Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Initially, Harry was quite surprised to wake up. He was shaking, and there were still tears on his face. 

He gazed around and found himself in a dead-end alley, propped against a few metal bins. For a moment, he wondered if someone had gotten him out, but that couldn’t be right. He went through!

Harry pushed himself to his feet, feeling incredibly unsteady, and braced his hands on the brick wall behind him. 

As his mind kept racing to try to figure out what the hell was going on, he began to take notice that he was moving in slow motion. So he started waving his hand about madly in front of his face, but it looked normal.

It was like he was in a dark room, trying to make his way to the door by walking slowly and spreading out his arms and legs so he would feel anything around him before running into it.

Harry sighed and collapsed against the wall. Then his eyes widened and began to well as he began to adjust to what had just happened. He was murdered! Sent off to execution by someone he trusted! Someone that he’d been told by every role model in his life to trust!

Harry was pissed, and rightfully so. That asshole Dumbledore had him killed to save his own arse. And even after Harry killed Voldemort, everyone still believed him.

‘ I regret to have made the mistake of trusting a cunning, wayward boy twice. ’ He’d said.

“I guess I’m lucky.” He said to himself shakily, taking a deep breath and wiping at his eyes. “The Veil of Death obviously doesn’t do what they think it does.”

You are correct. A female voice with a transatlantic accent said.

“Who’s there?” Harry looked around the alley, but he was still alone. He tried to pull out his wand, only to find he didn’t have one.

I am Death. The voice said. And you, Harry Potter, are my master.

“Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not into that kind of thing.” Harry said awkwardly. Trust him to be the one to be saved from death only to have a horny woman from the 20s trying to push her kinks on his little gay arse.

That’s not…look, the person of the Peverell Bloodline who collects all of my hallows shall have power over me. That’s how it works.

Harry’s mind flashed to the wand, the stone, and the cloak. He knew what the legend said, but even if he did believe it, he wouldn’t have expected it to be like… this.

You are immortal, you can communicate with me, as can anyone you bond with, but you alone can summon my hallows by will and use them to their utmost power. Harry wasn’t quite ready to face that, so he moved on.

“Ok, so where am I?” Harry asked.

You are in an alley off Orchard Way in Ormesby, North Yorkshire, on Tuesday, 9 June, 1942.

“I beg your finest pardon…WHAT?!” He went back in time?!

Yes, you did. I brought you to this specific universe for a reason.

“What do you mean, ‘this universe?’” Harry asked. He didn’t know if he should feel pleased or cheated that he wasn’t dead.

The Veil of Death takes a person to a universe to one that runs parallel to the one they originate from. 

Parallel universe…okay, maybe that meant that Harry wouldn’t have to deal with all of Dumbledore and Voldemort’s bullshit.

In this universe, everything that has happened in your universe, and everything that will happen is the same. Unless you decide to change it, and I’m hoping that you do.

Of course. Of course Harry was the Chosen One again. Dying would’ve been so much better.

“Why are you hoping for me, specifically, to save the day?!” Harry whined. “I need a break! Why me?! ”

Because you can save everyone from Voldemort. You can even save Tom Riddle from Voldemort.

“How?!” Harry was on the edge of his proverbial seat.

By destroying Albus Dumbledore’s influence on the Wizarding World.

~~~

Harry decided to ignore all of the actual reasons he was in 1942, because he was going to cry if he acknowledged the pressure that was still on his shoulders. 

Instead, he focused on other things.

The streets were cobbled instead of paved, something simple that Harry didn’t think he should’ve enjoyed as much as he did. There wasn’t the constant hum of electricity that was present in his time. Though, you didn’t really notice that until it was gone. 

Something he was very much enjoying about being in the 40s: the clothes. He was wearing a button down shirt, a sweater vest, trousers, work shoes, and an ivy cap. He was also very happy that his vision correction charm was still in effect.

The material his clothes were made of was soft and breathable, it wasn’t too warm, the trousers weren’t tight in the crotch, the shoes were snug, and the cap wasn’t giving him a headache. It was perfect!

Alright, here’s your story; your name is Henry Joseph Peverell, born 25 June, 1927. Your mother died recently of polio, and you never knew your father.

Okay, he still had issues, that made all the acting work a lot easier.  

Your mother’s name was Alice Peverell. Before she died, she told you to go to Ormesby Hall for work. Now go inside that shop and ask the keep for directions.

Harry took a hard left through the door of a small shop, nearly passing it. 

As he stepped in, the bell over the door rang, and the lady behind the counter spoke.

“Hello, love. Is there anything I can help you with?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I was wondering if you could give me directions to Ormesby Hall?” The lady’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, why d’you ask?” She asked.

“My mother died a couple days ago and she told me I could find work there.” Harry said.

“Oh, dear me.” The lady gasped. “What’s your name, love?”

“Ha–enry…Peverell, ma’am.” Harry caught himself before he could say the wrong name, then trailed off as he finished. He was doomed.

“Well, Henry, you just go up the road and turn right. It’ll be right there. Knock on the back door, I’m sure Mrs. Robinson will fix you up.” The lady said. Harry blinked. 

‘ Okay, that was a fluke, not everyone will be like that. ’ He told himself.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Harry turned and quickly stepped back through the door.

“Best of luck, love.” The lady said from behind him.

Harry followed her directions, and the walk only took a few minutes. When he made it up the road, he found himself in front of a large house. There were three levels, and it was made of well-managed red brick. Harry thought he would be staring at it forever. He would be living there?!

~~~

By the time Harry made it to the back door of Ormesby Hall, the sun was going down. He knocked sharply, and after a few seconds it opened. A tall man in black trousers, a pressed white shirt, and a black vest stood there.

“What are you doing, boy?! The sirens will be going soon, get in!” The man grabbed Harry’s arm and jerked him through the door. “Mrs. Robinson!”

Harry looked around the small dining room he appeared to be in. The room was warm, probably from the proximity to the kitchen. The floors as far as he could see were tile, and well-kept.

There were a few guys and girls sitting at the end of the long table that occupied the room, looking at him curiously and whispering.

“What is it?!” A woman called. “For Christ's sake.” She walked through an arch across from Harry, and he immediately got nervous, like when Professor McGonagall was pissed off.

She wore a long black dress with a chatelaine on the belt, her brown hair was in a shampoo and set, and her hands were folded elegantly at her waist.

“Matthew, who is this?” She demanded.

“My name is Henry Peverell, ma’am.” Harry said.

“And where is your mother, young man?” Harry did his best to look depressed.

“She died earlier this week. She told me I could come here to find work.” He said.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Henry, but we do not have the capacity to compensate anymore staff.” Mrs. Robinson said.

“Well, I don’t have a mother or a place to sleep, so maybe we can be resourceful together.” Harry huffed. “I’m sorry, but I’ve had a rough week, walking from miles away, sleeping in alleyways, and I haven’t come this far to be turned away because you can’t give me money that I don’t need.” Mrs. Robinson sighed.

“What can you do?” She asked.

“Dishes, cooking, laundry, ironing, mowing, weeding, tending to plants, I can dust, sweep, mop, wash windows, I can run errands, mend things.” Harry rattled off the list of things he’d done at the Dursleys’. He’d never really imagined they’d be this helpful. “I can do most things.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Henry.” Mrs. Robinson said. “I’ve got a leaky tap. If you can mend it, then I’ll bring you on.” Harry smiled weakly.

“Where is it?” He asked. 

Mrs. Robinson led him through the arch to a busy kitchen. People were rushing around an island, dropping off dirty dishes and picking up full platters, then leaving the room.

Mrs. Robinson gestured at a sink on the counter behind Harry, and he turned around. He knelt down and opened the cabinet below the sink and turned a valve on one of the pipes to turn off the water flowing to the tap. 

He stood up and turned it on to drain the water left inside.

“I’ll need a screwdriver.” The man who answered the door went to fetch one, and once Harry had it, he quickly took the tap apart, found the issue, corrected it, then put the tap back together.

He went back under the sink to turn the water back on, and then he tested the tap, and it worked perfectly.

“A deal’s a deal. Welcome to the staff, Henry. I am Mrs. Robinson, the housekeeper.” Mrs. Robinson said. “You can sleep in the apartment above the stable block, but tonight we have the air raid drill before you can head to bed.” Harry nodded, his mind reeling at the fact that he’d have an apartment to himself!  

“That being said,” Mrs. Robinson continued, “If you ever hear the sirens, you drop everything and run for the house.” Harry’s stomach tightened.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said.

“Supper’s over, the lights are out.” A man called.

“David!” Mrs. Robinson shouted. A middle-aged, formally dressed man walked through a crowd of staff. “Henry, this is Mr. Williams, the butler. David, this is Henry Peverell, he is joining our staff. He will be staying in the stable block apartment, so we will need a new key.”

“Nonsense, he can take mine. I have no reason to be in there, and if anyone should need him, you will have a key, as you do for every room in the house.” Mr. Williams pulled a keyring from the pocket of his coat and looked through the keys, before taking one off and handing it to Harry. It was a silver, ornate skeleton key. Harry accepted it.

He furrowed his eyebrows at the speed Mr. Williams was able to find the key, when there were probably a hundred on that ring.

“Thank you, sir. But how did you know which one was which?” He inquired.

“Each key for the house has a number engraved on the shank,” Mr. Williams showed him one of the keys, so Harry could see the number, “The two that do not are the key to the stable block apartment, and the stable master key, and the master key is worn from use. The condition of your key is so pristine because it has been rarely used.”

Harry looked over at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs to his left, and he saw a middle-aged couple and two staff, obviously a valet and a ladies’ maid. 

Everyone in the room bowed or curtsied to the couple, and Harry followed suit.

“Good evening, everyone.” The man said. “Compliments for supper, Ms. Simon.” Harry looked over and saw a stout blonde woman curtsy.

“Thank you, your Lordship.” She said.

“And who’s this?” The lady asked.

“This is Henry Peverell, your Ladyship, he’s a recent member of our staff. Henry, this is the Baronet and Baronetess Pennyman.” Mrs. Robinson introduced. Harry didn’t know what to do, so he bowed again.

“Your Ladyship.” He said politely.

“It is nice to meet you, Mr. Peverell.” Mr. Pennyman said.

“Likewise, your Lordship.” Harry gave a somewhat nervous smile, then he was startled by the red alert siren.

“Ah, I was wondering when that bloody thing would sound.” Mr. Pennyman said. 

Someone turned off the kitchen light, and Harry went with the group down to the cellar, which was draughty and dimly lit, to wait for the white alert. 

“Henry, I’d like you to meet the rest of the staff.” Mrs. Robinson said. “You’ve already met Matthew, he takes care of maintenance around the grounds, he’s meant to, at least.” Matthew raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. “This is Ms. Simon, our cook, and her assistants, Sarah and Loren.”

Sarah and Loren looked to be about Harry’s age, which was fifteen again, unfortunately. They were sitting either side of Ms. Simon, who smiled at him kindly. Harry noticed that Sarah’s hands were clasped around a small silver watch, the chain winding through her fingers like a rosary, and Loren’s head was on Ms. Simon’s shoulder. She looked exhausted. 

Harry smiled and waved, before moving on with Mrs. Robinson.

“This is the gardener, Mr. Johnston, and the footmen, Oliver, Noah, Jacob, and Charlie.” Mrs. Robinson gestured at each of them as she said their names. The boys were huddled around a crate full of wine bottles, playing a card game. 

Oliver and Charlie looked like a down-low couple, but that was a common thing amongst straight men. Noah and Jacob, however, looked like they would be the ones with a twink between them, chuckling jock-ily and saying, ‘No homo, bruh.’

“Over here is Mrs. Pennyman’s ladies’ maid, Martha, and the other maids, Poppy, Ella, Charlotte, and Olivia. And you know me and Mr. Williams.” Harry smiled politely at the maids as he forced their names into his memory. Martha was tall and looked very dignified, while the other girls were a bit shorter. Martha was probably in her thirties, and the other maids looked to be in their early twenties. They all wore the standard black dress and white apron, so Harry would have a bit more work keeping them apart.

The only reason he could keep the men apart was because he would take a broom cupboard holiday with most of them.

Harry just sort of stood awkwardly in the corner until the second siren sounded and everyone marched back up the stairs out of the cellar.

“I thought it would last longer than that.” Harry said to Mrs. Robinson.

“The real thing does, but that was just a drill.” She said. “You can go on to bed, I’ll be ‘round in the morning to give you your assignments for the day.”

“Alright.” Harry said. “Good night, ma’am. And I’m sorry that I snapped at you, earlier.” Mrs. Robinson smiled at him.

“It’s alright, dear.” She said. “Get some rest.”

As he walked to the stable block, Harry’s mind was—once again—reeling. He was only just beginning to notice that everyone’s accents were slightly more antiquated than anything he’d heard before in his life! It seemed strange that that was a major thought, what with everything going on at the moment.

And Death! She was nothing like Harry would have expected. She was this omnipotent, godlike figure, but she seemed…chaotic.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up Wednesday morning to a sharp knock on the door to his apartment, which was literally an apartment. It had two bedrooms, a lounge, a bathroom, and a kitchen.

He slid out of his heavenly bed and left his bedroom to find Mrs. Robinson standing in the lounge.

“How did you sleep, Henry?” She asked.

“Very well, ma’am.” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Did you sleep in those clothes?” She asked. Harry looked down, realising he did indeed.

“Yes, ma’am. I haven’t any others.” He said.

“Then I’ll have to take your measurements and I’ll send someone out to order a few outfits for you.”

~~~

After breakfast, Mrs. Robinson sent Harry out with Mr. Johnston to the gardens. Mr. Johnston was a well-built Scottish man who made Harry fantasise about very inappropriate things. He was young, Harry would guess he was in his mid-twenties.

“Alright, Henry, today I’ll have you watering the beds while I do the weeding.” He said.

“Yes, sir.” Harry said.

“Enough of that, Henry.” Mr. Johnston said. “You can call me Blake.”

Blake. That seems very screamable. Harry followed Blake to the shed to get their supplies, as if he wasn’t imagining what it’d feel like if his back was rammed against the wall of the wooden shed.

Holy thoughts, Harry. Holy thoughts. Death said. Harry jumped, having completely forgotten about her. 

Wow, you forgot about me? How does that even work? She asked.

Blake unlocked the shed and opened the doors, then stepped inside. He slipped off his coat and hung it on a hook on the wall, then rolled his shirt sleeves up. He grabbed a pair of gloves off a shelf, then handed another pair to Harry.

“There’s the watering can.” He pointed in the corner. “The garden spout is ‘round the side of the shed.” Harry grabbed the can and got to work.

“So, what’s going on?” Harry whispered to Death.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley have been reporting to Dumbledore about you for years, Granger because she thought she was helping you, and Weasley for compensation. They informed him of your rapidly increasing magical ability, and that–along with the slander in the media–threatened his image. At least Hermione wasn’t motivated by her own nefarious purposes. As much as it didn’t surprise him about Ron, it still hurt. He had always made it very clear that he was willing to help in any way, financially included.

By scapegoating you, Dumbledore made people feel bad for him, loading all the hate onto you.

I brought you to this time so you can find Tom Riddle, befriend him, and stop him from making his mistakes. And so that you can take down Dumbledore before he gets too powerful.

“But how will I do that?” Harry asked. “And how do you think Tom is going to react if he finds out I’m just pretending to be his friend?”

Once you actually meet him, I don’t think you’ll be pretending for very long. Harry could hear the smirk in Death’s voice, and it made him nervous.

“You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?” He asked.

I know all the possible outcomes. For your other question; where did Dumbledore get his power?

“How am I supposed to know that, I’m not a seer.” Harry snarked.

You’re not? Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. Do you remember ever actually trying to predict something? Further, do you remember all those bad feelings you got before bad things happened to you?

“What are you saying?” Death groaned.

I’m saying that you can’t reject the possibility without ever having been open to it in the first place.

~~~

That night, after supper, Harry searched his apartment at Death’s advice.

In the bedroom wardrobes, there were hangers and spare bedsheets. In the hall closet there was an ironing board, an iron, a broom and dustpan, a small first aid kit, a gas mask, and spare blackout curtains. There was a small lamp in the lounge, and in the kitchen drawers he found candles, matches, and some cooking and eating utensils. The cabinets had a few pots, pans, and glassware. A small copper kettle sat on the stove. There was a small radio on the counter, and in the lounge cabinet, there was some stationery.

Take a candle, a sheet of paper, and a pen.

Harry followed the instruction and set up on the lounge floor. He lit the candle and left the paper on the floor in front of him.

Draw a circle on the paper and close your eyes. Keep going over it and open your mind. Harry did as he was told. He didn’t know why, but he started focusing on his breathing.

He felt grounded. Centred. And then his eyes burst open, but he wasn’t in his apartment. He didn’t know where he was. There were two boys, one ginger and one blond.

He looked at the ginger and heard Dumbledore’s voice in his head. He didn’t know what he was saying, but it was Dumbledore. Then he looked at the blond and the image of a symbol burned into a stone wall flashed in front of his eyes. A triangle, a circle, and a line. The Deathly Hallows.

Gellert Grindelwald. The image faltered. Dark lord. A sharp pain went through the centre of Harry’s forehead, between his eyebrows. Lover of Dumbledore. Harry’s hands snapped to the sides of his head and his eyes squeezed shut.

When they opened again, he was back in his lounge, the candle was out, and he knew everything.

As he looked down at his paper, he found that there were no circles drawn there, only the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, and the words he’d seen. He stared in fascination, never having experienced anything remotely like this before. Not even Voldemort’s visions could compare.

He was only pulled from his mind when it began pounding like his brain had a heartbeat.

Don’t worry. Death told him. It’ll get better with practice.

~~~

It didn’t take nearly as long as Harry thought to get used to waking up at five in the morning. After a week, he was even one of the first to get to the staff room, where Mr. Williams, Mrs. Robinson, Ms. Simon, and Matthew would be sitting with a cup of tea.

He wanted to be useful, so Harry started helping to set the table for breakfast. Initially, he messed it up a bit, what with all the different dishes and utensils. But Mr. Williams helped him out, and he learned how to do it properly in just a few minutes.

“You picked that up very quickly, Henry.” Mrs. Robinson told him. “Keep it up and you’ll do very well here.” Harry grinned.

~~~

After Harry’s first week, he was given to Ms. Simon for the day, helping her inventory the pantry. He would’ve been outside, but there was a storm, and Mrs. Robinson didn’t want him getting a cold from working out in the rain.

Working inside was fun too.

Ms. Simon was nice, and she had some good stories.

“I’ve been with his Lordship since he received the baronetcy. I was his first hire, actually, and at that time it was just me, Mr. Williams, Mrs. Robinson, and the old ladies’ maid on the staff.” Harry listened intently as he catalogued the spices.

“Twenty years, I’ve been here, and through that time, the cook, the butler, and the housekeeper have been the only constant.” Ms. Simon told Harry about all the maintenance guys they’d had, all the gardeners, all the maids and valets, and then she told him that this was her favourite group yet.

For hours, even after they moved back into the kitchen to prepare lunch, Ms. Simon told Harry all about Ormesby Hall, and let him taste all the food.

~~~

A few weeks in, Mrs. Robinson told Harry after lunch that he’d be serving afternoon tea, and to smarten up.

The service started at 3:30, so he used all of his spare time to brush up on all the etiquette he would need.

~~~

In the last week of July, Harry was sent out with Sarah and Loren to run a few errands in town. They went around to several shops, the butcher and greengrocer, first.

Until that point, it had been silent and awkward. Then Loren broke the tension.

“So, what’s a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?” She asked teasingly.

“Yeah, I was sure working in the gardens would mess up those pretty curls.” Sarah added.

“Definitely not, but you two are perfect to be scullery maids.” Harry returned snarkily. “What with your skin being the colour and texture of clotted cream.” The girls laughed.

“I think I’ll like you.” Loren told him as they walked into the baker’s shop to get flour for Ms. Simon.

By the end of the day, Harry and the girls were walking back to Ormesby Hall joking and laughing like old friends. Henry felt relieved that he had someone to hang on to in this world.

~~~

Harry was getting very used to working for the Pennymans. They were very nice people, as were the rest of the staff. By the end of July, around his old birthday, he had grown close with everyone, and he’d helped out in several different areas.

The 31st of July would be a slow day, as Mr. and Mrs. Pennyman were in London for the weekend, so Mrs. Robinson sent Harry out to pick up groceries for the next week.

As he walked, he went over everything in his head.

‘Death! You can hear my thoughts, correct?’ Harry grinned when Death replied.

Of course I can. It has been interesting to listen to you talking to yourself for the past month, though. But I was wondering when you’d figure it out.

‘So to fix everything, I have to be friends with Tom Riddle and we have to defeat Grindelwald before Dumbledore has the chance, right?’

Yes, Harry.

“Hello, I’m here for Mrs. Robinson’s order.” Harry told the butcher. ‘How am I supposed to do that?’

“I’ll run to the back and get it now.”

I’d like you to practise divining every night, as you have to this point.

‘So I’m defeating Grindelwald with divination? You realise I can do wandless magic, correct?’

“Here you are, young man. That’ll be seven shillings.”

No, but that should hold you off until you can go to Diagon Alley. And no one is stopping you from practising your wandless magic.

‘And when will I be going to Diagon Alley?’

Sooner than you think.

~~~

When Harry got back to Ormesby Hall, he couldn’t see over the mound of bags in his arms, so he walked right past Mrs. Robinson and the strange man in robes, and into the kitchen.

“Thank you, Henry.” Ms. Simon said. “Girls! Time to start supper!”

“Henry.” Harry turned to Mrs. Robinson. “You have a visitor.” Harry’s blood boiled as he looked up into the eyes of the man who murdered him.

“Hello, sir. Who might you be?” He asked.

“I am Professor Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps we should speak somewhere a bit more private?”

“My office is right down the hall.” Mrs. Robinson said. She led the way, followed by Dumbledore, then Harry, who wanted to keep an eye on the man.

When they reached the office, everyone went inside, and as soon as the door closed, Dumbledore spoke.

“Mr. Peverell, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Harry widened his eyes for effect.

“I beg your pardon?” He said.

“You are a wizard, Mr. Peverell. You are capable of great wonders. There is an entire world of people like you, and in most cases, those with magical powers who are not aware of our world are often introduced at eleven, as that is when magical education begins. I do not know why such wasn’t the case for you.” Repeat after me. Death said.

“My mother was telling the truth…” Harry slumped in his chair.

“Pardon?” Dumbledore and Mrs. Robinson said.

“My mother died recently, and in the few weeks before…she’d been telling me all these things about magic and how she knows I’m not a squid.” Harry said.

“I believe you mean a squib, a person who is born to magical parents but has no magic themself.” Dumbledore said. “Henry, I wonder…have you ever done things, strange things that you couldn’t explain, when you were scared or angry?”

“No. Not that I can think of.” Harry said.

“Hmm…I wonder if you’d allow me to perform a simple diagnostic charm?” Harry shook his head.

“I don’t mind.” Dumbledore drew his wand and waved it.

“You definitely have magic.” He said. “Stronger than most your age. But regardless of the circumstances, you are a wizard. I believe you are due to begin your fifth year. Here is your acceptance letter, and I shall return tomorrow at noon to take you shopping for your school supplies.

“Before I go, there are a few things you must know; you must not tell any non-magical person about magic, you must not perform magic outside of school unless you are in grave danger, that is all.” Dumbledore disapparated on the spot.

‘So that’s how he gets out of the demonstration.’ Harry was wondering when he would show them a spell.

Harry, you must take Mrs. Robinson to your apartment and tell her everything. Harry’s eyes widened.

‘What?!’

She will need to know to be of use to you in future.

“Mrs. Robinson, may I speak to you in my apartment?”

Chapter Text

“This may come as a shock to you, but I already know about magic. I merely had to put on a facade for Dumbledore. In fact, I’ve been to Hogwarts before, and I lived an entire life in another universe.

“In my original time, there was a dark wizard called Voldemort who was terrorising the magical and muggle communities. A muggle is a non-magical person, by the way. Anyways, when I was a baby, Voldemort heard a part of a prophecy that he interpreted to say that only I had the power to defeat him, so he killed my parents, and he tried to kill me, but when he tried to kill me, his killing curse–a curse that no one has ever survived before–rebounded and destroyed his body.

“Most people took that to mean that I killed him, so everyone started calling me the ‘Boy-Who-Lived,’ but what really happened was his body was destroyed and a small fragment of his soul escaped.

“Dumbledore, who was the Headmaster of Hogwarts by that point, sent someone to snatch me before the proper authorities had the chance, and hid me away for ten years with my abusive aunt and uncle, who hated magic and tried to ‘stamp the nonsense’ out of me.

“When I got my Hogwarts letter and went to school, Dumbledore swooped in as the grandfather figure who could do no wrong, and made me feel indebted to him.

“Throughout my years at Hogwarts, I faced–in order–a teacher who had Voldemort on the back of his head, along with a bunch of murderous trials shut behind a door that could be unlocked with a charm from a first year’s book, a teacher who didn’t have the slightest ability in his subject and who had written several books from his point of view depicting heroic deeds that other people had done, and the one thing he could do right was wipe the memories of the people he stole the identities of.” Harry took a breath before continuing. “Then I had a teacher who was actually great at his job, but he was a werewolf and tried to kill me, and turns out he was friends with my dad and godfather, but everyone thought my godfather was the one who betrayed my parents to Voldemort, so he went to the wizard prison Azkaban without a trial, and the only reason he kept his sanity was because he could turn into a dog and that kept the guards–Dementors, which are soulless beings that suck the happiness out of the world and can suck the soul out of your body–away from him.” Harry shivered at the mention of dementors. He really hated those things. “He escaped to do in the guy who actually betrayed my parents, who was a friend of him, my dad, and werewolf when they were in school. The actual traitor had been masquerading as the pet rat of my friend. Needless to say, he failed, and the rat ran back to Voldemort.” Harry wrinkled his nose at the thought of Pettigrew. “The next year, the school brought back this thing called the Triwizard Tournament, which was a joint activity with three schools, consisting of three tasks over the course of the year. The first one was getting a golden egg from a nesting mother dragon, the second was getting a human hostage from the bottom of the lake, and the last was getting to the trophy in the middle of an everchanging hedge maze filled with dangerous creatures.” Mrs. Robinson looked horrified. “But it turns out the trophy was a portkey–a type of magical transportation–made by one of my teachers, who was one of Voldemort’s followers in disguise, that took me and one of my competitors to a graveyard in which the rat pretender was waiting to do a ritual to bring Voldemort back to his fullest strength. They killed my competitor, and then tried to kill me after the ritual, but I escaped with the dead guy’s body, and when I tried to tell everyone Voldemort was back, the Minister for Magic started a smear campaign to make everyone think I was a no-good liar.” Honestly, Harry was starting to feel better. Who knew trauma-dumping could do that? “The next year, he had a Ministry representative placed as a teacher at Hogwarts with the sole purpose of sabotaging our education, and when anyone did something she didn’t like, she would make us write lines with a quill that took our blood as ink and scratched our words into the back of our hands.” Harry winced and glanced at the back of his hand, where Umbridge’s scar used to be. “At the end of that year, Voldemort was sighted, and everything went all wonky. The next year, a guy in my year kept trying to kill Dumbledore, but he couldn’t get it right, meanwhile Dumbledore was teaching me all about Voldemort, and at the end of the year, the guy in my year managed to get a bunch of Voldemort’s followers into the castle, Dumbledore barely survived the encounter, and the Second Wizarding War started. The next year I didn’t go to school, and instead, me and two of my friends spent the year searching ‘round the country for horcruxes, which are items that conceal pieces of a person’s soul by way of a ritual involving murder. Voldemort had made seven, and in order to kill him, we had to find and destroy them all, but then we came to find out I was one of the horcruxes, so I had to let Voldemort kill me. But I survived again, because, little did I know at that point, I had all three of the Deathly Hallows, artefacts that Death herself bestowed upon my ancestor and his brothers. The person who holds all three is the Master of Death, and they are immortal. So Voldemort destroyed the horcrux inside me and I survived the killing curse again. After that, Dumbledore started another smear campaign and had me killed so he could keep his power. They threw me through the Veil of Death, which is this big arch at the Ministry that they thought kills a person, but really it takes them to a different universe that runs parallel to the one they’re from.” Harry took another deep breath, then finished his recap. 

