"Wit Beyond Measure Is Man's Greatest Treasure..." Harry whispered with a grin and slammed his arm down. A faint, distant scream echoed from deep with the Diadem as Harry pierced it with the sharp fang. The most destructive substance on earth, undiluted Basilisk venom, did its job flawlessly. Just as he remembered from his own timeline, a thick blackish liquid quilled like poisoned blood from its broken inside.

He panted slightly as he allowed himself a few seconds of rest on the cold stone tiles of the Chamber of Secrets. The first Horcrux had been destroyed, four more were still waiting for him somewhere out there. Finding this Horcrux had not taken him any longer than expected. It had still been right where Tom Riddle must have hidden it a few years ago while visiting the castle and applying for the position of Defense professor.

In addition, Harry had found quite some useful items in the Room of Hidden things, that he would temporarily store in the Chamber of Secrets and sell over the summer to create some income. Every single Galleon would be reinvested in either muggle or wizarding business, which Harry knew would be successful in the near future. Unfortunately, it would almost take another 20 years for the first Firebolt to be manufactured. That company will be a great investment opportunity...

Harry stood back up and stretched himself out. Then, he placed the Basilisk fang back into the small chamber behind the statue. He would have use for it later once more. If everything went according to plan and his calculations were correct, then that specific fang would soon cause much more damage to Tom than just the destruction of a single Horcrux.

The ritual, however, had to wait a few more days. Right now, he was famished and eager for some breakfast in the Great Hall. It was a shame that Slytherin did not build his chamber at least a bit closer to the school. As always, it took Harry almost five minutes of continuous climbing until he reached the top of the staircase, leading back into Myrtle's bathroom. He sealed the Chamber, disillusioned himself, and made his way down to the Great Hall.

"Morning, mate." James looked up as Harry sat down beside him: "Another workout?" He noticed the few pearls of sweat on Harry's forehead.

"Yeah, just some cardio..." Harry replied with a grin and helped himself to his usual breakfast routine.

"I am glad you are staying in shape." James nodded: "Though, I should probably get back into it as well sometime soon."

Harry swallowed a spoon full of scrambled eggs: "When does the season continue again?"

"March 1st will be our first match against the Slytherins." Sirius answered as he shot a glare towards the table in green: "At least with you as a Seeker, we should have more than enough time to adjust our strategy and everything."

"You play Beater, right? Who else is on the team besides you two?" Harry asked curiously.

"The other Beater is Ben Copper from sixth year. Frank is keeping our goals secure while McDonald and Wolpert chase with me. I think we definitely have the best team this year." James grinned.

"Isn't your brother seeking for Slytherin?" Harry asked Sirius.

The boy grimaced: "Yes, he does. He is not bad, but from what I have heard, he should not stand a chance against you."

"What about the other players?" Harry gulped down his glass of milk: "Anyone I should watch out for."

"All of the snakes are better at fouling than playing the actual game." Remus chimed in: "But from what I have seen while on the stands, Lestrange is a strong Beater. His Bludgers have sent lots of students to the hospital wing already in the last six years."

"I am certain I have faced worse Bludgers before." Harry chuckled, as he remembered a particular elf trying to save him in second year. He briefly wondered where Dobby was right now. Was he even born already? He had never asked for the elf's age...

"As for the Ravenclaws, McKinnon is undoubtedly their best scorer." James continued his analysis, his hazel eyes now scanning the Ravenclaw table.

"Is she?" Harry asked curiously. Naturally, during their duel in defense, he had seen for himself that she was very athletic. But he would not have guessed the Proper Pureblood Princess to be skilled on a broom as well.

"Yeah, mate... Why do you think your girl is such a looker?" Sirius snorted: "She works out almost as much as you do."

"She is not my girl…" Harry allowed his eyes to roam over her voluminous blond locks and the way she bid her bottom lip in concentration, probably finishing some last-minute homework: "Yet..." He added with a grin.

