Moon Blessed

Staring at the rather huge pile of paperwork that was laying before his groaning godfather and his smirking account manager, he wisely decided he should wait a few more hours before coming back to drag Sirius for shopping. He knew from experience that when Griphook was tormenting somebody like that, he should not get between the goblin and the victim. Unless he himself was the one Griphook was trying to torture, that is.

Giving a hasty smile to the two occupants in the room who had turned to look at him at his entrance, he gave a quick "I'll come back when you are not busy" before bolting out, ignoring Sirius' betrayed expression steadfastly.

The man would survive. Harry did, after all. Besides, if the man could not think to bribe the goblin with money to make said goblin to do his work (which was what Harry did within five minutes of being handed his own paperwork by Griphook), well then the man would simply have to learn how to do paperwork.

Harry supposed he could just go to Fradgrot and get his own matters sorted before coming back. It was not like Griphook would let Sirius go so easily.

"Harrison?"

"Hmm?" Harry asked, staring at the blackish-brown cap floating in front of his face, idly wondering what Sirius must be going through at the moment.

"Would you kindly stop playing with my drink?"

Harry gave a sheepish smile. With a flick of his hand, the rather dark coloured drink that was changing shapes before him settled back into its mug.

"Thank you."

"So, do you know what's wrong?"

"Not quite. You were saying it doesn't work?"

"No. It's still connected to me but well, it's more difficult to conduct my magic through it. I sweated buckets before I could do a simple lumos."

Harry Potter watched as his goblin mentor – Fradgrot – murmured softly as he traced his clawed finger over the his wand. The magical tool lit up briefly as previously invisible runes lit up around it in a flash.

"Hmm, Phoenix and Holly."

"That's my wand materials! How'd you know?"

Fradgrot raised an eyebrow at the child. Understanding dawned on Harry a beat later.

"Ah, right. Those runes that lit up."

Fradgrot nodded, pleased to see his pupil bothering to use his brain.

"Well, from my limited expertise, your wand is indeed in working order. And considering you still feel connected to it but have a harder time using the wand, my only likely conclusion is that this has something to do with your magical core."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You mentioned it yourself that ever since your transformation, you have been able to feel your magic constantly while before you could only feel it while you used the magic for spells and such. That means your magical core has undergone some changes. We'll have to find out what exactly changed before we can fix it or find a solution. In the meantime, I'll have to seek out experts to confirm if my theory is wrong or correct."

"The first time I transformed, I felt like my magic was being set free within me. From then on I could always feel it without having to use up much energy, even when I do spells. It's like the magic is right under my skin. Does it mean my core stabilised early or something?"

Fradgrot gave him a sharp look. "Well Harrison, no. Stabilised cores do not often bring that feeling. Rather it results in more magical stamina and power. From what you tell me, it seems you are highly magically sensitive. Not all magical beings are acutely aware of magic being pulled from their core while they do spells and certainly do not feel it under their skin. From your descriptions, it seems your core has changed from a coiled core to that of an open core."

Harry frowned in confusion, not understanding the term.

"All witches and wizards, Harrison, are born with open cores. That's why when your kind is little, they undergo accidental magic. The magic is wild and unrestrained. Thus it is better able to act out to help their young owners in times of need. However, with time, the cores slowly close up. That means that their magic is bound within their centres, with it reacting only when called upon or in dire emergencies where it acts on its own to save its person. A prime reason this binding happens is because witches and wizards do not have the necessary adaptations to live with open cores. If their magic were to boost while they had an open core, it is highly likely their bodies may not be able to contain it.

Now, in your race's life, the ages eleven, fifteen and seventeen are important milestones because that is when your magical cores gain maturity. At eleven, the magical core gains its first stability where their magical power had grown enough to be capable of wielding a wand and the magical core has fully drawn in the amount of magic that is within the witch or wizard.

The reason witches and wizards have wands is because they are of certain power ranges. Any less and they are squibs. Any more and they will usually be counted as mages or warlocks depending on their power scale. Now over the past centuries not many have gained such power so we will not focus on that for today."

Harry leaned in, elbows on the desk as he listened attentively to the informative lecture.