“That’s how I got here, and now Death wants me to save Tom Riddle, Voldemort, from himself, and dismantle Dumbledore’s image before he can get too powerful by defeating the Dark Lord Grindelwald, who’s basically the magical Hitler.” Mrs. Robinson looked like she was having an existential crisis.

“Is there anything else?” She asked.

“My name in that universe was Harry Potter, and I was the descendant of Ignotus Peverell instead of Antioch.” Mrs. Robinson didn’t have a clue who those people were. “And I’m a seer.”

“And what do you eat for breakfast, then?” She asked with a snort. Harry didn’t pick up the rhetorical question.

“I’m partial to kippers and eggs.” He said. 

Is that a gay joke? Death asked.

“Right, this is all madness.” Mrs. Robinson said.

“I can prove it to you, ma’am.” Harry said. “I can perform wandless magic, that’s part of the reason Dumbledore got rid of me. And you already watched him disapparate.” Mrs. Robinson folded her arms.

“You said you are a seer?” Harry nodded.

“I’m not very good yet, but I’ve been practising.”

“What can you see?” Mrs. Robinson asked. Harry waved his hand and a candle, a sheet of paper, and a pen flew towards him. The candle stood upright on the floor in front of him, and the paper sat in front of it. Harry snatched the pen from the air and snapped his fingers. The curtains around the room slipped shut and the candle lit. Harry closed his eyes and sat the pen’s tip on the paper.

He started making circles.

A portrait of Mrs. Robinson flashed in front of his eyes. She was older. Then a casket and a tombstone that read, ‘Colonel James B. Worsley Pennyman. 1883-1961.’

“You will work here until the Baron dies, in 1961.” An image of Mrs. Pennyman in a casket formed, and then changed to the tombstone again, which now had, ‘Ruth C. Dorrien Pennyman. 1893-1983.’ Harry was about to speak again, then the portrait of Mrs. Robinson came back, and it was getting closer and closer, until Harry was staring right at the gold plate on the bottom of the frame.

“Jane Robinson, Housekeeper of Ormesby Hall. 16 December, 1887-9 June, 1966.” Harry said. “You are happy. You lived a fulfilling life.”

“Thank you, Henry, but I was expecting something a bit more short-term.” Mrs. Robinson said.

“Oh, when you step out the door in a few minutes, the planks will creak and startle you.” Sure enough, when Mrs. Robinson left the apartment, a startled shout came from behind the door.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up as he was now used to on Saturday morning, and put on his uniform; black trousers, a white button down, a black vest, and black shined shoes.

He left his apartment and went to the back door of the house. He stepped through, into the dining room, where a few people were eating breakfast.

“Good morning!” He said.

“Good morning, Henry.” Ms. Simon said. “I heard from Mrs. Robinson that you’ve got yourself an outing today.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry said, sitting down and making himself a cup of tea. “Apparently, my mother enrolled me at a boarding school in Scotland that my grandfather went to. I didn’t know until the Deputy Headmaster visited yesterday. He’s coming back at noon to take me shopping for school supplies.”

“Is that right?” Ms. Simon said. “Well, I suppose that means you’ll have just enough time to help me and the girls prepare lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry liked Ms. Simon a lot. She was a very nice lady from Northumberland, but she was very territorial over her kitchen. Everyone at Ormesby Hall reminded Harry of a small-scale Downton Abbey.

~~~

As Harry, Ms. Simon, and the girls worked, they talked about random stuff.

“When’s your birthday, Henry?” Loren asked.

“The 25th of June.” He said.

“Oh no, we’ve missed it!” Sarah said, disappointed.

“It’s alright, girls. There’s always next year.” Harry said.

“Alright, that’s everything done.” Ms. Simon said. “Girls, go set the table.”

There was a knock on the back door right as Harry was helping Ms. Simon set out lunch. Matthew opened the door and let Dumbledore in.

“Good day, Mr. Dumbledore.” Mrs. Robinson said. “We were just about to sit for lunch, would you like to join?”

“That is very kind of you, Mrs. Robinson, but I will have to decline. I have several students to visit today. Mr. Peverell, are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry said. “Bye, everyone.”

“Bye, Henry!” 

~~~

Harry and Dumbledore walked in silence to the road.

“Alright, Henry.” Dumbledore said. “If you would take my arm.” Harry didn’t want to touch him, but he did, and without so much as a warning, they disapparated.

Dumbledore was shocked when Harry didn’t stumble or throw up upon their arrival in Diagon Alley.

“Very well done, Henry.” He said. “Most people vomit their first time.” 

Harry ignored him, staring out a Diagon Alley as if for the first time. The wonder was real. He thought he’d never be back, but there he was, looking down the winding street.

“I have many students to attend to today, so I will return for you in two hours. Meet me back here and I will return you home.” Dumbledore said. “I trust you have your supply list? Oh, you must pick your electives! Here, choose three or four from this list.” Dumbledore pulled a sheet of parchment out of thin air and showed it to Harry.

“I would like Arithmancy, Divination, Magical Artefacts, and Healing.” He said after a moment’s thought. There was arithmancy in everything, so that would be helpful, and he was a seer, so divination was a given. Magical Artefacts were useful and interesting, and he’d been through enough shit to know how essential healing magic was.

“Very good, Henry. Stop at Gringotts Bank first, and then follow the signs to get your things.” Dumbledore said, not giving Harry a chance to even open his mouth before disapparating.

Harry was not expecting that, but he was very pleased to be able to do his shopping without Dumbledore hovering over him. It meant he could get a bunch of extra shit and maybe even go down Knockturn Alley.

Seeing as he only had two hours, he rushed down the alley to Gringotts and went inside to the first open teller he saw.

Ask for a blood test.

“Hello, sir. I would like a blood test, please.” Harry said.

“Name?” The goblin growled.

“Henry Joseph Peverell.” Harry said. The goblin looked him up and down.

“Follow me.” Harry followed the goblin down a long hallway. They turned a few times, then came to a door marked Ranmuk, Account Manager. The goblin knocked on the door.

“What?!” A voice snapped.

“A Peverell wants a blood test!” The teller shouted back.

“Send it in.” The teller opened the door and shoved Harry in.

“Good afternoon, Account Manager Ranmuk.” Harry said politely. The goblin behind the desk raised an eyebrow.

“Sit.” Harry did. “Name?”

“Henry Joseph Peverell.” Ranmuk pulled a sheet of parchment out of his desk and placed it in front of Harry.

“Hand.” He demanded. Harry offered his hand, and Ranmuk grabbed it roughly and slit his palm with a sharp fingernail. A drop of blood ran across his palm and dripped on the parchment before Ranmuk let go.

Harry took his hand back and ran a finger over the wound, letting his magic flow through the cut to heal it.

When he looked back up, Ranmuk had the parchment in hand and was looking at it.

“You most certainly are a Peverell. The only direct male line descendant left, it appears. As such, through the Peverell primogeniture laws, you are the only heir to the Peverell Lordship. You can take up your lordship as of the Winter Solstice.” Ranmuk monologued. “As the Peverell Account Manager, I am in charge of your finances. I will send you a monthly report of the state of your account with Gringotts. 

“Before I take you to your vault, would you like to make any investments, see a report of your estate, or see a due-contract report?” Ranmuk asked.

“Wow, that was quick. Erm…all of the above.” Harry said.

“I have a job to do, Mr. Peverell, I don’t have time to be pussy-footing around. What companies would you like to invest in?” Ranmuk asked. ‘I like this guy.’ Harry thought.

“Shooting Star Brooms, the Comet Trading Company, the Cleansweep Broom Company, and over time, I would like to have controlling shares in the Daily Prophet. Can I make muggle investments?”

“Yes, sir.” Ranmuk liked Henry a lot. He was confident and polite.

Harry thought for a moment, opening his mind, and the names of companies began flowing through.

“I would like to invest in Coca-Cola, International Business Machines, General Electric, the Standard Oil Companies of New Jersey and California, Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing, Boeing, McDonald’s, the Ford Motor Company, Walt Disney Co., PepsiCo, General Motors, and Wells Fargo.

“Further, each year, as soon as my investments reach a value of one and a half million pounds sterling, begin donating the rest to St. Mungo’s hospital. After my graduation, begin the donations after reaching three and a half million pounds sterling.” Harry instructed.

“Very well, sir. Here is your estate log, and your due-contracts report.” Ranmuk slid a small leather folder across the desk. Harry picked it up and opened it.

~~~

Assets and Holdings Overview:

1. Property Holdings:
• Peverell Manor
• Location: East Yorkshire
• Status: The manor is currently in disrepair, having been neglected for several decades. While the core structure remains sound due to the property’s wards, much of the interior requires restoration, and portions of the grounds have become overgrown.
• Description: A historic and grand estate with deep magical roots. The manor includes multiple wings over four storeys, a warded vault, and several ancient Peverell family relics. The grounds encompass woodlands, gardens, and a private lake. Other features include wrought iron gates and a ruined fountain.
• Estimated Value: 8,000 Galleons (as is); Potential value after full restoration: 16,000 Galleons
• Cairnhurst Cottage
• Location: Lake District
• Status: A well-preserved, secondary property of the Peverell family, primarily used for summer retreats. It has been maintained by local caretakers and remains in good condition.
• Description: A smaller, picturesque cottage with modern magical amenities, nestled by the lakeside with breathtaking views of the surrounding landscape.
• Estimated Value: 3,000 Galleons
• Blackthorn Estate
• Location: Cornwall
• Status: Leased to another wizarding family, generating steady annual rental income. The property is in good condition, maintained by the lessees.
• Description: A coastal property known for its proximity to ancient magical sites. It includes a modest manor house, outbuildings, and an expansive beachfront.
• Estimated Value: 4,500 Galleons
• Annual Rental Income: 500 Galleons per year
2. Financial Assets:
• Total Liquid Galleons: 30,000 Galleons
• Held in Gringotts Vault No. 394, under the sole ownership of Henry Joseph Peverell, Heir Apparent to the Peverell Lordship. The vault contains various forms of wizarding currency, all in prime condition.
3. Heirlooms:
• The Resurrection Stone
• Current Holder: Morfin Gaunt
• Description: One of the three Deathly Hallows, capable of summoning shades of the dead. It remains in the possession of Morfin Gaunt and has not been reclaimed. Henry Joseph Peverell, as Heir Apparent to the Peverell Lordship, is the rightful owner.
• Estimated Value: Priceless, due to its immense historical and magical significance.
• The Cloak of Invisibility
• Current Holder: Charlus Potter
• Description: A legendary magical artefact, perfectly concealing its wearer and immune to the effects of ageing or magical detection. Currently in the possession of Charlus Potter, it has been passed down through his family line from Ignotus Peverell. Henry Joseph Peverell, as Heir Apparent to the Peverell Lordship, is the rightful owner.
• Estimated Value: Priceless, as one of the Deathly Hallows.
• The Elder Wand
• Current Holder: Gellert Grindelwald
• Description: Known as the most powerful wand in existence, the Elder Wand has been wielded by some of history’s most formidable wizards. It remains in the possession of the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald. Henry Joseph Peverell, as Heir Apparent to the Peverell Lordship, is the rightful owner.
• Estimated Value: Priceless, due to its legendary status and unparalleled magical power.
• Pendant with the Peverell Family Crest
• Current Holder: Gringotts Wizarding Bank
• Description: A silver pendant with the ancient Peverell family crest. Heavily enchanted for protection and defensive magic, it has been passed down through generations as a symbol of the family's legacy.
• Estimated Value: 2,000 Galleons
4. Additional Assets:
• Family Library (Located in Peverell Manor)
• Status: Many rare and valuable texts remain intact despite the disrepair of the manor.
• Estimated Value: 1,500 Galleons
• Vault of Rare Artefacts (Hidden Chamber in Peverell Manor)
• Status: A secret vault containing various ancient magical relics and artefacts. The vault is protected by powerful wards.
• Estimated Value: 3,000 Galleons

Summary of Holdings:

• Total Property Value:
• Current: 15,500 Galleons
• Potential Value (after restoration): 23,000 Galleons
• Total Liquid Galleons: 30,000 Galleons
• Heirlooms:
• The Resurrection Stone: Priceless
• The Cloak of Invisibility: Priceless
• The Elder Wand: Priceless
• Pendant with the Peverell Family Crest: 2,000 Galleons
• Additional Assets:
• Family Library: 1,500 Galleons
• Vault of Rare Artefacts: 3,000 Galleons

Total Estimated Value of Assets:

• Current Total: 51,500 Galleons (excluding priceless heirlooms)
• Potential Total (after manor restoration): 59,000 Galleons

~~~

“Do you have a log of the artefacts the report mentions?” Harry asked. Ranmuk pulled another sheet of parchment from a desk drawer and gave it to Harry.

~~~

Log of Artefacts within the Properties and Vaults of Lord Henry Joseph Peverell

I. Peverell Manor (East Yorkshire)

1. Peverell Family Library (Main Wing)
• Location: Second Floor
• Contents:
• Ancient Grimoires: A collection of spellbooks dating back centuries, including handwritten tomes from the early Peverell lineage.
• Magical Histories: Rare first editions of books on magical history, particularly those detailing the origins of the Deathly Hallows and Peverell bloodline.
• Potions Manuscripts: Several original works on potion-making, including annotated versions of potions by early alchemists.
2. Basement
• Location: Below the ground floor, contains six chambers and a warded vault.
• Contents:
• The Peverell Armory: Contains several enchanted weapons, including:
• Dagger: A silver blade that can cut through magical protections.
• Shield: An artefact said to deflect most magical attacks.
• The Mirror of Morwyn Peverell: An enchanted mirror that shows the viewer their greatest weakness. Hangs over the kitchen hearth.
• Crystal of Eleanora Peverell: A crystal rumoured to allow brief glimpses into the future, though its accuracy is questioned. Kept on the table in the Divining Room.
• Timepiece of Adeliza Peverell: A broken time-turner that no longer functions. Often spins at random. Kept in a case in the Training Room of Peverell Manor.
3. The Ancestral Crypt (Family Tombs, West Grounds)
• Location: Underground crypt beneath the family mausoleum.
• Contents:
• The Peverell Lantern: A lantern said to glow in the presence of spiritual entities, used during Peverell funeral rites. Flame burns green, flickers when a Peverell dies, but never goes out.

II. Cairnhurst Cottage (Lake District)

1. Study of Relics (Lounge)
• Contents:
• The Book of the Peverell Rites: A tome containing Peverell Family spells and rituals, rumoured to be highly dangerous if used by a non-Peverell.
• Peverell Chalice: An enchanted goblet that purifies any liquid poured into it. Used for family rituals.
• The Wand of Godfrey Peverell: An unused wand, passed down ceremonially in the family. Made of rowan wood with a unicorn hair core, but never wielded after the death of its owner.

III. Blackthorn Estate (Cornwall)

1. Underground Storeroom
• Location: Beneath the main estate, used for storage and safeguarding less frequently accessed artefacts.
• Contents:
• The Blackthorn Lance: A ceremonial weapon enchanted to make and break formal connections.
• The Compass of Thomas Peverell: An artefact said to point the way to the place one is truly needed, though its accuracy has been called into question over the years.

IV. Gringotts Vault No. 394 (London)

1. Core Holdings
• Liquid Galleons: 30,000 Galleons 
2. Vault Artefacts:
• The Pendant of the Peverell Family Crest: Worn only by the Head of House Peverell and enchanted to protect the wearer from curses. Currently kept securely in the vault.
• The Silver Master Key for the Peverell Estate: A key that grants access to all Peverell properties and vaults.
• The Peverell Family Seal: A ceremonial seal used to authenticate documents and legal agreements. Ink stamps enchanted to glow for authentication.
• The Peverell Prophecy: A prophecy orb said to contain visions of all Peverell family members, past and future, and their achievements. Can only be activated by a direct Peverell descendant.
• The Peverell Family Genealogy: A self-updating book containing the complete genealogy of the Peverell Family.

Summary of Artefacts by Location:

• Peverell Manor:
• Grimoires, manuscripts, enchanted weapons, relics.
• Cairnhurst Cottage:
• Book of the Peverell Rites, Peverell Chalice, Wand of Godfrey Peverell.
• Blackthorn Estate:
• The Blackthorn Lance, Compass of Thomas Peverell.
• Gringotts Vault No. 394:
• 30,000 Galleons, Peverell family heirlooms (Pendant, Silver Key, Seal, Prophecy Orb).

~~~

Due Contracts Overview

This report outlines the goods, coin, and services owed to House Peverell and those due by House Peverell to specific individuals and families.

I. Goods, Coin, and Services Owed to House Peverell

1. House of Blackwood (Pureblood Family)
• Owed Amount: 15,000 Galleons
• Contract Type: Coin
• Details: This amount is owed as part of a historical agreement for magical support during the First Magical-Muggle War. The House of Blackwood has acknowledged the debt and is in the process of gathering the funds.
2. House of Malfoy (Pureblood Family)
• Owed Amount: 5,000 Galleons
• Contract Type: Coin
• Details: This debt stems from a loan provided to Armand Malfoy for the acquisition of Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. This loan is currently 207 years overdue.
3. Maximilian Dolohov (Pureblood)
• Owed Service: Life Debt
• Details: A life debt is owed to House Peverell, stemming from an incident during the First World War when a Peverell family member saved a Dolohov from a stray bomb. This debt grants House Peverell an unspecified favour from the Dolohov family.

II. Goods, Coin, and Services Owed by House Peverell

1. Cairnhurst Cottage Maintenance
• Owed Amount: 3,000 Galleons
• Contract Type: Coin
• Details: This amount is due as payment for the annual upkeep costs of Cairnhurst Cottage to the local caretaker, who manages the property.
2. Lord Cyrus Greengrass
• Owed Services: Protection and Training Services
• Details: As part of a previous agreement, House Peverell is to provide the Greengrass family with protective spells and combat training for their children. This service is pending completion, with two agreed sessions remaining as of the death of Thomas Peverell.

Summary of Due Contracts

• Total Owed to House Peverell: 20,000 Galleons and one Life Debt
• Total Owed by House Peverell: 3,000 Galleons and pending services

~~~

“Thank you, Ranmuk. I’m ready to see my vault.”

~~~

With an hour and a half left, and a pouch with 300 galleons, and the five artefacts from the Peverell Vault, Harry left Gringotts.

First, he went to get robes from Madam Malkin’s, which he was surprised to see in the same place as in the future. Apart from the standard school uniform, he got a couple sets of dress robes, in emerald green and black, a set of grey robes with the Peverell coat of arms, and a cute droopy, pointed hat with a wide brim and a ribbon.

Next, he went across the alley for his wand. Ollivander’s was as dusty as he remembered, despite being nearly sixty years in the past. And when Ollivander himself stepped out, he, too, was just as dusty as in Harry’s time.

“You’re a bit old to be buying your first wand.” He said. “And yet I can’t recall ever having seen you in my shop before.”

“I haven’t been here before, sir.” Harry said. “I’m starting school as a fifth year.”

“Ah…well I’ve heard of students like you. If you are anything like them, we shall expect great things from you. Now, your wand arm please, sir.” Mr. Ollivander’s tape measure was as excitable as ever, measuring everything in sight, and a few things out of sight. 

Ollivander paid it no attention though. As soon as he set it to work, he shuffled into the back of the shop.

“I do believe a rare customer, as yourself, will go through my rarest stock rather quickly.” Ollivander called as he returned to the front of the shop with a box in hand. “Elm, thestral tail hair core, fifteen inches, unyielding.” He said as Harry took the wand, only to have it immediately snatched back.

The next wand was black walnut, with a thunderbird tail feather core, twelve and a half inches, unyielding.

Then, acacia, phoenix feather core, eleven and three quarters inches, unyielding. After that, cherry, phoenix feather, fourteen inches, unyielding. And beech, thestral tail hair core, thirteen inches, unyielding. Pine, phoenix feather, thirteen and a quarter inches, unyielding. Harry was starting to get tired when Ollivander came out with hazel, thunderbird tail feather, ten and three quarters inches, unyielding.

“Alright, if this one isn’t a perfect match, I’ll eat my hat.” Ollivander came back with a shiny, polished wooden box, different from all the others. It had gold trim and rested on soft moulding. In short, it was gorgeous. As was the wand inside. “This wand is made from the wood of a Silver Lime and the tail hair of a young thestral, it is eleven and a half inches, and bears unyielding loyalty to its true owner.”

Harry took the wand gently, as if it were a baby, and gave it a smooth wave. He couldn’t help but grin at the warmth that flowed up his arm and the gold sparks that shot from the tip.

“This is an unusual, and highly attractive wand, sir. It performs best for seers and those with a particular affinity for mysterious arts. Use it well.” Harry paid and left the shop, admiring the pale, shined wand the whole way. It was straight and tall, unlike him, and all he could think was ‘opposites attract.’

With only an hour left, Harry was in a bit of a rush. He ran to get a trunk first, so he wouldn’t have a bunch of bags weighing him down. He went to Stowe & Packers Magical Bags, and quickly found one he liked, grabbing a small mokeskin pouch along the way, completely ignoring the salesperson until he was ready to make his purchase.

The trunk he picked was about two feet wide, three feet long, and one foot deep, but when he opened it, it had a sleek wooden surface with a gold handle in the middle. When he lifted it, the wooden surface began rising, revealing a wardrobe and several cabinets. 

It took him a moment to realise you only have to touch the top for it to close, and then another moment of trying to reach the top, and then he was off to buy it.

“I would like this trunk, please.” He told the salesperson.

“Would you like personalisation, a lock, or shrinking and growing charms?” 

“All three, please.” And a few minutes later, Harry was off with his ‘HJP’ trunk in his pocket, stocked with all his clothes from Madam Malkin’s.

Next, he went to Creepy Scrawlers Stationers for personalised stationery, and then Sugarplum’s for a year's supply of salted caramels, then he got a bluebell flame jar from Flimflam’s Lanterns.

On his way back to the main alley, he stopped by a few bookshops around the side alleys and managed to get a great stock together; the Standard Book of Spells Box Set, the Complete Works of Bathilda Bagshot, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Advanced Potion Making, the Complete Potions Encyclopaedia, the Complete Herbs Encyclopaedia, the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, Household Spells and Recipes, Comprehensive Dark Arts Defence, A Guide to the Laws & Government of Magical Britain, Theory of Magic, Curses & Counter-Curses, 999 Spells They Won’t Teach at Hogwarts, Moste Potente Potions, Obscure Potions & Their Potent Effects, Magical Artefacts: the Processes of Creation & Destruction, the Encyclopaedia of Magical Artefacts, Legilimens: the Guidebook to the Mental Arts, Occlumency: Close Your Mind, Advanced Protections: Warding for the Skilled Wizard, Dark Magic That Isn’t Actually Dark, Spell Craft: the Art of Making Magic, the January Sallow Collection: Recipes, Spellcrafts, & Charms, the Divination Guidebooks Box Set, the Pureblood’s Guide to Ritual Magic, the Healer’s Guide to Healing, Wizarding Etiquette for Muggles, and the Book of Arithmancy Box Set.

Back in the alley, he went to get his potions supplies; cauldron, the Advanced Potions Ingredients Set (Year Supply), a box of ornate crystal phials with little tags, brass scales, measuring spoons, a mortar and pestle, a stirring rod, and a strainer.

Next, he ran to Wiseacre’s to get a telescope, and wound up getting one that cost thirty galleons because he couldn’t help himself.

The last three shops he wanted to see, with twenty minutes left, were right in a row. First, the Ritual Supply, where he got a ceremonial knife kit with an athame, a kirfane, and a boline, a crystal chalice, a censor, a box of ritual candles, and some chalk.

Second, Ms. V’s Divination Tools, where he got star chart templates, aged chicken bones for osteomancy, a box of crystal runes, a deck of tarot cards, a pair of dowsing rods, a pendulum, a bag of dice, a set of ogham tiles, a dream sachet, a palmistry model, and the Complete Scrying Set (a crystal ball, a scrying mirror, and a crystal water bowl). And since they were on sale, he also got a leather record journal with his initials embossed in gold on the cover for a galleon extra.

His final stop was the Magical Menagerie.

As soon as he walked in, his eyes fell on a half siberian shorthair, half kneazle kitten, who was too fluffy for his own good.

“Oh my goodness, aren’t you the most handsome cat?!” Harry rushed over, past a tank of snakes, and knelt on the floor beside the cat, who responded by flopping over onto Harry’s knees. Harry died. Five minutes later, Harry walked out of the shop with Bacon the Cat in his arms, and all of Bacon’s personal effects in his trunk.

He was perfectly happy to leave, and he even saw Dumbledore waiting for him, but then something landed on his head, and he crossed his eyes trying to see what it was.

“Please take her with you!!” Someone shouted in front of him. “I beg of you!” It was a man, presumably who worked at Eeylops’ Owl Emporium. “I’ll give you all her things for free!” The man loaded a cage fitted with self-changing wood chips, and food and water dishes, into Harry’s arms, then ran back to his shop and locked the door.

“Okay.” Harry shrugged, then turned around and walked towards Dumbledore.

“Good afternoon, Henry.” He said. “I trust you’ve enjoyed yourself?”

“Very much, sir.”

Chapter Text

The morning of 1 August, Harry’s owl, which was a screech owl that he’d named Melinoe, was out hunting, so Harry took Bacon to breakfast with him so he wouldn’t be lonely.

“And who’s this?” Mrs. Robinson asked as soon as Harry was through the door. Harry giggled giddily.

“This is Bacon.” He said. “We’re allowed to have pets at school, so I got a cat.” Loren and Sarah got up from their seats, gasping.

“He’s brilliant!” Loren said. Bacon purred as Sarah scratched behind his ears, and brushed against her hand.

“Enough, back to breakfast, girls.” Mrs. Robinson said. “We’ve work to do today.”

~~~

At the end of the day, Harry was sitting in his apartment with his candle, paper, and pen, as usual, when Bacon caught his attention. He was standing on the counter, pawing at Harry’s new tarot cards.

“I don’t know how to read those, yet.” Harry said. Bacon gave him an unimpressed look. Harry sighed and stood up, snuffing his candle and moving to the kitchen to grab his cards.

He picked up the deck, and as if on instinct, he began shuffling them, and then he spread them on the counter. He picked out the three cards he was most drawn to, and flipped them over.

The Fool, the Three of Wands, and the Two of Cups.

“I will go to a new place and find a new friend.” He said. “Wait…how did I know that?”

Because you are a seer. You have natural divine abilities. Harry jumped at the sound of Death’s voice.

“I thought being a seer just meant I can see into the future?” He said. 

What do you think divination is? Until now you’ve been performing divination through meditation and instinct. 

“But what about prophecies, how do those work?”

Harry, you are a seer, not a prophet. You see, you do not foretell.

“Oh.”

~~~

Harry spent the rest of August practising all the different forms of divination he’d picked up in all his spare time, and time seemed to fly by.

It seemed to Harry that he’d only returned from Diagon Alley an hour prior when he was standing in the staff dining room with his trunk, Melinoe’s cage, and Bacon’s carrier.

“We’ll miss you a lot, Henry.” Ms. Simon said. Loren and Sarah nodded.

“Be sure to write.” Loren said.

“Of course I will.” Harry said. “Every week.” He’d gotten used to being around everyone, and he liked them all a lot. It was like having a family.

“Before you go, Henry,” Matthew said, “I’ve just picked this up from the jeweller.” He held up an ornate gold watch on a chain, engraved with Harry’s initials. 

“We all pitched in to get it for you, since we missed your birthday.” Blake said.

“That’s so sweet!” Harry cooed, accepting the watch from Matthew. He clicked the button on the side and let it flip open. He took in the shiny glass and the mechanical sound of the clock, then closed it. “You didn’t have to get me anything, though.” Harry said.

“We didn’t have to, love. But we wanted to.” Mrs. Robinson said. “Alrighty then, Mr. Williams will be driving you to London so you can catch your train, and we’ll see you on holiday.” Harry nodded.

“Are you excited?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah.” Harry said. “I can’t wait! There are so many classes to take! I picked first aid as one of my electives.”

“Really?!” Loren asked.

“Alright, everyone. Remember, breakfast at eight and lunch at noon, I should be back by three.” David said, entering the room. “Are you ready to go, Henry?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry said.

