Lord Harry Potter

Harry smiled. "Sorry."

"So you can work on things there."

Neville grinned. "Thank you. It's just I can't make these new spells in Charms work at all..."

It didn't sound like Neville suffered from lack of practice. And he certainly had plenty of magic. So that left...

"Might I see your wand?" Harry asked.

Neville looked surprised but handed his wand over.

"Lumos," Harry said.

The wand sputtered.

Harry pushed more magic and said, "Lumos."

He got a light, but not a stable one. This felt like the last time he'd used his phoenix feather and holly wand, after it had been shattered.

Something was dreadfully wrong with this wand.

"What's the history of it? What have you done with it?" Harry asked.

Neville's eyes narrowed. "Just spells for class."

That didn't make any sense. "Neville, this wand is burned out."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "Burned out?"

"After Rookwood attacked me and broke my wand, I picked up the largest fragment and attacked him back. It felt like this. It felt broken. Neville..."

But Neville had a look of understanding and anger on his face.

"It's my father's wand. Gran insisted I use it. But he was...badly hurt in a battle. It's possible, it's even likely, he burned it out in that fight. He was trying to my protect my mother - and me. No one ever checked the wand, I mean after he got...hurt." He huffed. "Everyone, including me, just assumed I was a bad wizard. But I have a broken wand."

"Well, maybe not totally broken, but badly damaged. Take it to Ollivander and see what he says. You may need a new one." By may, Harry meant 'definitely will.'

"Thank you, Harry. Can I still practice in your room?"

"Of course. I'll even let you try my wand." Harry handed it over. "Let's see a Lumos."

Neville did. It was a glorious light, stable and brilliant and large. Almost as large as Neville's own smile.

.....

Harry had forgotten the letter Sirius forwarded to him. Where had he... There. In an inner pocket. Sirius had been coy about this letter when they had last spoken via mirror.

He tried to walk down the hall and read at the same time. Eventually he gave up walking as a lost cause. He had to go back and read the letter through a second time.

Then a third.

Harry smiled. He almost started cheering like a maniac, but had enough natural reserve to quash that.

Harry had a job for the summer. Sirius was behind it, obviously. After all, an old Black property in Normandy was being demolished so the land could be sold to muggles. That meant that every bit of magic, every rune stone, had to be removed and decommissioned.

Harry would get to see the secrets of the Blacks. Even if he was only to be an 'errand boy.' An errand boy emplaced by the owner. And in France. Harry had never traveled so far before.

Taking apart a magical structure would show him some of the details of how it had been built, too. Padfoot really was a great godfather. Harry would have to mirror-call him later.

Harry arrived at the Gryffindor family room and saw something odd at the front. The door guardian was there in a different portrait and frame from usual. She was smiling and nodding... Right, Harry had about forgotten the topic.

Manners, tradition... A bit of Harry's joy evaporated.

This time Professor McGonagall was present. Harry hadn't seen her at any other of these classes. Had she just now noticed? Perhaps she had to be notified to supply a replacement door guardian while the Fat Lady was here?

Hermione stood up. The room was not yet filled, but no one expected it of this particular topic. Why was Harry here again? He was one of the few blokes in the room... He supposed he was here for Hermione, for all the work she had done.

"Another true Gryffindor. When Madam Phoebe Bones nee Gwynnerd died, she willed her portrait to Hogwarts. My sources inform me she has served Gryffindor House for more than one hundred twenty years. Tonight she has asked to speak to all of us. Please welcome Madam Bones."

"Thank you, Fat Lady." That sounded remarkably like Ginny Weasley who must be filling in for her absent twin brothers.

"You're welcome, Littlest Weasley. I see a lot of missing faces tonight. Don't worry. I'll pass the word when certain people try to get into Gryffindor Tower. I have a captive audience then," the portrait said.

At least Harry felt better about coming. He was getting his lecture now. Poor Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville...

The room gave the Fat Lady a light chuckle.

"I haven't walked from my portrait to this one just to give you a list of rules. I've come to tell you the things that the school no longer does."

Harry noted that Professor McGonagall sat up a bit straighter. Like how a cat might in the face of a predator.

"We won't talk rules. We'll talk about the thinking behind the rules. Of course, I'm witness to much in my corridor and I tire of it. Even when I scold those out late at night whispering nothings to each other – or worse – conduct does not change. So let us talk about why there are rules that you all seem so fond of ignoring."

This was going to be tedious, Harry knew. Painful, too.

But he was wrong.

It wasn't scolding. It turned out to be more of a history lesson, but not one that Binns had ever thought to give.

The Fat Lady talked about the history of the houses in the time she had known. Hufflepuff students had died at the hands of others. Slytherins had murdered others in their own house. Hogwarts had been a far more violent place in her time, which she was remarkably vague about identifying. Perhaps she still refused to give away her true age.

"And the Professors use these situations to hand out detentions or take points. Don't get me started on House points. No. The reason for a curfew, the reason for bowing (which no one ever does these days), the reason for wand holsters, and all the rest was to create an environment of courtesy and keep the students – you – from attacking and killing each other. A cruel word and a duel might start... Now there's just a lightly enforced rules about dueling in the halls..."

Students killed each other... Why had that never made it into any of the versions of Hogwarts: A History?

"Following the rules used to be damned serious business. Three of the students I started Hogwarts with were dead before my fifth year. Another few died before I graduated, but two of these were classroom mishaps. Trying to do too much before they were ready. There's a reason Hogwarts doesn't take Master's candidates. Advanced work, experimentation, it's all dangerous. That's one master to two or three apprentices at most. You students are barely novices...and I can't tell you the experiments I've heard discussed in my corridor. Enough to make me sick..."

Sounded like Fred and George.

"No one ever tells you these things. We just repeat the rules. When we say be courteous, there's a reason. When we try to make you be respectful, there's a reason. When we grow alarmed from your experiments, there's a reason. It's time to make sure all of you know it."

Okay, there was a good deal of scolding mixed into her history, but Harry had never heard any of this.

Professor McGonagall was stiffer than the chair she sat in by now.

"Historically it's very dangerous for a stranger to walk inside another's castle. Many a man was slaughtered by a treacherous lord. So Hogwarts had to work to get families to trust it. That's where the rules came from, why they were as they were. To keep students safe from each other – and from the staff and faculty. An eleven year old with a new wand, never used, is no match for a master of any field. A potions master is a poisoner. A transfiguration master could make the dead appear as anything else. A hex-master or curse-master...you don't want to know what they can do. A master enchanter... Hogwarts was created by one. You think a person that skilled is limited to making wonderful things? No, of course not. Why do you think Professor Flamel forced the teachers to sign the old form of the teacher's contract starting last year. That horrible witch Umbridge fell afoul of it. But it's keeping some others on the right path, at least..."

.....

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