"Now as I was saying, the age eleven is when your race has their first stability, where their cores are bound and their magic gains its first growth, indicating they are capable of using wand magic. This is why magical schooling starts only at eleven. It is the age where you can be safely taught to discipline your magic with no fear of backlash were you to use a wand. And the wand chooses its witch or wizard through the type of core the person has and their magic's," Fradgrot paused, searching for a fitting word. "Well their magic's personality, for a lack of better words. The core and magic should match and complement that of the wand's cores so that the magic can be conducted well."

The stout goblin started to skim around his shelves, seemingly searching for a book. Harry trailed the goblin's movements, absorbing the information he was receiving with keen attention.

"At age fifteen," Fradgrot continued, "the magical core reaches its second stage of stability. Often this involves in a growth in the magical core. Along with that, it's also the time when witches and wizards start showing any magical affinities they have been blessed with from birth more distinctly. They often show it then as at fifteen is when they have cultivated enough magic to showcase such powers. In olden days there were rituals to find out what the gifts - if there were any – that were bestowed by magic. This will be something else you have to research on your own and come to your conclusions on whether it was right or wrong."

At Harry's frown, Fradgrot explained over his shoulder about Griphook mentioning his project to discover magic's discrimination.

"Ah. OK."

Fradgrot carried on his impromptu lecture.

"Now, age seventeen is the last stage of maturity. By then, the magical core of witches and wizards are fully stabilised and should be at the maximum power and capacity that the person is blessed with. They are considered legal adults in the magical world as it is when they are viewed by magic as being in full control of their individual powers.

Now before the transformation, I suppose you would have gone through the same experience, just maybe with a much better sync with magic than your peers considering your acute magical sensitivity.

But now, from what you recounted, I believe your core has changed to be that of an open core. Do keep in mind that this is only speculation on my part. It is obvious your core has changed and the most likely change is that of an open core. The main difference for you now is that your core will not stabilise anymore. At least, not the same way as the coiled cores.

It's simple logic, really, assuming my speculation is accurate.

Your magic is now not anchored to only your centre. While it is still produced within your centre, it moves about and circulates your entire being, pulsing under your very skin. Therefore, wand magic is more difficult for you compared to your peers as now your magic is not all bound in one place within you where you can easily direct it."

Harry blinked, absorbing the information in bewilderment.

"So I can't ever use a wand again?"

Fradgrot scoffed.

"You most certainly can."

"How? Besides, did you not mention that my body is not created in such a way as to house an open core for long? Does that not mean it's dangerous for me?"

"One question at a time please, Harrison."

Harry gave a sheepish smile that the goblin, who had his back to the wizard, did not see.

"While usually it would be a matter of concern for you to have an open core, I doubt it will affect you adversely anymore. Human magicals may not be adapted for it but creatures are. And do not forget that while you still retain your humanity in your mer ability, you are also blessed to be a water creature as well. That itself indicated you would undergo some changes. This means your body, unlike that of your fellow witches and wizards, is capable of housing an open core and withstanding direct, prolonged exposure to magic."

Harry picked up on the indirect message that open cores are common among those blessed with creature abilities or were born as creatures with magical abilities.

"And as for your wand. Well, assuming my assumptions are correct, your problem can be easily solved if you establish a clear pathway to conduct magic between your core and wand."

"And how do I do that?"

"Well, the easy way is to adjust your wand. Usually when wands stop working for their wizard or witch, it is often because something – often something very traumatic – caused their compatibility to change. That often entails with the person having to change their whole wand as it is often the personality of their magic that changes, triggering the need to change their wand components entirely. It is a rare occurrence. But for your case, considering your wand is still connected to you, this suggests your wand is compatible to your magic but not wholly so because it is not suited to your new core. The solution should be as simple as adding one more material to your wand to enable that better direct connection between your magical core and your wand despite your magic thrumming about your entire being. So I suppose we should get you to a wand maker and have your wand adjusted. I heard your godfather was getting a wand sometime today or tomorrow. You could get this done then too."