“Wait, wait!” Ms. Simon rushed from the room to the kitchen, and came back with a small container. “I’ve got you some fixings for lunch. Don’t you know that a train from London to Scotland ought to take at least eight hours?! I’ve got you a pheasant drumstick with roast potatoes, some beef broth, a sliced cucumber, and a slice of the leftover tart from last night’s supper.”

“Thank you, Ms. Simon.” Harry said.

“Haste ye back, love.” David and Harry left, and everyone sat around the table.

“Hard to believe we’ve only had him for two months.” Mrs. Robinson said.

“Yeah, even Matthew likes him!” Loren said.

“Oh, I tried not to.” Everyone laughed. “It’s impossible not to like the boy.”

~~~

As soon as they were in the car, Mr. Williams asked Harry if he liked Bing Crosby, and they were off on the five hour drive to London.

As they went, Harry sipped his beef broth and read Wizarding Etiquette for Muggles, as that was the most mundane book he had. Mr. Williams asked once what he was reading.

“It’s a book on etiquette. I work for a baronet, already, but apparently a lot of lords send their children to Hogwarts, so there’s no shame in review.” He said.

“Good man.”

They arrived at King’s Cross at 10:30, and Mr. Williams helped Harry get his trunk, Bacon’s carrier, and Melinoe’s cage onto a trolley, and then they said goodbye.

Harry stood alone outside King’s Cross, slightly startled by the sandbags stacked against the walls. He’d gotten so used to the weekly air raid drills in Ormesby, but he forgot that the war was a daily fear in London. Just thinking about the Blitz, it was no wonder Tom Riddle was so scared of dying. He had to deal with the exposure every summer, along with an abusive matron at an orphanage full of assholes.

‘Death?’ Harry called in his head.

Yes, Harry? Death answered sweetly.

‘If I get close enough with Tom, could I take him back to Ormesby with me for the summer holidays?’

I think that is a surefire way to keep Tom human, and to grow your relationship. Harry grinned and stepped into an alcove. He let Melinoe out and told her to follow the scarlet steam engine to Hogwarts, then put her cage in his trunk and shrunk it down. He popped it in his pocket, grabbed Bacon’s carrier, and went off to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

~~~

At 11:10, Harry was sitting on the floor of an otherwise empty compartment with Bacon, who was sitting in Harry’s lap, looking hilariously shocked and concerned as they were pulling out of the station.

Harry was dying when someone opened the door.

“Sorry, could I possibly sit with you?” He looked up into the eyes of Myrtle Warren, and contained his shock the best he could.

“Yes, of course.” He moved his legs so she could get in. “I’m Henry Peverell, by the way.”

“Myrtle Warren.” She said. “Thanks for this, no one else would even open the door.”

“That’s not very nice.” Harry said. As if upset the attention was no longer on him, Bacon made a noise that sounded shockingly like a ‘hello.’ Myrtle looked over with wide eyes.

“You heard that, right?” Harry asked. Myrtle nodded. “Last night he grabbed his feet, curled up into a ball, and started rolling around my apartment.” Myrtle laughed.

“What’s his name?” She asked.

“Bacon.” She grinned.

“That’s perfect.” She said. “I wish I had a cat.” They spent the next few minutes just watching Bacon being goofy. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What year are you in?”

“Fifth, but I’m only starting this year.” Harry said.

“Really? That’s peculiar.” He nodded.

“Mr. Ollivander told me that he’d heard of others like me.” He said. “But what I think happened was my Sight took all my magic and I never registered until now. My mother died a couple months ago, and I’d never been so upset in my life. I think that emotion kickstarted me.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Myrtle said.

“Oh, I’m alright. She’s off on the next great adventure.” Harry said. “Anyway, she was in a lot of pain. She’s not suffering anymore.” After the awkwardness of death wore off, the pair got back to talking and playing with Bacon.

“So you said something about your Sight…are you a seer?” Myrtle asked.

“Yes, I am. But I can’t make prophecies–” She cut him off.

“Yeah, you’re just incredibly receptive to information through divination techniques that others would find incredibly difficult or impossible.”

“Exactly!”

They shared Harry’s lunch from Ms. Simon, and Harry told Myrtle all about living and working for the Pennymans. Myrtle told Harry all about her time at Hogwarts. How she loved all her classes, but people made fun of her because of her glasses.

“Oh, I made a spell for that!” Harry quickly pulled out his wand, and before Myrtle could even react, he was waving it. “Sahaeculi.”

Myrtle looked at Harry for a second, then slipped her glasses off and gasped.

“Henry, you’re a miracle worker!” She said. “I can see even better than I could with my glasses!”

“It’s not a miracle, Myrtle.” Harry said. “It’s just a bit of complex arithmancy and intention. I got a book on making spells and I’ve read it several times. It’s interesting, and it’s helpful.”

“That does sound interesting.” Myrtle agreed. “Could I borrow that book sometime?”

“You can borrow it now.” Harry got up and grabbed his trunk. “When you finish you can just give it back to me when you see me.”

“Thanks, Henry.” Myrtle said. “Cool trunk, by the way.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “If anyone tries to break into it, they’ll get a minor…majorly debilitating shock.” Myrtle blinked, slightly shooketh. “Now, back to the topic of people bullying you, if they keep giving you trouble, hex them. If someone’s going to be mean to you, you need to be able to be mean back. I had to learn that the hard way.”

“Yeah, but I feel bad.” Myrtle sighed.

“I used to feel bad, too.” Harry said. “Then I realised these people were being mean to me for no reason, and they would keep doing it unless I did something about it.” Myrtle looked thoughtful, and it was quiet until the trolley witch came by.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, Harry had to walk into the feast and be sorted with the first years. Fortunately, he was smol, so he didn’t stand out too much.

He’d been thinking about which house he wanted to go into. Obviously not Gryffindor again. Too many bad memories there. Not Hufflepuff, because then Tom’s friends would completely shut him out.

The only plausible options were Ravenclaw and Slytherin

He was leaning heavily towards Slytherin, but if he was a Slytherin, Dumbledore would have an uncomfortably close eye on him, and it would make his work just that little bit more difficult. But if he went to Ravenclaw…stairs. 

‘My ass is nice enough, Slytherin, please.’ Harry planned to tell the hat. Not to mention, he needed to be as close to Tom as possible if his purpose was to be fulfilled.

Harry noticed that there weren’t many first years left. Just two, and then him. He was strangely excited, and slightly nervous.

“Students!” Dumbledore called. “This year we introduce a slight peculiarity. Mr. Henry Peverell will be starting at Hogwarts as a fifth year. Mr. Peverell, if you would please step forward to be sorted.”

Harry moved to the stool and sat down, and he felt Dumbledore lowering the hat onto his head.

Well, well. Second time for you, is it? Willing to take my advice this time, are you?

‘Yes, sir. Slytherin, please.’

Good luck, Harry Potter.

‘It’s Henry Peverell, now.’

Don’t die.

SLYTHERIN!

Chapter Text

Henry woke up on his first day of classes at five in the morning as he’d grown accustomed to working for the Pennymans.

He took a quick shower, enjoying the constant stream of hot water, then he brushed his teeth. When he got out of the bathroom, he conjured an iron and an ironing board, and quickly worked the wrinkles out of his uniform.

After he was dressed, he slipped his new watch into the pocket of his vest–which he ordered with all of his uniforms along with the standard jumper–and strung the chain through the buttonhole.

He quickly put his droopy hat on, swung his robe over his shoulders, and slipped Bacon into his pocket, then he grabbed his mokeskin pouch and put all the school books and materials he felt he’d need inside.

He slipped out of the Common Room at around 6:30, when everyone else was just waking up, and went up to breakfast.

~~~

It was nearing the end of breakfast when Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Dippet approached Henry.

“Good morning, Mr. Peverell, I am Professor Dippet, the Headmaster, and this is Professor Slughorn, your Head of House. I wonder if you could accompany us to my office?” Dippet said.

“Nothing bad, of course, we just wish to speak to you regarding your unusual circumstances.” Slughorn added.

“Of course, Professors.” Henry grabbed his bag and tapped his hand against his pocket. “Come on, Bacon.” Bacon, who was sitting on the bench next to him, climbed back in, and the professors shared an amused look.

~~~

Once they got to the Headmaster’s Office, Henry was quite shocked. It looked extremely different. Dumbledore’s whirring devices and strange artefacts were gone, and all the furniture was replaced with things that looked to have been chosen for comfort instead of to ennoble the person sitting behind the desk.

Henry and Slughorn sat in the armchairs in front of the desk, and Dippet sat in the recliner behind it.

“Alright, Mr. Peverell, seeing as you are starting at Hogwarts in your Fifth Year, we have devised several mechanisms to assist you.” Professor Dippet began, “First, I have asked each of your teachers to provide you with some form of review for the schooling you’ve missed. Second, I have personally enchanted a map of the castle, as it often changes. Third, I had this book passed around the staff, and each of them enchanted it to update with the assignments you have yet to hand in to them. And finally, I have been in contact with a student who also started at Hogwarts in her fifth year, and she has agreed to speak with you. Her name is Jane Sallow, and she lives in Brocburrow, in the central valley. 

“In your free time, as all students, you are welcome to explore the Hogwarts Valley, so long as you heed the notices posted on the board in the Reception Hall, and follow the rules regarding the Forbidden Forest and respect for those who live in the communities you visit.” Professor Dippet said.

Henry was shocked. Students could leave the castle whenever they wanted? There was more to Hogwarts than the castle, the forest, and Hogsmeade? He would be meeting Jane Sallow?!

“As for me, I have your schedule here for you–” Professor Slughorn said.

“Wait, professor, would you mind if I guess my classes?” Henry asked. Slughorn smiled and waved him on. “On Mondays; Charms, Transfiguration, Lunch, Defence, Artefacts, and Astronomy.” Slughorn looked down at Henry’s schedule, then back up.

“Merlin’s beard! How ever did you manage that?!” He asked.

“I’ve always had a good intuition, but once I got magic, I started getting visions, so I looked into it, and I suspect I’m a Seer.”

“And I suspect, Mr. Peverell,” Dippet said, “That Hogwarts will have as much fun with you, as you will have with it.”

~~~

After leaving the Headmaster’s office, Henry decided to look at the map Dippet had given him on his way to Charms, just for shits and gigs, and he was sort of taken aback. It was a sheaf of parchment, just like the Marauder’s Map, but it didn’t have the people. 

‘I should do that.’ Henry said to himself. Anyway, it was an amazing tool that first years could put to good use. Sadly, it wouldn’t be useful to him.

Maybe not. But you could make it useful to you.

‘Death, are you suggesting that I charm the map to show everyone in Hogwarts?’

No, I’m suggesting that you strip the map, find out how it works, and make an atlas of your own that constantly monitors specific places and people.

‘But that’ll take ages to learn to do, and then even longer to actually do it.’

I’m not suggesting that you do it right now. I’m suggesting that you begin acquiring the skills for it, and that you work on it as you have time to do so.

Henry walked into the Charms classroom and found a seat, and then wrote down Death’s idea. Shortly after, Professor Farrell entered the room from his office and rushed down to Henry.

“Mr. Peverell! Swell to meet you.” He shook Henry’s hand. “The Headmaster has asked me to put together something for you to catch up with your peers, so I made this little review guide, and whenever you think you’re ready to try the charms, you can just come find me and we’ll put you to the test. Of course, if you ever have any questions, feel free to ask.”  Henry was not prepared for the jubilant professor, and merely accepted the sheaf of parchment with a small ‘thank you.’

By the time class had started, Tom Riddle had taken a seat across the way and was glancing curiously at Harry every few seconds as Professor Farrell began the revision lesson for the Banishing Charm.

~~~

After Charms, Henry went off to Transfiguration, which he thought would be interesting with Dumbledore teaching it. He wasn’t very excited to be learning from anyone other than Professor McGonagall, but he figured it couldn’t be that bad, considering Dumbledore had been a teacher for years.

He was wrong. It was bad. It was badder than bad. It was shit. No, it was shitter than shit shat out of a diarrhoea shitting moose with IBS.

Once again, Henry was the first in, so he found a seat. Dumbledore was already in the room, but he just ignored Henry. Henry figured he was just busy, but as soon as the Hufflepuffs started arriving, Dumbledore greeted them kindly.

‘Okay, visible bias much?’ Henry thought.

When Tom came in, there was a visible look of disdain on the Professor’s face.

“Good morning, class, and welcome to your first Transfiguration lesson as fifth years.” Dumbledore said with a smile, looking exclusively at the Hufflepuffs. “Today we will be reviewing the Switching Spell, Transitus. Can anyone tell me what the Switching Spell is used for?” Henry raised his hand.

“Mr. Peverell?” 

“The Switching Spell is used to switch the positions of two targeted objects.” Henry said.

“Correct.” Dumbledore said. “Mr. Peverell, I will also take this opportunity to inform you that we observe a strict dress code at Hogwarts, and no matter how far above your peers you believe your circumstances make you, the rules still apply to you. That’ll be five points from Slytherin.” Okay, Professor Snape. Death said. Are you just going to take that, Henry?

“Actually, Professor,” Henry drawled, “In my preparation for Hogwarts I thoroughly reviewed the Student Code of Conduct, and the dress code only mandates that students wear a black robe, a pointed hat, a nametag, and their house’s emblem and colours in some form. My outfit has met all of these standards.” Henry reached into his bag and pulled out his copy of the Code of Conduct and held it out. “Should you wish to fact check me?”

“There shan’t be any need for that, Mr. Peverell.” Dumbledore said with false pleasantry.

“And shall I be receiving those points back?” Henry asked.

“Of course, Mr. Peverell.”

At the end of the lesson, when everyone was sitting quietly, starting their assignments, Professor Dumbledore approached Henry with a sheet of parchment.

“Mr. Peverell, the Headmaster has asked that I provide you with a review for the Transfiguration material you’ve missed, so here is a list of every lesson first to fourth year. I wish you to write a foot of parchment on every spell and topic, due by the Winter Solstice.” Incredulous looks passed around the classroom.

“Thank you, Professor.”

~~~

At lunch, Henry sat with Myrtle, who was excited to see he hadn’t forgotten her.

“That’s ridiculous, Myrtle.” He said. “You’re unforgettable.” She blushed, and Henry got scared. ‘Leave my gay ass alone!’

~~~

After lunch, Henry went to Defence Against the Dark Arts, where Professor Merrythought gave him a box with her collected works on the subject so he could review everything he’d missed, as well as everything to come.

Then, in Magical Artefacts, Professor Silas didn’t have anything for him, since it was a fifth year and up course, so Henry just got to enjoy the introduction to the course.

Later that night, Professor Callisto gave him A Beginner’s Guide to Star Charts for review, and then let him pick the first lesson of the year. He chose Planetary Archetypes.

~~~

The next day, he had Potions, after which Professor Slughorn gave him a key to the classroom, so he could practise brewing whenever he wished. During the lesson, they brewed a Draught of Peace, which garnered as much praise from Slughorn as Henry had gotten from him in his sixth year. It felt nice that he was doing it on his own this time.

~~~

In History of Magic, Henry was disappointed. He was hoping that Professor Binns would’ve had at least a little bit more vitality in this time, but nope. Still boring and tiring.

Would you like to get an OWL in History of Magic, but your teacher makes you want to nap and stab yourself all at the same time? Death asked in a hilarious commercial voice. Then contact your Headmaster today and ask to study the subject independently!

‘Hold on! I can do that?’ Henry asked.

Hell yeah! Death said. Go now!

‘But Professor Binns–’

You really think he’s going to notice or care?

‘You right.’ Henry got up and left the classroom. He used the stairs in the North Hall to get down to the Transfiguration Courtyard, which he took to the Central Hall. Then he went out through the Viaduct Courtyard to the Entrance Hall, and then he went up the Grand Staircase to the Headmaster’s Office.

He gave the password he heard Dippet use the morning prior, went up the staircase, and knocked on the door to the office.

“Enter.” Henry went through the door. “Mr. Peverell, good to see you.”

“You as well, Headmaster.” Henry said. “I was wondering if I could speak to you regarding History of Magic?” Dippet sighed.

“Have a seat, Henry.” He said. Henry took the blue armchair in front of the desk.

“I want to keep taking the class, sir, but I’m falling asleep. I can’t pay attention to Professor Binns, it’s like listening to a crackling radio.” He said.

“Yes, I hear that a lot. But there really isn’t anything that we can do.” Dippet said. “We’ve tried to exorcise him, but he just won’t leave.”

“I was wondering if I could study the course independently.” Henry said.

“Are you sure, Mr. Peverell? This is your first year at Hogwarts, and you already have several other things on your plate.” Henry nodded.

“I’m positive. I’ll spend all the class time in the library, I just need a curriculum guide so I know what to study.” He said.

“Well…alright. Here’s a list of topics due to be covered this year, here’s a list of topics you’ve missed, and here’s a list of topics that have been on past History of Magic OWLs.” Professor Dippet conjured three sheets of parchment and held them out for Henry to take. 

Henry reached out to take them, then his vision blinked black, and he was sitting at a desk with a parchment in front of him. It was the OWL for History of Magic, and all the questions were about the Magical Peerage of the United Kingdom. 

Henry blinked and he was back in the office with Professor Dippet.

“Henry?” Henry looked up at him, and realised his hand was hovering over the sheets of parchment as if he was holding a quill.

“I won’t be needing that one, sir. The OWL this year is going to be on the Peerage.”

~~~

After lunch Henry went to Arithmancy, where Professor Valla gave him a pamphlet on important numbers and a book of guided numerology charts for review, and then taught a lesson on advanced numerology charts. 

Henry appreciated her ‘eat my ass you little skank’ attitude.

In Healing, his teacher, Healer Burke, gave a speech about the horrors the group would face in her class. At least in the following years, should they pass their OWLs.

That got Henry morbidly excited.

The next morning, in Herbology, Professor Beery gave him his own personal potting table in Greenhouse One, along with a key to the seeds and equipment cupboards.

That afternoon, he had his first Divination lesson, and as soon as he made it up the ladder, he was startled by a tall, thin woman, wearing a purple veil.

“I am Professor Clea, not clay, Clea. The Headmaster told me I should prepare review material for you.” She looked Henry up and down. “You’ll be fine.”

~~~

The last class Henry hadn’t been to yet was Magical Theory, on Thursday. He was sort of excited. He only had to take it for a couple weeks in his first year, but he’d found it very interesting.

After Potions on Thursday morning, he crossed through a back corridor to the Defence Tower and went up the stairs to the Magical Theory classroom. When class began, Henry was wiggling excitedly.

“Good morning. I am Professor Gage, and this is OWL Theory of Magic. This class is entirely project-based, as such we will not be meeting in this room again apart from the days before the start of holidays. You may go where you wish during this time, but I strongly suggest that you go to the library.

“Your project for this class is to create a theory about where magic comes from, how people get their magic, or similar. You must support your theory with academic resources and graphics, and must be submitted as a report by the end of the OWL time allotted at the end of the year.

“Your theories are due by next week, but you may submit yours before then, should you wish to do so. Be warned, not only will I be grading these, but the Grey Committee for Magical Education will be too. And we grade rough.”

~~~

It was a week into school, and Tom Riddle, the most powerful person in Slytherin House–if not Hogwarts as a whole–was puzzled. Henry Peverell was the name on everyone’s lips.

Henry Peverell, the last of the great pureblood Peverell House, who wore his socks inside out and walked around with a kitten in the pocket of his robes. Friend of purebloods and mudbloods alike.

He’d never performed magic before, apparently, and didn’t even register as a wizard until his fifteenth birthday, yet he could be called gifted in all of his classes, and radiated raw power. And he was walking about the Common Room using complex spells. You need a napkin? No problem, Henry will transfigure one from a spare quill!

On top of that, he was running about fixing people’s eyesight with a spell he created, and making accurate predictions of the future.

Initially, Tom thought he’d fallen asleep on the Hogwarts Express and was having a dream, but no. Henry Peverell was real. And Tom needed to own him.

~~~

Henry was ignoring Tom Riddle’s stares in his direction, as had become common that week. 

He was focusing all his attention on talking to Bacon and writing a to-do list.

“Alright, what are the things that fucked me over last time?” He asked. “I couldn’t practise because of the trace, so I’ll research ways to fix that. I had to go to the Dursleys’ every summer, but that’s already taken care of. Though I should put some protections on Ormesby Hall. 

“Dumbledore keeping shit from me…I can claim my lordship and then go right to the source for all my facts. And now that I’m a Slytherin, he’s turned into Snape, so I’ll need to tread carefully. Should be easy considering I’ve taken all these classes before.

“People are probably going to give me shit, so I’ll have to figure out a way to show them I ain’t the one without alienating myself from everyone. I’ll really need to keep up the smol bean act, though, so no one gets suspicious of me. I also don’t need to be disturbed by any fanatics, so I should find something to make me untrackable.

“I need to start making steps towards the atlas, and I also need to come up with my theory for Magical Theory. I should also check out the Room of Requirement.

“This last one is just for me, so bear with me…” He told Bacon. “Imagine living at Peverell Manor, and having a room there with a bunch of enchanted two-way mirrors, so you could just stand in the middle and have a group video chat!”

“That does sound intriguing.” Henry jumped.

“Ee, by gum!” He shouted, turning around to see Tom Riddle standing beside him. “Where did you come from?!”

“Come with me.” Henry narrowed his eyes and stood, grabbing his pen and notebook, which were greatly out of place in the Slytherin Common Room, then he held out his hand for Bacon to climb up onto his shoulder.

Tom shot an unimpressed look at the cat, then began walking to the centre of the room, where two green sofas were facing each other, and a few armchairs were scattered about. All were full, except for one chair, which Tom sat Henry in, to the shock of everyone there.

Henry sat formally, with one ankle tucked behind the other, and his hands folded together on the spiral of his notebook.

“Everyone, this is Henry Peverell.” Tom introduced from his spot, standing over Henry’s shoulder. “He will be joining our group from now on. Henry, you sit there when you are in the Common Room. Avery, I require your seat.” Henry looked over at the guy in the armchair to his right. He was glowering at him.

“Yes, of course.” Avery stood, and Tom took his spot.

“Henry, I hear you are quite gifted in charms?” A girl sitting on the sofa across from Henry said.

“Well, I don’t know about that, Ms…” 

“Black. Dorea.” She said.

“Well, Ms. Black, I believe my aptitude stems from my receptiveness for new information.” Henry replied.

“You are a seer as well, are you not?” Henry turned his head to the black haired boy to his left.

“I am. Though I suppose you’ll wish me to prove it, will you not, Mr. Ambrose Lestrange of Mandragora Lane, Guernsey, born the seventeenth of February, 1926?” Lestrange’s jaw dropped.

“How..?” He asked.

“As I said, I have a certain receptiveness for new information.” Henry said.

“And what if I don’t buy into that?” Tom asked.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle. In the future you could be feared, or loved. Be wise in choosing which you’d prefer. One path will take you to death, and the other will take you to eternal life. You must come to the realisation soon that you do not have all the answers.” Everyone seemed to stop breathing as Henry stared at Tom. Then Tom smirked.

“I knew I chose you well.”

Chapter Text

For the rest of the week, the only time Tom would let Henry out of his sight was when he was in a class that Tom didn’t have as well. Which is to say, an hour and a half every weekday, three hours on Thursday.

Henry didn’t really mind, though. It made his job a lot easier. Or so he thought.

Tom wasn’t completely himself around anyone, not even his friends. Henry couldn’t see past what Tom gave him, and that was infuriating. Especially considering he was quickly becoming the closest member of Tom’s inner circle.

Henry was expected to walk in-step with Tom, while everyone else followed behind. Henry was expected to sit next to Tom at meals and in class, which he quickly challenged by eating with Myrtle. Henry was expected to advise Tom of important events. And Henry was expected to accompany Tom everywhere he went.

So one day, halfway into September, they were sitting in the library, across the table from each other. Harry was working on his theory, which he called ‘Peverell’s Magical Power Continuum,’ and Tom was reading a book.

“You know more than you’re telling everyone.” Tom said randomly.

“And you are keeping yourself locked away, deep inside your soul.” Henry replied without looking up.

“The cute new kid act isn’t fooling me, Henry.” Henry snorted.

“And the perfect model student act isn’t fooling me, Tom.”

“I order you to tell me everything.” Henry looked up and gave Tom an unimpressed look.

“First off, you don’t own me like you own all your other little pets. Second, if you want me to let you in, you’re gonna have to let me in.” He said.

“Alright, on the count of three, we both say something about ourselves.” Tom said.

“1…2…3…” Henry counted, but neither of them said anything. “Go on.” Tom picked his book back up.

It was quiet for a bit.

“You do realise that what you’re reading is pretty foolish when you’re already on the path to power.” Henry said. “Correct?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please.” Henry said. “Horcruxes are not the answer, especially when there are safer options.” Tom went eerily still, and Henry smirked. Honestly, he didn’t know if that was really what Tom was reading about.

“Come.” Tom stood up and waited for Henry to collect his things, then they left the library. They walked until they found an empty corridor, and then Tom pushed Henry against the wall and closed a hand around his throat.

Henry knew from the slight excitement he felt that he was infinitely more fucked up than he ever thought.

“What are you?” He demanded.

Tell him.

“I’m the only one with the power to defeat you. Or so you will grow to believe.” Henry said. “On the path to power and eternal life, you will make many mistakes. You will make seven horcruxes, and you will split your soul in half seven times. By the time I am born, forty years from now, what remains of it will be small and unstable. You are doomed for not just death, but obliteration. You won’t have a soul to move on.” Tom dropped Henry and staggered backwards across the corridor. “At least if I weren’t here.

