Harry Potter walked towards Gringotts with different thoughts wreaking havoc through his usually well-organized mind. The book Hwasa had given him had been a revelation in more ways than one.

Now, he had deeper understanding of the Dark Mark, about how it had been perverted to become the disgraceful sign of Voldemort. Magic marks were created to establish a connection based on trust. However, in its most basic form, it was a slave seal. Though it did not rob your free will, it acted as a deterrent in case of the marked person attacking the one that controlled the mark.

In the royal family, it had been used for more than millennia. They had learnt the hard way that, in the path of power, no family existed. Therefore, they had created a way to ensure the assassinations between royalties came to a halt, which had been a success but brought unexpected advantages. It was able to call all the marked people, it was able to leach magic in minor quantities in case of an emergency, and it was able to send brief messages. In ancient times, the royal mark was a sign of honour and only the royal family was allowed to bear it. Its secrets were passed from generation to generation, to the new emperor or empress, thus he was unable to understand how Voldemort had managed to create his mark. Harry needed more information about how it worked, which was another reason he needed to speak with Ragnok. Gringotts had the best Curse-breakers and analysts in the world, and now he needed to hire their services. He was sure Lucius would be willing to have that thing looked over.

He entered the bank and greeted the outer guards, who returned the greeting. One of the things he enjoyed the most about visiting the bank was finding civilized people with decent manners. He saw a familiar teller free and approached his counter.

“Good morning, Sharpclaw,” he greeted the goblin, who composed a sharp smile.

“Mister Potter, it is always a pleasure to have you visiting our humble abode."

“Humble abode... I believe your standards are set too high,” the boy said, making the other male chuckle.

“Manager Ragnok is waiting for you. May gold continue filling your abundant vaults."

“And may your enemies continue trembling at your name,” the boy smirked at the teller.

Harry walked towards Ragnok's office, an amused smirk playing on his lips. It was good to have those small conversations with Sharpclaw; the man always managed to lift his spirits with their banter. A heavy sigh escaped his lips at the idea of the meeting lasting longer than usual. Although he enjoyed visiting the bank, staying seated for hours to no end was not among the activities he enjoyed the most. He saw the goblin's office door wide open and took it as a silent invitation to enter. The man in question was reading through a thick folder with what most would consider a disturbing expression. However, Harry had learnt it was his happy one, always present when business was going well.

“Good morning Ragnok,” he greeted the goblin, who looked up in surprise and smiled.

“As punctual as always, Harry. Before we get down to business, may I inquire how Miss Elizabeth is doing?” the goblin asked with a toothy grin.

“She is as energetic as she can be, learning everything she can from Aunt Eleadora."

“Ah, so she is on her path of becoming someone to reckon with."

“Far too much for my taste... You seemed happy, far too much. Any good news?” he asked, changing the topic from his unpredictable little sister.

“Excellent news: the stationery store is thriving. A while ago I received this contract from the Ministry, he wants to buy supplies in bulk,” he informed him, handing him a folder.

"What do you recommend?"

“Hand it to Miss Blair for inspection first. The Minister wants some kind of publicity and is offering more money than necessary. If the contract is approved, then agree to it."

“I will do that. How are the other businesses doing? When I ask Ploutos he only manages to confuse me,” he admitted. The elf and his constant enthusiasm for numbers only assured him everything was going well enough.

“Excellent. Your wise investments are cash cows. The dragon reserves have never been better; the dragons are cooperating more than they ever did before. I was informed that one of your dragon handlers is raising Cerberuses to take care of security,” the man almost asked, his expression was contorted in confusion.

“That would be Hagrid. There were some people who tried to steal some of the dragon eggs. His dog, Fluffy, stopped them, he asked me permission to raise more and I agreed. The man has a talent to communicate with other species I have never seen before. The dragons love him,” he shrugged and pretended not to notice the dumbfounded goblin.