Harry stared at the goblin skimming through the office shelf sceptically, wondering where the catch was. Fradgrot was never one to let him do things the easy way. This was the goblin that forced him to read his entire potions book series in one sitting and make notes so as to break his 'dumbing down' habit.

"And the hard way is?" Harry enquired.

"Well that," Fradgrot said, finally reaching out for a book on the lower part of the shelf, "is where you learn better control over your magic by disciplining your magical core and all the magic in you. It is one step beyond the known Occlumency practice as this is something your kind has yet to explore. And as to why you will be attempting this even when you are getting your wand fixed? Well, having an open core is no laughing matter. The magic you have is even more unrestrained than your peers and can react to simple emotions if you do know how to control it. While it may sometimes be good during an emergency, it can be equally bad during such a time that you are facing a skilled nemesis."

Harry's thoughts unwillingly flitted back to Voldemort at the words 'skilled nemesis'.

"If they are intelligent enough, they could use your own violent magic against you. Therefore, it is imperative that you learn to control your magic. Should be easy with you considering your magical sensitivity."

Harry sat up straighter. For the goblins to share their own knowledge so freely was rare, especially to a wizard. Granted he was closer to the goblins than most but even then it was rare. He knew instinctively that he was to treasure this more than any other teaching the goblins have given him.

"And how do I do that?" he asked.

"It's simple," the goblin said, coming back over to his office desk and sliding over a thick tomb to Harry. The title read The Mind Arts and the Soul.

"I'm going to give you the instructions to help you learn how to find your core."

Harry blinked, stunned. He was pretty sure no one had ever mentioned they could find their own magical cores within them. While one could feel it when they did spells and such, it was believed to be impossible to find. It was an intangible thing, he glanced down at the title of the tomb, just like the soul was an intangible thing.

He looked up at his mentor with awe and disbelief, remembering the goblin's starting words at his whole wand topic.

"This is what you call limited expertise, Fradgrot?" he asked.

The goblin in question rolled his eyes though Harry was certain a slight pink dusted his mentor's cheeks.

"Good evening, Griphook!"

Harry sauntered into his account manager's office, brightening at the scowl thrown his way.

"Do you not have a godfather to annoy now?" Griphook asked sullenly, slowly putting away his beloved paperwork.

"I require assistance. Besides, I thought he was with you?"

"I was only covering for his account manager while the Elder had to attend to an important meeting. Your mutt should be in Elder Drakrug's office right now, resuming his pitiful plight."

"He still has not figured out that he can get away by bribing you with money, has he?"

"Now I would hardly call it bribing. Merely being paid to do what you hired me to do."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"So what was it you needed assistance with?" the goblin asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I felt some new wards settling into the property today afternoon while I was with Sirius. I thought all the wards were done already."

Griphook frowned.

"Yes, they were. I'll send the ward masters to check on it immediately."

The goblin flicked his wrist at the child wizard.

"Ow! What was that for?" Harry asked, rubbing his left arm with a scowl as he failed to dodge the stinging hex sent his way.

"First it was for waiting so long to alert me of something this important. Second was for being annoying in general."

"But there was nothing malicious about the wards," Harry pouted, before brightening again, "And what do you mean annoying Griphook? You love me!"

This time he successfully dodged the stinging hex sent his way.

"Well is that all you wanted to bother me about?"

Harry settled himself on the chair opposite the goblin.

"Well, no. I just remembered something a few days ago that I had been meaning to ask about ever since Sirius came. I can't believe I actually forgot about it for so long considering its importance."

Griphook put away the last of his work, giving the wizard child in front of him his utmost attention.

"When Sirius first came, he mentioned something about a prophecy. A prophecy concerning me and the Dark Lord. Do you have any information on it?"

Griphook sighed. "I had wondered when you would ask about it. Though I suppose it should not surprise me that you forgot about it between your godfather's return. I believe majority of the Wizarding World is not aware that such a prophesy exists. As for the Goblin Nation, we do not know the true contents of that prophecy. We do know however," Griphook continued, seeing the slight disappointment on his client's face, "That the gist of it is rumoured to prophesy about someone being born that can defeat the Dark Lord. From our sources, it was said that that prophecy was the prime reason you were targeted by the Dark Lord."

