearance not perfectly comme il faut. “Indeed.” He bowed slightly. He was trying very hard to keep in mind something that Harry had told him. 'Don't turn up your nose at someone then expect them to do their best for you, it's stupid.' He wondered how many times he'd annoyed someone who had then given him half efforts. “Well, what can I do for you?” “I have this.” He took the box from his pocket and handed it to her. “It belongs to my foster son, an heirloom from his father. I want to give it to him for his seventeenth birthday. However, it has been in the possession of someone, no names mind you, who has not taken the care of it that he should. I would like for you to examine all the spells and charms on it to make sure that they are in prime condition. If possible, I would also like for you to write up a ... owner's manual, I believe is what it is called. So that I can keep the spells up to snuff, so to speak.” The lady looked at it for a moment then said, “I think I can do that. Let me take a look at it.” Lucius watched as she enlarged the box, then took the bike out of it. “Well ... excuse me but ... you failed to introduce yourself and your name is not on the sign.” “Oh, shoot. Sorry. Madam Lucinda Harmony. I don't have my name on the sign because men are, sorry, so sensitive about turning their manly accoutrements over to a woman.” Lucius gave her a blank look, he had no idea what she was talking about, either you were competent or you weren't. “I see...” He let his sentence trail off but got no further information as Madam Lucinda had just waved her wand again. The bike suddenly took up most of the available floor space in the shop. “Oh, my! Well, I'll just do a quick scan and see what's what. If it needs further work, I'll have to move it into the back yard. I swear ... I know I've seen this before ... but where? Well, never mind. Wonderful piece of work at any rate.” Lucius watched while she peered at the machine through several different colored lenses and a crystal. She spoke softly to a dicta-quill as she looked. Finally she turned to Lucius to announce, “Well, it's in surprisingly good shape. I'd like to keep it a day or two as some of the charms need a bit of a boost. I'll also have a manual written up on what spells, charms and ... hexes are on it and how to best maintain them. It could also use a new seat. This one is in bad shape. I'll take care of that too, and add a sticking charm to boot. How's that?” “Quite acceptable. Please send it to Malfoy Manor when you are done. Include your invoice and I'll pay by return owl.” She gave him a ready grin and said, “I can even gift wrap it for you, if you like.” Lucius gave her one of, what Harry called, his second best bows. “Thank you. Good day.” . Hermione Granger accepted the letter from the owl, set out a bowl of water and a few food pellets [she didn't agree with the standard practice of feeding the owls treats] and opened her letter. She recognized the seal, of course, and wondered what Malfoy wanted. She was soon handing the letter to her mother and asking, “What should I do? I don't trust any of the Malfoy's at all. Should I go? What if it's some kind of trick?” Her mother held up a hand to silence her babbling daughter until she could finish reading the letter. After reading what she considered to be a perfectly correct invitation to spend three or four days at a school fellow's house she sighed. “Well, I think you should go. Harry is now the foster son of Mr. Malfoy. If you don't trust him, shouldn't you go? Just to make sure that he's treating Harry right? If you don't like it there, you can always come straight home.” Hermione refrained from screeching in annoyance by main force of will. Her parents just didn't understand how things like this worked. “And how am I supposed to get in touch with you? We don't have an owl, you got me Crookshanks instead. And we don't have a floo, and I'm not old enough to apparate and I don't know how to make a port key.” Dan Granger sighed, this was a continuing argument with Hermione. He didn't see the need for a creature to carry mail when Her Majesties Post was good enough for everyone else. Emma was also a bit confused about the need for an owl, telephones were available at every boarding school she'd ever heard of, although access was limited. “Now, dear, why don't we put the bird back outside where it belongs?” Emma reached for the owl, only to get a quick nip for her trouble. Hermione rolled her eyes as only a teenaged girl could. “Because we need him to take my reply back. The Malfoys do not have a phone, nor are they going to try to get muggle mail.” She sighed heavily and settled down to write a response. “I think I will go. At least I can make sure that Harry's done his assignments ... oh, dear. What if he hasn't done any of sixth years assignments and doesn't know what the summer work is?” Dan just shrugged. “I think he was taking all the same classes you did. Just give him all your assignments and things will work out.” “Ok, thanks Daddy.” Hermione finished her letter, and for lack of a seal, folded it and twisted it into a screw. She held it out to the owl who clasped it in one foot. She picked up the bird and tossed it gently out the window into the air. . Harry glared at the small book with a sour expression on his face. He'd gotten up in a bad mood, because he was sure Hermione was going to rake him over coals about his home work, without waiting to listen to him. Now, he was in even worse a mood as his attempts to work on the translation had failed rather dramatically as he didn't know enough Gaelic to translate what he'd spelled out into anything useful. Nor could he even pronounce what he did have. “Bloody damn Irish. Why don't they