"You should just forget about her already..." Sirius shook his head: "As much as I hate to admit it, you have probably even trumped me in terms of popularity with the ladies by now. Just go for a decent-looking one and have some fun. Perhaps she is the jealous type and will take notice of you then."

"Who says I am not already testing the waters with some other girls? You might want to ask your cousin about me." Harry smirked: "Besides, she's noticed me already. It will only be a matter of time..."

"Well best of luck to you, Harry." Remus chuckled: "Look, there comes your competition."

Ravenclaw Table

"Uh, he looked over to you again!" Flo whispered excitingly. "I think they are talking about Quidditch... Yes, Potter is showing him the Quidditch players from the other houses..."

Marlene rolled her eyes: "Flo, I really don't care."

Almost a month had passed since she and Peverell had faced off against each other in Defense. Marlene remembered the lesson very clearly. It had been the first time she had ever lost points for Ravenclaw. She could only pray that Munrose would not tell Flitwick, her Head of House about it. If her father learned that she cast a dangerous charm in a classroom, his reputation and also that of her brothers, who were Auror cadets, might take a heavy hit.

The way Peverell had embarrassed her was still a bitter pill to swallow. Not only had he pushed her from her number one spot in DADA, but he did it effortlessly, as if he had not even tried. His stupid grin had only made things worse, but Marlene only had herself to blame for losing control.

To make sure something like that never happens again, Marlene had repeated her Occlumency exercises for an hour pretty much every day since the incident. She had also intended to swallow her pride and apologize to Peverell for casting a potentially lethal spell at him. She wanted to take responsibility, just as her father had taught her, and learn from this mistake. In addition, it was pretty much expected for her to apologize, especially since she was the daughter of an ancient House and he was the heir to an even older one.

However, Professor Munrose must have realized that pairing them together once more was out of the question and she could not simply approach Peverell in the open. If she was seen by anyone, Lestrange would make her life hell. At least Peverell did not seem to hold it against her. He acted perhaps a bit more careful whenever he was in class with her, almost as if he expected her to attack him again. But besides that, he continued being his usual undoubtedly handsome, annoying, flirty self.

"I could always pass on a message you know..." Florence mused: "If you really wanted to meet him and apologize then I am certain we would find a way."

"It happened a month ago, Flo." Marlene shook her head, while she continued checking the last paragraphs of her essay: "And you know exactly that we can't be seen. If Lestr..."

Suddenly Marlene felt her best friend stomp on her foot with force: "Ouch! What the hell was that for?" She snapped at her friend.

Suddenly a dark shadow hovered over her parchment and she spun around in surprise. Rabastan Lestrange was standing right behind her, his cold, dark orbs boring into hers. Marlene gulped heavily. How much of their conversation had he overheard? She cleared her throat: "Good morning, Rabastan. I hope you have slept well." Marlene greeted him politely.

He was standing above her, looking down at her with a cruel smile. She felt something cold grip her heart, thinking that he must have overheard the worst of it, but then the Slytherin eyes merely shifted down to her décolleté and something hungry appeared in his facial expression. She quickly pulled up the fabric, not liking the way he was ogling her.

"My father insists that you accompany me to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Weekend." His eyes narrowed: "He says it's time for a public appearance, so magical Britain sees that we are courting each other..."

"Are you asking me out on a date on behalf of your father?" Marlene glared and added mockingly: "Perhaps I should visit Madam Puddifoot's with him?"

She knew her comments would only make her situation worse, but right now she hardly cared. Who did he think he was, commanding her around like that? He did not follow any traditions at all. She remembered when Frank Longbottom had asked his girlfriend, Alice Fawcett, on a date last year. There were flowers and also a small gift card. Merlin, even Sirius Black put more effort into asking out a girl and be it just to hook up or shag with.

His lips tightened into a thin line: "Be careful, McKinnon. I am not in the mood for your jokes. Neither am I asking you on a date. I am telling you to show up and you will do so! And make sure to wear something appropriate, not any of your muggle clothes." He sneered at her before turning around and stomping off to the Slytherin table.