Harry nodded. Sirius had mentioned that much, though the man himself did not know the true prophecy.

"Also, the individuals who are prophesied about can always retrieve a recording of their respective prophecy from the Unspeakables' lair which is in the Ministry. Or what is commonly known as the Department of Mysteries."

Harry grimaced. He certainly did not want to appear at the Ministry anytime soon what with the whole Boy-Who-Live craze and how the Ministry seemed to be filled with no good politicians from what little exposure he had. The latest rumour from the goblins' networks was that the Minister was planning to send Dementor guards at Hogwarts though there were no confirmations to the speculation yet. Harry was hoping that for once the rumour was just that – a rumour. He still remembered how Sirius looked dead inside when he first came to him. While the man's innocence had certainly saved him from being as affected by the Dementors he had certainly not been spared. Heck, Sirius still had nightmares frequently.

And while he had always known at the back of his mind that he and Voldemort seemed somehow fated to clash, he certainly dreaded confirming it by going and looking for that prophecy. The man was some fifty years ahead of him and had managed to stay alive despite being somewhat killed. Compare that to Harry's meagre two years' experience within the magical community, well; his self-preservation was screaming at him that he was better off avoiding the man, even though he wished the man was dead for murdering his parents.

"It's certainly the better option, even if it is an impossible option," his inner self murmured. Harry's mind recalled his past confrontations with the spirits of the undead Dark Lord. Harry grimaced some more. Avoiding the man was not likely despite his wishes to do so. The crazy man was sadly bent on killing him.

Mind overrun with many matters, Harry turned his attention back to the goblin in front of him.

"Griphook."

The goblin raised an eyebrow.

"When I recounted my past misadventures at Hogwarts, you were concerned whenever Voldemort made an appearance." Harry noted the grimace on his goblin friend's face with narrowed eyes. "You know something I don't, don't you? You said during that time that you will be researching into the matter?"

Griphook sighed, rubbing the side of his forehead with his clawed fingers. "I am certain you will not like what I have to share. And I have not finished discovering half of the matter."

"That bad?" Harry asked with his own grimace. Steeling himself internally for the worse, he asked for the goblin to share the news anyway.

"Please tell me even if it's terrible. I have a feeling I really need to know when it comes to Voldemort. I doubt I can survive another chance encounter with that madman again without extra help."

Griphook straightened in his seat with another sigh at Harry's words, seemingly resigning to his fate of having to inform Harry of the bad news.

"Well if the prophecy is true and self-fulfilling, you will indeed need help because right now you are in a bad disadvantage when it comes to mortality rates." The goblin prepped his elbows onto his desk, looking Harry in the eye. "It seems Lord Voldemort's key to immortality is a horcrux. Or should I say, horcruxes."

"A horcrux is, to put it simply, a container in which a person hides a part of his or her soul to anchor them to this plane of life should their original body die. However, the soul is not something that should be split apart. The soul is where a being's life essence and (for magical beings) their magic is kept. It is also what anchors your mind and personality to your body. Splitting it essentially tears a person apart, their sanity and power. Furthermore, the soul's natural state forbids it to be split apart. Thus to do so against its nature, one has to do a very nefarious ritual. A ritual in where the last action to complete the process is to do an act of extreme evil. One example is cold blooded murder of another person."

Griphook could hardly blame the child in front of him for sporting such a disgusted look.

"He made that? He made more than one of that?"

Griphook shrugged. "That is my belief, yes. The descriptions of the diary you mentioned matches that of a horcrux. When you destroyed it – a very commendable job, by the way– the accounts of Salazar Slytherin and Gaunt should have rightfully closed down till a new Heir or Lord claimed it, which in all honesty would have been you as you defeated the last Lord and rightfully can claim it through conquest. However, the accounts are regrettably still in possession of one Tom Marvalo Riddle, showing that the Dark Lord is still alive."

Harry played with the sleeves of his robes, digesting the information with great difficulty.

"Barbaric. That's simply barbaric."