speak English?” Draco announced, from where he was sitting at his own desk, “Um ... because they're Irish? What's the problem?” “This!” Harry waved a hand at his notes in agitation. “I swear, all I want to do is ... is ... The Darklings gave me a book but that book said I have to understand this one first.” Harry waggled the Ogham book at Draco. “I got it from your library and opened it.” Draco took the book out of Harry's hand. “But, Harry, no one has been able to open this book before. How did you do it?” “Parsletongue. All you have to do is ask. The Darklings book ... um ... I'm not trying to be rude or selfish but don't touch it. It'll sting you like Apis.” “Well, some books are like that. No one but the owner can use it.” Draco didn't seem too upset about not being able to handle the book. “And, I'm sure Father will agree that you should keep the Ogham book, as you opened it. However, you ought to teach us any useful spells you get out of it.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, pulling strands out of the neat tail it was in. “If I can ever translate any of this.” Draco sat for a moment, his thoughtful expression keeping Harry from interrupting him. Finally he stirred. “You know. I think it might not be such a good idea to translate it. We, meaning the British Wizarding people, use Latin because it was the Lingua Franca for centuries. But ... now, this is my opinion, many spells aren't as powerful as they're claimed to be by literature of the times. I think that is because the spell was translated from its original language into Latin so that people could understand what it was supposed to do.” Harry nodded as Draco spoke. It made sense to him. “I think you're right. What language was Apis originally?” “French, I think. It translates into English as Bee. I wonder.” Harry nodded. “You could try it on me, I guess.” “And have Father skin me alive? No, I thank you. We'll ask an elf. And I do mean ask. I believe the French would be piqûre.” “Piqûre is French for 'sting'. Why would they translate a stinging hex as bee?” “I'm not sure but I know there's no spell in French that translates as bee. Sting is the best I can come up with.” Harry grumbled but shrugged. They persuaded an elf to allow then one try, all they asked for, and she yelped a bit as the Piqûre was quite a bit stronger than Apis. Harry hugged her, thanked her for permitting them to test the spell on her and, after she left, got Mimsey to figure out some sort of reward for her. “Well, we were right. So ... instead of translating the spells into English or Latin, I need to learn to pronounce the Gaelic. Ack!!” Harry pretend strangled himself then settled down to organize his notes. He still needed to translate the spells into either English or Latin, just so he'd know what they were supposed to do. But now he had the additional trial of learning to pronounce them properly. A mispronounced spell could do just about anything. Harry sighed as he finished sorting his notes. He put them all in a portfolio and tied it shut. “Ok. That's that. Do we have any replies to the invitations?” “Not yet. Tomorrow for sure. I'm not holding out much hope for Granger.” Mimsey came in and announced lunch as well as telling them that Lucius wasn't going to be there for the meal. . After lunch, Draco settled back at his desk to work on the last of his summer homework. Harry, on the other hand, chose to write in his journal, in which he was keeping notes on his work outs and general health. He had decided that keeping a written account was better than trying to remember how he'd felt on a particular day. He wrote down some things at once, others he noted on Friday. They fiddled for a while but finally gave it up as a bad job. Harry rose and wandered over to the window. “I wish the weather would settle. I'd like to fly but I'm not about to try a completely new and different sort of flying in weather like this.” Draco joined him at the wide window and sighed himself. “Yes, this cold drizzle is ... I wouldn't fly in it short of a Quidditch match and then I'd bitch like hell.” Harry nodded his agreement. “Right. Warming charms can only do so much. And I really, really hate being cold and wet. Way too much of that, living on the streets.” “Harry! You didn't!” Draco felt like he had to challenge this. He couldn't believe that Harry had actually lived on muggle streets, even the poorest Wizard had somewhere to lay his head. “I did. I was lucky for a while, I had a squat. But the cops broke it up and we all had to scarper. I did have a refrigerator box for a while, but the trash-men took it. I like sleeping over a heat vent but I usually lost out to a bum. And I really hate being hungry. Verny-poo started that, he'd starve me for days just because he's a hateful old wanker. And I used to transfigure food, but it usually made me sick. I wonder why that is?” Draco, disgusted to the root by this story, snarled softly. “Bastard. I'll hex his head off.” He patted Harry's should awkwardly. “But, Professor McGonagall explained all that. What did you do, skive off that class?” “No, I took it. She said you can't turn something without nourishment in it into food. But I was transfiguring spoiled stuff into fresh.” Draco nearly vomited, he did gag. “Oh, Harry, it still doesn't work. It's only the illusion of freshness. It's still spoiled and inedible. No wonder your digestion is in such a mess. There are poisons in spoiled food that you can't transfigure out.” Harry just said, “Oh, well, I did wonder.” He shrugged off his depressed mood and turned, throwing over his shoulder, “I'm bored to death, come duel me.” Draco shook off his mood as well. “Very well. Be prepared for me to hand you your ass.” “You wish.” Draco