“That is not what I was expecting... Next matter is regarding the businesses in Diagon Alley. The clothes shop has expanded to the point it is one of the most visited places along with the shoe shop. The perfume store is having an incredible amount of sales. If I am honest, I was not expecting that. The bag shop is thriving; people are fascinated with the variety on sale. The food places are going to need expanding if so many people continue visiting and I would also consider expanding the day-care,” he advised and Harry nodded in agreement.

“I have been thinking about doing that. I will begin planning for the expansions. Are the branch offices doing well?"

“More than well, actually. They have been a constant source of money, already paying their investment... You should consider expanding Dulcis Magicae; their products sell almost as fast as they are produced."

“I know; Ella spends most of her time in there. She enjoys decorating all the sweets she can manage,” Harry grumbled, a slight pout giving away his discontentment with the situation. “I will expand it. I have another matter related to business, Ragnok. My aunt met a first-generation witch a few weeks ago; she is an enchantress. According to my aunt, she is one of the most creative people she has ever met and invented a communication mirror,” he explained, taking out his mirror from his messenger bag and handing it to the goblin across from him. “It enables communication between the two people who own the brother mirrors. I agree with this being a brilliant invention and wish to invest in it. However, I need a background check first. If she is reliable then I can work with her in the future, if she is not I wish to buy her idea outright."

“Brilliant device indeed, what is the woman's name?” the goblin asked, probing the mirror with curiosity.

“Anna Calliope. She graduated from Hogwarts seven years ago and works at Flourish and Blotts. This mirror has potential as the foundation of many future inventions based on Muggle devices,” he explained with a smirk that the goblin reciprocated.

“I will dispatch people to have her background checked and will send the results to you in a week at most."

“Thank you for the help, Ragnok.”

“It is my pleasure to make more gold,” the goblin smirked and Harry huffed.

“Of course it is. Never mind that, I guess the other things are going well?"

“That they are; the acromantula silk you provide has a superb quality, thus it is easy to export it."

“Yeah, I need to find more uses for it. Now that Aragog and his children live in peace, the only use they have for their silk is as a gift to keep them safe. They produce so much that all my elves are dressed in it and my sister is tired of seeing her clothes made of that. Even Aunt Eleadora refuses to keep accepting more and not many are able to afford it, so we don't have many clothes made from it for the shop... Wouldn't you like a couple of meters?” he offered, looking hopeful; maybe he could gift a couple of hundred meters.

“I don't know what to say about that offer. Acromantula silk is extremely valuable. However, goblins are a warrior race and we accept nothing for free,” the goblin explained, looking bewildered. It seemed the boy possessed the same twisted logic his mother tended to use.

“Then I can give it to you as a payment for all your help. Please accept it; the elves will rebel if I keep giving them silk,” Harry almost begged and the confused male nodded.

“I believe it is time to begin discussing more delicate matters,” Ragnok told the boy, whose expression morphed into a serious one. “Death Eaters are beginning to move their money, just as we predicted; they are following the same patterns from the last war. The Minister is starting to receive curious donations, as are many other people in the Ministry."

“At least we have a list of the ones who are receiving an extra incentive, to keep an eye on them. They are not being careful, which is perfect for us; they are making it easier to track their moves. I was informed that they were trying to contact vampires and werewolves to join. All my allies are contacting the ones they know to offer them protection. What we fear is Greyback. That beast is getting desperate because we have been protecting all the children that we are able to. We are beginning to organize hunting parties; many hags are helping us to capture him, but a desperate man is far more dangerous."

“That is indeed true. I offer some of my people to help - the most experienced trackers and hunters."

“Thank you, Ragnok. I appreciate your help... We also know about them trying to contact different centaur herds. So far we have no idea whether they will join. The giants and Dementors are a lost cause; they have joined already. I hope you have implemented the protection runes I sent you a few weeks ago. Aunt Eleadora made them herself to protect the castle from Dementors."

"We have added them to our wards. I believe we have not thanked you for the many lengths you have gone to protect our people,” the goblin told the boy, who raised an eyebrow in curiosity when he began searching in his desk.