“You can be a hated overlord who dies in fifty years, or you can be a loved and powerful man who lives forever. Your choice.”

~~~

From that point, Tom seemed to keep Henry even closer, clinging to him like a lifeline. It was slightly irritating, but also, Tom started letting him in, bit by microscopic bit.

It was the first Saturday in October when Henry got his first letter from Madam Sallow. She’d invited him to her house for lunch, so they could talk, and he’d quickly and eagerly wrote a reply, saying he’d be there.

“Tom, I’m going for lunch in Brocburrow.” Henry said, so Tom wouldn’t freak out, thinking the person keeping him alive had died or something. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Absolutely not, that is unacceptable.” Tom snapped. Henry rolled his eyes.

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Tom summoned his cloak and started to the door of the Common Room.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you giant manchild!” Tom smirked. “Leave me alone!” Tom didn’t budge, and Henry turned to the girls and pantomimed choking himself out. They all laughed.

Him and Tom made their way to the nearest Floo Flame, and Henry quietly hated Dumbledore for getting rid of them. Upon their arrival, Henry followed the directions Mrs. Sallow had left in her letter, and the boys found themselves at a large, but cottage-esque, manor house.

Henry knocked on the door, and it was answered quickly by a small house elf.

“What can Deely be doing for youse, Sirs?” She asked.

“Hello, Mrs. Sallow invited me for lunch.” Henry said.

“Right, you is Mr. Peveyroll!” She hopped a few times. “Please be coming in, Sirs! Can Deely be taking your cloaks, Sirs?”

“Yes, thank you, Deely.” Henry said. He looked over and saw Tom looking at her with a curled lip, so he elbowed him, and they handed over their cloaks.

“Mistress Janery will be right with youse.” Deely popped away, and a voice came from the top of the stairs.

“Who might you be?” Henry looked up to see the DILFiest DILF in the history of DILFing, coming down the stairs right towards them.

“You must be Henry!” Henry turned to his left, where a smiling woman with brown hair and green eyes was standing. “Sebastian, this is my guest, Henry Peverell. He just started Hogwarts, in his fifth year.”

“Ohhh! Do you think he might have–” Mrs. Sallow gave ‘Sebastian’ a look.

“Do you think I might have what?” Henry asked, glancing between the two adults.

“I have a rare aptitude for magic,” said Mrs. Sallow. Henry felt a spur of excitement. For his theory project, he created something called the Magical Power Continuum Theory, and to go with it, he created the Magical Power Spectrum, which took information from six categories and rated the subject on a scale of one to five for each of them. Maybe that ‘rare aptitude’ could help his research! “I thought that maybe since we both started in our fifth year, we might both have the same aptitude. I only know of two other people who started in their fifth year, and both of them were like me.”

“I do seem to have a ‘rare aptitude for magic,’ but I created my own way of testing it.”

“Well, come with me to the lounge, and we can talk about it over lunch, yes?” Henry and Tom followed Mrs. Sallow to the lounge, and Sebastian brought up the tail of the group.

They sat on very comfortable furniture, and Deely served tea.

“So, I know that this is Henry, but who might you be?” Mrs. Sallow asked Tom.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sallow.” Henry said. “This is my friend Tom, and he’s a bit clingy.” Henry directed the last bit at Tom, who only smirked in response.

“No need to be sorry, Henry. And there’s no need for all this ‘Mrs. Sallow’ nonsense. It’s Jane.” Sebastian made a noise of disagreement.

“I don’t know, I like it.” Jane raised an eyebrow.

“I know a thing or two about clingy as well, Henry.” She said. “In our sixth year, Sebastian followed me everywhere. One time, he wouldn’t stop yapping at my heels long enough to realise he was trotting right into the girls’ bathroom.” Henry smiled, keeping his laugh on the inside. “Which peer do you work for?” His eyebrows creased.

“Pardon?”

“I mean to say, I grew up in a lord’s household. The way you’re sitting, the way you reacted just there, it triggered a memory. Domestic servants raised me, so I’m fairly good at identifying them. If you’re not, you’re pretty damn dignified.”

“I work for the Baronet Pennyman, in Ormesby.” Henry said. “Though I suppose I’m a lord myself, now.”

“Talk about irony.” Sebastian said. “You’re not from the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell, are you?”

“I am.” Henry said. “Last male direct descendant of the Three Brothers.”

“Which one?” Sebastian asked.

“Antioch.” Henry said. “Thankfully I’m not as inbred as other peers.” Sebastian snorted.

“Well, it is good to meet you, your Lordship.” He said. “I myself am the Earl Sallow.” Jane waved dismissively at Sebastian.

“Henry, I have a gift for you, in honour of a new friendship.” She waved her hand and summoned a small box.

“You didn’t have to get me something, Jane.” Henry told her with a smile, pulling off the lid. Inside, there was a small gold lapel pin with a dark, somewhat transparent stone in the middle that looked like ice. “It’s beautiful.”

“Is it glowing?” Jane asked him. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“That answers one question for us, then.” She said. “We do not share our affinity for magic, but that might honestly be a relief. Right, earlier you said you had your own method for testing people’s aptitude for magic?” She asked. Henry nodded, still looking quite puzzled.

“Yes, for Magical Theory, we have to make a theory about magic, and support it with various pieces of evidence. I call mine the Magical Power Continuum Theory, and so far it says that everyone in the world has some level of magic, but there is a certain level of magic that a person has to have in order to be classified as what we would call a witch or wizard.” Jane nodded, interested, and Sebastian and Tom watched Henry as he explained.

“To assist my theory, I created a chart called the Magical Power Spectrum, to display the amount of magical power a person has.” Henry pulled out his wand and conjured a sheet of parchment. “I can demonstrate using myself as a subject. Magia Genetica!” He pointed his wand at himself, and a shimmering green two appeared in front of him. He waved his wand at it, and it settled onto the parchment as a green wedge without a point.

“The first category in the Magical Power Spectrum is Genetic Magic, which shows how much magic you received from your parents. I don’t know who my father is, but he’s likely a muggle, and my mother was the first Peverell in my line that wasn’t inbred to the point of loss of magic, so I got very little magic from her. Magia Ambientalis!” This time, a violet one appeared. With a wave of Henry’s wand, it settled on the paper as a slightly smaller wedge, and it was looking as if the chart would be a circle.

“This is Environmental Magic, which shows how much magic you receive from ley lines and other places with high concentrations of magic. I scored a one because I grew up and was born in North Yorkshire, away from any ley lines and places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Diversitas Genetica!” This time, an indigo four appeared, and settled onto the parchment as a wedge double the size of the first.

“The final category in the Upper Half of the spectrum is Genetic Diversity. Just as muggles who are inbred can suffer birth defects, magicals can also suffer decreases in magical power. The more diverse your genes, the more power you are likely to have. I scored a four, which contributes to my belief that my father is likely a muggle. If he had any magical genes, the possibility of a distant relation between him and my mother would be very high, just because of the absolute spiderweb these purebloods are weaving. Fortitudo Voluntatis!” This time a red five appeared, and it settled on the parchment as a wedge slightly larger than the last.

“This one is the start of the Lower Half, which deals more with characteristics of the subject than their situation. It’s Strength of Will, which not only measures the amount of power you can tap, but also the wisdom of when to use it. I scored a five, which is the highest you can receive in a category. I suppose it’s because throughout my childhood, I had to learn quickly to practise restraint, or it wouldn’t be good for me.” Henry looked away to avoid the concerned looks of everyone around him, and cast the next spell: “Potentia Crescendi!” An orange four appeared and settled onto the parchment as a wedge just smaller than the last.

“This one is Potential for Growth. It’s just as it sounds. I have a certain level of power, and a certain aptitude for magic, but as I advance in my knowledge, practice, and studies, I will become more proficient. Fortitudo Mentis!” The last number, a light blue four, appeared and settled on the parchment, closing the circle and appearing the same size as the one directly across from it.

“The last category is Mental Fortitude. How likely you are to get through life’s challenges, ready to stand back up swinging. I got a four, probably because I’ve got Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I mean, I still gut a bitch if they knock my food on the floor, but if I slip and fall, I’d probably just lie there for a while.”

“Relatable.” Jane said. “And fascinating.”

“Thank you, Jane.” Henry said. “But I’ve still got to compile my score. Eventus!” On the parchment, two lines of text appeared.

‘Magical Power Spectrum for Henry Joseph Peverell, 214-554

Cumulative Score, 7-14’

“Basically, you take the results from the Upper Half, in order, dash the Lower Half, also in order, and that’s your Magical Power Spectrum. The cumulative score is just a simple, shortened way to tell if a person is a witch or wizard. The smallest cumulative score a witch or wizard can have is 6-7, and I have a spell to give the cumulative score, and I’ve tested it on every boy in our dorm, while they were sleeping, to be sure it works.”

“Really?” Tom asked. “What’s mine?”

“8-13.” Henry said.

“Only 8-13?!” Tom demanded.

“If you’ve forgotten, I know everything about you. Don’t even pretend to be shocked about the eight, cause that’s damn lucky. And the thirteen is because you don’t care who you fuck over as long as you get what you want. Wise up and it’ll improve with you.” Sebastian looked away, and Jane hid her smile behind a teacup. “Anyways, in my opinion a cumulative score of 15-11 would be best, because that shows you’ve inherited as much magic as possible. You should also hope for the highest degree in both Strength of Will and Mental Fortitude, but–at least later in life–having little Potential for Growth, in my eyes, shows that you’ve already mastered much of what you are capable of. Though it could also mean that you’ve stagnated.”

“I wonder if you could find my cumulative score?” Jane asked.

“Of course.” Henry said. He turned his wand towards her. “Punctatio Cumulativa!” A white light slipped from the tip of Henry’s wand and formed into the numbers thirteen and thirteen, separated by a dash. “Oh, that’s a very good score.”

Henry and Tom sat with Jane and Sebastian for a couple hours. Jane told Henry about the Room of Requirement, which he already knew about, but had never thought about using for his studies. She told him to just ask for ‘Jane of Wenlock’s Room.’

When the boys left at around two o’clock, Henry immediately flooed them to the nearest flame to the Seventh Floor Corridor, and he paced back and forth a few times, repeating ‘I need Jane of Wenlock’s Room’ in his head.

After his third time back and forth, a door had appeared, and Henry quickly pushed through it, followed practically at a sprint by Tom.

The room had a large central hall, and alcoves on either side with staircases. In the middle of the room, there was a sitting area, and straight ahead, and on the upper level, there were a bunch of vivariums for magical creatures.

“Who’s there?” The boys looked to the right, to see a ghost coming up the stairs. The ghost of Helga Hufflepuff.

“It can’t be…” Henry said.

“It very well can be, young man.” Hufflepuff said. “I suppose Rowena will be pleased that someone else found her room.”

“You mean Rowena Ravenclaw is here as well?” Henry asked. ‘That’s impossible, I spent basically my entire fifth year in here.’

No, you spent your entire fifth year in the Dumbledore’s Army Practise Chamber. This is Jane of Wenlock’s Room. Death said.

‘You mean all the rooms in the Room of Requirement exist separately at the same time?!’ Henry asked.

Yes, they do. Every time a new need is conveyed, the room creates a space befitting. Otherwise you get someone else’s room.

“Yes, she is. As is Godric.” Hufflepuff said.

“What about Slytherin?” Tom asked. Hufflepuff’s demeanour changed immediately.

“We left that foul man to rot in the place where he attempted to bind us. Though I don’t suppose he lasted very long after Jane destroyed his locket.” She snarled.

“His locket? That can’t be, the House of Gaunt possesses Slytherin’s Locket.” Henry said.

“Then it must be a fake. With my own eyes I watched the original stabbed through.” Tom was in shock. His ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, the greatest of the Founders of Hogwarts, was gone forever.

“So there really was no hope for him?” Henry asked. “Slytherin was just as foul as the world believes now?”

“I suppose so.” Hufflepuff said. “Salazar feared muggles. And he did not trust their magical offspring to not give us all away to die. So he turned to dark magic to do away with them. When we made him leave Hogwarts, he placed a basilisk in a hidden chamber in the castle and stole our artefacts, binding our life forces to them.

“Salazar Slytherin was a weak man and a coward.”

“How’s he sounding to you now, Tom?” Henry snarked.

“You lie.” Tom hissed at Hufflepuff. “Salazar Slytherin was the greatest of the Hogwarts Founders.”

“Tom, you’re a fucking idiot.” Henry said. “What reason would Helga Hufflepuff have to lie about someone’s loyalties? I’m sorry about him, he’s a bit stupid.”

“Slytherin’s Heir.” Hufflepuff raised an eyebrow. “Listen here, boy; you can cause a whole lot of greatness in this world, and you can make the Slytherin name universally loved. But following in that man’s footsteps is not the way to do it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Henry said. Tom turned on his heel and left the room.

“Sorry, Miss.” Henry said to Hufflepuff. “He’s a bit closed minded, but he’ll come around eventually. I hope. I’m Henry, by the way. Peverell.”

“It’s good to meet you, Henry Peverell. And it’s not your friend’s fault that he believes what he does.” Hufflepuff said. “As I said earlier, Salazar feared the muggles and mistrusted them. They often burned, hanged, stoned, or drowned our kind, and he wished Hogwarts to be a safe place for us. Muggleborns, in his mind, were a threat to that safety.

“The world would not be as it is if he hadn’t passed his fears and prejudices to his students and their families. But years of blowing the issue up further and further made it the problem it is now. And now, not even the Statute of Secrecy is enough to control the blood purity fanatics.”

“I’m hoping that I can help with some of those fanatics. Change their minds, stop them passing on their radical beliefs until the craziest of them can die out.

“For my Magical Theory project, I’m trying to show that everyone has magic, regardless of whether they can use it. And I’m trying to show that pureblood inbreeding is causing birth defects and loss of magic.” Henry said.

“That’s quite the undertaking. And you are welcome here anytime you’d like. There’s a bedroom with a small library and a pensieve. There are many creatures in the various vivariums. And down that way there is a large work room. Godric and Rowena are resting now, but when you come back, I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

“And I’d love to meet them. Thank you, Miss.” Henry said. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Chapter Text

When Henry returned to the Slytherin Common Room, everyone was shocked to see him outside a five foot radius of Tom, who was sitting by the fire with a book.

He approached Tom and found him staring into the fire. Henry stepped in front of him and blocked his view, and Tom looked up into his eyes, giving a look that would have even the most stone-faced bitch shitting. Henry didn’t react.

“You keep me around to give you the truth, no matter how hard it can be to hear.” He said. “That’s a fact, Tom. You can’t get upset when I do what’s expected of me.”

Tom stared into his eyes for a second, and the whole room was silent.

“Sit.” Tom said after a minute, gesturing to Henry’s chair. So Henry sat.

“It wasn’t you, Henry.” He said distastefully. “It was…her.”

“Same applies, Tom.” Henry said, rolling his eyes. “Do you seriously think she’s lying? She lived with him for most of her life.” He said matter-of-factly.

“I’d like not to speak of this any longer.” Tom said, looking back down at his book. Henry rolled his eyes and stood up.

‘Of fucking course.’ He thought. ‘Funny how someone with so much plot development can still act like a little shit.’

“Don’t walk away from me.” Tom hissed. Henry’s eyes widened dangerously.

“And don’t speak to me like that, arse. I’m going to get something to do.” He snapped.

As Henry walked away, Tom’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair until his knuckles went white, and he felt an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his gut and a tickle up his spine.

Henry’s voice held power. The same power that was evident in his every action. A power that was so seductive. That could drive a man mad.

~~~

An hour later, Tom and Henry were still sitting by the fire. Now however, they were joined by several friends. Tom had a new book, and Henry had pulled over a small table that was quickly scattered with books and journals.

Henry’s eyes were slightly wide as he focused on his work, and Tom was holding his book with one hand, using the other to twirl his wand between his fingers.

The sight was one that would soon encourage the first years to refer to Tom and Henry as ‘dad and mom.’ On the down low, of course.

The books scattered in front of Henry held a complex smattering of magic and cartography. He went as far as he could before getting up, standing on his chair, and saying very loudly:

“I’ll kill someone for whoever gets me into the ward room.”

Then he narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Hold on…” He got down and looked at one of his books. “Nevermind!”

Tom rolled his eyes, but kept watching Henry, who scribbled furiously in a notebook for a second, then got up, pulled out his wand, lifted up a corner of the rug, and knelt down.

For a few seconds, there was a loud scratching sound, then a tapping sound, like wood on stone, and then Henry stood up, fixed the rug, and knelt back down.

Then he pulled a large leather-bound tome across his table and tapped it with his wand.

“Tridimensionalis Mappa!”

And then he opened the cover and tapped the first page, and a small, complex rune appeared. Henry held his wand over it for a second, and then it turned blue, and he put his wand down.

Tom stood up and set his book down, and moved to stand behind Henry, so he could get a good look at what he was doing. His eyes widened when he found a parchment model of Hogwarts building itself in–or rather, out of–Henry’s book, starting with the Slytherin Common Room.

“What are you up to?” He asked Henry.

“I’m making a map.” Henry said.

“I think I’ve spotted that, thanks.” Tom snarked. “What I meant was how, and why?”

“How? I made a ward rune and carved it into the floor. It’s a leach ward, so it’ll stretch out until it finds another magical field, and then serve its purpose over the entire area. This ward is for mapping, so it’ll latch onto the Hogwarts Wards and map out the entire grounds.

“Why? I won’t say with all these NOSIES about.” Henry shouted the nosy bit, which was very dramatic.

“Henry,” Dorea said calmly, “I say this with love: no one cares.” Henry narrowed his eyes at her.

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “How else am I meant to find a nice place to hide the body?”

Chapter Text

For several weeks, Tom badgered Henry about the map every time they were alone. Every time, Henry ignored him.

But he continued to work on it, and Tom continued to grow more and more desperate.

Around the middle of November, Tom and Henry found themselves alone in their dorm, and once again, Tom watched as Henry pulled out the giant tome that housed his map.

Henry made a show out of flipping through the pages, since he knew Tom was watching, and then began glancing up every once in a while to see if Tom was watching. If he was, Henry would snap the book shut, and Tom would narrow his eyes.

“I demand that you tell me everything about that map, this instant!” Tom barked after a while, standing up and crossing his arms.

“Yes, mother.” Henry snarked. Tom looked at him dangerously.

Henry thought about it for a second. The map was almost finished, and Tom wouldn’t tell. Honestly, the only reason he hadn’t told him yet was because it pissed Tom off, and that made Henry feel good.

Besides, Tom would start snooping soon. Better for Henry to control what he saw.

“Fine. Meet me in the common room once everyone else goes to bed.” Tom grinned down at him, and Henry could see a party in his eyes. Henry very well knew that this was the largest, most informal celebration of victory that Tom would ever display, so he took a mental picture.

~~~

Just like Henry said, Tom waited for everyone else to get in bed, then he got up and made his way down to the common room.

Back up in the dorm, Henry was hid away in the bathroom. As soon as he heard Tom leave the room, he got up and turned on the light.

‘Alright Death, you told me I could summon the Hallows. How?’ He thought.

You just will it to come to you. Death said. It’s that simple.

‘Alright.’ Henry thought, ‘Sounds easy enough.’

He began thinking vigorously about the Invisibility Cloak, but nothing was happening. He stood there for nearly two minutes before he heard laughing.

I was only joking. Death said. Here.

Henry gave his most dead inside look to the mirror as the cloak appeared in his hands.

You’re welcome. Death said.

Henry ignored her, throwing the cloak over himself and turning off the light before leaving the bathroom.

He stopped quickly at his trunk to grab the book, and then he left the dorm and went down to meet Tom.

“Tom!” He whisper-shouted, pushing the cloak off his head. “Come on, get under the cloak.”

“And how the hell did you manage to get an invisibility cloak?” Tom asked, getting up from the sofa he was sitting on and moving towards Henry.

“Family heirloom.” Henry said shortly. “Now get under!”

Once Tom was under the cloak, they began shuffling to the door to the common room.

When they reached the doors, Henry stopped and held up the book.

“This is the Peverell Atlas.” He told Tom. “In the back, I have several maps of Britain, Europe, the World, etc. In the front, is my map of Hogwarts.” Henry flipped open the cover, and Tom looked down at the seemingly empty book with a raised eyebrow.

“Seriously, Henry?” He said. “Where’s the map?” Henry rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, levelling it at the front page of the book.

“Henry Joseph Peverell.” He said.

Immediately, in curly font, the word ‘Welcome,’ appeared, and then the pages began shifting, building once more a large paper model of Hogwarts, starting with the Slytherin Common Room.

Once the model was finished, it flipped open, revealing an overhead view of two tiny parchment figures, labelled at the feet with ‘Henry J. Peverell’ and ‘Tom M. Riddle.’

Tom examined the figures in wonder, noticing that they actually looked like him and Henry.

His gaze shifted to the grounds, which mapped the various outstructures with equal detail. The ground was mapped on flat pages surrounding, but the terrain drawn there looked anything but two-dimensional.

“We’d like to take a short tour of the castle, loop us around and bring us back here before midnight.” Henry told the map.

Tom watched, enchanted, as a small gold line appeared, starting at their figures, and leading out the door and down the corridor.

Henry began moving, and Tom stayed close. Every once in a bit, Henry would speak briefly about a spell he used to create the Atlas.

They followed an empty corridor silently, surrounded by sleeping portraits, ending up in the Entrance Hall.

They casted a quick warming charm, then went outside and down the stairs into the Viaduct Courtyard.

The grounds were covered in a fresh blanket of snow, and spears of ice dangled from every object in sight.

They sat on a stone bench for a second, pressed awkwardly together under the confined space of the cloak.

“It’s beautiful out here.” Henry whispered. “We should sneak out more often.” Tom exhaled a short laugh.

“This has been a lot of fun.” Tom said. “That book of yours is very interesting.”

“Well, it’s far from finished.” Henry said. “Eventually, you’ll be able to hear conversations, see passwords to closed rooms, show people apparating to and from a location, and see past scenarios enacted on the maps. That’s not even half of it.”

“You’re a genius.” Henry looked over at Tom and saw an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. “You’re mine.” Tom growled.

Does anyone else suddenly feel not tight? Death whispered awkwardly in his head.

Henry felt his face get warm, and there was a stir in his gut. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“We should probably keep going if we want to get back by midnight.” Tom smirked, enjoying Henry’s squirming.

They stood up and started walking again.

They crossed the Viaduct Bridge and went back inside, then took the stairs all the way down to the Central Hall. They took the corridor to the left and passed the Potions Classroom, then went down the spiral staircase, and soon they were back at the door to the common room.

They walked all the way back to the dorm under the cloak, and once they were inside, Henry pulled it off and threw it on his bed.

The boys changed in silence, and went to bed, Henry still blushing as Tom’s words rang in his head.

You’re mine.

Chapter Text

Henry sat at a desk nestled under a tall window in the library with a quill and a sheet of parchment. On the side of the desk, there was a small spoonful of wax melting, beside which the seal he’d taken from his vault stood.

~~~

Ranmuk,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I am writing to you to ask a favour. As tomorrow is the Solstice, and I’ll be able to claim my Lordship, I would appreciate it if you would send a letter to me, asking my presence for an urgent matter, so that I may have an excuse to leave school.

This would be greatly helpful to me, and as a reward for your assistance, you may take a suitable fee from my vault.

I hope to see you tomorrow.

Good day,

Henry J Peverell

~~~

The next morning, Henry woke up, as usual, with Bacon curled around his head. He breathed a heavy yawn, and slowly sat up.

Henry stretched his arms and arched off his mattress, inhaling sharply at the relief in his stiff muscles and bones. Then he sat up and startled so hard that Bacon woke up and tore out of the room with a shriek.

Melinoe was perched on his footboard with an envelope clutched in her beak, wide eyes piercing his soul.

Henry huffed and took it from her, glaring at her as she flew away to her perch.

Henry tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside, finding an urgent summons to Gringotts. Not remembering the letter he sent the day prior, he began panicking.

He threw himself out of bed and ran to the bathroom, trying to make himself presentable in as little time as possible.

You asked for that letter. Death said quietly in his head. There was a noticeable grin in her voice, but in his panic, Henry didn’t notice it. He barely even heard her speak.

He stopped in the middle of the room, his shirt hanging around his shoulders and his underwear wrapped tightly around one ankle, and he remembered writing to Ranmuk.

He felt like crying as he trudged into the bathroom and took his shower. When he got out, he brushed his teeth and combed his hair, which–in this life–sat on his head as a mop of loose curls. He found it much more favourable than the mess he had in his last life.

He dressed in his usual uniform, except today, instead of finishing with his watch, he put on his floppy hat and a black robe, and upon checking the weather, he added a cloak with the Peverell coat of arms on the left breast to the look.

He was about to leave the room, and then he looked back, saw Tom, and decided to be nice.

Henry crossed the room to Tom’s bed and knelt beside him, ignoring the heat in his face when he saw his friend’s uncovered chest. Tom’s hand was behind his head, and his bicep was flexed, showing unexpected definition. Henry was ready to run when his eyes glazed over the curly hair in Tom’s armpit.

He assured himself that he was just making sure his ‘assignment’ for this life wasn’t dead, and poked Tom’s chest.

Tom’s eyes snapped open and his arm swung forward, grabbing a handful of Henry’s cloak. Henry resisted the urge to climb in beside him.

“What the hell, Henry?!” He whisper-shouted when he realised who it was. Henry’s eyes were wide, and in this proximity, Tom was able to make out the details of his face for the first time. The tip of his nose and the upper halves of his cheeks were slightly red, and he had a splash of freckles over his nose and under his eyes. “Why would you put your shockingly attractive face right next to someone when they’re sleeping?!”

“I’m going to Gringotts…Don’t flip your shit when you realise I’m gone.” Henry said. “Bye.”

Henry stood and walked stiffly back to the door, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.

After he made sure his trousers weren’t tented, he went down to the common room and knocked on the door to Professor Slughorn’s quarters. After a second, the door swung open, and Slughorn was standing there.

“Ah, Henry!” He said with a grin. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning, sir. I’ve just got this letter from my account manager at Gringotts.” Henry held out the letter to Professor Slughorn. “He said he has to see me urgently.”

Slughorn looked over the letter.

“I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Slughorn said, stepping into the common room and shutting the door to his quarters behind him. “I’ll just need to inform the Headmaster that I’ll be out for a few hours, then we can leave.”

“Do you think I’m in some sort of trouble, Professor?” Henry asked, just so he could push the narrative that he had nothing to do with the letter.

“Of course not, Henry.” Slughorn said. “I have a peculiar memory in which I received similar correspondence, and upon rushing to the bank, I found out that they only wished to brief me on the state of my account.”

“Was your account different in any way when you arrived for the meeting?” Henry asked.

“Nope.”

~~~

Upon entering the bank, Henry was immediately taken to Ranmuk’s office. He allowed Slughorn to tag along as well.

“Mr. Peverell, good to see you again.” Ranmuk said. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, Ranmuk.” Henry said. “This is my Head of House, Professor Slughorn. He brought me here today.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ranmuk.” Slughorn said.

“Likewise.” Ranmuk replied. He turned to Henry. “I’ve called you here to discuss the matter of the Peverell Lordship. As the only direct male descendant of the House, you are the only eligible heir and by the laws of the Wizengamot, an heir to a Most Ancient and Most Noble House that is otherwise extinct, may take up his lordship at any point he pleases after the Winter Solstice in the year he is informed of his candidacy.

“So, if you wish, you may take up your lordship now.”

Henry glanced at Slughorn, who looked positively shooketh.

“Alright.” Henry said. “I suppose I’d like to take up my lordship. How does it work?”

“All you must do is accept the Peverell Lordship Ring. Once you do, the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell will be notified. They will meet, get all matters sorted, and then schedule a meeting with you, at which you will make your Oath of Confirmation, after which you may name a proxy for your seat in the House of Lords of the Wizengamot. Upon your seventeenth birthday, the Wizengamot will be notified, and an Investiture Day will be scheduled to invest you into your seat.” Ranmuk said. Upon finishing, he reached into his desk and pulled out a small wooden box. He slid the box across his desk, and Henry grabbed it.

Opening it, Henry took in the simple beauty of the ring inside. It was a silver signet ring with the tree from the Peverell coat of arms etched on.

He pulled the ring out of the box and slid it onto his right ring finger, and once it was on, he felt a gentle warmth flow up his arm and through his body.

“That’s it?” He asked Ranmuk.

“That’s it.” Ranmuk said. “Now, would you like to see the state of your account before you leave?”

“Just a simple report.” Henry agreed.

“Yes, sir.” Ranmuk pulled a sheet of parchment out of a desk drawer and handed it to Henry. “Your investments are doing well. In fact, we had to enlarge your vault to hold all your returns. As you can see from the report, it now holds one and a quarter million Galleons, the equivalent of five million Pounds Sterling.

“I have filed the necessary paperwork, and the donations to St. Mungo’s Hospital that you ordered will begin in the New Year.”

“Thank you, Ranmuk.” Henry said. “Before I go, I’d like to ask you to find someone who can renovate my properties, fix anything that’s broken, and connect them to the nearby waste and water systems.”

“It shall be done, Lord Peverell.” Ranmuk said. “Until next time.” Henry and Professor Slughorn left the office.

“That wasn’t a briefing on the state of your account.” Slughorn said. Henry laughed.

“No, it wasn’t.” He said. “But it was unexpected. I wonder why he didn’t just say it was about the lordship.”

“Goblins have a way of doing things in order to cause the most fear and nerve possible.” Slughorn said. “It can be quite off-putting.”

Chapter Text

“Professor, I wonder if I could pick up a present for Tom while we’re here?” Henry asked. “I saw it over the summer, and now that I know him, I think it’s perfect.”

“Of course, Henry.” Slughorn said. “Just come find me at the Leaky Cauldron once you’ve finished.”

Henry grinned and rushed to the Magical Menagerie. He knelt by the tank of snakes he’d passed on his way to get Bacon and began scrutinising the baby Burmese Pythons. A few minutes later, he left the shop with one of them curled around the brim of his hat, then immediately walked into another shop after seeing a jewelled wand holster in the window.

He got the wand holster for Myrtle, then he got a set of gold combs with pearls for Druella, and a pair of white silk evening gloves for Dorea. Then a bottle of elderberry hand cream for Walburga, and a jewellery box made of carved ebony wood for Lucretia.

