First Place - Angst

Harry knew he was preparing to kill Voldemort, and he was determined to rid the world of that bastard, but he had this new distraction. He convinced his father to teach him how to brew the Wolfsbane Potion, claiming that it was a mistake to rely solely on one member of the Order knowing it. What if something happened to Snape? Remus would still be teaching at Hogwarts and need the potion.

His father had given in much more quickly than Harry thought he would, only two days after Remus visited. Coincidentally, or maybe not, it was also the night of the full moon. They spent the whole day in the basement potions lab, Harry observing and assisting as Snape brewed the next month's supply of the potion. It only stayed potent for thirty days, so there could be no stockpile. Harry would have to thoroughly research each ingredient and the process of brewing and write an essay about how to brew the potion, why to brew it as was directed, and how it worked. Only then would he be allowed to attempt the brewing himself.

Harry found a book in his room the next day, Werewolves of Great Britain, and began reading it straight away. He was pulled away for practice on medicinal spellwork to catch up with his class. He went back to the book that night, electing to read rather than play games. He had already read most of the information in the house he could find on phoenixes, though there wasn't much, and was anxious to get back to school. Maybe Remus would benefit from company on the full moon, especially company that had healing powers.

"We are going to go back to working on using your wand," Snape announced at breakfast the morning that marked the beginning of their second week in the cottage.

Harry nodded, knowing that it was coming eventually. He had spent some time in the master bedroom, before they moved the portraits downstairs to the study, and had a few conversations with his grandparents. His grandmother had some interesting suggestions for him on this problem, mostly involving using the meditation he had used for the first stage in animagus training to redirect the flow of his magic. She said he needed to learn how to selectively access it, not just all at once or none at all.

"I think we should start without the wand," Harry suggested, "rather than just trying until I get it right."

"What do you propose?" Snape asked with curiosity. It was strange how Harry could now feel the emotion behind everything his father said even though he never gave it away facially.

Harry smiled, "It was really Viviane who thought of it." Harry hadn't known how to address his grandparents and they told him to just use their first names until he was comfortable with something else. "She said I should work on varying the power of my spells without my wand. Then I can start with my wand at a low level and work my way up. We were thinking that wands aren't made to handle so much magic at once, but if I bring it up to that level gradually it might work."

Snape nodded slowly and Harry could tell he was a bit impressed with the theory, "We will try that. Start with something that has clear effects that you can judge."

Harry remembered the end of year exams his third year and grinned. From the instant change in his father's mood he knew that particular grin was seen as trouble brewing.

They moved into the yard, as there were no muggles around for miles and muggle repellent charms on the property borders. Harry could fly, practice his Patronus, or even set off a whole box of the twins' fireworks without attracting unwanted attention.

Harry pointed his hand at his father and focused. He visualized his magic as threads of red and gold light flowing all over and through him. He was a little startled to find that it massed at a few points, the center of his forehead, over his heart, the base of his throat, at his groin, and without him imagining that. There were smaller spheres of the red and gold threads of light at his wrists and his ankles, his shoulders, elbows, and knees. That was not his doing and he wondered if he had tapped into something that was more than just his imagination. He needed to have that talk with Ollivander and Dumbledore.

As he prepared to cast the spell he saw his magic rushing towards his hand. He tried to redirect the flow back to its dormant state, but could only do so by forgetting about the spell. Harry opened his eyes, frustrated.

In response to the questioning look from his father Harry said, "Give me a few minutes."

He sat down on the heather and crossed his legs, straightening his back and letting his hands rest on his legs. He pictured that flow of magic again, and it came to his mind's eye much more quickly than before. He tried to separate just a few strands from the flow and direct them to the node at his right wrist. He smiled as that node glowed a little stronger. He had that node only direct its glow down his right hand and he raised it.

When Harry looked up Snape was grinning like no one had probably ever seen. Harry smiled; the cheering charm at a low level had worked. If it had his full power behind it Snape would be rolling on the ground in hysterical laughter. The charm faded quickly and the silly grin disappeared, or Snape used Occlumency to fight the effects.

"Good Harry," his father allowed. For someone not forthcoming with praise 'good' was a high compliment. "Try again with you wand... only don't you ever use a cheering charm on me again."

Harry snickered. The stern expression couldn't do a thing when Harry felt the amusement beneath it. He pulled out his wand and felt all his magic rushing towards it, almost dropping the carved piece of holly in reaction.

"Whoa," Harry stared at his hand. "It... we were right. I can feel it."

Snape walked over to him with an intrigued look, "Tell me."

"It... I...," Harry couldn't find the words to describe it. "Here," he took his father's hand and placed it over his, around the wand.