After a few moments, he smiled, taking out a simple black box and handed it to Harry, who eyed it with curiosity and opened it. Inside there was a sleek, narrow blade. Its handle was decorated with a snake coiling around that had emeralds for eyes. The almost scintillating metal gave away the material it was made from: goblin iron. It was a weapon forged by a master in his craft, with a material that was considered almost sacred within the Goblin Nation. He stared at it in amazement for a brief moment and sighed.

“This is the kind of gift I am unable to accept. Only your warriors are allowed to carry such a valuable weapon,” the boy said. With a heavy heart, he closed the box.

“The king has decided to name you a friend of my people. You have shown us deep trust and honest concern for our wellbeing. It is a gift to show you our appreciation,” the goblin announced and he nodded, understanding the great honour he had been granted.

“Thank you, Ragnok. I will never forget the trust you have given me,” he swore.

“Neither will we forget all your help... Now, moving onto less pleasing topics. The Horcrux in Little Hangleton was dealt with yesterday. The parselmouth you sent us was invaluable to ensure the safety of all people involved. It was a ring that once belonged to the Gaunt family, it contained a nasty curse and a powerful compulsion charm. The Gaunts were pure-bloods who were driven to extinction by their obsession, they were the last descendants from Salazar Slytherin."

“Voldemort was the last Slytherin descendant,” he murmured with wide eyes, understanding what the goblin had implied.

“Indeed. We are looking for any children that the last descendants may have had. Marvolo Riddle died between late 1925 and 1928, he was the father of Merope and Morfin Gaunt. The son was sent to Azkaban in 1925, sentenced to three years for cursing Muggles and attacking Aurors. He was once again arrested in the summer of 1943 for murdering the Riddle family with the killing curse; he is now residing in Azkaban and has never had children. Merope Gaunt, on the other hand, married Tom Riddle, who was a Muggle. From what we managed to gather from the villagers, she was a meek woman and her husband was deeply in love with her, to the point of running away together and eloping to London. They never understood why he came back a year later without the girl; there exist many rumours but we have no idea where the truth lies. We believe her to be dead, which is a shame because the girl was eighteen when she ran away. So far, we have only managed to collect that information, but we have reason to believe that Voldemort may be her son."

“The biggest mystery of Voldemort has always been his origins... I wonder where he was raised. I can ask Miss Blair to investigate him in the Muggle world and I will look around in Hogwarts to find anything about him,” he smirked. How ironic would it be if a blood-purist was born from a Muggle?

"We can give you the ring if you wish to have it,” the goblin offered, though Harry declined with a shake of his head.

“I would rather not touch it. Have you managed to pinpoint a more precise location for the other Horcrux?"

“No, the only thing we know is that it is on the upper floors, but not in the towers. It is almost as if the room it is located in, does not want to be pinpointed,” Ragnok groaned.

“I can ask whether the elves have more of an idea. Have you managed to locate another?"

“No, the devices need to rest for a month... We have tried to use one of them to track down Voldemort, but it will be impossible. The Horcruxes are so polluted with evil magic that their magical signatures differ completely,” he lamented with a slight scowl.

“It's a shame, though we still aren't sure whether they belong to him,” Harry said and smiled at the goblin's incredulous expression. “I prefer to be a sceptic and plan for the worst-case scenarios,” he justified his suspicious attitude, one that sometimes bordered on paranoia.

“Anyway,” continued Ragnok, "we believe it is time for the Minister for Magic to be changed. The man allies himself with whoever puts the highest number of galleons in his vault. He will hinder many of our plans."

“I will order Rita to investigate the man. Any suggestions for the new one?"

“Madam Bones would do an excellent job, though we can always look for more candidates."

“I was similarly thinking of her, a brave woman who will make the Ministry effective... I have been playing with the idea of having Marcus Travers as a political opponent in a distant future. How long do you think that would take?"

“A young man, but he has the background. If I am not wrong he is the actual junior undersecretary.” He paused a moment for Harry to confirm, who nodded. “If he has the right support... Perhaps you can get your journalist to portray him as a hero when the useless Fudge is sacked; that would begin cementing his career."