The whole time, he was thinking about whether they would even like the gifts. He was mostly sure they would, but he wanted it to be perfect. He assumed that most of them hadn’t had a very meaningful Yule yet.

~~~

By the time Henry had finished his shopping, he’d visited five stores over the course of four hours, and Professor Slughorn was starting to worry when he finally walked into the Leaky Cauldron with seven different bags.

“Henry!” Slughorn called. “By god, son, I was starting to worry!”

“Sorry, Professor.” Henry said sheepishly. “I kept seeing things that I thought my friends would like, and one shop turned into two, then that turned into four…hours.”

“It’s alright, Henry.” Slughorn sighed. “Looks like we’ll be getting back just in time for lunch. Off we go.”

Chapter Text

Tom loved his snake, which Henry gave him as soon as he returned to the castle, on account of it being a living thing that couldn’t be easily hidden. Tom loved the fact that Henry had named it Noodle very much less. And he couldn’t change its name, because it already answered to Noodle. Damn.

He was still glaring at Henry at the Solstice Feast, and Henry was smirking with unrestrained glee. A little over a quarter of the students were still there, and soon, Henry would have two things to be smirking about.

“Alright, does everyone remember when Dumbledore assigned me four years' worth of assignments to do within four months?” There were nods, and then Henry, with an evil grin, pulled a stack of parchment out of his bag that reached higher than the top of his head when he sat it on the table. “The work was easy, but not appreciated, so I’m gonna make sure everyone knows what he did. See you in the common room!”

The giant stack of parchment greatly contrasted the cheerful atmosphere in the hall, with its holly garlands, trees decorated with flickering fairy lights and gold baubles; it was like Henry was doing taxes on his birthday.

Henry stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder, then grabbed the stack of assignments and began approaching the staff table, watched by literally everyone in the hall.

He dropped the stack on the table in front of Dumbledore, whose eyes were wide, and a dull thud echoed through the room.

“Here’s the review work you assigned, Professor. I was very grateful for the chance to make up for the years I missed, but it did take an awfully long time, so I apologise for handing it in so close to the deadline.” Dumbledore looked extremely uncomfortable, and several people were glaring at him. “Happy Solstice!” Henry said cheerfully, before turning around and marching out of the hall in silence.

When the door closed behind him, pandemonium erupted. Students and staff alike were shouting at Dumbledore, and Tom was beginning to seriously consider whether or not he was attracted to Henry. One thing was certain: he had never been so thoroughly ruined by a cute boy and a pile of parchment.

That night, Dumbledore became significantly less popular at Hogwarts.

~~~

“What the hell were you thinking, Albus?!” Professor Slughorn shouted across the table in the Staff Room. “Four years' worth of assignments to do in four months?! The boy’s only been a part of our world since summer!”

“Yes, I must agree, Albus.” Professor Dippet snapped. “That is far too much work. Galatea gave him a set of books, Hypatia gave him numerology charts! You gave him a foot of parchment on each of over a hundred topics!”

“Transfiguration is a subject that must be taken with the utmost caution and respect.” Dumbledore argued. “I did what I must to ensure Mr. Peverell would take my class, and the dangers it poses, seriously.”

“And for your troubles, you’re being placed on probation.” Professor Dippet squeaked. “For the rest of the year, any interaction you have with students may be subject to review. If you try anything like this again, you’ll be suspended so quickly your invariably large nose won’t catch up before you’re out!” Dumbledore looked around shocked, from angry face to angrier face of his colleagues standing around him.

“Armando–” He began.

“Don’t!” The Headmaster barked. “Be thankful I haven’t taken this matter to the Board of Governors. You are dismissed, Albus.”

Professor Dumbledore took a breath, straightened up, then walked stiffly from the room. That Peverell boy was beginning to grate on his nerves.

~~~

After the feast, everyone returned to the common room to find Henry, sitting in his usual chair with a shit-eating smile.

“Very well done, Henry.” Tom said approvingly. Henry could hear the smirk in his voice, and when he looked up from his book, the look on Tom’s face sent heat rising through his face.

“I know.” He said simply, going back to his book.

He didn’t notice the dark look on Tom’s face, or the way his friend sat to mask the tightness in his pants.

Chapter Text

Henry woke up on the 25th, happy that he wouldn’t have to change out of his pyjamas before going down to the common room. He yawned, stretched, and then sat up and looked down at Bacon on the foot of his bed.
Eventually, he decided to go down to the common room, so he got up, put on his slippers, and padded to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
When he came back out, he picked up Bacon, then went down, slightly surprised to find Tom in his chair already.
“There you are.” He said haughtily. “I was beginning to worry you all would just laze about all day.” In response, Henry made eye contact and yawned dramatically.
“Noodle, attack.” Tom hissed, holding out his hand towards Henry, who noticed the little snake wrapped around Tom’s forearm. In response, Noodle stuck her head out and flicked her tongue across Henry’s shoulder, then retreated and curled back up to enjoy Tom’s body heat.
Tom looked at her unimpressed, and Henry snorted.
“That betrayal aside,” He said, “What’d you get me?” Tom raised an eyebrow at Henry’s excited grin, then pulled out his wand.
“Accio Henry’s parcel.” Within a moment, a neatly wrapped box came down the stairs from the dormitories, and Tom caught it. Henry stared at it, wiggling with uncontained delight.
As soon as it was in his hands, Henry tore it open, finding a small, very old leather bound book with animal skin pages. He opened it gently and found it to be full of spells, all explained to the last letter of the incantation.
“Tom…” He breathed, “Where did you get this?” Tom smirked, evidently pleased with himself.
“I take it you’re pleased with your gift?” He asked.
“How could I not be?!” Henry laughed. “It’s brilliant! Thank you!”
~~~
Those who stayed at school instead of going home for the holiday exchanged gifts, and then went to lunch. Henry sat beside Tom, as usual, and listened as their friends talked aimlessly while he ate, until the mail came.
Two letters were delivered to Henry, and he couldn’t help but grin as he picked up the first, very thick, envelope.
He quickly opened it, and several folded sheets of paper slipped out onto the table. He picked up the first and began reading.
~~~
Dear Henry,
Happy Christmas! We wish we could’ve seen you back in Ormesby for the holiday, but it was very nice of you to stay at school so your friend wouldn’t be alone.
Tom sounds very nice, by the things you’ve written about him, and we’ll be very excited if we ever get to meet him.
Things have been business as usual here at home. How have things been at school since last we spoke?
We’re excited to see you in the summer!
Love,
Loren and Sarah
~~~
“Who are Loren and Sarah?” Tom asked, peering over Henry’s shoulder.
“My friends from Ormesby.” Henry answered. “They work for the Baronet as well.”
Everyone back home had sent a letter wishing him a Happy Christmas, and saying they couldn’t wait to see him again.
After reading them all, Henry put them back in the envelope, telling himself to remember to write back after lunch. He grabbed the other envelope and found the green Ministry of Magic and Wizengamot icons stamped on the front. He turned it over and found the Peverell House Seal, and quickly excused himself from the table.
He walked back to the common room at full speed, taking the shortcut to the dungeons through the Entrance Hall, then sprinting down the long corridor.
Once he was back in the dormitory, he sat down and tore open the envelope.
~~~
The Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell
To His Lordship, Henry Joseph Peverell,
Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell,
My Lord,
It is with great respect and due honour that I extend to you, on behalf of the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell, our formal invitation to convene at your earliest convenience. As you have now claimed your rightful title, it is imperative that we establish the governance of your House’s affairs, secure its influence within the Wizengamot, and ensure the seamless continuation of its legacy.
There are matters of both administration and protocol that require your attention. Chief among them is the appointment of officials within your House’s Office, positions that must be filled by esteemed witches and wizards who are, of course, ineligible to serve on the Wizengamot itself. The following roles remain vacant and demand your selection of capable individuals:
House Barrister – A legal advocate to defend and further the interests of House Peverell within the courts and legislative matters.
Drafter – A skilled writer responsible for the preparation of public and formal correspondences.
Diplomatic Liaison – An emissary tasked with managing relations between House Peverell and foreign magical governments, noble families, and the International Confederation of Wizards.
Record Keeper – Responsible for maintaining documentation of House decisions, legislative actions, and political engagements.
Herald of the House – The official voice of House Peverell, making pronouncements, representing your interests in ceremonies, and ensuring your decrees are formally conveyed.
House Archivist – The guardian of House Peverell’s historical records, sacred texts, and genealogy, ensuring the preservation of its long-standing legacy.
Master of Artefacts – The custodian of all magical items and heirlooms belonging to House Peverell, ensuring their security and proper use.
As Regent of House Peverell, it is my duty to facilitate this transition and to ensure that your office is structured in accordance with the high expectations of your station. I urge you to consider your appointments carefully, as each of these roles is instrumental in the continued power and stability of your House. Should you require recommendations, the Office stands ready to provide counsel.
We await your directive regarding the date and time of our first formal assembly. May your wisdom guide House Peverell to further greatness.
With highest regard,
Callidora Black
House Regent of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell
~~~
You should ask your friends. Death said in his head.
‘Tom is the Heir of House Slytherin.’ Henry pointed out.
Not him, the girls. Walburga as Drafter, she’s quite eloquent, Dorea as Record Keeper, she’s trustworthy and organised, Druella as Herald, she’s unlikely to get cold feet in the middle of a ceremony, Lucretia as Mistress of Artefacts, she loves antiques and treats them with care and respect, and Myrtle as House Archivist, cause that girl loves books. Henry nodded.
‘Alright, I’m following you, but what about the others, Barrister and Diplomatic Liaison?’ Henry asked.
Cassius Greengrass and January Sallow, respectively. Cassius is a barrister, brother of the current Lord Greengrass, and January has great skill in diplomacy, having met several Members of Parliament and Heads of State in her time.
‘Alright, I suppose I have a few letters to write.’ Henry heard Death hum, and he pulled out some parchment and a few envelopes. First, he wrote back to Ormesby, then to Cassius Greengrass and Mrs. Sallow.
~~~
Henry was walking down the stairs in the Library Annex, towards the little model of Myrtle sitting at a table in the library on the Peverell Atlas. She was sitting alone when he found her, so he sat down across from her.
“Happy Christmas, Henry!” She said, but Henry’s focus was elsewhere.
“Is that a present?” She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she slid the box that was with her across the table, and Henry grinned.
He peeled off the paper and found a small wooden box. Upon opening it, he found two small ornate bells.
“They’re Protean Bells.” Myrtle explained. “If you ring one, the other will ring too, so if we ever need help or just want to talk, we can just ring the bell. Do you like it?” Henry grinned.
“They’re great, Myrtle.” He picked one up and tested it, and sure enough, the other one rang as well. “One for me, and one for you.” He handed the other bell over to Myrtle, and they put them in their pockets.
“Now, is that one for me?” Myrtle asked, peeking at the parcel that Henry had brought with him.
“Maybe…” He handed it across the table, and Myrtle eagerly pulled the wrappings off. Her eyebrows furrowed when she found the thick tome inside. Its cover was made of leather and wood, and it didn’t have a title, so she flipped it open.
“Henry…” She gasped.
On the first page, in gorgeous calligraphy, ‘The Genealogie of House Peverell,’ was written.
“You’ll have access to that book, and far more like it if you agree to be the Archivist for the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell.” Henry told her. Myrtle looked up at him, her eyes were wide and her jaw was on the table.
“You’re serious?” She demanded. “You want me as your House Archivist?! What does that even entail?!”
“As House Archivist, you’d have a position in the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell. You’d catalogue and take care of all the records, documents, and texts owned by and pertaining to my family, and you’d have authority over all the libraries in my estate.” Henry explained, hoping to Merlin that she would agree. “I’ll not have you ignored and overlooked by those too stupid to recognise your worth. From now on, your name will come right alongside mine.”
“So, I’d basically be a librarian with political power?” Myrtle narrowed her eyes at the tabletop and nodded a few times, then looked back up. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Peverell.” She grinned, and Henry did as well.
“Perfect. I’ll tell you when our first meeting is when I’ve got all the other positions filled.”
~~~
“Girls, I need to speak with you alone for a moment.” Henry said as he approached his friends, who were all sat around the fire in the common room. “And if any of you try to eavesdrop I’ll cut your dicks off and hang them above my door.”
A few of the guys uncomfortably covered their crotches with their hands, meanwhile Tom just snorted, quite liking the idea of Henry with a knife.
The girls got up and followed him to the round table in the corner, where he’d spent his first week at Hogwarts before being kidnapped into Tom’s group.
“So, what’s this about, Henry?” Lucretia asked as they sat down.
“I recently claimed my lordship, and I’m putting together the staff for my Wizengamot Office, and I’d like you four to sit.” It was obvious that the girls were shocked, but they expertly kept their composure. “The staff traditionally comprises the Lord’s most trusted confidants. That being said, I can’t think of four more worthy candidates.”
“Oh…” Dorea muttered. “I didn’t expect to be offered political power over cocoa, but it is Yule.”
“Well, thank you very much, Lord Peverell, but what capacity would you have us serve under?” Walburga asked.
“Well, first, you don’t have to call me ‘Lord Peverell’ in private. I’d still consider us friends, that hasn’t changed. As for your positions, I’d like you to be my Drafter, I’d like Dorea to be my Record Keeper, I’d have Druella as Herald of the House, and Lucretia as Mistress of Artefacts.” Henry explained. “You don’t have to respond now, I just thought I’d ask. You’re all very capable women, and it’d be a shame to overlook you for positions that I believe you’d do exceptionally well in.”
You’ve got them wrapped around your little aristocratic finger, kid. Death complimented. They’ll never refuse now.
“I don’t know about my associates, but I don’t need any time to think about it. It’d be my pleasure to be your Mistress of Artefacts, Henry.” Lucretia said.
“Me as well.” Dorea agreed. “It sounds like good work experience to have.”
“I agree. ‘Druella Rosier, Herald of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell’ certainly has a nice ring to it.” Druella said. Walburga looked either side of her, then at Henry.
“I’ll attend a meeting of the Office and make my decision after I’ve heard of pay and benefits.” She said plainly.
“I’d expect nothing less.” Henry beamed.
~~~
The next day, at lunch, Henry got two more letters.
~~~
Cassius Greengrass, Esq.
Greengrass & Associates, Barristers-at-Law
Diagon Alley, London
26 December 1942
To His Lordship, Henry Joseph Peverell
My Lord Peverell,
I write to formally accept your offer to serve as House Barrister for the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell. It is both an honour and a privilege to lend my expertise to the service of a House so steeped in history and power.
Rest assured, I shall execute my duties with the utmost diligence, ensuring that all legal matters concerning your House—be they legislative, judicial, or proprietary—are handled with the precision and discretion befitting your station. As House Barrister, my immediate priorities will be to review any outstanding legal obligations, secure the necessary protections for your interests within the Wizengamot, and establish a formal structure for the legal affairs of your House.
May the coming year bring prosperity to your House.
With great respect,
Cassius Greengrass, Esq.
House Barrister of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell
~~~
My Lord Peverell,
I have given your offer due consideration and would like to discuss the particulars of my potential role as Diplomatic Liaison for the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell. In the interest of a thorough and candid discussion, I extend an invitation for you to join me at my home for supper at six o’clock this evening.
As this matter concerns the foundation of your Office, you are welcome to invite any individuals who will likewise be serving within it. A well-rounded discussion will ensure a strong foundation for the work ahead, should I accept the position.
I look forward to our conversation.
With regards,
January Sallow

Chapter Text

As Henry prepared for supper with the Sallows, Tom sat on his bed, pouting.

“There’s no point, Tom.” Henry pointed out. “This supper is about business that has nothing to do with you.” Tom scowled.

“You are taking five people with you.” He argued. “What difference would I make?”

“Those five people are privy to the business we’ll be discussing.” Henry gritted out, turning to Tom as he finished dressing himself. “I’d like to make this very clear, Tom; you have no part to play in this discussion.” Tom snarled and reached out, grabbing Henry by the throat and slamming him into the nearest bedpost.

“And I’d like to make very clear that you are nothing without me, Peverell!” He hissed.

Henry glared and slammed his knee into Tom’s crotch. Tom groaned and fell to his knees, and Henry tangled his fingers in his dark locks, yanking his head back and forcing their eyes to meet.

“I think you know very well that you are nothing without me.” Henry growled softly. “If not for me, you’d be on your way to death and ruin. Remember that.”

Henry shoved Tom to the floor, then marched out of the room, turning back once he reached the doorway to say, “And next time, you should remember to respect your betters. It’s Lord Peverell.”

He slammed the door, entirely unaware of the lust in Tom’s eyes and the tent in his trousers.

Tom stood, flicking a hand and making the door lock, then he quickly unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his cock.

He stepped towards the head of Henry’s bed and clutched the bedpost as he jerked off, moaning loudly.

“Mine.” He growled, picking up the pillow and holding it to his face as he pumped his cock, inhaling Henry’s intoxicating scent. The smell of pure power that leaked from his every pore.

Tom grunted and dropped the pillow back onto Henry’s bed. He hunched over and came with a shout, shooting his hot strings over the pillow and comforter. Then, he picked up the blanket Henry slept with every night, and on the corner he knew would be pressed against his face, he milked out every last drop of his orgasm, then wiped off his tip and foreskin, before fixing Henry’s bed, straightening his clothes, and going downstairs to read in his chair. As if nothing had happened.

~~~

When Henry got downstairs, he was still shaking with barely concealed rage.

“Good evening, Misses Black, Miss Rosier.” Henry greeted the girls upon reaching the door to the common room, masking all signs of his interaction with Tom.

“Good evening, your Lordship.” The girls chorused, curtsying, and out of habit, Henry turned and bowed, only to find that Mr. Pennyman was nowhere in sight.

“Sorry, occupational hazard.” He said, turning back to the girls with a blush. “I work in a Baronet’s Household.”

The group quickly picked up Myrtle from Ravenclaw Tower, then flooed to Brocburrow.

~~~

“Ah, it’s good to see you, Henry.” Jane greeted as he and the girls were let in by Deely the elf. She took him by the shoulders and pulled him into a friendly hug, which he quickly reciprocated.

“You as well, Jane.” He said.

“You can all give your cloaks to Deely.” Jane told the group. “She’ll be careful, I promise.” The girls and Henry handed over their cloaks, and then followed Jane to the lounge.

“Please sit, and help yourself to refreshments.” She invited, taking her own seat and gesturing to the coffee table. Henry followed her lead, and the girls followed his. “Now, introductions seem to be in order.”

“Right, of course.” Henry said. “Jane, these are my friends; Ms. Lucretia Black, my Mistress of Artefacts; Ms. Myrtle Warren, my House Archivist; Ms. Druella Rosier, my Herald; Ms. Dorea Black, my Record Keeper; and Ms. Walburga Black, my Drafter, hopefully.” The girls smiled and nodded as they were introduced.

“‘Hopefully?’” Jane questioned. “Not yet, Ms. Black?”

“Not yet, ma’am.” Walburga agreed. “I’d like to hear more about the benefits of the position before I take it.”

“Smart girl.” Jane said approvingly. “In any case, it’s lovely to meet you all, and welcome to my home. My husband should be down in a minute, and then we can eat.”

“No need to wait, love, I’m here.” Sebastian said, entering from behind Jane.

“Sooner than I expected.” Jane muttered, nudging Henry with her elbow, making Sebastian narrow his eyes. “Girls, this is my husband, Sebastian.” She introduced. Sebastian smiled kindly at the group.

“It’s good to meet you all.” He said. “And it’s nice to see you again, Lord Peverell.” Sebastian and Henry shared a grin and a hug, before Jane led the group to the dining room, where the table was set with fine blue and white china, crystal glassware, and ornate silver.

“That man is an Adonis.” Myrtle whispered to Henry when Sebastian was far enough away not to hear. He held in his laugh, and nodded his agreement.

Jane sat down at the head of the table, looking stunning and powerful as the bow window alcove behind her perfectly framed her form. Sebastian sat across from her, inviting Druella to sit at his right. Henry sat down two seats away, nearest to Jane, and Myrtle took the open spot between him and Druella.

Lucretia sat down across from Druella, then Dorea sat beside her, and Walburga took the final seat, across from Henry. Everyone placed their napkins in their laps, and then the first course came.

A bowl of French Onion soup with two slices of toasted bread appeared on everyone’s plate, and everyone received a bread plate with a couple smoked salmon canapes.

“I asked Deely to prepare a selection of my favourites for the meal.” Jane said, picking up her soup spoon. “I hope you all enjoy.”

Remembering his training over the summer, and channelling his Mr. Pennyman, Henry picked up his soup spoon and dipped it into his soup, lifting it to his mouth without hunching, and sipping from the spoon without slurping.

In his head, he avidly thanked Mr. Williams for pulling him into dinner service every Sunday.

“So, how was your first term?” Jane asked Henry.

“It was a lot of fun.” Henry answered. “I learned a bunch, but it would’ve been nicer if I wasn’t doing four years worth of missing Transfiguration assignments.” Jane scowled.

“Yes, I’d imagine.” She agreed. “You’ll have to get back at Dumbledore for that, somehow.”

“Oh, he already has, ma’am.” Myrtle said. “At the feast, two days ago, Henry handed in everything Dumbledore assigned him in front of the entire school.” Jane laughed loudly.

“I take it that didn’t go over well?” Sebastian queried.

“Nope.” Henry said pleasantly. “Dumbledore’s on probation now, and every interaction he has with students can be reviewed and punished.”

“But that’s not even the best part,” Lucretia said with a smirk, “The Headmaster gave Slytherin a House Point for every foot of parchment Henry wrote.”

“And I wrote extra for each assignment so I would look like the pleasant, eager new student and Dumbledore would look even worse, so…” All the girls looked like they were about to cackle with joy.

“Henry, I need you to tell me quickly and accurately, how many points did you get?” Jane asked. Henry’s grin was positively shit-eating.

“504.” Sebastian’s eyes widened, and he and Jane shared a look.

Wordlessly, they both stood up and left the dining room. The girls all looked at Henry, and then jumped at the sound of uncontrollable laughter from the next room.

Henry kept eating, as if nothing was amiss.

~~~

When the main course, coq au vin and pommes dauphinoise, came, the topic of conversation shifted to business.

“I’d like to move on to why we’re all here.” Henry said. “Jane, I’d like to reaffirm my offer for you to serve as Diplomatic Liaison in the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell.

“As Diplomatic Liaison, you would be in charge of relations between the Peverell Family and other Houses, governments, and the International Confederation of Wizards.

“With your help, I’d like to strengthen my family’s ties with the rest of the wizarding world.” Jane nodded, swallowing her bite and taking a sip of wine.

“I very much appreciate your offer, Henry, but I would like to know why you want me for the position. And why I should take it, for that matter.” She inquired.

“Well, I know from our talks that you were raised in the house of a lord, and that you have met several high profile individuals.” Henry replied. “You are well-liked by people of all different backgrounds and opinions; from regular people, to lords, to Heads of State.

“You are a published author, a master dueller, and a war hero, so I know you do well in all sorts of situations and won’t shy away from attention. And I’ll trust anyone who can lift her skirt for Queen Victoria and remain a royal favourite.

“But that wasn’t anyone. That was just you, Jane.” He pointed out. “You are, if not the only person, the person I trust most to handle my reputation among a sea of old-money argumentative contrarians.” Jane and Sebastian shared an impressed look.

“I may not have known you long myself, ma’am,” Myrtle said, “But Henry’s talked about you and your husband a lot, and he values you both a lot. You’ve been a guiding hand that he’s really needed, and–sorry, Henry–with the amount of advice you’ve given him to get through the year, I’m not sure he’d make it without you in his pocket.” Jane smiled.

“Well said, Ms. Warren, but I’d still like to hear what’s in it for me.” She maintained.

“Of course.” Henry agreed. “Obviously there’s a salary–7,000 Galleons a year, according to my House Regent–and of course there’s the respect that comes with a senior position in the Office of one of the oldest and most prestigious Magical Houses in the world–and constant interaction with other prestigious Houses and organisations. Not to mention, it’s an opportunity to get out of the house.” Sebastian snorted at Henry’s tone as he said the last bit.

“He has a point, love.” He agreed. “You say all the time that you wish you could get back into the action of the world, this is your chance.” Jane nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s true.” She conceded.

“Jane, if this was any other kid asking you to step in, I would say no way in hell, but this is Henry. He’s a great kid, and I think you should help him out.” The empty plates vanished, and were quickly replaced by a portion of tarte tatin and a scoop of ice cream, along with a cup of tea.

Henry ignored his dessert and looked back and forth between Sebastian and Jane for a few seconds, then Jane nodded.

“Alright, Henry.” She said. “I’ll be your Diplomatic Liaison.” Henry released a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding.

“Thank you, Jane.” He breathed. “It means a lot to me.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.” Jane grinned, picking up her dessert fork.

“Henry, I’ve also made my decision.” Walburga said. “I’ll be your Drafter. It’ll be nice to work with you and say a lot more than I’d be able to if I didn’t take the job.”

“Thanks, Walburga.” Henry said. “Your voice deserves to be heard. You’re a very eloquent person.” Walburga blushed and quickly turned the attention away from herself.

“Speaking of eloquence, you made some very nice points, Myrtle. You’re a very intelligent witch.” Walburga’s blush passed to Myrtle.

“Yes, I admit, your first interjection was when my viewpoint began to flip.” Jane confessed.

“All night, you’ve been an unexpected vision of perfect manners and elegance all night. I haven’t often found a person like you of your background.” Druella said to Myrtle. “I misjudged you, and I’d like to apologise.”

“It’s quite alright, Druella. My manners come from my grandfather, he was a Member of Parliament, but I’ve also taken initiative and looked into a lot of traditions and customs within the wizarding world. I am a Ravenclaw, after all.” Myrtle looked around the table. “But, as a muggleborn, I can say with certainty that the reason people of my background don’t fall in line and join in with all the traditions in most cases is that they don’t know they exist.

“So I’d suggest, in future, that before judging anyone, you inform them of what they’re missing. Anyone who isn’t willing to listen is the real problem.” Jane nodded with a pleased smile.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” She said. “But it is getting late. You’d all best finish your dessert and get back to the castle before curfew. I wouldn’t want any owls from Professor Dippet.”

~~~

When Henry was finally in his bed at the end of the night, sitting with a pad and pencil, his eyes shut softly, he couldn’t keep the proud smile off his face.

He slowly began drawing circles, as usual, and just as the candles on his bedside table lit of their own accord, he was sucked into an all new experience.

He was standing inside an empty conference room, decorated elegantly with dark stained woods and soft carpets. Leather swivel chairs surrounded a large claw-foot table, on which sat a large office calendar with the days crossed out up to Monday, 28 December, 1942.

A soft ticking noise drew his attention to a mantel clock above the floo across the table from him. Upon a further look, he found that the hands were frozen in place at 5:00.

He turned around and saw a blackboard on the wall behind him. It read;

Business:

• Introduction
• Oath of Confirmation
• Confirmation of Positions
• Current State of Wizengamot
• Policy Priorities
• Public Relations Briefing
• Legal Brief
• Announcement of Lordship
• Diplomatic Connections
• State of Estate
• State of Accounts
• State of Records
• Book of Ceremonies
• Organisation of Documents
• Check on Artefacts
• Assignments

Henry blinked and found himself back in bed.

His candles flickered out as he looked down at the pad in his hands, and he found that he’d flipped the page and written ‘First Office Meeting, 28 December, 5 o’clock,’ along with all the things that had been on the blackboard.

He tore out the page, pulled an envelope from his bedside table, and shoved the page inside, writing ‘Callidora Black’ on the front. Then he put everything away, he would send the note in the morning.

He laid down and pulled his blanket up, rubbing the soft material on his face, only to find it covered with dry lines, probably from drool. He scrunched up his nose and turned the corner over, pressing the other side to his face.

He breathed in and found that his pillow smelled musky and sweaty, and it didn’t necessarily smell bad in his opinion, but it didn’t smell clean.

‘Do I stink?’ He asked himself, worried about what everyone would think of him if he walked around smelling like sweaty balls.

Death didn’t have the heart to tell him what actually happened in his bed.

Chapter Text

The next day, and for the rest of the weekend, Henry sat at his old table in the common room, joined by the girls. Initially, they were nervous about leaving Tom’s group, but when Tom challenged it, they realised they were perfectly well protected by Henry.

“And where do you think you four are going?” He’d demanded when the girls stood to join Henry.

“They’re sitting with someone who can actually back his claims of superiority.” Henry snapped. “Oh, and who isn’t a complete dick.” Tom looked pissed and stomped towards Henry for a short shouting match that ended with Henry backhanding him. Tom wound up storming back up to the dormitory, and funnily enough, Henry found his freshly laundered sheets to be crusty and smelly that night.

Monday came quickly enough, and while the Office Meeting started at five, Henry collected the girls and flooed to Brocburrow at four so they could take Jane’s floo to the Ministry and set up the conference room for the meeting.

“What’s going on between you and Tom?” Lucretia asked as they waited in the lounge for Jane to finish getting ready.

“Yeah, you’ve been out of sorts for days.” Dorea added.

“He needs to learn how to respect the people he depends on. I’m not his pet and it’s time he’s learned that.” Henry snapped. “I’m not being friendly with him until he’s ready to come begging, grovelling, and apologising.”

“Good for you, Henry!” Myrtle cheered. “You know your worth and won’t settle for anything less!” Henry nodded.

“And Noodle’s already sided with me, so it shouldn’t be more than a week.” He grinned evilly.

“Alright, are you all ready to go?” Jane came in wearing a nice white blouse with a black skirt, blazer, and day gloves. She had pearls on and wore a simple hat. It was a sort of jazzed up version of what the girls had on, except Druella was wearing a muted shade of purple, Walburga was wearing shades of grey, Dorea was wearing crimson, Lucretia was wearing emerald green, and Myrtle was wearing a vibrant blue.

Henry was wearing his work uniform with a few alterations. He had a black morning coat, striped trousers, a grey waistcoat with his watch, a pressed white shirt, and a simple tie. His shoes were polished, and the Peverell Lordship ring was visible on his finger.

“Yes, ma’am.” Dorea said, the group rising as Jane came in.

“Then let’s be off, we’ve got 45 minutes to get there and set up before the meeting starts.” She strode across the room to the fireplace and threw in a pinch of floo powder, calling, “Ministry of Magic Atrium.”