"I cannot stand him, Mar." Florence, who had watched the entire conversation, growled: "He is such a pig! I don't understand how any of the Slytherin girls actually like him..."

"I know, Flo..." Marlene sighed deeply and packed her bag: "I know...

She stood up from the table, not really feeling any appetite anymore when she felt someone staring at her and looked up, Harry Peverell sat at the Gryffindor table, ignoring the jokes of his laughing friends. Instead, his emerald green eyes were trained on her, watching her with an intensity that made her shudder and the hairs on her arms prickle.

A fire appeared in those eyes when she noticed him glancing over her shoulder at the retreating form of Lestrange. Even from her spot across the Great Hall, she saw how his knuckles flexed and his jawline became more prominent, as he most likely grit his teeth. The green orbs flickered back to her with a sense of sadness and something Marlene could only interpret as a silent sorry.

She gave him a pathetic but genuine smile that did not quite reach her eyes. Perhaps the first real smile she had ever given him in one month. Suddenly Florence tugged on her arm and pulled her towards the exit. She forced herself to break whatever strange connection had briefly formed between them. Perhaps she had only imagined, but Marlene was almost certain that Peverell had actually felt her frustration and pain at that moment...

It was a completely new side to him. Yet, she reluctantly realized that it would be a side she was just as eager to explore and learn more about. Precisely like she wanted to get to know the rest of him better.

Staff Table

Albus Dumbledore watched the silent exchange between two of Hogwarts' brightest students with utmost curiosity and a mad twinkle in his eye. Harry Peverell seems to have taken an interest in Marlene McKinnon. It was good to see that the boy was for once behaving like an actual teenager. Dumbledore had gotten rather worried after watching his own memory of the teacher's conference from two weeks ago and additionally dipping into Lucretia's memory of the DADA confrontation.

The woman had told the truth when it came to how young Harry had acted. The boy's casting was exceptional, undoubtedly even better than Albus' had been during his age. He was quick, and powerful, as the deflection of the cutting curse had proven. It requires a serious bit of magic to overpower an opponent's spell and manipulate its trajectory.

Albus remembered himself and a young Gellert Grindelwald working on said technique shortly after getting to know one another in Godric's Hollow. Back then, he had graduated from Hogwarts already, yet Harry had not even taken his OWLs. How was the boy so good?

The Herbology essay he received from Pomona was interesting as well. Mandrakes and Gillyweed were two very rare magical plants, yet the boy seemed to have comprehensive knowledge of them. In addition, Dumbledore started, just as Lucretia suggested, observing the boy's behavior anytime he entered the Great Hall. Truth be told, Harry was never truly relaxed, always able to reach for his wand should the situation require it...

His wand...

That had been perhaps the most shocking discovery of the entire memory. He had played the scene over and over again until there was no doubt. Somehow, Harry Peverell, was in possession of a wand that looked exactly like the Elder Wand, which had crumbled the moment the boy applied to enroll at Hogwarts. Albus was completely out of his depth when it came to the magic behind that incident.

Was it because Peverell was the rightful owner of the Hallow? The fact that the magical world's greatest weapon of mass destruction rested underneath the sleeve of a fifteen-year-old, who had not shown his true colors yet, was very troublesome. Harry was named after the third brother and used the Peverell Crest for his correspondence. But how much did he actually know about the Deathly Hallows? Does he even recognize the wand he is holding?

The boy had been the cause of more than one headache over the last few weeks. The similarities between him and Tom were undeniable, no matter what Horace might say. Harry and Tom were both orphaned from a young age, each being the last descendants from a very old and powerful magical bloodline, respectfully. They showed a high level of confidence, independence, and autonomy, with severe distrust of authority and seemingly permanent caution.

Both boys were incredibly bright students, surpassing most of their peers by miles. Their understanding of magic was more elemental and seems to be an almost inherited ability. In addition, both of them knew how to use their charm and good looks to deceive their teachers and peers alike.