“That's excellent advice; I will do so, Ragnok... Before I forget, I want to hire the most experienced analysts you have."

“May I inquire as to the reason for that strange request?"

“Of course, my friend. I want to analyze the dark mark. I have an idea of how it works but I need more information. I have no doubt that Lucius Malfoy will agree to have his mark looked at; Voldemort is quite insistent and keeps trying to call him,” he informed with a slight smirk.

“I can arrange that, but using your caution as an example, I will also keep an eye on the movement of his accounts. You never informed me what Miss Pittsum concluded of your scar,” the goblin commented and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I forgot about having it checked. Don't tell my aunt unless you want to lose your client to a violent murder,” Harry almost groaned. Having his scar checked had slipped his mind for almost a year.

“It seems that the brilliant Potter heir is a mere human after all,” Ragnok joked, amused at the boy's distress “However, we need to know if the scar is connected in any way to Voldemort, especially after the way it reacted a year ago."

“I agree. Is there any healer you recommend?"

“If you don't mind being looked at by goblins, I can arrange a meeting in less than an hour."

“Please do. I trust yours more than I trust the ones at St. Mungo's,” he agreed and the man took out his usual book and began writing in it.

“It is done. We have to wait half an hour for the healer to be ready. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"

“That's perfect. Any news on what the Ministry is doing?"

“Nothing useful, but that is no surprise, although there are curious rumours regarding next year."

“As far as I knew, the only interesting event was the Quidditch Cup being played,” Harry said, inviting the goblin to inform him of any other things that could happen.

“Albus Dumbledore has been pushing to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament. He is being quite insistent about it. The useless Minister, in his search for approval, is willing to make it happen. Leonard Fawley, Head of the Ministry of Magic's Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, agree to this initiative. Although Madam Bones is against it, there is a high probability of the Tournament taking place next year."

"What is this competition about and why was it cancelled?” Harry asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“It is a magical contest held between the three largest wizarding schools of Europe that existed in the thirteen century: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Durmstrang Institute, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Each school is represented by one champion. The official purpose was to promote unity between countries, but the real objective was to see which school was better. It was cancelled because of all the casualties it caused, not only among the participants but also among the public and judges."

“So it's extremely dangerous. I wonder what the headmaster is planning... Anyway, I will find a way of turning this to our advantage. Thank you for the information, Ragnok... I have been thinking about William Weasley, he's a Curse-breaker and works here. Do you know anything about him?"

“I was not aware that Gringotts had turned into a social club,” the goblin joked, almost chuckling at the boy's surprised face.

“You would love to meet Sirius," the boy grumbled, "two of Bill's younger brothers are close friends of mine. As far as I am concerned, they consider him one of his favourite siblings. He seems to care about my friends. However, I need to know where his loyalties lie. I don't have the privilege of allowing a spy near people I consider family and who have access to delicate information,” he informed the goblin.

“I understand and agree with your cautiousness. He has been working at the bank for six years, but lately, he has been asking some delicate questions regarding our loyalties. We sent some of our people to investigate the reason. It seems he has joined a vigilante group called the Order of the Phoenix. It was created by Albus Dumbledore during the last war. Though he is good at his job, if he keeps pestering us we will be forced to dismiss him from his duties."

“I know about the Order; my parents were part of it. Sirius told me that it was active once again. I apologize for not telling you; it slipped my mind. I will ask my godfather who the actual members of the order are. That way we can see who is loyal to Dumbledore."

“I would appreciate it. We have excellent employees but we would rather have loyal ones."

“I will send you a letter as soon as Sirius tells me. I suggest finding a way to examine your employees in case one is placed under the imperius or a loyalty potion. I can ask Aunt Eleadora to begin researching. I believe it would be appropriate to also apply it to my businesses."

“I believe that is an excellent idea. Do you mind if we ask your aunt to work with our people?"