~~~

The group entered the lift in the Atrium and took it down to Level Nine and then took the stairs down to the Wizengamot Chambers and Offices of the Heads of House.

Either side of the main hall on Level Ten were the Main Wizengamot Chamber and the Committee Rooms, but at the end of the hall, it split off either side of a black door with a gold knob and a black mailbox on the wall to the side.

As they approached, they found that the door said, ‘Henry Joseph Peverell, The Lord Peverell, MAMN HOUSE OF PEVERELL.’

Henry opened the door and found himself standing in a small lounge with two sofas and a few chairs. There was a fireplace to the left of the door, probably connected to the Floo Network.

Straight ahead, there was a reasonably large room with dark wood doors, and either side of the room were two hallways lined with doors.

At the end of the hallway on the left, there was a small toilet, and along the wall were seven doors, labelled: Political Advisor for Lord Peverell, Barrister for the House of Peverell, Drafter for His Lordship, Lord Peverell’s Diplomatic Liaison, Steward of the Peverell Estate, Peverell Account Manager, and Herald of the House of Peverell.

Along the hall to the right, there were four doors, labelled: The Peverell Archives and Office of His Lordship’s Archivist, The Peverell Family Records and Office of His Lordship’s Record Keeper, Office of the Mistress of the Peverell Artefacts, and Conference Room.

The conference room was at the end of the hall, and upon entering, Henry found it to be exactly as it was in his vision, except that the blackboard on the wall was blank, so he wrote down everything he’d seen before.

After that, he conjured nameplates for everyone that would be there–that he knew of–and then he stepped out to look around.

First, he peeked into the large office in the lounge. The first thing he saw was the small sitting area with a sofa and a couple armchairs, situated around a small coffee table. There was a large mahogany desk in the centre of the room, with a high-backed chair behind it. The walls on the sides of the room were covered in shelves full of various books and trinkets.

On the back wall, there was a large bow window that showed a view that looked like Henry was looking down from the top of the Treasury Building, overlooking St. James’ Park.

Either side of the window were tables, one with crystal decanters and glasses, and the other with a tea service.

Henry walked to the desk and sat down in the chair, which was surprisingly comfortable.

He opened the top drawer on the right and found a sheaf of parchment with the Peverell Family Seal at the top, with ‘His Lordship, HJP’ underneath. There was also a box of different coloured wax pellets, a letter opener, and several spare quills and ink bottles.

In the drawer below it, there was a silver watch engraved with the Peverell Tree, and a velvet box that Henry was perfectly content ignoring.

The bottom right drawer held a warded lock box with a black journal inside. ‘The Lord Peverell’ was embossed in gold on the cover, and the book held more notes and private thoughts from past lords than should have been possible.

The top drawer on the left side was empty but for a bottle of eraser solution.

The middle drawer held a leatherbound copy of the Wizengamot Charter and all of its amendments, a book of legal precedents set in Wizengamot court cases–both of which Henry took to read later–and a self-updating rolodex of Ministry Officials, Wizengamot Members, and Office Staff.

The last drawer only opened after he had his hand on the handle for a moment, obviously protected by a blood ward. Inside, there was a goblin-wrought dagger encrusted with shining black stones, and a scrap of parchment that read ‘Peverell Manor-Emergency Portkey.’

Henry closed the drawer and sat back in the chair, then realised he wanted to nose through the things on the desktop.

Right in front of him, just a bit to the right of the middle, there was a silver claw-foot inkstand with three crystal inkwells, each holding a different colour. Mirroring it on the other side, there was a quill stand that held a regular quill, a legal quill, and a quick-copy quill.

Beside the inkstand, there was an ornate silver tray that held a bunch of wax seals, and beside that, a box of silver magical creature paperweights.

On the left corner of the desk, there was a large leather tome, a copy of the Peverell House Ledger, so Henry could peruse the state of his accounts and estate.

To the right of his workspace, there was a tray with a short stack of parchment, documents that had come from the Wizengamot since he’d claimed his Lordship. On the other side of the desk, there was a correspondence tray, stacked high with letters to him.

Henry ignored them and the stress they caused and looked to the line of silver buttons facing him on the edge of the desk. Each one had the title of a member of the Office, except for one that said ‘ALL.’

He curiously clicked the button that said, ‘Diplomatic Liaison,’ and was thoroughly startled by the tinkling sound that rang through the room. A few seconds later, there was a knock on the door and Jane came in.

“You rang?” She asked.

“Oh! That’s what that does!” Jane snorted and left the office, leaving Henry to inspect the shelves on the walls.

On the middle of the wall to the left of the door, the shelves stopped to create an alcove for a tall grandfather clock, except the body had a list of the positions in the Office, followed by the word ‘IN’ or ‘OUT.’ It showed who was present in the office.

The face of the clock was normal, except for the fact that it had the word ‘Meeting’ instead of ‘5,’ so Henry assumed it was meant to show him when his meetings throughout the day were.

In another alcove on the wall to the right, Henry instantly recognized a pensieve, and a glowing Lazy Susan of labelled phials beneath the basin.

The shelves held dozens of books on law, conduct, contracts, and history. There were several more on etiquette, customs, responsibilities, and everything to do with being the Head of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House.

Henry poked around until the clock chimed, telling him it was time for the meeting, but as he was walking to the door, he began to hear Big Ben, and for some reason it brought a smile to his face. He went to the window, to hear better.

He tried to find Elizabeth Tower, but he realised he was on the wrong side. Nevertheless, he stood, listening, for thirty seconds until the tune was finished, then he left his office and turned down the hallway to his left to get to the conference room.

On entering, everyone in the room stood from their chairs.

“Good afternoon.” He greeted pleasantly, taking his seat at the head of the table, at which point everyone sat down again. “Before we begin, I’d like to finish setting the table.” He gestured at the two missing nameplates.

“Of course, Lord Peverell.” Callidora, who looked like a tamer, cleaner, saner version of Bellatrix Lestrange, said. She gestured at a man who looked like the lovechild of Sirius Black and Lucius Malfoy. “This is my father, Arcturus Black. He has kindly agreed to be your Lordship’s Political Advisor.”

Henry flicked his hand, conjuring another nameplate–to the shock of many of the present adults–and smiling pleasantly. The girls smirked at the casual display of power, enjoying the shock radiating from the adults.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black.” He said. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise, your Lordship.” Arcturus responded.

“And this is Dorian Catterick.” Callidora gestured at the other man, who was tall, scruffy, and nicely tanned. “Mr. Ranmuk hired him to preside over the renovations of your estate, and he accepted the position of Steward when we offered.” Henry conjured another nameplate.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Catterick.” Henry greeted.

“You as well, your Lordship.” Dorian replied.

“Alright, I know everyone’s name now, so let’s get started.” Henry said. “Trigger warning: I only found out about magic this summer, I took my Lordship last week, and while I have the propensity to be perfectly proper in public, this is not public, and my company may end up excruciating for all of you.

“Don’t let it show, otherwise I’ll just get more annoying over time. Just ignore it until you get home, then scream into a pillow.”

“Yes…” Callidora said slowly, her eyes slightly wide. “Thank you, Lord Peverell, for that introduction. It seems we have much work to do.” She cleared her throat and lifted a bag from the floor. From it, she pulled a small stack of parchment. “These are your Confirmation Forms. Once you and his Lordship have signed them, you will be officially confirmed as his Wizengamot Office, and the first of your biweekly pay, 270 Galleons, will be deposited into your Gringotts account.” With a flick of Callidora’s wand, the forms floated across the table, landing in front of each person.

Everyone read carefully, and then signed, and the forms disappeared.

“Now, we’ll go around the table and discuss the matters of our positions. As House Regent for the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell, I will begin with the current state of the Wizengamot.

“With the war against the Dark Lord Grindelwald raging on the continent, the Wizengamot is at somewhat of a standstill. Everyday functions have slowed down. The most heated discussion on the floor at the moment is about aid for the rest of the Wizarding World.

“The most prominent factions in the chamber are the Traditionalists, in favour of securing wizarding customs against dismantlement; the Greys, completely neutral in all matters; and the so-called ‘Light,’ mainly friends of Albus Dumbledore who subscribe to every word of his ideology, in favour of changing the world to fit the whims of newcomers instead of explaining our ways to them.

“In your office, there should be a tray with documents from the Wizengamot. Many of those will need your signature, if you don’t sign them, write why so I can bring up your points at the next session. Also in the tray, there will be notices, drafts, and ideas from other sitting members. Go through those and write your thoughts down as well, and should anything be amiss, we can keep an open commentary.

“Aside from that, I’ll need to know your stance on the aid issue, and your alignment.” Henry sat back in his chair.

“Well, I believe we should give all the aid we can to those fighting Grindelwald, without bankrupting ourselves in the process. He’s a dark wizard killing innocent people, and it is our duty–if not ordained by the government, then by our own morals–to stop him before he can wreak anymore havoc.” He explained. “And my alignment? That’s difficult.

“I’d like to say I’m a Traditionalist. I believe our customs and heritage are important and should be protected, but that would alienate me from the closed-minded followers of Dumbledore’s ideology. I don’t want to align myself with Dumbledore in any way, and the Light’s ideology is stupid in any case. And if I call myself Grey, then I have to be neutral.

“No, definitely not. For the moment, I’d like to be Independent of factions, so I can forge alliances without automatically alienating anyone. I’ll make my viewpoints clear, and people can place me where they want.” Callidora nodded.

“And that brings us to your policy priorities.” Arcturus said. “What would you like to accomplish within the Wizengamot, your Lordship?”

“I’d like to make progress in dismantling institutions and systems that block, or limit people based on blood-status, while also educating muggleborn magicals and their families on the customs and traditions of this world, so that they may get through life without offending anyone by their mere presence.

“I’d like to reform our educational standards to involve courses such as mathematics and language arts for all students—you wouldn’t believe the illiteracy I’ve seen in only four months at Hogwarts—and to protect the courses that we have, so as to create a more steady flow into more professions than academic, healer, politician, magizoologist, curse breaker, or shop owner.

“I’d like to take steps to end discrimination against intelligent humanoid creatures and stop abuse of creatures who have only committed the crime of looking different from us.

“And I’d also like to reevaluate what we consider to be dark magic, because, seriously, using a drop of blood to power a rune is not dark magic, yet—for some reason—the Ministry considers it to be.” Arcturus raised an eyebrow.

“Lofty goals, your Lordship.” He quipped.

“Better to be a dreamer, Mr. Black, than to be aimless.” Henry countered.

“I believe it is my turn, your Lordship?” Jane leaned forward. “As the newest Lord in the Wizengamot for the past several years, this will be big news to the public, and people will be looking forward to seeing a new politician who they may either idolise or hate with every fibre of their being.” Henry smiled at that. “Just as you must make your opinions known to the Wizengamot, you must make them known to the public.

“You will be an enigma. The last Lord Peverell died nearly 30 years ago, and even when there was a Lord Peverell, not much was known about the family.

“Further, you are the only known Head of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House, therefore, when you take your seat, you will be known as High Prince of the Wizengamot, the highest power in Wizarding Britain. Your whim will have the power to call the Wizengamot to session and bring matters before it, create Noble Houses, and veto any decision you are against.

“It is imperative that you learn your place and gain popularity before you claim your seat in two years, otherwise the outcome may not be good.

“It is my recommendation that we contact the Lords of the Houses of Black, Rosier, and Greengrass first, in order to inform them that members of their family are serving in the Office of the Lord Peverell and ask for their support as you emerge as a public figure.” Henry nodded his assent.

“Very well, Mrs. Sallow.” He agreed. “Ms. Black, could you make a note to draft letters to Lord Black, Lord Rosier, and Lord Greengrass?” He asked Walburga.

“Of course, your Lordship.” She said, flipping to an empty page of her legal pad and writing a note at the top, as the front was already covered in writing.

“Lord Peverell,” Henry turned to Cassius Greengrass, “I have brought some forms for you to sign in order to officially claim ownership of your various properties, and I am pleased to inform you that there are no challenges to such.”

“Excellent news, Mr. Greengrass.” Henry grinned. “If you’ll join me in my office after we adjourn, then we can deal with those forms.” Walburga laid her pad down on the table and moved forward.

“I have taken the liberty of drafting a public announcement of your Headship of House Peverell, your Lordship.” She said. “‘28 December 1942. We, the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell, are pleased to inform the British Magical public that Henry Joseph Peverell, grandson of Lord Thomas Peverell, High Prince of the Wizengamot, has taken Headship over the House of Peverell on 21 December of this year, assuming all rights, responsibilities, and privileges of his station.

“‘As the rightful heir to the Peverell legacy, Lord Peverell will oversee all affairs related to the governance, estate, and historical duties of his noble lineage. His appointment marks the return of an esteemed family to the ranks of Britain’s great Houses, bringing with it a legacy of wisdom, strength, and honour that has endured for centuries.

“‘The House of Peverell remains committed to upholding the traditions of magical Britain, whilst being a safe place for newcomers, and Lord Peverell will continue in the footsteps of his ancestors to serve the interests of the entire wizarding world with integrity and diligence.

“‘Any future correspondence should be directed to The Office of His Lordship, Henry J Peverell, The Lord Peverell.’ Who would you like me to sign it as?” Henry raised an eyebrow.

“Walburga Black, Drafter to His Lordship, the Lord Peverell.” He answered. “Unless you have been asked to draft something by me or Callidora Black, sign it with your own name.” Walburga nodded, and a proud smile grew over her face as she signed her name at the bottom of the page.

“I’m very pleased to report that your Lordship’s archives are in perfect shape.” Myrtle said, taking the floor. “On entering the hall, I found filing cabinets numbered 1 to 1,950. Their contents are alphabetised, with 17 cabinets storing items beginning with ‘A,’ 21 storing items beginning with ‘B,’ and so on.

“There is a card catalogue in my office, so as to easily find items in the cabinets, and at the earliest convenience, I’d like to begin looking through and noting any damage or similar to the items.”

“Very good.” Henry said. “At your earliest convenience, I’d like you to begin the oldest and most valuable items. And I’d like to have an Unspeakable look through any items you pull before you work with any of them at all.”

“Of course, your Lordship.” Myrtle agreed.

“Your Lordship’s renovations have started without a hitch, and we’re expecting to begin work on Peverell Manor in March. The house and grounds are quite dilapidated, and the several out-structures especially will take some time to pull through, but there isn’t much damage to the house itself, and once we begin, I expect it’ll only take a year before the house and grounds are liveable.” Dorian said.

“There have been no substantial changes to your accounts since last we spoke, your Lordship, however, you’ll be pleased to hear that the first of the donations you’ve asked me to prepare has been sent to St. Mungo’s Hospital, so as to free space in your vault.

“With the funds, the hospital is looking to train more healers, increase stores of potions and other medications, and begin construction on a new emergency ward on the ground floor.” Ranmuk said. Henry smiled happily.

“Thank you, Ranmuk.” He turned to Dorea. “What’s the state of the Record Room, Ms. Black?”

“It’s similar to the Archives, your Lordship.” Dorea responded. “The walls are stacked floor to ceiling with filing cabinets, each labelled with the name of a family member.

“Based on what I’ve seen so far, the records begin with Harald of the Peverell Creek in 940, and each cabinet can hold any combination of birth, marriage, health, and death records, and that’s just the beginning. More recently, Wizengamot ascension and voting records are included as well.”

“My office is essentially a catalogue of all your Lordship’s artefacts, magical and otherwise. There are a handful displayed in cases in the hall connected, but most seem to be at your various properties.

“With your permission, I’d like to begin looking through the catalogue to make a record of artefacts that may be missing or that have been leased to other families.” Lucretia informed Henry, who approved the search.

“In my office, I found the Peverell Book of Ceremonies, which logs all the events, customs, and traditions observed by the family, notes how they are celebrated, and generates an entry when the Lord Peverell leads the family in observing them.” Druella explained. “The last time a Peverell Lord led the family in celebration was Mabon, 1899. The next event celebrated by the family is Nos Galan, in the New Year. I’d suggest that you do a meditation at the very least to sustain the family magic.” When Druella finished, Callidora stood.

“That’s our business for the day concluded, unless anyone has anything else?” No one said anything, so Callidora adjourned the meeting, setting the next one for the Easter Holiday, and then everyone began to filter out.

~~~

When everyone got back to the castle, they were exhausted, and immediately after supper, Henry showered and went to bed, quickly falling asleep to the musky smell he was beginning to get used to.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Henry jerked awake, sweaty and rock hard from a dream that he was rapidly forgetting.

Henry’s cock twitched in his pyjama pants, pushing a bead of precum through the fabric.

He quickly glanced over the edge of his bed and found Bacon asleep in his slipper, so–in a split second decision–he pulled the hangings around his bed shut and cast a silencing charm.

He vanished his clothes and eagerly pulled his leg up, to easier reach his hole.

With one hand wrapped around his cock, Henry pushed two fingers into his hole, gasping softly. As he slowly slid them further inside, he curled his fingers, pressing them against his prostate and moaning loudly.

His hand slid up and down his cock, starting slow as he got used to the position he was in, then speeding up as he got more secure.

He added another finger to his hole, stretching himself as far as he could, and gave up on thrusting into his hand in favour of keeping a hard, insistent pressure on his prostate.

Obscenities fell from Henry’s lips in a way that one might think he was more proficient at than breathing, and his back arched. The skylight cast a green glow on his body as the moon shone through.

He began to think of all the men he’d ever fantasised about before, desperately racing after his orgasm. Cedric Diggory in the Prefect’s Bathroom, Fred and George Weasley in the One-Eyed Witch passageway, even Cormac McLaggen in the broom cupboard after Professor Slughorn’s Christmas Party.

He thought about Neville Longbottom, Gilderoy Lockhart’s shirtless portrait, hell, he even thought about Sir Nicholas. Being 13 years old and discovering that ghosts can still wank was disturbing in the moment, but that man was hot.

And then his mind went to Tom, and that’s when he came, shooting his load onto his chest and face, too tired to realise what had just happened.

~~~

When Henry woke up, he was blushing for half the day. Hard as it may be to believe, that was the first time he’d…done something…since he arrived in Ormesby. He simply did his best to ignore.

The Daily Prophet came with lunch, as usual, but it came with a lot of looks.

“‘His Lordship, Henry Joseph Peverell, the Lord Peverell, takes his Headship.’” Dorea read aloud.

The article contained a short biography for Henry, the announcement from Walburga, and a few statements regarding Henry’s aims from Callidora.

Several people, mostly heirs to Wizengamot Houses, approached him throughout the day, and by the end of the day, he was ready to hide under a flagstone somewhere.

~~~

The New Year’s Feast was fairly uneventful.

Henry and the girls sat at the Ravenclaw table with Myrtle, who was happy for the company. Thankfully, everyone who wished to speak with him had already done so, so they were left in peace for the meal.

At the end of the feast, when Henry stood up, everyone within 15 feet of him did the same, not sure of how to act, and he rolled his eyes as he began walking back to the common room.

~~~

By curfew, everyone fifth year and up was gathered in the Slytherin Common Room for a New Year’s Party.

Henry gazed, unimpressed, as the usually composed and dignified people he’d gotten used to turned into boisterous party fiends. At one point, he even had to politely decline sucking Claudius Flint’s very large and very sweaty cock.

“Come see me when you’re sober.” He told the large boy, knowing he’d forget by morning.

Henry watched, half impressed, half disgusted, as Corvus Burke poured a bottle of something purple and fizzy through the crests of his abs and Avery chugged it from his belly button.

Several tables were cluttered with bottles of alcohol, and when one of them smashed, Henry decided to take his leave, slipping out the door to the common room as a fight broke out between two sixth year boys, who would probably end up having passionate sex in the corner.

Henry aimlessly wandered the corridors.

He found himself leaving the dungeons and walking towards the Grand Staircase, and somehow he reached the Clock Tower.

He stood on the balcony below the clock face, leaning on the parapet and gazing out over the valley.

“Hey,” A firm, distinctly Scottish voice called, “It’s past curfew.” Henry turned around and found a young Minerva McGonagall standing in front of him. “Oh, I apologise, your Lordship, I didn’t realise–”

“No, it’s perfectly fine, I’m in the wrong.” He said. “I just needed a break from the party in the common room.”

“Oh, forgive me, but one wouldn’t think a Slytherin party would be too raucous, your Lordship.” Minerva said.

“However dignified they act in public, in private they get wild.” Henry snorted, an image of Dorea chugging a bottle of firewhiskey popping into his head. “And there’s no need for titles. I’m a student here, not a Lord.”

Minerva stepped to the parapet, joining him.

“You’re different than I expected.” She said after a few seconds of silence. Henry tilted his head.

“And what did you expect?” He inquired.

“Someone more like Tom Riddle, I suppose. The two of you are always together, after all.” Henry snorted.

“Not lately.” He pointed out, a hint of sadness in his voice. As much of an asshole as Tom was, Henry missed his friend.

“In any case, you’re not like most Lords I’ve met.” Minerva said. Henry grinned.

“So, I’m not insufferable?” He surmised. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Minerva laughed.

“I didn’t expect you to be insufferable.” She defended. “Just…more political.” Henry nodded.

“I can be.” He claimed. “But this is school, not the Wizengamot. There’s no reason to get political with people, when all we’re doing here is getting through so we can start a career.”

“Good point.” Minerva agreed. “I wish more people here would understand that.” She looked up at the sky. Clouds were drifting lazily in front of the stars, pushed by a soft breeze. “You should get back soon. Another prefect might find you, and they likely wouldn’t be as understanding as me.”

“So you’re letting me off with a warning?” Henry questioned.

“Consider it an offer of continued support.” Minerva corrected. “I don’t believe you’re the type to prance about causing unnecessary mischief, but I do believe that had you been here for the past four years, you would likely be a prefect right alongside me.” Henry grinned.

“So a truce…from prefect to honorary prefect.” He held out his hand for her to shake, and she accepted it with a soft smile.

“Happy New Year, Henry.” She said as the clock began to chime.

“Happy New Year, Minerva.”

Henry watched as Minerva walked away, off to ruin some poor, horny couple’s night.

~~~

The candles on Henry’s bedside table flickered, bathing the side of his face in an orange light. His eyes were closed, and he was off in another world.

A world in which he was standing across from Tom, and they were furiously slinging spells at each other.

Henry felt pure anger as he subdued his friend.

Tom ended up on his knees a few feet away from Henry, a wand aimed at his chest.

“Henry…”

Chapter Text

When the term started back up, Henry was very excited to get back to his classes.

Immediately after finishing breakfast, he began the walk to Charms, where they would be reviewing Summoning Charms. As Henry already had it down pat, he attempted it wandlessly and nonverbally, much to the pleasure of Professor Farrell.

In Transfiguration, they began the theory for Thimble to Thestral, and Henry was pleased to be ignored by Dumbledore completely.

After lunch, he went to Defence Against the Dark Arts, where he helped Professor Merrythought to move all the furniture out of the way for the class’ first lesson in informal duelling.

“It is important for you all to be prepared in the case that you are actually attacked.” She explained. “In a real duel, you will not take turns trading restrained blows with your adversary. You will be under constant fire. You may not be capable of a shield charm powerful enough to protect you from all of your opponent’s spells. You must get into the habit of putting a physical barrier between yourself and spellfire.” There were some nervous looks and sideyes shared.

“This week we will be practicing duelling under pressure.” Professor Merrythought summarised. “Now, for a demonstration, I’d like Henry and Tom, if you please.” Henry’s lips pressed into a thin line.

‘Typical.’ He thought.

Everyone cleared to the sides of the room, leaving Henry and Tom facing each other in the centre. Henry scowled at the cocky smirk on Tom’s face. He was gonna wipe that shit-eating grin off if it was the last thing he did.

“On my mark, you shall begin.” Professor Merrythought called, conjuring a shield around the two in order to keep the casualties to a minimum. “Go!”

Tom immediately shot a stinging hex at Henry, who swatted it to the side with his wand and fired off a string of spells. First, a Full-Body Bind, which Tom managed to block with a conjured block of ice—which blew to tiny pieces on impact—then a stunner, which he ducked under, and then he managed to repel Henry’s ‘Expelliarmus.’

Henry kept sending spells of all sorts; stunners, stingers, and all manner of hexes and jinxes. Tom’s blood ran cold as he looked into Henry’s eyes and saw pure rage, finally pouring out after being bottled up for months. The result of Tom’s several microaggressions and general shittiness alike.

His eyes widened as he blocked the heavy fire, eventually resorting to conjuring a large barrier between them, funnelling all of his power into it as Henry sent a pale blue jet of magic at it.

He felt genuine fear when the barrier began fracturing, a hole wearing into the middle, and then it crumbled and he was left face to face with Henry.

An invisible force wrapped around Tom, forcing him to his knees and pulling his wand from his hand.

“You’re such an arsehole, Tom, and I’m not standing for it anymore!!!” Henry shouted. “You think you’re so much better than everyone?! Well you’re not better than me, and you already know that!” Tom’s eyes were locked on Henry, and his heart was racing as Henry’s wand levelled at his chest.

“Get over yourself and figure out how lucky you are to have people like me and the others around you!!! I’m a right fucking delight and I deserve to be treated as such!

“I’ve already spent a week without you, and you’re still acting suave, as if it doesn’t affect you, when we all see you constantly looking in my direction! Figure it the fuck out and treat me right, or lose me, and learn just how quickly things go downhill when I’m not around to keep your head on your shoulders!” Henry summoned his things, destroyed Professor Merrythought’s shield, and strode from the room, flinging Tom out of his path with a flick of his hand along the way.

~~~

Henry was stomping down the corridor when Tom caught up with him.

“Hey!” He shouted. Henry spun on his heel, ready for another round.

“You really want to–” He began, only to be cut off by something truly shocking. Tom wrapped his arms around Henry and pulled him into a hug. Unprepared, Henry face-planted into Tom’s chest, inhaling the intoxicating scent of tea and old parchment from his jumper.

“I’m sorry, Henry.” Henry’s eyes widened. “You’re right, I don’t treat you as well as you deserve, and I–I really am nothing without you.” Henry watched as Tom dropped to his knees again, and he was slightly peeved both at the fact that Tom was apologising sincerely before he was finished being angry, and that Tom was only a head shorter than him when he was kneeling.

“You are my only key to a worthwhile future, and you are my most valued friend. You deserve my respect.” Henry looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Fine.” He said eventually. “But you’re on probation, and if you piss me off again, I’m killing you.” Tom breathed a sigh of relief and laughed. Henry watched, unable to keep from blushing as Tom ran his fingers through his hair, showing off his strong forearms and flexing his biceps.

“Thank Merlin.” He said. “It’s been hell without you.”

“I know.” Henry responded. “As I said, I’m a right fucking delight.”

Chapter Text

Henry was sat in Magical Artefacts, planning yet another project. So far, they’d come up with project ideas for artefacts made from clothing, artefacts made from mirrors, artefacts used to control natural processes, artefacts used in other types of magic, and artefacts that could be used as disguises.

Now, they were on to artefacts made from goblin-wrought silver.

For every project in the class, each student would come up with an idea for an artefact fitting the selected category of the week. They would make sketches, describe exactly what the purpose of the artefact was, and explain how they would make it work.