Harry sighed, letting his face fall on to his hands. Looking up to see Griphook, he asked, "Is it possible to find out how many he made and where he hid them?"

"Yes, but it will be extremely difficult without a focus. If we had that diary before it was destroyed, we could have used the soul piece within to find the answers you seek. But as of now, it would be a blind search."

Harry frowned. "That may be so, but maybe we could still search around places that had connections to the Dark Lord's past. I'm certain he would not just leave his soul parts lying about randomly with no protections.

Griphook nodded. "That's a good idea. I suppose you have some form of an idea?"

Harry nodded absently, his mind whirling about with possibilities.

"Maybe we could start with that orphanage that he wanted to never go back to from what I saw in the memory. And the area surrounding it. Even if there is no horcrux, I'm certain there will be some information we could get about him from the people there. And that could clue us into searching someplace else."

"The idea is sound but it will take some time to locate that orphanages' existence, considering you never found out its name."

Harry frowned, realising Griphook's point was valid. "Well, nothing we can do but try. In the meantime, I'll search within Hogwarts."

Griphook's head shot up. A frown marred the goblin's face. Harry hastily explained, stopping the goblin's objections before they could start.

"Listen. I'm certain there's a chance that a horcrux could be there if he made another one." Harry searched for the right words to express his thoughts.

"He was right in saying what he said to me in the Chamber of Secrets, no matter how much I loathe admitting it. He and I have a lot in common despite our differences in opinions in many matters. And as a magical orphan who was shunned in the muggle world and found a home somewhat in Hogwarts, I'm very certain he would feel it safe to leave part of his soul within the castle to be hidden from anybody else. It's what I would do if I ever went that insane." Harry paused, grimacing at that thought. "And I hope I'll never go that insane."

The explanation failed to assure the surly goblin.

"The chances of finding a horcrux in Hogwarts aside, Harrison, you still cannot simply go horcrux hunting all by yourself!"

"Why ever not?" Harry asked, not understanding Griphook's objection.

"It's dangerous!"

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh," the goblin rolled his eyes at the child's lack of awareness or care when it came to his own health. "Besides, there is no way you could possibly identify a horcrux even if you come across one, unlike the warders we'll be having here at Gringotts. That means you will be unaware if you do stumble across one and more vulnerable to becoming a victim like that first year you saved last year."

Harry shook his head, remembering the head-splitting pain he often underwent every time he was in the presence of Voldemort – horcrux or the actual thing.

"No. I can identify if I'm near one. My scars gives me quite the headache whenever I'm near Voldemort."

"What?" Griphook stared at the child in front of him in alarm.

Harry startled at the shock and confusion in Griphook's voice.

"Did I never mention the parts where my scar twinges in pain every time I was near Quirell in my first year or the solidifying Tom Riddle in my second year?" Harry asked guiltily as he stared at Griphook.

"No. You most certainly did not." Griphook's face was forming quite a threatening snarl. "Explain."

Harry sighed before explaining how he always experienced pain when in the presence of Voldemort and how Dumbledore had explained at the end of last year that Voldemort had apparently given some of his powers to Harry when he failed to kill him.

Harry frowned as he thought over on what he just said with his better understanding of magic and the magical world. "Oh wow, that is actually not that great an explanation now that I actually think about it. People cannot just pass on their powers to one another like that if Fradgrot's teaching ever taught me anything."

He looked at the surly goblin in front of him who was rubbing his forehead and had the most worried look on his face. Harry felt dread pool within his gut. Griphook had never looked worried before. The goblin had always been snarky but cool and collected when with him. Seeing Griphook worried was unsettling.

"What is it?"

"Harrison."

The tone was extremely cautious and resigned.

"Yes?"

"That first-year girl you saved – a Weasley wasn't it? – She did not naturally have abilities to speak Parseltongue and such did she?"

Harry shook his head.

"But when she was possessed, she could?"

Harry nodded.

Realisation dawned on him like a bucket of ice as he realised where Griphook was going with the conversation.

Ginny – Voldermort's soul – Possession – Unusual powers

"Are you saying what I think you are saying?"

"What are you thinking? Griphook asked with a tired sigh.