hadn't really realized how powerful Harry was until he was actually duelling him. His simple Apis left Draco shivering in pain. They'd started out well enough with jelly legs jinxes and a few hexes that just left a color spot where they hit, like something called a paint gun. But Draco had cast an Apis on Harry who'd retaliated with one of his own. Draco now felt as if his whole body had been stung by bees. “Draco, I'm really sorry. Finite! Here, let me get you back up stairs. Are you ok?” “I'm ok. My 'curse' just struck. I hate it! Damn it! I'll be fine for days then ... I can't do anything without hurting.” “That sucks. Let me call Mimsey. She'll pop us up to ... my parlour?” “Yes. I'd like some tea.” So Harry called Mimsey and she took them to Harry's parlour, brought tea and sandwiches then left again. Harry settled Draco on his love seat with a pillow under his shoulders and an afghan across his legs. Then gave him a pain potion from his stock. “Better? Here's your tea.” He handed Draco a cup just as he liked his tea then took one for himself. Draco took a sip of his tea, sighed and said, “Perfect. Thank you.” He caught a look at Harry's face and snapped, “And do not apologize again. I know you're sorry. Drop it. If it had been anyone else it wouldn't have happened at all. I hate being weak. I hate it!” Harry wisely dropped the subject. Instead he turned his thoughts to his friends. “I wonder when we'll hear from someone.” “Soon, I think. Later this afternoon maybe.” Harry drank his tea and ate sandwiches. Draco did the same. After awhile they wound up just sitting, or in Draco's case, laying. “I like this. It's nice.” Draco opened one eye. “Mmmm. Like what?” “Just sitting together. Feels like we ... don't have to say stuff. Just be ... you know?” Draco realized that he did know. “Yes. And, you're right. It is nice.” Harry grumbled softly, “Why can't everything be nice like this all the time. Why does there have to be so much bad in the world?” Draco considered Harry's questions seriously for a few moments. He'd had a similar conversation with his father several years ago. He tried to put his answer in terms Harry could understand. “Times like this are precious because they are rare. If it was like this all the time we'd be bored senseless. And ... how do you know sugar is sweet? Because you've tasted lemon. There's Light and Dark, good and bad. Because there has to be. You can't have one without the other. All light and you'd be blinded by the sun, all dark and you'd be blind for the lack of light. The problems come when there's an imbalance of one ... or the other. You've just had more than your fair share of darkness.” Harry thought about that for a few moments then admitted, “That does make sense. But I still don't see the use of Dark Magic.” “There's no such thing. There are about four spells that are truly 'dark'. The rest? ... it's all about intent.” “Don't get it. Intent?” Harry settled back in his chair, prepared to argue the point. “Suppose you cast a tickling hex on me.” “You'd giggle a lot.” “Right. But what if you cast it on an old person with a bad heart. They might die. And ... if you did it with the intent to kill them because you knew of their condition?” Harry nodded his understanding. “I see. They'd die and that would make a simple tickling hex dark. Intent. But what about ... Avada Kadavra. That's just dark.” Draco sighed, he was ready for Harry to blow up on this one. “It's not. It used to be called the 'butchers spell' because it was actually invented by butchers so the animals wouldn't suffer.” Harry just stared at Draco, mouth at half cock. “Ok. Imperious. Explain that one.” “It's still used in mad houses to help control the inmates without using straps.” Draco waited for it. Here it came. “Ok. Cruciatus.” “That one is truly dark. There's no use for it other than torture. And that's the true definition of a dark spell. One that has no useful purpose.” Harry gave up. Instead of arguing for the sake of it, he got his journal and wrote all this down. Draco watched with some little satisfaction, he had never thought that Harry, a true Gryffindor, would understand the idea of intent. Little did he know. They were both half asleep when the first owl arrived. It was from Augusta, who simply said that Neville was available to Harry on demand. Harry said, a bit sourly, that it sounded like she regarded Neville somewhat like fast food take-away. Draco demanded to know what that was and Harry spent a bit of time explaining that. At first, Draco thought it was something like a wizarding carry out meal, which was something Harry had to have an explanation for. They spent a while explaining to each other and Harry demanded one of the take away meals for lunch the next day. Draco refused the offer of a paper bagged burger and fries with revulsion. Harry sighed at the thought of a four course, hot meal delivered in a hamper the size of a hat box. The next letter they got was from Ron. Errol flew in the window and promptly dropped to the rug, doing a double forward flip, beak over tail. He fluttered a few times, managing to flop from his breast to his back, waved the letter clutched in his talons and passed out. Draco just gazed in elegant astonishment, raised an eye brow and refused to touch the bird. Harry plucked the letter out of the owls claw with a muttered, “Ron's right that bloody bird's a menace.” Ron just said that he could come anytime he had his chores done. They just got done with that letter when one of the Malfoy family owls flew in, fluttered before the couch where Draco was reclining, and dropped the screwed up piece of paper as if it was nasty then flew off, so obviously in a huff that both Harry and Draco snickered. “Well, this