A month has passed already with Peverell at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was time to invite the boy to a friendly chat in his office, just to get to know him better? In the meantime, Albus would think about a way to make the boy reveal his true magical power. Something a young man like him could not resist. His eyes darted over to Marlene McKinnon, who was dragged out of the Great Hall by her friend. Perhaps, involving her in some way would get the boy to drop his mask and finally reveal himself?

February 7th, 1976

A week has passed before Harry finally found himself back in the Chamber of Secrets, scanning his notes and calculations one more time. Cautious as he was, he had checked each of Salazar Slytherin's assumptions before he decided to actually go through with the ritual. Since the Room of Requirements' complex magic might interfere with the procedure, Harry decided to use the Chamber instead. Luckily, the castle itself was the perfect place to perform such a ritual. Every stone around him was pretty much saturated with over a thousand years of magic.

He took the sharp, silver potions knife and dropped to one knee on the cold stone tiles. Then he began carving the runes into the hard foundation beneath him. The rune scheme was perhaps the most complex he had ever worked with, with the exception of what he had seen on the time-turner. Harry took his time to check each rune twice since even the slightest slip-up might have devastating consequences on his mind, magic, or body.

After over 30 minutes, he was finally done and looked down at the large four-pointed star he had carved into the stone. It reminded him faintly of kids coloring the sidewalk with chalk. A complicated combination of runes ran like never-ending sentences from one side of the star to the other. This project alone would probably give him a NEWT in Ancient Runes already.

Yet, it was important that no one ever learned about this. If the Ministry discovered that he performed rituals that involved blood magic, he would be locked away in Azkaban forever. His only worry was that Charlus and Dorea might suspect what the requested items could be used for. He felt bad for lying to them, but the situation made it a necessity.

With the carving process done, it was time to power the runes and begin the ritual. Harry discarded his robes and school uniform, wand, and anything else he wore on his body, besides the small silver knife in his palm. Now the hard part began...

A sharp pain surged through his body, as Harry brought the knife to his wrist and sliced them open. Thick dark blood trickled from his wrist and splashed on the carvings of the runes. He grimaced as he dragged his arm along the stone tiles, bathing the runes in his blood until they were fully covered. When the blood flow stopped, yet the work was not done yet, Harry repeated the same action on his other wrist and continued.

The loss of blood made his head spin and Harry felt nausea creeping up inside him. Nevertheless, he had to finish what he started. If he interrupted the ritual now, the consequences could be unimaginable. A minute later, the entire runic layout was covered with blood, shimmering a faint red.

With his last strength, Harry pulled himself to his feet and stepped out of the star to position the necessary ingredients. In each of the corners of the four-pointed star, he placed one item, respectively. The feather of a raven for the Black family magic. The sharp claw of a Griffin for the Potters. The long fang of the Basilisk for the Slytherin line and finally the thick, silvery hair of a Thestral for his oldest ancestry... The Peverells.

Tonight, one of these lines would dominate all others. Slytherin had been so sure that his own bloodline would be victorious in any battle of wills. Well, tonight Mother Magic would decide if that was actually the case. At the brink of his consciousness, Harry positioned himself right in the middle of the runic scheme and began chanting:

"Magia Familia, Vide Et Iudex... Magia Familia, Vide Et Iudex... Magia Familia, Vide Et Iudex..."

Seven times in total, he repeated the phrase and called for the family magic to judge him. Each time, he felt a sharp pain in his forehead. After the last repetition, Harry dropped to the floor panting heavily. The pain increased exponentially and his every nerve felt on fire. This was undoubtedly worse than anything he had experienced before. Even worse than being held under the Cruciatus curse by Voldemort.

Almost ten years had passed since a fourteen-year-old Harry Potter faced his nemesis in the graveyard in Little Hangleton. He had vowed to himself to be stronger and never let any whimpers of pain escape from his lips again. All of that was forgotten as Harry screamed in agony when the pain became unbearable. He only wished for it to stop. Please just finally stop...

He felt his throat going hoarse and his eyelids getting heavy. Any resilience had left his body a long time ago. He no longer had the strength to resist and allowed the pain to fully consume him. A few seconds later, Harry lost consciousness...