For this week, Henry designed an ornate athame that would absorb small amounts of magic from those who held it, funnelling the power into the rituals it was used in.

He was just finishing his final sketch when the Headmaster sent for him.

~~~

“You wished to see me, Professor Dippet?” Henry said quietly, slipping into the Headmaster’s Office.

“Yes, Henry.” Dippet said. “Please take a seat.” Henry nervously crossed the room, knowing exactly what this was about even before he saw Professor Merrythought standing in the corner.

“Professor Merrythought has informed me that you displayed some worrying behaviour in her class, this afternoon. Would you care to explain?” Henry mentally berated himself for not expecting this to happen.

“I’m sorry, Professor.” He said quietly. “I…Tom and I have been out of sorts for about a week–he ran his mouth about something and I took offense. But even before that, he’s never been the most compassionate person, and all his little microaggressions have just been slowly upsetting me more and more.

“When we were duelling, I saw that self-important look on his face and I snapped, and it all came pouring out.” Henry did his level best to look ashamed of himself.

“Well, I have to say that makes sense.” Professor Merrythought said. “We all can get very upset when people we care about are out of sorts.” Henry blushed a bit.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said. “But we’ve resolved the issue as best as we can. Tom apologised and promised to be more respectful in the future.

“I just wish he would see that I’m here for him. I know he didn’t have the greatest childhood and that’s made him the way he is, but he’s safe now! He has friends who care!” Professor Dippet nodded.

“I know how you feel, Henry, but I don’t expect Tom to feel safe until he’s out of his current summer arrangements.” He pointed out.

“Oh, Merlin, I’d completely forgotten about that!” Henry gasped. “No wonder he’s so guarded…the people he’s forced to live with, and the constant air raids likely don’t help at all.”

“Tom is a fine boy, Henry, for someone with a past like his.” Professor Dippet told him. “All you can do to help him is offer your friendship and support.” Henry sat quietly for a moment, looking downcast, then he put on his best look of realisation.

“I might actually be able to do more…” He said. “I work for a Baronet in North Yorkshire, I’m sure I could convince Mr. Pennyman to bring Tom on, and then he’d be able to live with me! Would that be allowed?” Professor Merrythought raised an eyebrow.

“Surely no one would object to a Lord of the Wizengamot assisting a friend in need.” She said, smirking.

“Hold on just a second,” Professor Dippet held up a finger, “I could not allow any imposition on this Baronet.” Henry grinned.

“I have two responses for that.” He said. “One, I wouldn’t just bring him along without asking first. And two, I’m a Prince. I outrank Baronets by six orders.”

~~~

The next day, Henry found a letter on his desk after Healing, and upon reading it, he beamed and sprinted down to the common room.

“Tom!” He shouted. “I have something for you!” Tom, who was sitting in his chair, surrounded by the rest of the group, looked up from his book and met Henry’s eyes.

“‘Dear Henry, I have spoken to His Lordship about your friend’s situation, and he has agreed to bring him onto the staff at Ormesby Hall.’” Tom’s eyes widened a fraction, and Henry bounced excitedly.

“‘Should he wish to accept the invitation, Tom may live with you in your quarters so long as he assists Mr. Johnston in the gardens. Yours, Mr. Williams.’” Henry finished reading the letter, and it was quiet for a minute, as Tom looked up into his eyes. All Henry could see was pure vulnerability, like Tom was searching for the lie, then he tossed his book to the side, wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist and pulled him into the second hug between the pair in two days.

Tom pressed the side of his face against Henry’s stomach.

“Thank you.” He whispered shakily. “Oh, god, I’m going soft.”

Henry grinned and placed his hands on Tom’s shoulders, looking down at his friends, who looked up into his eyes. He couldn’t help but blush at the adoration in Tom’s eyes, and a warm feeling filled him.

“You don’t have to go back!” Henry cheered, laughing. Tom joined in, and it was a truly adorable sight.

But however much Tom and Henry were happy, their other friends all looked somewhere between nervous and terrified at the display of emotion from their stoic leader.

Chapter Text

Before we get into this one, I would like to inform you all that I have started writing a sitcom about house-elves and the first episode is posted on my profile. It is silly-goofy, and I feel that you would enjoy it. Fanks.

The second week of January came along without a hitch. Henry was sitting in the library during History of Magic on Tuesday, as usual, reading through the Wizengamot Charter to prepare for his OWL, and then his friends came in, along with a few of the Gryffindors who were also in the class.

“Help us.” Walburga demanded.

“Huh?” Henry said, ever so eloquently.

“We all want to pass our History OWLs, and taking the class isn’t going to get us there.” She explained. “We want you to tutor us.” Henry blinked.

“Oh…” He mumbled. “Well…does the Headmaster approve?”

“As long as you do.” Dorea said.

“Alright, then.” Henry said after a second. “If you would all sit down, please.” He shut his book, and everyone sat down around the nearby tables. “Today, I’d like to go over the Magical Peerage of the United Kingdom, I suppose.”

~~~

Henry laid out the history of the Magical Houses and how they came to be for the group, then decided to go into a bit more depth when faced with several confused looks.

“The members of the Magical Peerage make up the membership of the Wizengamot, which is Magical Britain’s chief legislative and judicial body. Simply speaking, it’s the Parliament and Supreme Court, all at once.

“The members are separated into categories based on the prestige of their families; the first is Most Ancient and Most Noble. Like my family. Heads of Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses are essentially equivalent to muggle princes, as is reflected by the position, High Prince of the Wizengamot.” Henry looked around the library at all the eyes on him. People were taking notes, just like in a normal class, too. He even had a conjured blackboard with a diagram of the Wizengamot structure.

“The High Prince is the highest rank in our government, capable of calling and adjourning the Wizengamot, naming and dismissing Lords of any rank, etc. The position belongs to the longest serving Head of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House within the Wizengamot, as such it will be my position when I come of age.” Henry decided it would be nice to take a bit of a biography break.

“Currently, as I am not of age, I am not High Prince, I am only His Lordship, Henry Joseph Peverell, the Prince–or Lord–Peverell. At my current station, I have the right to call the Wizengamot to session, bring matters before the body, create Noble Houses whose heads sit on the Wizengamot, speak first at all sessions, serve as a judge on the highest matters in the realm, and veto any decision I don’t like that comes through the Wizengamot.

“Whoever decided to trust me with that power…” Henry joked. “Three years from now, I wonder how many hits will have been ordered on me.” There were some laughs from Henry’s friends, but those who didn’t know him just looked concerned.

“Next are the Most Noble Houses, the Lords of which are equivalent to muggle dukes. Should all the dukes agree, they may call the Wizengamot to session, and individually, they may bring matters before the Wizengamot, create Noble Houses—so long as they are approved by a prince—speak second at sessions, and preside over civil law cases. Think of them kind of like the Deputy Headmaster here.” He added after a brief pause. Ambrose raised an eyebrow at him. “They have some power, but slightly less than the Headmaster.”

“The Lords of Most Ancient and Noble Houses are equivalent to muggle marquesses, and they may petition for sessions of the Wizengamot to be held, bring matters that have been seconded by a prince of duke before the body, propose candidates for Noble Houses, speak third at sessions, and sit on Grand Juries. And if we keep up the Hogwarts analogy, these are sort of like the Professors!” Orion shook his head.

“No, give it up, Henry.” Alphard told him, amused. Henry pouted for a second before continuing.

“Next we have the Most Ancient Houses, whose Lords are equivalent to muggle earls. They may bring matters that have been seconded by a prince or duke before the Wizengamot, petition for the proposal of candidates to be made Noble Houses, speak fourth at sessions, and they may also sit on Grand Juries.” Henry paused for a second, looking around the room to see when everyone was caught up. “This group of…sections, I suppose, is right at the top of the pecking order. The next group down has some influence, but not much compared to the first group.

“First, the Ancient and Most Noble Houses, whose Lords are equivalent to viscounts. The viscounts may bring matters before the Wizengamot that have been sponsored by an earl or a marquess and seconded by a prince or duke, they may speak fifth at sessions, and they may serve on Petit Juries.

“Then, Ancient and Noble Houses are equivalent to muggle baronies, and their Lords may bring matters before the Wizengamot that have been sponsored by an earl or a marquess and seconded by a prince or duke, speak sixth at sessions, and sit on Petit Juries.” Henry paused again, enjoying the attentive looks on his friends’ faces. “The final group has little to no power.

“The first of them: Noble Houses. They currently number just over thirty, and their Lords are equivalent to muggle baronets. They can petition to bring matters before the body and speak seventh at sessions.” Henry saw Myrtle shake her head amusedly.

“Yeah, I know.” He said. “You guys think you have it rough sometimes? Imagine having to go through three people just to speak to your peers.” There were some chuckles, and Henry was sort of taken aback by how rich some of these people sounded just by laughing. He sounded like a dying chicken when he laughed.

“The Ancient Houses are all temporary, awarded to one person from a family, and then declared non-extant when that person dies or is dismissed. Though, in most cases, the head’s heir is given a lordship in their own right by higher up friends of their family.

“The Ancient Houses are equivalent to muggle knighthoods, and these Lords may give matters to higher ranks to be brought before the Wizengamot, and speak last at sessions.

“Finally, administrators and Ministry Department Heads and Secretaries may speak if asked by a sitting member of the Wizengamot and approved by a prince or duke. Yes, I know, how kind of us. I hope you all know, if I ever have an off day, no one who needs to ask permission will be allowed to speak.” Tom rolled his eyes fondly.

“All members of all the groups I have mentioned may vote on matters brought before the Wizengamot, and every member has only one vote, regardless of how many seats they hold. If a Lord of multiple houses wishes for the votes of more than one house, they must appoint proxies for each seat, who may then vote for them.

“Questions?”

~~~

Over the course of the week, Henry’s History of Magic study group became more and more popular, and soon many students who had a free period at the time it was held began joining the lessons in the library.

Even a few members of staff joined in if they had free time, and soon, Lord Peverell was gone, replaced by Professor Peverell. Henry actually didn’t mind that title.

Chapter Text

Henry was very much enjoying Healing this term. He was the only one left in the class, as everyone else either had too weak a stomach, or didn’t pass the HR test.

Healer Burke was very impressed with his abilities, and far more impressed with his attitude.

“Have you heard about the new emergency ward, Henry?” She asked one day while they were practicing Wound-Closing Charms.

“Yeah, I’m glad that’s what they used the donation for.” He said.

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that the ‘Henry Peverell Emergency Ward’ sounds nice?” She asked innocently. Henry looked up and blinked several times.

“Beg your pardon…” He said. “The fuhucking WHAT?!”

“You mean no one’s told you?” Healer Burke snorted.

~~~

“Hey, Jackie!” Henry said upon entering the private room in the Hospital Wing. “What are we doing today?”

“I’ve got an assessment for you.” Healer Burke responded. “I’d like to see all your spells so far.”

Healer Burke conjured a model of a human and broke its nose, ordering Henry to fix it.

With a quick Episkey, it looked like nothing had ever happened.

She snapped the doll’s leg over her knee, and Henry mended the break and ordered bed rest for a day.

She made Henry bandage, disinfect, and close wounds. She made him cure a ‘patient’ in shock, and revive a ‘person’ who’d been stunned.

She tested his countercharm, Entrail-Expelling Curse, Hiccough Counter, and every other spell he’d learned, and then she gave him a list of scenarios and asked what he would do.

“Very well done, Henry.” She complimented when they’d finished. “And it’ll be my recommendation that next year, you are offered a part-time job at St. Mungo’s in the emergency ward.” Henry’s eyes widened.

“Really?!” Healer Burke nodded.

“You have a gift, Henry. You’re the best I’ve seen in twenty years, and I don’t say that lightly.” She said sincerely. “I’ve never seen a person pick healing up as fast as you have. You’re a natural. The only things left that I can think of to do with you are fictional scenarios and crisis management.

“Next year, I’ll have you in the hospital one day a week, and then when we meet here, we’ll discuss your work there.”

~~~

After class that day, Henry walked all the way back to the common room with a goofy grin on his face, and then sat down in his chair, wiggling with happiness.

When Tom came in, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and smile.

“What’s got you so cheerful?” He asked, sitting down in his own chair.

“I have a gift.” Henry giggled dazedly, still not quite believing it. Tom gave a short laugh, shook his head in amusement, and picked up his book.

Chapter Text

It was the last day before the Spring holidays, and no one was paying any attention whatsoever in any of their classes.

Henry was excited because he was taking Tom to Ormesby to get used to Ormesby Hall. Tom was excited because Henry was excited. Everyone else was excited to not have classes, and the teachers were excited that they wouldn’t have to teach.

It was Henry’s last DADA lesson before he would be leaving, and Professor Merrythought decided to pull out some random bullshit.

“Today, we’ll be learning about the Hex-Breaker.” She said once everyone was in their seats. “Does anyone know what the Hex-Breaker is?” Henry raised his hand.

“A complex sequence of six steps used to break hexes, that may or may not actually work.” He answered.

“That is correct, Mr. Peverell. Five points to Slytherin.” Professor Merrythought said. “Do you know what those steps are?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Henry said. “I can demonstrate if you’d like?”

And that’s how Henry wound up in front of the class, demonstrating a bullshit counterspell.

“First, you hop off the ground with one foot, and raise your other knee while waving your wand up and forward.” He demonstrated. “Then, you land with your right foot out, like so, and you wave your wand in an anticlockwise circle, facing the ceiling.” He walked the class through the rest of the steps, somehow ending up in a handstand with his wand between his shoes.

Everyone looked confused, but amused.

“Now I’ll do it at full speed.” Henry prepared himself, and once he was ready, he went through the six steps in the span of 15 seconds.

“You may applaud, I’ll understand.” He said, tossing nonexistent hair over his shoulder. There were some laughs as the class applauded his efforts, and Henry gave a little bow.

Even Bacon had crawled out of his school bag to watch.

~~~

After the train ride, which Henry spent sleeping on Tom’s shoulder, much to the showy indignation of the latter, the boys said bye to the Blacks and travelled through the barrier.

Tom seemed guarded as they went to meet Mr. Williams outside the station. It made sense, considering his experience with men. Really, adults in general. Once they made it outside, they quickly found the man, and Henry rushed forward.

“It’s good to see you again, Henry.” Mr. Williams said, pulling him into a hug, much to Henry’s pleasure. “We’ve all missed you, so be prepared for a lot of that.” Henry nodded.

In his time at Ormesby Hall, he’d learned that Mr. Williams–while a brilliant man–was very dignified and respectable, especially in front of the rest of the staff. If he was hugging Henry, the boy would probably be suffocated to death by supper.

“And this dashing young man must be Mr. Riddle?” Mr. Williams said, pulling away from Henry and looking towards Tom, who was standing awkwardly to the side. He wasn’t used to seeing people receive affection from adults. He never received affection from anyone really.

“Yes, sir.” Tom affirmed. “And I’d like to thank you for taking me in, sir.” Mr. Williams gave a soft smile.

“It was our pleasure, Mr. Riddle.” He said. “We wouldn’t simply leave you to fend for yourself. Now, we must be going if we wish to make it back to Ormesby before supper.”

~~~

Henry was correct.

As soon as he stepped through the back door at Ormesby Hall, Loren shouted happily, “Henry’s back!”

“Henry?!” Came the excited shouts from Sarah and Ms. Simon.

Loren ran and hugged Henry tightly around the shoulders, quickly followed by Sarah, and then when they released him, they were replaced by Ms. Simon.

“Oh, it’s good to see you, love.” She said, pulling away and holding him at arm’s length. “And my what a sight you are.” Henry smiled. “And this strapping fellow must be Tom. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Ms. Simon, the cook.”

“I assumed so.” Tom said. “Henry talks about you all a lot. It’s almost as if I already know you. In any case, it’s lovely to meet you, ma’am.” Ms. Simon looked back towards Henry, who was blushing.

“And what has Henry been saying about us?” She asked, smirking mischievously.

“That you all are like family to him.” Tom replied. “And that your cooking is the best he’s ever had.”

Ms. Simon looked ready to cry tears of joy.

Chapter Text

After everyone hugged Henry and met Tom, it was time for supper. So while everyone was sitting in the staff dining room, getting to know Tom, Henry and the girls were helping Ms. Simon with the stew.

Well, they said they were helping, but Ms. Simon didn’t need help, so they were listening to ‘Train Train,’ on the radio and dancing around the kitchen.

Loren and Sarah were doing the Jitterbug, and Ms. Simon was doing a one-person Balboa in front of the stove. Meanwhile, Henry was doing the Charleston in his own little space.

He certainly wasn’t expecting Tom to step in front of him and join in, twirling him as Henry sang along.

“With a boom-boom, it was a horrible sound.” He giggled as Tom twirled him again. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I’m the Heir of two Houses and the Hangleton Baronetcy.” Tom pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Not to mention the Charleston is one of the most rudimentary dances in existence.” Henry scowled and swatted Tom’s chest.

“The Charleston is an amazing dance.” He argued.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” Tom smirked. “I only implied that a five year old could learn it.” Henry pouted.

“I’d like to see one five year old coordinated enough to learn this dance.” He demanded.

“Me.” Tom offered simply.

~~~

After supper, Henry took Tom up to his apartment.

“The bedroom on the right is mine, so you can have the one to the left. We get up at five in the morning, get ready for the day, and then go up to the house to get our assignments for the day.

“And remember that there are two dozen other people in the house that need warm water to shower, so wash and get out quickly.” Henry left Tom in the lounge and carted his things to his room. Bacon was already laying in the bed, and Melinoe was out hunting.

Henry opened the window, then began undressing as quickly as possible so he could get to bed.

So used to living in the apartment alone, he forgot to shut the door and he didn’t notice Tom watching from the hall, enraptured. Even so, he was used to dressing around Tom. They usually just looked away from each other.

Henry was standing in his underwear at the foot of his bed, bent down in front of his trunk, searching for pyjamas. Tom’s eyes were glued to his friend’s ass, and the curve of his smooth back, shining milky white under the moonlight that was streaming in through the window.

When Henry straightened back up and slipped his underwear off, Tom felt his hardening cock twitch, and quickly went into his bedroom and shut the door, slumping against the wood.

“Fuck.” He gasped, looking down at his rapidly tightening trousers. He did the only thing he could do.

There was a jingling sound as Tom undid his belt and slid his trousers down to his knees, allowing his cock to pitch a tent in his y-fronts. When he pulled down his underwear, releasing his cock, it swung upwards, hitting his stomach–sending a string of precum into the hair on his navel as it did–and resuming its natural position.

Tom wrapped a hand around his shaft and retracted his foreskin, looking down at the tip of his cock, steadily drooling clear fluid.

Tom liked his cock. He was fairly sure that anyone who saw it would be willing to take it, which definitely contributed to his ego, but the only person he wanted to see on his shaft was Henry.

He wanted his boy to take his cock to the hilt. He wanted to hear Henry’s desperate mewling as his hole was stretched around the thickness of Tom’s seven inch shaft. He wanted to feel his balls slapping Henry’s smooth taint, and he wanted to watch his boy’s ass bouncing as he thrusted unforgivingly in and out of his hole. He wanted to milk orgasm after orgasm from Henry’s engorged member until he was too spent to cum anymore, and then he wanted to feel the boy licking his own semen off of Tom’s hand. He wanted to bend over Henry’s shaking form as he released his climax deep inside him, biting the soft, pasty flesh of his boy’s shoulders and neck.

At this point, Tom was gasping as he double-fisted his meat, and then, with a grunt, he came.

Cum shot from Tom’s tip, painting his chest, the floor, and the inside of his pants and trousers.

Tom slumped against the door as he caught his breath, the last of his orgasm leaking into his pubes. He began to think of what would come after.

He would carry Henry to bed, and they would lay down. His boy would curl up into his chest, and Tom would wrap his arms around him. They would kiss, and he would say, ‘I love you, Henry.’

Tom’s eyes widened.

“Fuck.”

~~~

“How’d you sleep?” Henry asked Tom, who was sitting in the lounge, waiting for him. Henry looked very nice in his uniform, which he’d added a flatcap to.

It was relatively warm in the apartment, and they obviously couldn’t use their wands, so Tom had held off on finishing the buttons of his shirt above the top of his waistcoat, leaving his chest out.

Henry enjoyed the view of his friend very much, having already manipulated himself into thinking it wasn’t strange to admire his friend, as Tom was an incredibly attractive person. So he allowed his eyes to wander up Tom’s chest crease, inspecting the short, dark hair beginning to sprout there.

He was peeved when Tom stood and began doing the rest of the buttons.

“Fairly well.” Tom replied, expertly hiding any reaction to his memories of the night prior.

“Good.” Henry grinned. “Let’s go down and see what we’re doing today.”

~~~

“Good morning, boys.” Mrs. Robinson greeted as Tom and Henry came in through the back door.

“Good morning, Mrs. Robinson.” Henry returned.

“Good lord, the boy’s turning posh.” Matthew said disappointedly.

“Really?” Tom scrunched his nose and furrowed his eyebrows. Henry sounded perfectly northern to him.

“Aye!” Loren interjected. “Next we know, he’ll be talking like you! His Lordship’ll mistake him for the Duke of Norfolk!”

“Remember, Henry: bahth, not bawth.” Sarah added.

“I know how to speak, girls.” Henry informed them, exaggerating his accent. “I just have to get back into the habit. It’s really surprising how few people at school don’t sound like they’re from London.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” Mrs. Robinson said sternly. “We’ve work to do today. Henry, after breakfast, you and Tom will be picking up our deliveries for the week from the shops.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Henry said, taking a seat at the table as Ms. Simon brought in breakfast; bread and beef drippings, boiled eggs, and kippers.

Henry reached over to serve himself a cup of tea, but found Tom already pouring him one. So he reached for the milk, but Tom had set the teapot down and was already grabbing it.

“You don’t know how I like it.” Henry argued. Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Splash of milk, five sugars.” He said, his tone a bit disdainful as he mentioned Henry’s love of sugar. Henry blushed as Tom finished making his cup, then began drinking his own tea, black.

“Well, I’m sorry that some people don’t drink their tea straight up.” He snarked. Tom smirked. “Thank you.” Henry added quietly.

~~~

“I can see why you like it here.” Tom said as he walked with Henry through the streets of Ormesby.

“It’s quiet.” Henry agreed. “And the people are nice. Because they like me, not because I’m a Lord.”

“It’s a nice place.” Tom said, following Henry into the butcher’s shop.

He enjoyed watching Henry, but he enjoyed it even more so in Ormesby. Everywhere else, he was slightly guarded. Ready for anything to happen. But here, he was carefree.

In Ormesby, Henry wore a content smile that Tom didn’t see anywhere else. He couldn’t stop watching him.

~~~

The first Friday of the holiday, Henry received a letter from Callidora, informing him that the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell would be meeting the next day at ten in the morning. Henry was very pleased with the forewarning they gave him. (Sarcasm).

After lunch that day, he went to Mrs. Robinson’s office to inform her he would be ‘sick’ the next day.

“I’ve left a few things out of my letters, ma’am, so as to preserve secrecy.” He began. “In the Wizarding World, I’m the Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell, which is essentially equivalent to the Prince of Wales. Tomorrow, I’ve a meeting with my office at the Ministry for Magic in London, so Tom will come in, in the morning, and tell everyone that I’m running a fever, so I’ve stayed in bed. I’ll be able to get to my meeting, and then I’ll be back in time to help with supper.”

“That’s a bit ironic.” Mrs. Robinson pointed out. “A secret lord working for another lord.”

“So I’ve been told.”

~~~

The next morning, Tom came into Henry’s room at 5:30 to wake him up, only to be grabbed and pulled into the bed when he touched Henry’s shoulder. Tom blushed, slightly enjoying having Henry’s arms around him. Henry placed his head on Tom’s chest.

“You’re cold.” He said. “I like it.”

“Well you’re a little ball of heat.” Tom said. “Are you sure you aren’t really sick?” Henry coughed lacklusterly.

“That good enough for you?” He snarked.

“As much as I’d like to stay and enjoy your bed–which is, very rudely, softer than mine–I have things to do today.” Tom said haughtily. “I’ll see you this evening.” Henry snorted.

“You sound like Mrs. Robinson.”

~~~

At seven in the morning, Henry grabbed his mokeskin pouch–which was still full of his usual wares; wand, Peverell Atlas, and cloak–and disapparated from Ormesby Hall, going to an alley a block from the Leaky Cauldron, where he would floo to his office. He would have to remember to ask if being a Lord meant he could get an Apparition Licence early, then he could apparate directly to the Ministry Atrium.

Once he reached his office, he sat down at the desk and looked through the trays that held his mail and other documents.

He found letters from Lord Black, Lord Rosier, and Lord Greengrass at the top of the pile, and his eyes widened. He’d completely forgotten that they were contacted! He expected them to send replies to Callidora, or Hogwarts, not his office! For all he knew, no one had been in since December!

He quickly opened the letters and skimmed them, finding them all to say congratulations and that they were willing to open formal connections with the House of Peverell.

‘Not now, probably.’ Henry thought.

He quickly penned a general reply:

~~~

Lord Black/Rosier/Greengrass,

I’d like to thank you for writing, and apologise for your wait, however long it was.

I have not found the time to travel to my office at the Ministry since I was here for the first meeting of my Office at the end of December.

In future, please feel free to direct any correspondence to either Callidora Black, Regent for the House of Peverell, or to myself directly, at Ormesby Hall, in the summer, or Hogwarts, during term.

If you are still amicable to a connection between our Houses, I am open to a continued dialogue through the post, or a private meeting this summer.