is ... interesting. Never heard of a properly folded letter, I guess. Let's see what she has to say.” Draco managed to untwist the paper without tearing it. “Well, that's a change. She politely says that she'd like to come. We just need to send someone to pick her up, as her parents refuse to connect the floo, or apparently, buy an owl. I'll just instruct any owl I send her to wait for an answer.” Harry settled more comfortably in his chair. “I think we need to set up a schedule for Hermione. That way we won't forget and want to fly on a day she's going to be here. And, I really think we ought to get her an owl. I'll find out when her birthday is.” Draco gave Harry a look of disgust and said in a flat tone that told Harry he should have known off the top of his head. “September 19th.” Harry ignored the look and grumbled, “Well, that's no good. She needs an owl now. Not after we return to school. Fuck.” Draco just snapped his fingers, said, “Owl elf.” in a bored tone and asked Harry for a sheet of parchment. Harry asked, “Letter or writing?” “Letter, you goon. I have no intention of sending Granger a screw, it's uncouth. I'll simply give her an owl, inform her that I don't have the patience to wait on answers and she'll take it.” “What if she doesn't?” Draco tipped his head, smirked in a way that made him look frighteningly like Lucius and purred, “I'll just keep sending it back until she does.” Harry snickered and got his piece of parchment for him. The elf in charge of the owls appeared with an owl on his shoulder. The bird was almost half his size. Eagle Owls are very large birds. “Master is wanting me?” “Yes, I'm sending a bird to a lady as a present. I need a bird that can handle muggles.” “I is having just the bird. It is ... strange.” The elf just shook his head. “When is you wanting it?” Draco controlled himself, more easily than he'd expected even. “Now. One moment while I finish this letter, then have the owl you select deliver it.” Draco wrote, folded and sealed his letter. The elf took it and disappeared, owl and all. Harry had to say, “Great, Draco. And thanks, I'll pay for the owl.” Draco gave Harry his 'are you stupid' look and said, “You most certainly will not. I get to get one over on her once in a while.” “Ok.” Harry just grinned. Lucius put his head in the door just then and Harry invited him in for tea. Lucius accepted with a smile, settled in a comfortable, squashy chair and asked, “So, who is coming and who is not?” Draco told Lucius everything they'd done that day while all three of them drank tea, ate scones and clotted cream with fresh fruit. When Draco admitted that they'd duelled and he'd been hurt, Lucius just asked if he was well now. When Draco told about Harry's actions, Lucius had said, “As was proper for a foster son.” And dropped it. The conversation wandered from owls, to letters and so on. Harry, thinking to return Lucius' interest, asked, “And what did you do all day?” Lucius smirked before he took a bite of cucumber sandwich. “Someone has a birthday coming up soon. So I was making arrangements.” Harry looked blank. “Oh, whose birthday?” Draco snorted inelegantly into his tea. “Mine, you prat. June 5th.” Harry paled. “Oh, shit. I didn't know. I have to get you something. Papa, I need to go shopping.” Lucius just agreed, “Yes, you do. I'll take you next week.” Draco nearly leered at Lucius over Harry's head. He knew that his party was going to be good, but Harry's was going to be great. . It took a few days for everything to come together but on the day the sun shone brightly and the breeze was soft and warm. Neville stepped out of the floo, followed by Ron. “ 'lo, Harry. Draco.” Ron nodded to Draco but gripped Harry's offered hand. Neville bowed slightly to Draco and offered his hand. “Thank you for having me over.” “Welcome, Longbottom.” Noting the absence of a name Draco decided to take a chance. “You might call me Draco, if you wish.” “Certainly, Draco, and you must call me Neville.” “Thank you, Neville. This way, if you please. We're going to sit in Harry's parlour for a bit.” Ron, who'd been eyeing Harry all this time just said, “Damnit, mate, what now?” Harry chuckled a bit. “You know me too well. Two things one good, one bad. I need help from both of you on each one of them. We'll talk more over tea. Come on.” Neville was pleased to see that there was a house elf near the door with a brush to brush the floo dust off his robes. Ron didn't really care as he'd banished the small amount of mess with a sweep of his wand. After a quick brush and tidy, they went up the stairs to Harry's rooms and settled in his parlour. Mimsey brought tea and plates of sandwiches, cake and biscuits. She nodded to Ron then Neville and popped out. Ron glanced at Harry then turned to Draco. “You gave him an elf? I thought she was just … on loan, sort of.”  “Yes. Why?” Draco narrowed his eyes a Ron, daring him to say something controversial. “Hermione is going to go mental.” Harry shrugged. “I don't really care. Mimsey is my friend and Hermione is just going to have to get used to it. Now. Draco, mother, please?” Draco took over the pot, and soon everyone had tea to their liking and a plate. Harry waited until everyone had sandwiches and cake. “All right, bad first, as it's really bad.” He glanced around. “Neville, swallow that and don't take another bite just yet.” Neville agreeably swallowed and looked at Harry. “Ron, you too.” Ron did likewise. “Either of you know what a horcrux is?” Neville gulped, his horrified face white. Ron just paled until his freckles were the only colour in his skin. Draco nodded at them. “Obviously they do. Or, at least suspect.” Harry told Ron and Neville about the horcrux's that Tom had made, and