He found himself standing in an empty space. The room had no ceiling, no walls, no windows, and no floor. Everything was pitch-black. What happened to him? Did he fail the ritual? Did he die? Suddenly he felt something thick twisting itself upwards from his stomach, almost as if he had the need to throw up.

Harry dropped to his knees, panting heavily. He gulped and swallowed repeatedly, doing his best to keep whatever was trying to break out, inside of him. However, it was to no avail. With a roar that must have escaped his own mouth, his jaw was almost ripped open, and Harry watched as something scaled and dark green poured out of his mouth.

Harry stared in shock as a snake that resembled an ethereal Basilisk slithered through the air in front of him and gained height until it was hovering in the space above Harry. Suddenly, the very same feeling returned to his stomach and Harry buckled over once more. This time, he did not try to repress it and simply allowed for it to run its course. Soon, he watched in awe as a deep black raven escaped his mouth and flapped its wings, before flying slow circles above his head, while avoiding the Basilisk.

The totem of Slytherin and House Black. So next should be...

Indeed, the process repeated itself again, just for a large Griffin to join the other two animals. Now it was just time for the last of his ancestries to reveal itself. Harry suffered once more, finding comfort in the fact that this would indeed be the last time. With a loud screech, a deep, black Thestral formed out of the cloud of smoke that erupted from his mouth. It flapped its wings threateningly at the other three animals and took its position. So, what now?

The answer came almost immediately. The Thestral surged through the air and caught the Raven in one fell swoop. Harry watched in horror as the totem of his grandmother's family was swallowed in one big gulp, just as he had seen the rats being swallowed.

Simultaneously, a battle between the Potters' Griffin and Slytherin's basilisk broke out. The Griffin stood no chance against the repeated deadly attacks by the King of all Serpents. Salazar's monster stretched its jaw wider than Harry thought possible and swallowed the Griffin piece by piece.

Now began the one confrontation he had been pondering over ever since learning about the ritual. Which of his most ancient bloodlines would prevail? The Thestral screeched threateningly and flapped its leathery wings, then it attacked. The Basilisk's response was a sharp hissing. Yet, it was seemingly helpless, as the winged horse tore one deep wound after another with its sharp fangs or pointy beak.

A strange silvery substance leaked from dozens of wounds while the skeleton-like creature relentlessly attacked its foe. With a final hiss of agony, the serpent's head lowered itself to the ground and its body became rigid. A sharp victory screech escaped the Thestrals beak, and it spread its wings to either side while throwing its head back and standing on its rear legs. Harry watched in fascination as the sign of the Deathly Hallows appeared in white flames that burned on the Thestral's black skin, right above the horse's chest at the base of its leathery neck.

"Peverell... Peverell... Peverell..." The whispers of the surname he had chosen for himself echoed through the empty space as if they were reflected by invisible walls. The Peverell blood inside him has proven to be superior to all others. A faint smile landed on the corner of his lips. Then, Harry was thrown backward, and everything went pitch black around him.

February 7th, 1976

With a groan, Harry forced his eyelids open. His body felt as if he had trained every single muscle group to failure. Why was it so cold? He felt rough stone tiles underneath him and the memories of what must have happened came back. He half expected the black Thestral to stand over his defeated foe right next to him and screech in victory.

Harry slowly pushed himself to his legs and realized that he was still naked. On his hands and knees, he crawled over to the small table where he had deposited all his belongings, including his Wand and Ring. Somehow, they seemed to be calling out to him, urging him to touch them.

A wave of fresh energy surged through his veins when his fingers connected around the thin handle of the Elder Wand. Putting the Ring back on his finger had a similar effect to him. But that was not all. The Ring looked different... It was still thick and golden; However, the gemstone was no longer ethereal black but had strong white marbling on its sides.

In addition, the Crest right on its center had changed. It no longer simply displayed the rough carvings of the Deathly Hallows. Instead, there was a small Thestral with sparkling white emeralds as its eyes and an inlay of gold on its chest that illustrated the Peverell Crest in much more detail. The changes were so prominent that it hardly displayed a resemblance to the Gaunt's Ring anymore.