“Not at all; that way we will have results sooner... Security is something that worries me now that Voldemort noticed his raids are no longer useful. I am still receiving people who come looking for refuge. Madam Bones and Head Healer Abbot are accepting vampires and werewolves to train. Both are pleased to see the number of capable candidates they now have and I also have dozens of guards in the Alley. However, I believe that is not enough. Luna had a dream a few weeks ago in which dozens of Death Eaters and Voldemort were terrorizing people. She said it was in an open field and others were running. They had Muggle children as hostages and two Muggle adults were being tortured,” he explained, sharing his worries.

“Your seer had a worrisome glimpse into the future. Do you have any idea of when it may happen?"

“The Quidditch World Cup, which is the only place where hundreds of magical will join in an open field, though now that you informed me about that competition, it is also a possibility."

"What precautions are you thinking of taking?"

“Luna said people were only able to run, so they somehow activated a large-scale ward against Apparating and portkeys, or the civilians forgot they could use magic... Now that I think about it, I would bet on the latter. Never mind that. Even though the DMLE now has more recruits than in the past decade, it's not enough. I wouldn't have worried if Luna wasn't so perturbed. We are training our people and equipping them as much as we can; Ares and Mars are training dozens of elves for security, but Luna is still worried. I'm running out of ideas,” Harry murmured and rubbed his face.

“She is indeed powerful if she knows that something will go wrong... Did she mention how many people Voldemort had on his side?"

“No, but she told me there were many more than expected. He is somehow obtaining followers and that is the real problem. Many students have come to me searching for help, teenagers that were going to be marked during the holidays. I need to know who else is joining him."

“Have you considered other schools? Dumstrang's last headmaster was a Death Eater, though we have no idea where the actual headmaster’s loyalty lies. Voldemort may be obtaining his recruits from other countries and the other option is the use of inferi. He tried to use them during the last war, but a few people who opposed him mastered Fiendfyre, which made his tactic ineffective. Perhaps he is not expecting anyone who is able to master the curse."

“I've never tried it myself, but as far as I knew, the spell was unable to be controlled. Who were the people capable of that feat?” Harry asked, curiosity gnawing at him.

“The ones who possess the power are so rare that most consider it a myth. Your mother was one of the people who could, Edgar Bones and Gideon Prewett were the other ones,” Ragnok explained while he checked his book. “The healer is ready."

“Thank you Ragnok, I will practice with it. If Luna has any other feelings I will inform you. Let's go."

The boy and goblin walked into the depths of Gringotts, a place where no other human had been allowed to venture in more than five hundred years. Ragnok was pleased to have found a human worthy of trust, who appreciated their friendship and treated them as equals. He admitted being doubtful when the boy told him about the possible threats and explained his source of information: a savant seer. Nevertheless, he took precautions and he regretted doubting him. The attack would have cost him people, had he not ordered the guards to remain inside the day of the attack.

That day, he decided that even if what Harry Potter told him sounded impossible, he would take the boy's worries as real threats. He would not have believed the Quidditch Cup would be attacked, with all the security the Ministry was placing because of all the international guests. However, if the boy worried then so did he. The memory of inferi being used froze his blood; many of his people had died because of them during the last war. Inferi were not wizards, therefore, they were not violating the treaty when attacking them inside the bank. Now that he thought about it, it would be an excellent idea to get his most trusted employees to learn to control Fiendfyre or ask the specialists to create some kind of ward against them.

They walked in silence until they reached a plain corridor where a door was open. Ragnok guided him to the room, where he saw two ancient-looking goblins waiting. Harry assumed that they were the healers because of their clothing and he wondered if it was a healer thing to choose white as their representative colour.

“Healer Fierceguard, Healer Silverwick, I present to you the friend of our nation, Harry Potter,” Ragnok introduced.

“Pleased to meet you,” Harry greeted with the traditional bow.

“Likewise, Harry Potter,” the one he thought was Fierceguard greeted in return and the other nodded.