the unpleasant fact that they had to find them. Ron sighed. “You're sitting there calmly telling us we have to find and destroy Horcrux's? Bloody hell.” Draco corrected Harry's inadvertent slip of the tongue. “We are only expected to help figure out what Tom used. Not actually find them or destroy them.” Neville nodded then remarked mildly, “The plural is Horcruxes. Harry just shrugged and said, “Thanks. You in or out?” “In.” Ron nodded, mouth full of bread and butter. Harry grinned happily, exclaiming, “Brilliant! Thanks.” Draco passed the sandwich plate around, expression politely bland, but Harry could tell he was pleased. Ron nodded once, as if making up his mind about something. “We'll need Hermione too. She'd kill us all if we cut her out.” “We will be sending her a letter tomorrow or the next day to finalise the plans. She's not here today because she'd have a complete fit. Harry?” Harry nodded and called Mimsey. She popped in and set up a stand, hung a multi-page chart from it and stood beside it. “Thanks, Mimsey. Now. Ron, Neville, of course you remember the pub. Draco and I have made up a flying routine based on the Blue Angels, the Red Arrows and other muggle flying groups. We can do it ourselves, but we both think it would be better with four. Ron? I know, by the look on your face that you're in. Neville?” Neville looked from Ron to Draco, then to Harry. “I ... Gran would have had a fit a week ago. We had a talk ...” He grinned a bit. “I talked, she listened. But I don't have a broom.” Draco shrugged. “So, buy one. Or Harry will buy you one and you can pay him back. We'll all drill you until you can do this. Starting now.” Ron looked blank. “How are we going to drill without brooms.” Harry explained, nearly bouncing in his chair, he was so excited about sharing this with his friends. “It's like play diagrams. See? The arrows show which direction each person is going. We're going to use coloured lines for each of us. Ron, you're red. Neville, blue. Draco, green. And I'm yellow.” It took Harry nearly an hour to walk Ron and Neville through the routine with Draco interjecting from time to time. Draco noticed that Neville caught on almost as quickly as Ron did, although he frowned from time to time. “Neville? Something is bothering you about this?” “No, just ... my memory is much better now that I've quit worrying about forgetting. And the herb tea helps too. But I'm really afraid I'll forget something.” Harry shook his head. “No, you won't. We'll drill all summer until we can do it in our sleep, in time to music and backwards.” Ron nodded, saying kindly, “Don't Nev. You'll do fine. And we'll fly, do research and review the moves ... three times a week?” Draco agreed with this and they took a vote. They all agreed that the plan was perfect. Neville announced that he had enough money to buy a broom but he wasn't sure what kind he needed. Ron sighed. He'd used Harry's broom from time to time, of course, but there was no way he could afford one of his own. “Um ... Harry? We can't do this. I don't have a broom and we can't afford one.” Harry scowled at Ron so hard that he squirmed a bit. “I'm going to buy you one. And no one is going to tell me no. I mean it. I've got chests and chests full of galleons. I want to buy you a broom, so I will. If you want to be a total prat and throw it back in my face ... fine. But I think it's really mean of you to ruin my fun like that.” Ron sighed. “Mum will have a fit. She's really proud.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Tell her that I'll send Father to have a talk with her. She'll agree just to keep him away.” Ron snickered but Neville said, “That will work, you know.” Everyone decided that the first thing they needed to do was get the brooms, all the same, so there wouldn't be any unexpected variables to deal with. Therefore, he had to owl Lucius for permission to go to Diagon Alley. Ron agreed with that so they all wrote the appropriate letters. Ron and Neville to Mrs. Longbottom and Mrs. Weasley and Draco to Lucius. Harry called for owls to deliver the letters.   The owls were duly dispatched and they settled back to discuss the problem of horcruxes while they waited for word from Lucius and the other parents. Neville asked Draco, “Where is Mr. Malfoy? If you don't mind me asking.” “He's off on family business today. He's handling Harry's affairs as well as ours, so he's extremely busy. We barely have time to work out in the mornings anymore.” Neither Harry nor Draco was going to tell the other two that Lucius was actually off looking for the Gaunt family ring. . Lucius Malfoy was standing outside of the Gaunt family home, shack actually. He carefully examined the wards over it, easing his way through them carefully. He didn't want to warn Tom of what was happening. He was going to retrieve the family ring that was the first horcrux on his list. It took him half an hour to make his way through all the wards, past the traps and onto the front porch. He took a few more moments to remove the final trap from the front door. Lucius entered the decrepit shack and shuddered. The Gaunts were the sort of family that he despised, no matter their blood status. They were what Americans thought of when someone said 'hillbilly', in the worst sense of the word. The rumour was that Marvolo Gaunt's parents were brother and sister. He didn't doubt it for a second. He took a small, perfect, clear Quartz crystal point from his pocket. The crystal was enmeshed in a cage of gold wire and hung from a short gold chain. On the other end of the chain was a gold ring. He slipped the ring on the middle finger of his left hand and stretched his arm out, careful to hold his hand completely still. The crystal started