Harry unconsciously rubbed his scar, piecing all the information he knew together. Ginny could speak Parseltongue when she was possessed and influenced by Voldemort's soul because Voldemort knew parseltongue. Dumbledore mentioned that Voldemort had passed Harry his powers but Harry now knew that that was not as simple as it sounded. The power of witches and wizards were stored within their souls and you could not just give away your soul.

"Unless someone split it," his inner voice murmured.

Harry stared at Griphook, with wide eyes. "Please tell me I am not hosting part of that crazy man's soul!"

"But I don't feel possessed! I mean, I'm pretty sure I feel like me. No other influence."

Harry paced about the office, twiddling with his thumbs and feeling his magic buzz about in a frenzy, reflecting his nervousness and fear.

"Calm down, would you Harrison!" Jadeclaw exclaimed.

Harry whirled about to find all the objects in the Head Healer goblin's office to be either floating, freezing or spinning. He let out a nervous laugh.

"Sorry."

Waving his hand, he let out his magic, willing it to make things go back to normal. Harry slid back into the bed he had vacated a few minutes prior, sitting on its edge and facing the two surly goblins he was conversing with.

"Now, since we are calm, let's get a few things correct. You are not possessed," Jadeclaw started.

"Really?"

"Yes, fish. You aren't."

"Half-fish Griphook," Harry muttered half-heartedly, too frazzled to really bother correcting Griphook.

Griphook frowned at the subdued wizard before sharing a glance with his colleague.

"Harrison, look at us."

Harry reluctantly faced his two closest goblin friends.

"The soul piece within you is not in any way harming you. In fact, from what we were able to discern, your magic has formed a barrier around it in your mind, only allowing beneficial things – such as the ability of Parseltongue – to enter your mind. Nothing else. In fact, I have the distinct impression it is you who are controlling that soul rather than the other way round."

Harry felt a little better at that.

"Can we still take it out? I really do not find it assuring to be hosting such a thing."

Griphook gave a shrug, turning to Jadeclaw who was more experienced in the thing.

"I cannot guarantee it. We will have to confer with the Wardmasters who have more expertise in the matter. The thing is Harrison, while your magic protects you from the soul piece, it also seems to protect that soul piece from any harm."

"What?!"

"Well, it took me quite a few attempts to locate that soul shard despite knowing what I was looking for and where to look for. With how dedicatedly that thing is being guarded by your subconscious magic, well, I cannot guarantee we can get it out of you the same way our ward masters remove horcruxes from treasures during their expeditions."

Harry sighed before a question popped within his mind.

"Why would my magic guard it?"

Both goblins shrugged. "Magic is a peculiar matter, Harrison. It is debated to be sentient and acts with its own mind of sorts. While this may not be the answer you are seeking, it is the only one we have. We may know in time what it means if we are meant to know."

Harry deflated at the cryptic answer.

"Do not look so resigned. We will still be searching for ways to take the thing out of you, regardless of the magic guarding it. While as of now you are not being harmed, your magic feeds a little of itself to the soul shard which may or may not be detrimental to you as your magical growth progress. We should rather not risk it."

"What?" Harry whispered in disbelief.

"You heard me, Harrison. Part of your magic is being fed by you unconsciously to that soul shard keeping it alive, which further proves that your magic is certainly not trying to kill the thing anytime soon. It's either a compromise – give it magic in return for not possessing you – or it's something else which we are not aware of."

"My magic has gone barmy, hasn't it?" Harry let his head fall onto his hands, reeled with the information.

"Don't say that. Be happy you have such good and strong magic. The fact that you still have enough for your own needs besides feeding that soul leech is amazing."

"I thought you said it only takes a little magic from me, Jadeclaw?"

"Yes, and the only possible conclusion for that is that your magic is in control. Had the soul shard been the one in control, you would be magicless and lifeless in a short period of time."

"Like what almost happened to Ginny?" Harry asked, horror rising within him.

"Yes. Exactly like that as of your friend's sister. Although you would not have survived, considering nobody would have been there to check on you or rescue you," Jadeclaw said with a grimace.