“Ragnok said a few worrisome things, such as your scar hurting when the man is close. Can you describe the feeling?” Silverwick inquired.

“Of course. It felt like my scar was being ripped open. I remember the pain and feeling dizzy, but I am ashamed to admit I remember nothing else."

“I see... A worrying situation indeed. Please lay in the bed and Fierceguard will analyze you while I ask some questions,” the healer said and he nodded.

“I can leave if you wish,” Ragnok offered, not wishing to intrude.

“I don't mind if you stay and, either way, you will know the results,” Harry answered and the manager took a seat close by, taking out the thick book he always carried with him.

“Have you ever practiced Occlumency?” one healer asked while the other was starting to wave a glowing hand over him at a slow pace.

“I do. Since I was eleven I have been meditating. However, the skill comes naturally to me; for as long as I remember, I have been organizing my memories to be able to remember what I read,” he explained and the amazed goblin nodded.

“That is indeed a wondrous talent to posses. Do you have control over your mind palace?"

“I do. In essence, I designed it to be simple. It's a totally dark space: no sound, smell, taste, feeling, or sight. I'm not aiming to be a master Occlumens, therefore I consider that an excellent defence."

“Indeed it is, the worst kind of torture applied to the invader. So, you have not tried to alter your memories?"

“No. I have no interests in doing so,” he answered, because while Occlumency was interesting, what fascinated him the most was Legilimency.

“Has your scar hurt on any other occasion?"

“A few classes during my first year, but after the confrontation with Voldemort it hasn't bothered me at all."

“Have you ever had a dream where you felt you were not yourself?” the goblin asked, looking perturbed. The other healer's expression was inscrutable as her hand hovered over his head.

“Not at all. I don't tend to have dreams, but when I dream most of them are memories."

“That is all. You will have to give us a moment,” he announced and both healers left the room.

He and Ragnok waited for a few minutes in silence until both of them came back, looking agitated. They were talking to one another in their native language; he realized that he had not been putting in enough effort to learn it when he noticed he was able to understand only half of what was being said. Nevertheless, the phrase 'incomplete lethal curse' and the sight of Ragnok paling disturbed him.

"We have found the problem, but it is a delicate matter,” Healer Fierceguard began explaining, her hand clenched on the parchment she was holding. “It is a magical parasitic leech, which is the consequence of an incomplete or unsuccessful lethal curse. For a moment, we believed it to be a Horcrux, but we dismissed the idea. Those disgusting things are not made by accident; the specific ritual it needs to be created would not allow it.

“The next option is the one we are informing you about. Magical parasitic leeches do what the name suggests: they feed on the magic of the person and constrict it to the point where it blocks a part of their magical core. They are rare, but we have found a few cases. While you have the leech, your soul will be unable to leave this world if you die, but that also applies to the one that the leech belongs to. In a way, it feeds his magic, which does not allow his spirit to leave while you have it. Neither can die while the other survives,” she explained, looking grave.

“Is that how Voldemort has managed to survive for so long?” he asked, unable to react.

“It may be, as it is a link between his magic and yours. A person is only able to die if no magic is left in their body. While Horcruxes keep your soul anchored to this plane, your consciousness ceases to exist until someone performs the ritual to bring back your physical form. Otherwise, Horcruxes remain as objects with a soul inside; evil, but useless. We have found dozens in Egypt, but the most they can do is influence a person with a weak will. On the other hand, a leech is a link between two people; it is more unilateral, but a link nonetheless."

“Is there any way of getting rid of it?” he asked. The knowledge that he had a part of Voldemort in his head disgusted him to no end.

“There is, and the process is quite simple. We will perform a cleansing ritual. It will not only destroy the leech, but it will also dispose of any possible residue,” Healer Silverwick explained. “However, we need to put you to sleep; otherwise the process will be painful."

“I don't mind. Ragnok, please call Rome or Ella when we are done, and by no means tell my aunt or my sister,” he half threatened, half begged.

“I will not say a word to them,” the goblin promised, issuing a smile to cover his worry.