Harry concentrated and found that flow of magic again, then projected his feelings and thoughts, almost a reverse Legilimency. Snape gasped and Harry felt something open up. He expanded his awareness and saw the same flow of light threads on Snape only his were a dusty blue and sparkling silver, almost like a combination of Ravenclaw and Slytherin though Ravenclaw's blue was brighter.

He opened his eyes and Harry saw the currents were still there, encasing them both. Others twisted and flowed through the earth, a healthy green, brown, and blue with little sparks of red leaping from strand to strand. The air shimmered, like a great dome above them, and for an instant Harry knew he saw the wards that kept them safe. A piece of it felt like Remus, like what Harry always felt behind the emotions of his werewolf 'uncle', the Fidelius Charm that covered the wards, the house, and their very selves.

In an instant, for one brief moment, Harry felt himself laid bare, wide open, everything he was exposed. Also in that instant he was open to his father, reading his feelings, his thoughts, getting a glimpse of his soul. There were flashes of images, overlapping, bleeding into each other. Harry saw instances from his father's life and then saw how his father saw him.

Both of them, accustomed to their minds being pillaged by a madman, panicked at the loss of their carefully constructed shielding and slammed their barriers in place. The separation was instantaneous and disorienting. Harry's heart was pounding and his rib cage rose and fell with large, gasping breaths. At some point Harry had shut his eyes against the overflow of information and when he opened them they were no longer touching but were standing with several paces between them.

"What...?" Snape was breathing as Harry was, not from physical exertion, but from mental fatigue and fear. "What was that?"

The colors were still there and Harry massaged his temples, trying to urge them to fade.

"I don't know... the threads... my magic," Harry took a few controlled breaths when he realized he wasn't making any sense. "What did you see?"

"Colors, but just vaguely, and then we were linked without any control," Snape shuddered and Harry felt an answering shake from his own body.

"The colors were magic..."

"Magic?" his father questioned searchingly.

"As I see it," Harry closed his eyes again and just focused on himself. The threads in the ground began to fade along with the shimmer in the air, "threads intertwining and flowing, twisting, joining... and the shimmer of the wards touching everything... us... the house... the ground... the air."

He had almost slipped back into a meditative stated as he described what he saw but brought his mind forcefully to reality.

"You see magic," Snape stated as if to clarify.

Harry opened his eyes and nodded, "Not all the time, just when I concentrate on it."

There was a burst of color accompanied by a searing pain. The color was dark, a deep purple with hints of brown and black, and it flared out from Snape's left forearm. Harry realized that their barriers did not fully separate them earlier. It was momentary, and Harry found himself on his knees with the connection broken. There was a lingering reminder of the pain, much like what he had always felt in his scar but not quite as bad. He took a few deep breaths and looked up at his father, whose face was pale and concerned. They both still shone with remnants of the colors of their magic.

"Harry, are you...?"

"I'm fine," Harry answered honestly, "really, but you're not."

Snape's face lost expression and set in that almost permanent emotionless mask, "It is nothing. Do not concern yourself."

"Do not concern myself?" Harry asked incredulously. "Could you 'not concern yourself' if my scar started hurting again? I can't accept you as my father and care about you and trust you and not concern myself when you're in pain."

"Harry...," Snape began sternly and Harry could feel that he was tense, probably trying to ignore the pain in his arm. His father closed his eyes for a moment and started again when he opened them, "That is not how I intended it. There is nothing you can do about the Dark Mark. It is best if we both try to ignore it."

Harry understood perfectly, and that was part of the problem. Snape couldn't let the pain get to him, couldn't let Voldemort continue to interrupt his life like that. He bowed his head and nodded, but promised himself he would find a way to get rid of the Mark. For all they knew it would be years before Voldemort died and Harry didn't want his father to suffer that long.

The subject was left at that and not visited again while they were at Highlands Cottage. They continued their daily routine, and Harry had several more discussions with his grandparents. He learned about his father's childhood and even some bits about his mother's as she had confided in Viviane even before she and James were friends.

Harry asked his father, in one of their afternoon 'get to know you' sessions, when his birthday was. Snape had been surprised at the question and Harry wondered if anyone had acknowledged his birthday since James and Lily died. Dumbledore most likely did, but just one person wasn't really enough.

That first time when he turned eleven, Hagrid alone saying 'Happy Birthday' and giving him a present had been more than he could ever hope for, but also remarkably sad. When Harry had returned to the Dursleys he remembered that the emptiness of the house, the complete lack of even the slightest bit of concern for him, had nearly crushed him for one drawn out instant.

The studying continued, and the talks, and the magic practice. Harry made sure not to make any physical contact during the last, not knowing what had originally triggered their connection and not wanting to repeat it. It had been almost as bad as the rush of emotions and pain from Frank Longbottom, but he doubted anything would ever come close to that.