moving, circling slowly. Lucius moved to stand in one corner of the main room. The crystal began to swing back and forth, instead of circling. Lucius noted the direction of the swing, then moved to the corner on the other side of the door. When the crystal started to swing, he noted the direction again. After finding the crossing point of the two lines he again held the crystal suspended over that point. Instead of circling, it pointed directly to a board in the floor, hanging at about a six degree angle. Lucius walked around the point but the crystal pointed directly to it, no matter what. His objective attained, Lucius pulled a small square of fabric out of his pocket and enlarged it to a drop cloth about four feet square. He spread it on the floor and knelt. It didn't take him long to levitate the rotten board from its seat, underneath it was the Gaunt family ring, embedded in a layer of filth. He called it to his hand, examined it and dropped it into a small pouch. Pulling the strings, he rose to his feet, retrieved his cloth and carefully left through the now useless wards. He wanted them intact so that Riddle wasn't warned before time what was going on. He knew that Voldemort, aka Tom Riddle, wouldn't be able to trace who had done this. Riddle was very good at curses and hexes, jinxes too, but absolute pants at detection spells of any kind. He was also miserable at healing spells and potions. He was becoming more and more certain that he'd had some sort of a, what Harry called, brain fart when he'd taken the mark. He looked up as an owl swooped over head. He recognized it as one of the family owls so he held up an arm for it to light on. It held out one leg for him, the message easily detached with one hand. Lucius read quickly, chuckled a bit at Draco's disingenuous wish for all his friends to have the same broom, newest and best at that. What harm could it do? So Lucius wrote back that all the boys had his permission to go to Diagon Alley as long as they stayed together. He had one more stop to make, then he'd check up on them himself. . Harry did a little dance. “Yes! We can go. Draco, come on.” Draco looked up from where Ron was beating both Neville and him at chess. Ron had agreeably allowed them to team up against him. Not that it was doing them much good. Ron reached out and moved a piece, “Check and Mate.” Draco growled, “I hate you. Checkmate with a damn pawn.” Ron smirked. “Sorry.” Neville snorted then drawled, “Not either.” He stood up and smoothed his robes. “Can we stop off at Ollivander? I need a wand of my own. And ... I'll owl Gran that I'm getting a broom. No sense in surprising her with it.” Ron's jaw dropped, but Draco nodded his approval. “She'll go spare.” Neville sighed. “Probably, but I'm head of house. We can afford it and I've never really spent much on myself. The greenhouses, which I tend by myself, bring in a nice sum every year. If she doesn't like it, she'll at least hold her tongue.” Ron shut his mouth, stood up and slung an arm over Neville's shoulders. “Mate, you've finally grown a pair. Congrats and all that.” Draco smirked at Harry, held out his hand and said, “One knut. It's not his birthday yet.” Harry dug around in his pocket, produced a knut and handed it to Draco, grumbling, “Here, gloat. Rotten snake.” Ron blinked then glanced at Neville. Neville just shrugged. . The first thing they did was go to Ollivander's. Augusta had always been a bit of a penny pincher. Not selfish, just saving, as many older witches were. She had insisted that Frank's wand was perfectly good. Neville knew otherwise, but had never argued with his grandmother about it. He didn't argue now, he just did what he thought was right. He'd told her he wasn't going to disregard her but he wouldn't be bullied either. She'd given up with good grace and now offered advice, solicited or not. Ollivander didn't take long to find Neville 'his' wand. He also asked if Augusta was becoming senile. Neville's father was still alive so, of course, his wand hadn't worked well for Neville. Neville waved his new wand, said, “Wingardium Leviosa” and watched as the feather floated up, hovered exactly six inches above the counter then fluttered, wafted to Ron and tickled his nose. Just as Neville intended. “Ar! Gerroff.” Ron flapped a hand at the feather but laughed. They thanked Mr. Ollivander, paid and left. Harry stopped in front of Gringotts and said, “We better go in and make arrangements to pay for those brooms before we go. Wouldn't do to surprise the goblins with such a big purchase.” Harry detoured into Gringotts, remembering the last time he'd entered. He bowed carefully to the door guard and started toward the clerks' cages lined up across the back of the large room. The guard stopped him with a bow. “This way. Your account manager will see you immediately.” Neville gasped softly. No goblin would see a client like this. At least, not in his experience. The goblin glanced at Neville and Neville just bowed politely. The goblin blinked once then asked his name. “Neville Longbottom, at your service.” “Ah! Another one with manners. I'll see if your account manager can see you right away. Come.” Ron and Draco followed Harry and Neville into the bowels of the bank. It turned out that Harry and Neville had the same manager. Harry quickly explained what he was going to do and asked that the bank honour his invoice at once. Draco asked if he could make arrangements through Grumbleguts to do the same with his. The goblin nodded, remarking that he was handling only three accounts, Malfoy, Longbottom and Potter. He said he'd make sure that both invoices were honoured at once. That taken care of Harry said, “Thank you. We'll leave now so as not to take up too much