Harry nodded and a healer approached him, putting a finger on his forehead. He was instantly unconscious. They took the boy to a special chamber where the most trusted Curse-breaker in the bank was waiting. The process was incredibly complicated because the leech had tainted much of the boy's magic, so they had to be extremely careful not to damage his core. In the end, they were successful, although the tired Curse-breaker had passed out, as did one of the healers. A few goblins took care of them while the other healer checked on the boy.

After the healer gave the positive signal, Ragnok called a Potter house-elf, who popped the boy out after thanking them profusely. He sighed in relief. It had been a complicated ritual and he admitted he had reached the peak of what his heart could take that day. With tired steps, he went to his cavern to have, if possible, a peaceful evening.

SCENE BREAK

Harry Potter woke up the next day feeling better than ever. He took a long bath. Noticing his scar appeared fainter, he smiled. He proceeded to write a letter to the goblins to thank them and used the opportunity to tell Ella to take a few hundred meters of acromantula silk to the bank. She nodded so fast that he guessed she was relieved to get rid of it and, if he was honest, he was too.

Days went by with no other interesting events. However, the day before boarding the train to Hogwarts was memorable, but not for the reasons he would have wished. It had been a normal morning and the whole Guild, plus Sirius and Hwasa, were having lunch at the castle. The conversation had been smooth until one of the morons he considered his friends decided to ask the princess how her country was run instead of reading a book on the topic.

“So how does the Asian Empire work?” asked a curious Theo. The princess raised an eyebrow at him and he faltered, and he proceeded to take a big bite of his food.

“It does sound antiquated,” Marcus agreed and a few seconds later looked at his food in panic, much to the amusement of Harry. It seemed the older girl was able to intimidate his friends with a simple unimpressed look.

“Please, stop intimidating the cowards,” he told her in Mandarin, earning a smirk from her.

“If you say so...” she uttered and looked at his friends. “The empire is old indeed, but not antiquated. We have existed for thousands of years, since a time when countries did not exist and territories were reigned by families. However, unlike other dim-witted morons, we don't use quills or parchment; we are intelligent enough to adapt Muggle technology for our world,” was her sharp response that ensured no one else asked.

“So how was it created if it's so old?” asked Sirius. It seemed the man was unable to notice the panic with which Theo was looking at him or notice when he should remain quiet.

“One of my ancestors had a vision. She saw most of our people murdered because non-magicals were too frightened of magic. She decided to contact all the families and show them her vision. They united and decided to keep our world secret, choosing her as the new leader for the new era. Since then, Muggles have fought wars and established their own territories.

“However, none of this affected us because we did not live amongst them. We have created new cities for our growing population in different places. We care not for what Muggles call countries because we are all people living under the same authority. That is how my people have survived for so long, unlike the ignoramuses that decided that Muggles presented no threats,” she narrated, capturing the attention of all present.

"Why are Muggles a threat?” Draco asked and Harry sighed. The boy still seemed ignorant about the Muggle world.

"We number millions all around the world, but they number in the billions. They outnumber us and, if that wasn't enough, they have created lethal weapons that we are unable to fight against,” Hwasa said, but the looks many were giving her almost made her sigh.

“They're Muggles,” Sirius stated, directing an incredulous look at the girl. Harry wished aunt Eleadora was present to control him.

“Indeed they are, but their lack of magic only made them more creative in their ways of assassinating each other... In 1945, they were fighting another war. We didn't care about their conflict, which was a terrible mistake on our side. A cruel Muggle country created one of the most disgusting weapons of mass destruction; it is called a nuclear bomb. On August sixth of that year, one was sent to the city of Hiroshima. Around a hundred thousand people were killed in less than a minute and even more were injured,” she described in a soft voice. Her pain could be almost felt, and no one talked. “Just three days later, they released the same atrocity on the city of Nagasaki, where one of our cities was. A powerful and brave Yosei named Sakura felt the thing coming and knew she wouldn't be able to transport all the children away to safety.