Harry scowled at the reminder of his relatives and Dumbledore's blunder. "I can't say I'm not surprised I wasn't given a medical check on that night I survived a killing curse," he said bitterly.

Feeling a clawed hand grip his shoulder, he looked up to see Griphook standing beside him. "Forget about that, Harrison. We'll find a way to solve this situation. We promise."

Jadeclaw nodded in agreement.

"But for now, do not worry so much. Be assured in the knowledge that you cannot be harmed by that soul piece. It could have been worse."

Harry nodded, accepting his situation. There really was no point worrying over things beyond his control at the moment and he was extremely thankful his magic had matters under control for him all these years.

Sending a silent thank you to magic, he stood up from the bed.

He had other things to do anyway. The goblins promised they would help.

"And they do not give empty promises," he thought.

Harry resumed the twiddling of his thumbs as he watched Griphook meticulously do his paperwork. Sometimes he wondered if the goblin did anything else other than paperwork. He idly wondered when Sirius would finish his admin work or when he would realise the goblins were playing the ultimate prank on him. Honestly, Drakrug was the man's account manager.

"What are you guys going to do to search for the horcruxes?" he asked curiously.

Griphook dipped his quill into the inkpot near him before continuing about his job.

"Well, we are going to have to find that orphanage that one Tom Marvalo Riddle had attended. We are also of the mind to search known properties that Riddle owns if possible, just to ensure that we cover all ground. Meanwhile, we will try our best to find ways to remove that horcrux from you without killing you."

Harry winced at the blunt goblin's words but was grateful for once that the goblins had disposed of the option of killing him to get rid of the horcrux without even considering it. It had heartened him that they had looked him in the eye and said that if there were no known ways to remove a horcrux from a living container, it only meant that they had to create a new way to do so, not that he had to be killed. Honestly, for all their sneering, scowling and bearing teeth, these creatures were too soft in the inside when it came to helping someone they cared for.

"Also, while you are still forbidden to go horcrux hunting yourself, you may discreetly dig up the past of Tom Riddle in Hogwarts."

Harry scowled slightly at the restriction.

"But what if there is a horcrux. We could be wasting time."

"No, we will not. If you gain a very strong indication that some part of that school does indeed hold a horcrux, well then you can inform me and the Goblin Nation will come over to check the matter out."

Harry blinked. "But, you guys cannot just barge into Hogwarts –" he paused. "Can you?"

"We can always find ways, Harrison. You just have to think."

Harry raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Harrison, you have a very precious thing not rotting in Hogwarts that you can claim. Have you ever realised that?"

Harry frowned, not getting the goblin's words.

"You know, us goblins are great harvesters, especially when it comes to treasure. And an ancient beast with valuable magical properties is definitely treasure." Griphook threw him another obvious hint.

"The basilisk!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes. The basilisk. You can always call us up to harvest that basilisk for you. It will be a profitable experience for both you and the Goblin Nation. And the fact that such an ancient, magical creature's corpse will simply remain there with no decomposition for the next many years only means that you can call us at such a time where you require our presence for something else too – say a hiding horcrux."

Harry blinked again. "Wow. That's brilliant."

"All it takes it using just a bit of that brain your blessed with, fish," Griphook said with a smile that showed too many teeth.

Harry rolled his eyes at the playful jibe at his intelligence.

"Anyways, before I forget, you mentioned the Unspeakables are the ones to contact to retrieve the Prophecy, did you not? Do I just write 'to an Unspeakable' on the letter?"

"Just write 'Unspeakable' on the address. Your owl should be able to find it. And speaking of letters, Harrison, I received one to give to you."

Harry accepted the fine parchment handed over to him.

"Heir Malfoy, it seems, wants to talk to you."

Samhain:

It falls on the day when the harvest ends. This is a time of the year when the earth begins its sleep. Where life takes rest and death begins its search. The harvest is done and nature takes its break before being renewed.

In olden times, this celebration was thus founded as a form of way to showcase our people's appreciation for Nature and Magic's blessings of good crops and health for us to last throughout the year, especially for the coming season of cold and death. Rituals involving offerings to Lady Magic is a common form of the celebration.