of your valuable time. May your gold increase and your enemies be impoverished.” Grumbleguts chuckled at this, as he'd never heard it before. Goblin greetings were fairly standardized and this was a breath of fresh air. “And to you the same, young sir.” Neville, not about to be thought rude, even by a goblin, said, “May your books all balance and your interest increase.” Ron nodded at this and eased out the door. He'd not had any business with the goblins and didn't have an account so he didn't see any reason to bother the being at all. Draco smirked at Harry, bowed slightly to the goblin and added his farewell of, “May your gold increase to the benefit of us all.” And with that they all made their escape, well satisfied that they'd managed not to insult the goblins too much. . Ron sighed to himself. He'd had a long talk with Professor McGonagall a while ago and she'd rubbed his nose in a few things. He' thought long and hard about them while Harry was missing. He'd decided he had to grow up, sulking about what he didn't have and couldn't buy was useless. And acting like a two-year-old when someone offered him something was right out. The professor had called it a form of selfishness. He really wanted this broom and to do the routine with Harry, Draco and Neville. Now he was facing his first test. “Fuck me, growing up is a right pain.” He pulled his shoulders back and held up his head. He'd express his gratitude, take the broom and shame the devil. They walked into Quality Quidditch and started to look at various brooms. Ron wanted a Nimbus, but Neville was all for a Cleansweep. They poked around, arguing the various merits of Cleansweeps, Nimbus', Firebolts and Comets. They finally agreed that the newest Firebolt was the only one capable of handling the stunt flying they were considering. Ron cleared his throat to attract Harry's attention. “Mate, I hate to say this, but we're all going to have to have the best flying robes. It's going to be cold up as high as you're talking about. It won't do to be shivering or have our fingers numb from the cold. And Mum is going to kill me anyway so ... um ... could you get me a set of robes and such. I'll pay you back ... sometime.” Harry just told him, “You'll not. If it wasn't for you, we'd all be in a mess. I bet neither Neville nor Draco thought of the cold either. Come on.” Harry approached a clerk and said, “Excuse me. Where are the top line flying robes?” The clerk looked down his nose at Harry and said in a flippant manner, “You can't afford them. And I can't let you finger them dirty.” Harry just blinked at the man for a moment, looked at his immaculate hands and shrugged. “Ok. Whatever.” Draco started to puff up, but Harry just patted his arm and whispered, “Don't. It's not worth it. We'll just go to Quidditch World instead. Quality is nice, but I really think they're over priced. Or ... what's the name of that place in Paris?” Draco sighed, he really wanted to call the clerk on his rudeness but he knew that Harry hated scenes with a passion. So he would avoid embarrassing his brother, he'd just tell their father later. Ron pulled Neville aside and whispered, “France? My Mum will go mental. What do we do?” Neville sighed, he hated situations like this, usually all he could do was stammer and flush. This time, he had to do better. “I'm not sure. But we need to do something. We can't take off for France on a whim. My Gran would not be pleased at all. And Mr. Malfoy will have a complete fit.” “You're right on both.” Ron thought for a moment, realizing he had to be quick before Harry and Draco did something very unwise. “Oh, shite. Stupid. We'll just find the manager and tell.” Neville blinked wondering why he hadn't thought of that. Ron hurried to the back of the shop and tapped at the door helpfully marked “Manager”. Someone called for him to come in so he opened the door and managed to scrape up some respect. “I'm sorry to bother you but ... um ... one of your clerks is being a real jerk to my friend and ... well ... could you do something?” The manager was from a good family but he remembered what it was like to be a boy and have someone be rude to him for being young and broke. “I'll get a different clerk to wait on you. Come with me.” He got up from his very boring books and walked past Ron into the main part of the shop. He glanced around, saw his youngest and newest clerk. “Parkins, come here. These young men need some help and Jefferson is unhappy with the task.” Mr. Parkins was a seventh year when Harry and his friends had started Hogwarts so he remembered them, even though he'd been a Hufflepuff. He was happy to drop his current occupation of shelving maintenance kits to show them anything. Harry described what they wanted in a broom, which made him remark, “That's going to cost a tidy sum, no matter which company you finally chose.” Draco just raised an eyebrow at him. “Last time my family bought brooms, we equipped a whole team and didn't even touch the interest on the pin money.” Mr. Parkins nodded, “I'd heard about that, but NEWTS, you know. Don't pay that much attention to house Quidditch. Now the Chuddly Cannons on the other hand.” Ron brightened like a new lit torch. “Yeah, the Cannons. What brooms are they using now?” “The newest Firebolt, of course. Want to see one? We got in four just yesterday.” Harry remarked mildly, “We agreed that the Firebolt is the only broom that will do what we need. And we need top quality robes as well. We'll be flying at high altitudes and that's going to be cold, even in the summer. What do you have in the way of those?” “We don't carry top quality robes on hand. Those are all custom made. They have warming and cooling charms, and you can add others, depending