“She did the next best thing. With her unique magic, she gathered all the young children... She sacrificed her magic and life to protect them. No one else in the city was spared. Many of the Yosei went to look for survivors and found the children. However, the city was deemed the place too polluted to be habitable by a substance they did not recognize. Only seventeen years ago, and with many cleansing rituals, a new city was built. It's named Sakura in honour of the brave Yosei. In that short time, it has become one of the empire's jewels.” Hwasa ended her narration with a wistful smile; it was obvious the event had left a deep scar in the people from the country. “If you'll excuse me, I've lost my appetite,” she muttered and left the room.

Harry watched the girl leave with a heavy sigh. He stood up and glared at Sirius with all his might; if the idiot had read a bit of history, as he almost begged him to do in order not to offend the girl and cause an accidental war, none of this would have happened.

“I hope you understand what you've done, Sirius. I've asked you to read a little about their history for years. This is the reason Aunt Eleadora never allows you to be in the same room as her for long. Be thankful that she and Elizabeth went out,” he chastised the man with a sneer and left the room.

He almost panicked when he couldn't see the girl. He was about to ask one of his elves when he heard steps from the living room. He walked as fast as he could in that direction. Her slow steps allowed him to catch up to her and compose himself. She opened the main door and he followed, walking in silence until they reached a place to sit beside the lake. She sat down and observed the water. Her expressionless face made him want to smack Sirius.

“I apologize,” he told her in a gentle tone that did not disrupt the tranquil atmosphere.

“You don't have to. I overreacted,” she murmured. Her face softened but it did nothing to calm his growing anger.

“You did not... Your grandfather told me what happened,” he told her and she sighed.

“I still should have controlled myself better."

“Perhaps, but I don't think I would be able to do much better if I talked about my mother."

“So the old man did tell you,” she huffed. “He has a loose tongue."

“That he does, but it was his way of establishing a rapport - a questionable method, if you ask me.” He tried to joke, but the diminutive smile did not please him.

“I wish she hadn't offered herself to be one of the people who cleansed the place,” she whispered. He almost panicked when he noticed he had no idea of how should he answer. After a few moments of silence, he sighed in defeat.

“I still remember that night...” he muttered, having the irrational need of comforting the girl by sharing his own experience, something he considered idiotic and yet that did not deter him from continuing to talk. “Not much, but enough to haunt me some nights. I remember her begging for my life, not hers... He gave her two opportunities to leave, but she took none. She decided to die in order to protect me.

“I was unable to remember this until a Dementor attack at school; before that, my mother was a mere concept. When I arrived in this world, she turned into someone I admired, but when I remembered... That was the moment I loved her. It must be even harder for you to have loved your mother from a young age and then lose her,” he whispered to her. For the first time, a female he had seen as an untameable force of nature looked vulnerable, and that unsettled him.

“I remember how sick she was; all the radiation she and the others had absorbed was lethal. She would have lived longer if she hadn't had me, but she chose to... I miss her,” she murmured. Unshed tears shone in her eyes; her lower lip quivered slightly.

Harry put an arm around her, allowing her head to rest on his chest. Her silent tears were worse than any kind of sobbing, because she did not allow herself to grieve the way she needed and he understood that frustrating feeling. The knowledge that she was hurting and that he was unable to help her left him feeling impotent. Somehow, he had come to care about the rambunctious girl that acted as his sister, but who had gone through far too much. He admired her resilience because, while he had been able to surpass his difficulties, that childlike innocence Elizabeth and Hwasa possessed had not survived. She cried until there were no more tears and they remained in silence.

“Every time you or grandfather speaks about your mother, I wish I could have met her... I'm sure my mother and yours would have been good friends,” she told him, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Perhaps...” he answered back.

They stayed in that spot until Elizabeth came looking for them. Her eyes were burning and he would have felt pity for the idiot if he did not deserve what the girls were planning for him. Perhaps they would lock him in a room with that vicious tiger of hers or force him to do one of those things he would rather not talk about... The possibilities were endless.