"I do not look good in this!"

Harry twitched, ever so slightly.

However, magic is something that surrounds us magicals all year through. Some may wonder why we choose this particular time of the year, where the dark half of the year begins, to celebrate our beloved Magic and her blessings.

The reason comes about due to a special phenomenon that occurs on this particular time.

"Oh, Prongslet, this would look good on you!"

Harry tried, ever so slightly, to blend with the couch he was seated upon. From the snicker that came from the salesgirl, Harry presumed he failed.

Samhain marks the start of the dark half of the year as the harvest ends. During this period when Death precedes over Life, the lines between different planes of existence is said to blur. Magic is in favor of those that are of Death. As such, it is said that demons, spirits and those that have been claimed by Death are able to cross into our mortal plane.

It is believed that death during this period is seen to be a blessed death, for the spirits will have ease in their passing during this time where Death is at his strongest.

Idly, Harry wondered the truth in this statement or if it was a simple myth. His parents were murdered then. How would their passing be considered smooth?

"Then again," he thought, "this refers to their spirits after they left their bodies and are preparing to pass into the afterlife. Not the way they died."

"Cub! Look at this!"

Harry shut his book with a sigh, conceding finally that he would never get to read in peace while his godfather was in a shopping frenzy. He regretted feeding the man pepper up potion so that they could shop despite it being evening. He had meant to get the shopping done sooner. The fact that Ireland's magical district had many shops that were open 24/7 had not helped him. He had not expected Sirius to be so energetic.

"This is why you should never give a man the goblin's pepper-up potion. Even if it was a sip and even if you were desperate." Harry cringed at his inner voice's admonishment.

Eyeing the garishly bright purple garment and Sirius' evil smirk Harry told his godfather simply that, "If you even think of forcing me into that thing, I will set Fradgrot on you."

Sirius' immediate dropping of the hideous garment was made even funnier when a nearby salesgirl hissed at the man for recklessly dropping the unsold item on the floor.

Harry burst out laughing.

All in all, Harry supposed the shopping trip had not been entirely bad. They had managed to buy a whole new wardrobe for the man with charms set on the clothes to adjust over time as Sirius slowly got back his healthy state from before he was imprisoned. And Sirius, despite his twelve-year isolation from the world, had had quite the fashion sense to show off – once he stopped goofing around that is.

Harry turned to Sirius, eyeing the man who was patting all his pockets to check their purchases were still fine after the portkey travel. (They had yet to buy the man a wand - the wand making shops, unfortunately, were closed for the night, unlike the other retail shops.) Clutching the one purchase they had not bothered shrinking to his chest, Harry glanced at the clock they had in the living room.

"Well, I think I can make dinner for both of us in about an hour and a half. Are you very hungry? It is a bit late. Do you need a snack while you wait?"

Sirius shook his head. "I'll be fine, pup. Can I help you while you make dinner?"

Harry gave it a thought. "Well, you could go unpack your clothes first and then come back and start cutting some vegetables if you can guarantee to not make a mess," he replied cheekily.

Sirius rolled his eyes at the task before making his way to his room. "Alright. Be back in a jiffy, pup."

Harry returned his attention to what he clutched in his arms.

To say he was embarrassed was an understatement. He was mortified. Yet he could never deny that he was happy with the whole situation.

He had not planned on buying it. In fact, he had not bought it at all. Sirius had bought it for him. He had tried to stop the man. He was thirteen after all, for magic's sake. He was quite sure he was too old for it but he had never had one before. And when they passed by the shop, full of what Harry had always labelled "never for a freak" in his childhood – well, he had stared just a beat too long.

He really did try to talk Sirius out of it but he would never deny the happiness at the gift.

Shaking his head to stop the squeamish yet happy feelings coursing through him, he gave the brown teddy bear in front of him a superior look. "What you smiling at me for?"

Settling the bear on the sofa, he walked (read skipped) to the kitchen, ready to start dinner. He had a distinct feeling it would be a long time before he would ever grow tired of that bear, teenager or not.

And if he had a silly grin on his face all night, Sirius chose not to comment on it.