Harry Potter's revenge.

John shouted "After him!" at exactly the same time as Malfoy did, and all five of them spurred their horses, once more, into action.

As they crashed through the outer bushes and back into the wood proper, John couldn't help noticing that the ground, faithfully and reliably flat up till now, was getting noticeably and worryingly steeper.

Far above them, the sun had passed the halfway mark, and was settling in for its performance finale.

Harry charged though the forest, eyes firmly on 'the prize'.

The prize had its eyes firmly ahead, swiftly and expertly dodging every stunner he sent its way.

The powerful and majestic form of Prongs kept level pace with his own horse, both playing a dangerous game of chicken, neither willing to back down, each occasionally drawing level with each other, occasionally falling back, sometimes losing sight of the other, but always finding it again by the next path crossing.

Prongs flowed from tree to tree like rapids flowing through a white water river.

Harry ploughed through the undergrowth like a Ukrainian Ironbelly, banishing whole shrubs unfortunate enough to get in his way. He sliced though yet another low branch, ducked, and watched it whip away behind him. Prongs drew level with him again and for just a moment, Harry caught his father looking straight at him, deer eyes gazing into blank mask, before veering off to the right and forcing Harry to change path again.

On and on it went. They ran through too many clearings to count. They jumped a small stream and scrambled around enough corners to make Merlin knew how many figure eights.

The sun was getting dangerously low now, sky threatening the landscape with hints of red and orange.

He blasted through one more shrub and his stomach lurched. He watched in slow motion as the stag leapt onto the path right in front of him. No thoughts passed through his brain. Time seemed to slow as he raised his wand at the deer's flank. One red stunner shot from the tip of his wand and flew straight and true. There was a startled 'MWAAA' sound, Prongs collapsed on the floor, and a set of magical fireworks shot up from the downed animagus, signalling his capture and removal from the hunt.

Harry reined in his horse and felt his heart beating in his chest like a thunderstorm on a window pane. The adrenaline coursing through his body started to subside to be replaced with a vague uneasiness.

He dismounted, tied the reins to a nearby branch, walked over to where his father lay on the ground, and squatted down next to him.

He let out a long, long breath.

The dementors had long ago driven out the need to belong to this man's family. He had his own family now. His resentment had also dulled over the years, but it was still there. The need to know, however — the need to know still burned as strong as ever. He knew he wasn't going to get the answers he wanted today, but still, even a hint would be nice.

Harry stood up, walked a few feet away, turned back, leaned against a nearby tree, levelled his wand at the stag and cast a finite.

The stag opened its eyes, shook itself, and changed. Moments later, Harry stood face to face with Lord James Potter.

The Lord looked up at him and slowly got to his feet. "Huh. You got me."

Harry nodded.

"I guess I should congratulate you. I've survived until the end for six years straight before this."

"I'll admit the chase was not nearly as easy as I thought it might be," Harry said.

James Potter looked around the bit of wood they found themselves in. "We've never been formally introduced have we? Lord James Potter, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter." He walked over and extended his hand.

Harry looked at the hand for a few moments before kicking off from the tree and carefully extending his own. "Lord Slytherin, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin."

They shook.

James Potter tilted his head. "No first name?"

"You know I prefer to go by just my last name."

James Potter raised an eyebrow. "I know very little about you. No one does."

"We all have our little mysteries, Lord Potter. I dare say you have a few of your own."

"Not me." He smirked. "I'm an open book."

"Ah, so you'd be fine for me to make use of the Potter library whenever I have need of it then?"

James Potter sucked his breath in through his teeth. "Argh, that's different. You know that family magic can be quite finicky about who uses it." "Mmm, quite."

"Something that's always annoyed my wife, that. She's convinced that the whole old families keeping their magic to themselves tradition is unfair to those new to our world." James looked sideways at him. "You support muggleborn rights, don't you? So hard to tell, you see."

"I think there's nothing wrong with families maintaining a legacy to pass on to their heirs. What I do believe is wrong is not allowing those new to our world to build up their own legacies."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know who I think is the number one enemy of muggleborns after the death eaters?" James shook his head and made a 'go on' motion.

"The approval committee for experimental charms — a committee that your own wife has, in the past, sat on."

James choked. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Our society is based around magic. Magic is used in everything we do. In our businesses, magic replaces technology as one of the key advantages, and yet you need a damn law degree to understand the process for being allowed to even experiment with the magic that might help you create something new to bring to market — to even start the process of building a legacy to pass on to the next generation. How many approvals from that committee are given to muggleborns, or even second generation half-bloods? I doubt anyone would accuse the Lady Potter of blood bigotry. I invite her to crunch the numbers for her own tenure as a committee member and see for herself."

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