Harry pushed the multitude of questions aside as he slipped back into his robes and cast a warming charm on himself. That was when he realized that his magic felt a bit different. It was difficult to describe, but perhaps the words - more potent - accurately expressed it?

Harry remembered Salazar's instruction to test the result of the ritual as quickly as possible. Somehow, he already knew that it had worked, but this would be the final proof. He slowly brought the Elder Wand up to his throat:

"Coniuro Familiam Magicae!"

A heat burst from Harry's lungs and surged up his throat. It temporarily took Harry's vision as the blackish flame rushed out of his mouth with a roar and hovered in front of him, right in the middle of the Chamber. Then, it twisted and formed into a pitch-black Thestral, roughly the same height as its real-life counterpart. Harry's gaze travelled from its white eyes, down to its upper chest, where the Crest of the Peverell Clan was deeply carved into its black skin.

Harry grinned in satisfaction. This was the ultimate proof as to which ancestry has won the battle inside him. He might be a Parselmouth and he was certainly proud of the Black and Potter blood in his veins. However, above all, he was the last Peverell!

February 10th, 1976

Marlene felt uncomfortable standing so close to him, clinging to his arm like a weak, little girl. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Peverell had definitely been right when he suggested that one shall not skip showers just because they were proficient in use of the cleaning charm. Marlene forced herself not to giggle at the memory. The night was far too young to already get in trouble with her soon-to-be betrothed.

"Ms. McKinnon, how nice of you to join us tonight. Come in, come in!" Slughorn greeted her as overenthusiastically as ever.

"Oho! And I see you brought a date." The Professor's gaze travelled to her left: "A pleasure to see you at one of my small get-together's, Rabastan. I did not know you and Ms. McKinnon were, what do the youth call it nowadays... Dating?"

Marlene cringed at the thought. She could imagine dozens of things she would rather do than be escorted by Lestrange to one of the Slughorn's dinner parties. The professor gestured for them to enter and led them over to a separate room in his office where some of his favorites were already present.

"You will behave yourself tonight, McKinnon." Rabastan hissed into her ear and Marlene grimaced when his bad breath filled her nostrils.

"I have been to these parties once a month since I was in third year, my dear Rabastan." Marlene smiled coldly: "You should not worry about me."

They walked over to the table and Marlene took in some of the other students in the room. She immediately spotted the auburn red hair of Lily Evans. In Rabastan's company, she could not be seen acknowledging the presence of a muggle-born, so she ignored the other girl's short nod and walked right past her.

Marlene saw Belby, Avery, Black, Bones, Abbot, McMillan, and a few others who actually were invited for their talent, like Snape and Evans. Most of the students that were present were either Slytherin or Ravenclaw. It was not that the other houses had no bright students, just that they valued future connections and networking events such as this one, a lot less than the remaining two Houses.

She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the tall mirrors on the wall. She looked as exceptional as always for those events. Her blond curls were tamed in a high bun that exposed the pale smooth skin of her neck and allowed her to wear the new earrings she had been gifted by her aunt. Her long, dark red dress clung to her body at all the right places and complimented her curves fantastically.

Marlene had decided to go ahead with the dress, no matter how much she would be ogled at by Lestrange. As long as the boy kept his hands to himself, they would be fine. Her black heels granted her a few additional inches and diminished whatever height difference there might have been between her and Lestrange, much to the Slytherin's dissatisfaction. But what was he going to do about it? Run to Mommy and complain about his height? Tell her to go barefoot?

"Well, then we are almost complete." Slughorn beamed at all of them: "We are only waiting for..."

Just then, someone knocked on the door to the office. She raised an eyebrow in curiosity while Slughorn hurried as quickly as his short legs took him over to his door. A small gasp escaped Marlene's lips when it swung open, revealing the tall, broad frame and emerald, green eyes of Harry Peverell. This night could only end in a disaster...