In private Harry experimented with the visualization of his magic and the magic imbued in everything that surrounded him. He worked on manipulating it, drawing on different quantities of his own power, channeling what he could, and even drawing on other magic that he could see somewhat. It only worked with the lines of magic running through the earth, but that success alone had shocked Harry into stopping his experiments for a few days.

Remus looked healthier in his subsequent visits with the full moon past and his cold gone. Harry had brought him into the study during his second visit while his father made lunch for the three of them. The portraits had startled Remus and Harry discovered that the werewolf had been very close to his best friend's parents. The reunion had been tearful, as Remus had assumed the portraits destroyed with Potter Manor.

"Potter Manor destroyed?" Aaron asked harshly. "That's impossible."

Remus just shook his head sadly, "When Harry deflected the killing curse the manor collapsed. They found James and Lily in the ruins, and Harry still in his crib."

Viviane gave Harry a piercing look, "Have you seen it?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "I'm not even sure where Godric's Hollow is."

"Then it's not destroyed," Aaron insisted sharply. He looked at Remus with a little disapproval, "Take Harry there with Severus and you'll see. The magic protecting the Manor is ancient, cast by the first Potters on this isle and added to with each generation. One reflected curse could not destroy that building any more than it could Hogwarts."

Snape had brought in lunch then and the five of them discussed the news Remus brought from the Order. Once they had been brought up to date on the affairs of the wizarding world Viviane and Aaron had been more than willing to share their opinions and give advice. Aaron started quizzing Harry on advanced combat spells and hadn't managed to stump him yet. His portrait grandparents grinned with pride frequently and it made Harry both happy and a little embarrassed, especially when his father and Remus were there.

Harry's friends sent him letters through Remus and he got a response from McGonagall regarding his animagus training. She seemed as excited, or even more excited than he was to start the transformation process. In their last week at Highlands Cottage Remus brought the one piece of post Harry had been waiting for, the response to his letter to Dumbledore written over a week before. He slipped the envelope to Harry while Snape wasn't looking and Harry banished it to his room to look at later.

"Voldemort is getting bolder," Remus said with a deep sigh. "He set several dementors loose in muggle areas and the Dark Mark is becoming a regular sight in the Daily Prophet. The Aurors are stretched thin and Fudge gets worse every day. He wants to hold a large ceremony now and present Harry with the Order of Merlin, Third Class for his efforts to alert the wizarding world of the danger we face."

Harry snorted, "Hell no." Four voices chastised him for his language and Harry shook his head. "That's a Death Eater attack just waiting to happen, and I'll be damned if Fudge is going to use me to get back his popularity. He had his chance and he blew it."

"He must be furious with Albus for keeping him away all year," Snape smirked. Harry looked at him questioningly but Remus answered.

"With what happened last summer, and the end of that school year," Remus explained softly, "Albus made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that no politicians or press were getting anywhere near you. You had a free year Harry. I doubt they can be kept at bay much longer."

Harry was touched. He hadn't known that Dumbledore had stood as a barrier between him and the rest of the wizarding world while he got his act back together. He made an oath to at least consider all the things he might not know Dumbledore was doing for him the next time he got upset at the headmaster for interfering.

"How did a fool like Cornelius Fudge ever become Minister of Magic?" Aaron asked grumpily.

"Several old families, Lucius Malfoy leading them no doubt," Severus frowned, "desired a Minister that would be easy to manipulate. Luckily for us the Malfoy money is under Draco Malfoy's control and he is firmly on our side, and the Black and Potter money is controlled by Harry."

Harry gnawed on his lower lip in thought, "Would the goblins let me know how much I have?"

He could feel the amusement from his father and Remus, and even from the portraits. Odd, portraits had emotions as strong as live people. It was still annoying though. He glared, silently demanding an answer.

"Just write them a letter and I'll deliver it Harry," Remus smiled fondly.

Harry nodded, but didn't comment further. Whatever he would say would come out sounding ignorant of wizarding customs and he had enough of that for that day. He did write a note to the goblins before Remus left though, requesting a detailed statement of the contents of each vault he was in possession of.

Once Remus left, promising Viviane and Aaron yet again that he would come back to talk, Harry and his father went down to the laboratory to work on potions. They couldn't practice dark magic on the grounds of Highlands Cottage due to the wards that protected them, and Harry had already surpassed his father's dueling skills.

That night Harry went over the packet of parchment that Dumbledore sent him and smiled to himself. He had only a few days left before Snape went to Hogwarts and he went back to Grimmauld Place. Once he was done with the papers he picked up his book about werewolves and started reading.

Finding the Key - Chapter 8

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