on what you need. There's a very nice anti-whip charm that will keep them from flipping over your head, no matter what you do. But they're terribly dear.” Harry did something he'd never done before. “I am sure they are. I can, however, afford them. I am heir to the Potter Vault, after all. And that's Neville Longbottom, Scion of Longbottom House. You know Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley too, don't you?” “Er ... what about your parents or guardians? They'll be upset.” Mr Parkins was beginning to feel quite out of his depth. Harry shrugged and said flatly, “I'm buying this out of pocket money. I haven't spent that much this quarter.” Draco nodded. “Me neither.” Neville took a deep breath then said, “I'm head of the family, and Greenhouse Master, I think we can afford it.” Ron just mumbled, “Harry's buying mine.” Mr. Parkins stumbled as he realized that three of these boys were the heir to or head of four of the oldest families in wizarding Britain and three of the richest. And the fourth was a member of one of the most respected. “I ... I see. Robes ... I'll bring you samples. And fitting spells. Oh, Merlin ... I haven't learned them yet. Damn ... excuse me.” With that he hurried off to fetch samples and his apprentice book. Harry looked up from a sample of robe fabric, the manager was speaking to him. “I'm sorry, sir. I didn't hear you.” “I was just wondering what had Parkins so upset. I hope everything is going well?” The manager wanted these boys to be happy with their purchase. Satisfied young costumers came back, again and again. Young customers turned into old customers who brought their own youngsters in. “Oh, yes, he's much nicer that the first man. He's about to panic though. He doesn't know any fitting spells. Do you?” Harry gave the manager his best 'I'm a nice boy, help me.' look. The one that Frankie and Johnny both said was killer. It worked on the manager quite well. He told them all that, when they were done with selecting fabric, he'd do the spell for Mr. Parkins. Harry smiled and thanked him. Then he had to referee between Draco and Ron. “I wouldn't be caught dead in Gryffindor colours.” Harry eyed the fabric that Ron had picked for the lining of their over robe. “It's not Gryffindor colours. That's cardinal. Not scarlet.” Ron agreed. “I don't know the names but it's totally different.” Draco gave the fabric a good look. “You know? You're right. Sorry. Now ... we need to decide between this...” he waived a scrap of fabric. “and this.” he pointed to another. Ron withdrew from the argument, saying he had no idea and wasn't going to make a fool of himself by offering an opinion. Neville, surprisingly, said, “We need something that can be seen, but we should have some way of being identified. The audience will want to be able to tell who is who.” Draco came up with the best idea. “Black cloaks, lined with the crimson, but with our family crest in the middle of the back. And some sort of team crest on the breast and right thigh. Crossed brooms or something. Dragon hide everything else, except for ... oh, I know, instead of wearing a padded short jacket we'll wear vests ... no, that won't work. Our arms will freeze. Humm.” Harry glanced around the shop. He didn't see what he wanted so he picked up a piece of paper and started sketching his idea. “Look, traditional over cloak, folded back rather than cutaway, but a long coat under it; not a true tail coat but long enough that it doesn't ride up in back, leaving that cold spot right in the small. Maybe something like Snape wore at that duel with Lockheart. Riding trousers, like equestrians wear, so that we've got room in the seat and thighs. I like the crest idea and I think a broom and wand, crossed over an oak leaf ... maybe?” Draco nodded. “Good.” Neville and Ron agreed as well so measurements were taken, final fabric selections agreed on and the manager led them to the counter to pay. When he found out that they were also taking the four Firebolt 3000's he couldn't help but gulp. “Oh ... oh, my.” He suddenly grinned. “Jefferson is going to have a fit. Serves him right. I've told him, time and time again, that young customers are the most important. Your age group are the big spenders of the future. Well, in your case, the present; but you know what I mean.” Draco agreed, handed his vault key to him, then sealed the invoice with his ring. Neville and Harry followed suit when their bills were done. They made arrangements for the brooms to be delivered at once and the flying robes, which Harry insisted on calling leathers, once they were done. The second they were out the door they heard a very undignified whoop from inside the store. Mr. Parkens had found out what his commission was. Ron smiled then turned to Harry. “Thanks, mate. I really appreciate this. I don't know how I'll ever repay you...” Draco interrupted to drawl, “By not getting yourself killed doing this.” but he grinned amiably. Ron snorted, smothering a laugh. “Ok, fine. Harry? I'm starved, let's go to the Leaky. Mum gave me enough money to get lunch.” Draco shuddered but didn't say anything, Neville gave him a sympathetic look. He wasn't a big fan of the Leaky either. He liked the cleaner, newer Friar's Pub. Harry shook his head. “Sorry, Ron, my stomach won't handle the Leaky. Food's too greasy. How about the Friar? It's newer and costs the same?” Ron just shrugged. “Ok. How is your stomach, mate? Better than last year? Or worse?” “Worse. But Draco is brewing me potions to help. I'm getting others from a professional brewer. They're really working a treat.” So they went to the Friar's Pub for a quick snack before returning to their various homes.

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