Thank you,

Henry Joseph Peverell

The Lord Peverell

~~~

Remembering the mailbox outside his office, he went out to the hall and cast a point me charm to direct him toward the Office of the Most Noble House of Black, then to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Greengrass, and then the Ancient and Noble House of Rosier, depositing the proper letter into each mailbox before heading back to his own office.

Upon arriving, he found the door to the archives open, and grinned.

“Myrtle!” He called down the dark hall lined with filing cabinets. The lights in the office turned on, and he saw his friend standing in the window directly ahead of him, smiling and waving.

“Hi, Henry!” She called back.

“What are you doing here so early?” He questioned, crossing the hall to the office. “I didn’t think you’d be here at all!”

“Callidora sent someone to connect my house to the Floo Network, so I wouldn’t miss any meetings.” She said. “And I wanted to see if I could get through any of those cabinets before the meeting. I just got back from the Department of Mysteries, and an Unspeakable should be down any minute to run a diagnostic on the hall.”

As if on cue, a voice called into the room, “Hello?”

“Down here!” Henry returned. Soon, a tall, stocky man stood in front of him.

“Good morning, Lord Peverell.” He greeted. “I am Unspeakable Cassian Mulciber from the Department of Mysteries. I was called to check the office for dangerous artefacts.”

“Yes, please, if it’s not too much trouble.” Henry said. “I’d like to have the archives and artefacts rooms checked before my staff touch anything, just to be safe.”

“It’s no trouble at all, your Lordship.” Mulciber said. “It’s my job, after all.” He began casting charms through the hall.

Henry turned back to Myrtle, who was standing at a chest of drawers against the wall, six tall and four wide.

“This is the catalogue, then?” He asked. Myrtle nodded.

“I’ll go through by letter, and write down the oldest and most valuable items, then find them and look for any issues.” She explained.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” Henry said. “Good luck.”

He went back to his office and thought about what else there was to do.

For an hour, he went through and signed a bunch of Wizengamot documents and made notes on others, but then he still had an hour left.

He slumped against his desk and picked up his mokeskin pouch, reaching in and playing with the fabric of his invisibility cloak.

For fuck’s sake, add the Ministry to the Atlas. Death snapped at him. Henry jumped, then quickly pulled the Peverell Atlas out of his pouch and opened it to the next open page.

He left it on the desk, then knelt on the floor and quickly carved his mapping rune into the wood there and activated it. Once he was standing again, he aimed his wand at the empty pages in the atlas.

“Tridimensionalis Mappa!” And then a 3D map of the Ministry of Magic was forming in the map, spreading out from Henry’s office.

Henry spent the next hour applying all the charms from the map of Hogwarts to the map of the Ministry, and by the time he finished, Big Ben was chiming ten o’clock.

Henry listened to the bells, enjoying the tune, and then he left his office and went to the conference room, where everyone was waiting for him.

“Good morning, everyone.” He greeted as everyone stood. “Druella, if you please.” Everyone took their seats.

“Of course, your Lordship.” Druella nodded. “This is the second meeting of the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell, taking place on 24 April, 1943 in the office of His Lordship, Henry Joseph Peverell, the Lord Peverell.

“At this general meeting, we will discuss Lord Peverell’s finances and estate, the state of His Lordship’s standing in the Wizengamot, business of the House of Peverell, and new business brought forward by the members of the Office. All are present, and His Lordship’s Record Keeper, Dorea Black, is taking the minutes.

“His Lordship’s Regent, Callidora Black has the floor.” Damn, that was cunty. Death said.

“Thank you, Ms. Rosier.” Callidora began. “Since our last meeting, not much has changed. I have been approached by no less than five peers, however, willing to open connections with House Peverell. They are Lord Nicholas Malfoy, Lord Lestrange, Lord Avery, Lady Ross, and Lord Longbottom. Additionally, Lord Black, Lord Greengrass, and Lord Rosier have declared their public support of House Peverell.

“Your Lordship’s approval is through the roof at the moment, since the House of Peverell’s third donation to St. Mungo’s this year, and I expect that to cause an influx of diplomatic connections.” Henry nodded.

“Thank you, Callidora. Should any more Lords approach you, please tell them to forward any correspondence to you, or to my address at Hogwarts.” Callidora nodded her assent. “Now, let’s hear from Mr. Catterick.”

As Dorian informed Henry about the renovations at Peverell Manor, he got a bit excited.

As soon as the house was finished, he’d move in. He’d host gatherings with his friends, invite them to sleep over whenever they wanted, and Tom would have to be there with him of course.

Henry felt a smile split his face when he thought about living with his friend. Lately, he found himself missing Tom when they were apart, even if it was for just an hour.

He’d been amazing since Henry nearly killed him, and they were becoming closer than ever.

“We’ve finished ensuring the stability of the manor house and the surrounding buildings that are integral to its function and/or the Peverell Family History.” Dorian said. “The Peverell Mausoleum, on the West Grounds, needs no further work, and the granary, millhouse, and barn to the east need only cosmetic repairs.

“Our next priority will be finishing those three buildings, after which we will move to the root cellar to the south, the greenhouses in the Gardens, and then the manor house itself.

“Our most recent estimate is that it’ll be livable by June of next year, at which time we will turn our attention to the fields and woods on the grounds.” Neither Ranmuk nor Cassius had anything to discuss, so it was Lucretia’s turn.

“With the go ahead from the Department of Mysteries, I began looking through our artefact catalogues this morning, and so far I’ve found that two artefacts are missing.” Henry raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with whoever had them. “One of them is the ‘Shadow Mirror,’ stolen after the death of Lord Arthur Peverell in 1867. The other is the signet ring of Heirs Peverell, which was unlawfully willed to Heir Rey Peverell’s fiance upon his death in 1503. The ring is currently reported to be in the possession of Lady Griselda Marchbanks, an ancestor of Rey’s fiance, Margaret.” She reported.

“Do either of the artefacts have any magical features?” Henry asked.

“The mirror is enchanted to exaggerate the traits a person wishes to ignore about themself. It signifies humility, and the ability to appreciate oneself the way they are. The ring is used to seal family correspondence, and has the ability to stop most minor poisons.” Henry nodded thoughtfully.

“I would like to begin attempts to retrieve the mirror immediately.” He said eventually. “Walburga, I’d like you to draft a letter to Lady Marchbanks, kindly informing her of the situation. Inform her that I will allow her to keep the ring until such time as I have an heir of my own. Please sign it, ‘His Lordship, Henry Joseph Peverell, the Lord Peverell.’”

“Yes, your Lordship.” Walburga quickly pulled out her pad and began writing the letter. Jane cleared her throat.

“Your Lordship, I have been in contact with the Diplomatic Liaisons of the Lords Black, Greengrass, and Rosier.” She said, looking slightly unimpressed. “They inform me that their lieges are quite peeved with the lack of response to their correspondence.”

“Yes, I know.” Henry said. “I only found their letters this morning, when I came into the office. That was my reasoning for having Callidora tell everyone to redirect my post.

“I have written and sent responses and apologies to each of them.” Jane nodded.

“Good.” She said. “Now, we can only hope they will forgive.”

“I believe that’s me, then.” Myrtle said, pulling the attention to her. “I’ve been through the first drawer of the catalogue in the archives, and I have pulled seven of the oldest and most valuable items to look over, and with your Lordship’s permission, I’d like to take a few of them back to Hogwarts so I can more easily ensure any damage to them is repaired effectively.”

“First, I’d like to know what items these are.” Henry requested.

“First is the ‘Ardent Sigil,’ a gold medallion that radiates heat. It can serve as a stand-in for cooking or heating fires. Then, the ‘Abyssal Ledger,’ a book of contracts sealed by and with members of the family. Next is ‘Antioch’s Map,’ a map of all the sites owned at any point in time by the Peverell Family. The ‘Ashen Diadem,’ which permits the wearer to hear a strange female voice, like a guardian angel. ‘Adana’s Phial’ is a crystal phial with a strange, possibly volatile substance that should be transferred to a more secure container. The ‘Aetherial Veil’ is a cloak that apparently allows the wearer to move through magical barriers and wards without alerting the caster. ‘Arthur’s Gauntlet’ is a dragonhide glove plated with goblin-wrought silver, it enhances the wearer’s precision in spellcasting. And the last is the ‘Ancestral Tapestrie of Familie Peverell,’ which is a self-updating family tree tapestry for the House of Peverell and all the Houses that have joined with it at some point in history.” Henry thought about it for a minute. The ledger wouldn’t do him much good at the moment, as he already had a report of his existing due contracts. He strongly suspected that the diadem allowed the wearer to speak with Death, which he could already do–as long as she wasn’t binging her TV shows. The gauntlet was made of goblin metal, which meant it was made by goblins, and they deserved to have their creation back. That left four items.

“Alright, you may take the sigil, the map, the veil, and the tapestry.” He told Myrtle. “First, I’d like you to maintain and repair the map, and then the tapestry, to the best of your ability, and then hand them off to me. Then I’d like you to focus on the veil. Ensure that it is safe to use, and then test that it works. And then you may do as you please with the sigil.” Myrtle grinned, but Henry could tell she wanted the ledger and the diadem.

“Yes, thank you, your Lordship.” She said.

“Ms. Rosier?” Callidora said, drawing everyone’s attention to the next speaker.

“Yes, ma’am.” Druella said. “As Madam Black mentioned earlier, your Lordship’s approval ratings are very high due to both your generosity with St. Mungo’s, and your connection with the other students at Hogwarts. I’ve heard from several people that their parents appreciate you tutoring everyone in History of Magic. My own father, in fact, has told me that he is incredibly grateful for you, and that with a Lord teaching the class, there may actually be hope for a reliable representation of the curriculum.

“The press, however, seem to be bored of you.” Druella continued. “The shock of your ascension has worn off, and now they’re off to the next big headline. It would be wise to keep it that way, so keep any scandals to yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Henry agreed jokingly.

~~~

The meeting went on for another hour, by which time it was one o’clock, so the Office adjourned, and Callidora asked to see Henry privately in his office.

“What is it that you wanted to speak about, Madam Black?” Henry asked once they were seated.

“Before I came in this morning, I was notified that your privileges as an underage Lord of the Wizengamot have been approved. You may perform magic in private, so long as it is not excessive and does not endanger our secrecy, you hold ultimate power over matters within the House of Peverell, you may receive formal training outside school in restricted subjects, and you may train others in turn, you will have partial diplomatic immunity in the Wizarding World, and you may train and test for an early Apparition Licence.” Henry grinned. That made a lot of things easier.

“Thank you, Madam Black.” He said. “That is very good news.”

“Yes, but remember, you still may not enter magical contracts without my consent, you may not initiate a formal duel outside the bounds of defence of yourself and your honour, and you may not go to certain events–such as the annual Wizengamot Gala–without a chaperone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Henry agreed, then shook Callidora’s hand, at which point she left.

Henry glanced at the clock and found that Jane and Myrtle were still in, so he sat at his desk and pressed the buttons for their offices. A few seconds later, there was a knock at the door and he called them in.

“Price caps are in effect.” He said, causing some confused looks. “Who wants to get lunch at the Ritz for three pounds?”

~~~

Without Henry around, Tom was sulky all day. And he was stuck working in the garden with Mr. Johnston for the whole day! He was hot and sweaty, and he’d had to roll his sleeves up to his elbows and unbutton nearly half of his shirt.

Mr. Johnston told him that he was doing good work, but he’d never seen so much prissy bitching and moaning before in his life, which soured him even more.

After they’d finished, he went back up to the apartment, so tired and eager for a shower that he was taking off his waistcoat and shirts before he even got halfway up the stairs.

When he opened the door and found Henry sitting in the lounge, happiness filled his chest.

Tom dropped his usual decorum and rushed over, pulling Henry into a tight hug.

“Thank god you’re back!” He gasped. “That awful gardener has been torturing me all day!” Henry wasn’t paying attention. He was focused on ignoring the tightening in his trousers and watching the bead of sweat that was dripping from Tom’s armpit hair to his arm, following it with his eyes as it rolled down his friend’s bicep.

Tom smelled awful. Like some kind of working class grunt instead of the poncy heir Henry knew him to be. Henry loved it.

“I’m going to take a shower, and after that, you’re never leaving my side again.” Tom said.

Henry watched as Tom walked tiredly from the lounge, taking in the protruding veins in his arms and the toned muscles of his back. Then, when Tom turned down the hallway, Henry took in the subtle curve of his pecs, protruding just enough from his torso to be noticeable if one looked from the side. And Henry was definitely looking. Engrossed in the small bounce of the muscles as Tom walked.

Henry felt ready to cry when Tom disappeared down the hallway.

‘Man, I hope when I get a boyfriend, he’s as hot as Tom.’ He thought.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! Henry’s head filled with the sound of Death weeping.

~~~

The next week, Tom and Henry were preparing for their last night in Ormesby before going back to school for their final term.

Henry was sitting on the floor in the lounge with his candles and pad, like he did most nights. His eyes were closed and he was steadily drawing circles. Meanwhile, Tom was sitting on the sofa, watching him with mild interest.

The flames of Henry’s candles stilled, then flickered simultaneously, and then Henry was laying in bed, beneath someone much larger than him.

The man had one hand on Henry’s waist, and the other on his ass, and Henry moaned loudly as he became aware of the pleasurable sensation shooting through his prostate.

The man’s mouth was on his neck, biting and kissing all of Henry’s most sensitive spots, making him buck and arch his back.

The man pulled back and straightened up, still thrusting, but giving Henry a good view of his face. He looked exactly like Tom, he even combed his fingers through his hair the way Tom did.

‘So…I will get a boyfriend who looks like Tom?’

GODDAMNIT!!! Henry was torn from his vision, and for several minutes, all he could hear were Death’s psychotic screams through her apparent mental breakdown.

“Aur…” He said uncomfortably.

Chapter Text

As soon as Tom and Henry were back at school, instead of going to the common room, as Henry was expecting, Tom began pulling him off down a random corridor.

“Tom, where are we going?” He asked several times along the way. No response.

Eventually, they reached a girl’s restroom that Henry didn’t immediately recognise.

‘Oh, shit! Are we about to fuck?!’ Henry thought. ‘Friends do that, right? I gave the Gryffindor Quidditch Team plenty of blowjobs when I was here the first time.’ But instead of shredding Henry’s clothes and having his way with him, Tom opened the Chamber of Secrets, and Henry was slightly disappointed.

Peeved, Henry looked at Tom and told him, “If you set that basilisk on anyone, you’ll get the school closed, and then I’ll murder you and donate all your money and possessions to muggles.” He wouldn’t actually, but the idea was satisfying.

“How do you know about the basilisk?” Tom demanded.

“In my second year, I killed it after you possessed a little girl who had a creepy obsession with me.” Tom looked slightly put-out.

~~~

“Seraphina!” Tom hissed upon entering the chamber proper. Henry raised an eyebrow.

“Tom!” A feminine, middle-aged voice returned. Henry heard a slipping noise against the stone floor, and quickly closed his eyes. “You have finally brought your mate!” The voice cheered happily, causing Tom and Henry to blush.

“Henry is not my mate.” Tom said firmly.

“So he is food?” Seraphina asked.

“No, he is not food, Seraphina!” Henry could feel the attitude pouring off the basilisk.

“Then he is your mate.” Seraphina said. “And after you impregnate him, you will be his food, to nourish the child.” Henry was red like a cherry.

“Humans don’t eat their mates after they are impregnated, Seraphina.” Tom sighed.

“Oh…that’s strange.” Seraphina responded. “I remember now! Eating is the human term that refers to the sacred act of tongue-worship upon your mate’s genital hollows!”

~~~

When Henry left the Chamber of Secrets with Tom, he was traumatised.

“She wasn’t that talkative when I met her before.” He said.

“I apologise for her.” Tom replied. “She thinks she knows everything.” Henry snorted.

“I know where she gets it from.” Tom scowled.

“I don’t think I know everything–” Henry cut him off.

“Because you do know everything?” He finished for him.

“No,” Tom corrected snootily, “Because I know most things. There are things I don’t know. They are just few and far between.”

Henry snorted as they entered the common room, only to scowl when Tom sat in his chair.

“What are you doing?” He demanded, standing in front of him with his hands on his hips.

“I’m cold.” Henry raised an eyebrow.

“And?” Tom wrapped his hands around Henry’s waist and pulled him down onto his lap.

“You’re hot.” Henry blushed as Tom used him as a blanket, but he enjoyed the coolness of Tom’s arms around him.

Eventually, he tipped his head back on Tom’s shoulders. Friends cuddled all the time, and that’s what they were. Friends. Just friends.

“You’re finally boyfriends!” Lucretia cheered when she walked in, causing Tom to scowl and Henry to blush.

“No we are not!” Tom argued. “We’re just exchanging–”

“Gross.” Dorea interjected.

Henry hexed her.

Chapter Text

The first day back in classes, Professor Merrythought said she had a treat for the class.

Initially, Henry was hoping for cake. It was a musty old bag with a demon inside.

“Can anybody tell me what is inside the bag?” Professor Merrythought asked.

“A musty demon that makes you experience your worst fears.” Henry lamented. “Cause it’s never cake!” Professor Merrythought looked slightly uncomfortable.

“That’s correct, Mr. Peverell…a boggart.” She said. “Has anyone here encountered a boggart before?”

Henry raised his hand, but he was the only one.

“Then might you consent to joining me in a demonstration?” Henry huffily rose to his feet and moved to the front of the room.

“Alright, everyone, I will go first, using the charm ‘Riddikulus’ to turn the boggart into something funny, and then Henry will follow my lead.” Professor Merrythought explained, before turning and opened the bag with a flick of her wand.

Slowly, Gellert Grindelwald stepped out and aimed his wand straight past her, to the students behind her.

“Riddikulus!” She called.

Before Grindelwald could cast a spell, his wand flew into his nose and he looked around in horror and shock at the laughing faces before him.

Then Henry stepped in front of it, and the boggart began to change. He prepared himself, and then the room began to grow cold.

Henry’s instincts kicked in and he raised his wand. Just as someone screamed, he waved it.

“Expecto Patronum!” He thought of the happiest thoughts he could, allowing them to flow freely through his head. He realised with a shock that they were all his most intimate moments with Tom. Hugging and cuddling, and a warm feeling flowed through him.

A milky white bird shot from the tip of his wand, driving the boggart back into the bag, before returning to Henry and perching on his finger. It was a nightjar.

Suddenly, he felt a cocky presence in his head.

That’s my bird, you know. Death said. You like me.

‘Shut up.’ Henry said genially, turning to the class, who were staring at him in shock and awe.

“Not the expected spell, but hey, what can you do?” He said lackadaisically.

~~~

Naturally, the whole school knew about Henry’s patronus by lunch, and once again, he was getting lots of attention.

Dumbledore didn’t seem pleased with Henry’s fluctuating popularity, but he wouldn’t chance any sort of reaction–of any scale–while on probation.

Even in classes, people were pestering Henry about the Patronus Charm, asking him to cast it, or to teach them to cast it, or to explain what his ‘bird’ meant. It was exhausting. So eventually, he started flipping them the bird. That got the point across.

That night, when they got back to the common room after dinner, all of his friends were staring at him too.

“What?” He snapped.

“Well, you–” Ambrose began.

“I learned a bloody spell!” Henry cut him off. “It’s not a bloody Order of Merlin, I’m not five years old!” Then he gathered his things and went to the dormitory.

~~~

“What were you thinking?” Tom asked softly and coldly once Henry was gone. “When has Henry ever shown you that he appreciates that sort of attention? Especially after he’s been pestered all day!”

“I apologise,” Ambrose said penitently, “But he performed a perfect Patronus Charm! I’m proud of him, is all!”

“Anyone who has experienced joy can cast a Patronus Charm.” Tom snapped. “People just take for granted the happy memories they have and choose a weak and meaningless one. For people like Henry, there are few to choose from.” And then he followed Henry up to the dormitory.

The door was stuck for a second when he reached it, presumably from being slammed, but when it opened, he found Henry on his bed.

He had the cluttered notebook he was using for his Magical Theory project open in front of him, and he was wearing socks, no trousers, and maybe underwear. Tom couldn’t tell what was under the oversized jumper Henry was wearing.

Without hesitation, Tom climbed into Henry’s bed, sitting right behind him, and wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist. Henry blushed as Tom rested his chin on his shoulder.

“What’s this, then?” He asked.

“I just like touching you.” Tom answered. “Being close to you makes me the happiest I’ve ever felt.” Henry grinned and felt butterflies in his stomach. “But if you tell anyone I said that, I will kill you.” Henry snorted.

“Of course.” He agreed, leaning back against Tom’s chest as he worked. It was quiet for a bit, and then Tom laughed.

“Is this mine?” He questioned, tugging on the sleeve of the green jumper Henry was wearing. Henry blushed again.

“I like the way you smell.” He said defensively. “It’s calming.”

“You can keep it.” Tom said, telling himself he was going soft. “It was always a bit tight on me.”

“But if I keep it, it won’t smell like you anymore, and it won’t be the same.” Henry whined.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep in my bed?” Tom snarked.

Chapter Text

Two weeks before OWLs were due to start, Henry once again shocked the school by finishing his Magical Theory project and submitting it in the form of an eleven by seventeen book that was over an inch thick.

Professor Gage lifted an eyebrow as he accepted Henry’s submission, and then informed him that he could skip classes for the rest of term in favour of private revision.

“If I’ve learned one thing about you this term, Peverell, it’s that this book is going to turn the Wizarding World on its head.” He told Henry.

All eyes were on Henry as he walked out of the classroom, a proud grin on his face. Then they looked at their sad scraps of parchment, half-finished charts and clumsy graphs, and promptly panicked.

“Fuck!” One of them sobbed, crumbling their work into a ball.

~~~

“What did you even put in it?” Orion asked.

“Well, the first fifty or so pages is my introduction–to myself, the topic, and what the rest of the book contains–section one introduces the Magical Power Spectrum, it has a chapter on the spectrum overall, each half of the spectrum, the six categories, and what each level means, along with each of the spells used to generate the spectrum, and how to analyse one’s score. Section two introduces the Magical Power Continuum, which is all the actual theory. It has five chapters. And section three has all of my proof; three graphics with in-depth explanations, analyses of three professional works, and it rephrases my arguments.” Henry explained.

Everyone looked awed. Tom was doing that thing where he pretended not to care but kept staring at Henry like he’d just reinvented magic itself. It made Henry feel warm and fuzzy inside.

It’s not like he cared, but it was nice that Tom was impressed.

Chapter Text

“Fuck!” Tom hissed, frustrated. He and Henry were getting dressed in their dormitory, as per usual. Only this time, Tom was struggling to get his top two buttons on his shirt.

Henry turned around, half expecting Tom to have accidentally shanked himself on something. The reality was much better.

He was pulling the shirt as hard as he could without ripping it, and Henry’s eyes were glued to his pecs and nipples, bulging through the thin fabric.

Tom pulled out his wand when he remembered he could just resize the shirt, but found that it wouldn’t change at all.

Henry couldn’t help but stare as Tom gave up on the buttons and pulled on his jumper, pulling his gaze to Tom’s arms, which were straining against the sleeves. They were tight enough to visibly show off Tom’s biceps, but just barely not enough to rip the seams, no matter how he moved his arms.

You’re welcome. Henry’s eyes widened.

‘Death, did you do this?’ He demanded.

Yup. Death replied smugly. You won’t make it through the day without begging him to–

‘Stop!’ Henry’s face was red, and Tom was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘Death, one day, I will eradicate you from the universe.’

Death snorted.

~~~

Henry spent the whole day staring straight ahead, except for when he thought he could get away with sneaking a glance at Tom.

The thing was, Tom wasn’t a bodybuilder by any means. He had more of a keeper’s build. But when looking at him in his uniforms at school and in Ormesby, you wouldn’t know he had any muscle at all, because the uniforms fit him, but were just a bit loose.

Henry liked the tight shirt a lot. Maybe not that tight, but he would appreciate Tom’s shirts to be just a bit tighter. It would be a nice reward to look over and see after he finished his homework.

This was driving more than just Henry crazy. Several girls and plenty of boys were staring all day, and only the combined power of Tom and Henry’s glares would make them back off.

Over the course of the day, especially after Tom took off his jumper, several members of staff attempted to fix the shirt, only to find it wouldn’t budge. And Dumbledore tried to take points, but was overruled by Dippet after Tom told him in a deadpan, “I suppose I simply outgrew it overnight, sir.”

After that, Tom undid another button out of spite, and Henry thought his nose would bleed.

In Arithmancy, Henry made the most elementary mistake possible because he was busy thinking about what it would feel like if he just…grabbed one of Tom’s tits.

In History of Magic, he stumbled through his lesson to the point that Auguste asked him if he needed to go to the Hospital Wing.

And then the girls figured out why he was acting that way.

“Henry, we’ve known that you fancy him for months.” Walburga said.

“The only reason we’re the only ones who know is that the only other people we all interact with are men.” Druella agreed.

“Yeah, the only way a man will pick up that you like him is if you tell him directly.” Dorea rationalised. Henry was blushing furiously.

“I don’t fancy Tom!” He argued. “I’m just admiring my friend, as I should.”

“Of course you are.” Lucretia snarked.

“Exactly. He’s a bloody masterpiece.” Henry said dreamily. “If I died right now, I’d be happy that my last sight was Tom’s hard nipples through his shirt.” The girls looked disgusted as they clutched their pearls.

~~~

By the time they made it to Herbology, Henry’s thoughts were solely focused on Tom. Not a great mix for working with Mimbulus mimbletonia.

Henry and Tom were paired up, as always, working on extracting the stinksap.

Things were going well until Tom reached around Henry for another phial, effectively wrapping his arm around Henry’s waist. What little focus Henry had left evaporated, and he pressed his hand right against one of the plant’s pustules, causing stinksap to erupt all over the pair of them.

Professor Beery immediately sent them away to shower, after vanishing as much of the stinksap as possible.

~~~

“What is going on, Henry?” Tom asked as they walked back to the common room. “You’ve been completely out of focus all day, staring at me with blank eyes and drool hanging.” Henry blushed bright red.

Chapter Text

Tom kept questioning Henry until they reached their dormitory and started undressing. Only when he pulled off his shirt did Henry finally respond.

“You’re bloody hot, okay?!” He blurted, before vanishing the rest of his clothes and marching to the bathroom.

Tom followed, forgetting all about his trousers.

“I’m hot?” He clarified, smirking and admiring Henry’s arse as his friend stood under the hot spray from the shower.

“I didn’t expect you to look like that.” Henry said weakly.

“What did you expect, then?” Tom asked, quietly approaching him.

“I don’t know.” Henry said. “I didn’t really expect anything, but I didn’t expect you to have muscles like that.” Tom smirked and pressed his body against Henry’s, enjoying the feeling of his friend tensing in front of him as he closed his hands around his soft, smooth waist.

“You like my body, then?” Tom said right into Henry’s ear, causing him to shiver. “I like yours too. Especially right here.” Tom’s hand drifted to Henry’s arse and closed roughly over the thick flesh.

“Tom…” Henry gasped.

“And this.” Tom’s other hand wrapped around Henry’s rock hard cock. It fit perfectly in Tom’s fist, with only the tip poking out at the end. “Do you want me to jerk you off, Henry?”

“Tom…” Henry whined, probably having a mini heart attack.

“Do you want me to make you cum?” Tom leaned down and bit Henry’s neck softly, tasting the sweet flesh he’d fantasised about for months. Henry’s hands jerked up, grabbing Tom’s arms as his head tipped back onto his friend’s shoulder.

“Please, Tom…” He moaned, staring straight into Tom’s eyes. “Make me cum.” Tom’s smirk made Henry’s cock twitch, and Tom began slowly moving his fist up and down Henry’s length.

Tom’s mouth latched back onto Henry’s neck, and Henry’s hands began to wander up Tom’s forearms and biceps, feeling the soft hair, the protruding veins, and the firm muscles.

Tom’s thumb teased Henry’s urethra, collecting a drop of precum, then letting it wash away under the hot water.

Henry began to turn around, breaking Tom’s hold on him, and placed his hand on his chest, pushing him against the wall, directly under the water. He grabbed one of Tom’s hands, placing it back on his cock, and then he moved the other one to his head, combing it through his hair, just like it had combed through Tom’s own hair so many times. And then he forced Tom’s fingers to close, biting his lip at the erotic pulling sensation.

Tom’s eyes darkened, and he closed his fist even tighter, forcing a moan from Henry’s throat. With a jerk, Henry’s head was forced back, and he was staring into Tom’s eyes.

“You like my muscles, Henry?” He asked huskily. “How about a closer look?”

Before Henry could react, his face was pressed against Tom’s chest, and he moaned again.

“Tom…” He whined. “Harder!”

Tom grinned and closed his hand even tighter in Henry’s hair, forcing his open mouth onto his nipple, though Henry was so eager he practically took half of Tom’s pec into his mouth.

It was a bit of a strain for both of them to reach, with the height difference, so Tom grabbed Henry by the thighs and lifted him to his waist, then turned them around and pressed him into the wall.

Eventually, Henry began to breathe faster and heavier, and Tom sped up his hand, rapidly fisting Henry’s cock.

“Tom!” Henry moaned, cumming so hard that it splattered at the base of Tom’s neck. Henry looked up into Tom’s eyes, tired and satisfied, but the dark look was still there.

He felt a turn in his gut as Tom reached back up and tangled his fingers in his hair again.

“You’re mine, Henry.” Tom growled. “Only I get to touch you like this. Only I get to hear you moan, and only I get to make you cum.” Henry shivered as Tom pinned him against the wall and kissed his neck. “Don’t you get it? You were made to fall apart in my hands.”

“I’ve already told you I don’t belong to you.” He challenged, pushing Tom away. “You’re my friend, not my owner.”

~~~

“Me and Tom had sex.” Myrtle’s eyes widened. What a thing to whisper to someone in the library.

“WHAT?!” A shushing noise came from the front of the room.

“Well, technically we didn’t actually have sex…but he touched me…and I had to tell someone!” Henry whisper-shouted. “That’s normal, right? Friends have sex all the time, right?”

“Henry, we’re best friends, and we’ve never thought of each other that way before.” Myrtle pointed out. “Right..?”

“Counterpoint,” Henry challenged, “I am a homosexual.”

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re completely in love with Tom?” Myrtle questioned irritably.

“Because I’m not!” Henry argued.

“He just gave you an orgasm.” Myrtle huffed.

“A friendly orgasm!” Henry shouted. To this day, he insists it was merely a platonic wank.

Chapter Text

OWLs week.

The free trial of Purgatory required for all magical students.

Fuck.

Everyone was rushing around with their last minute revisions, and Henry was worn thin from the constant History of Magic lessons.

He hadn’t managed to get through a single conversation with Tom in two weeks without stuttering and blushing. And everyone was very amused.

At one point, Aiden made a snarky comment about Henry having a wet dream about Tom.

“It’s none of your concern, Avery.” Tom said calmly. “Henry is merely admiring a close friend. What parts he admires is between him and me.” Henry turned into a tomato and ran off.

~~~

“Henry.” Tom whispered through the curtains on Henry’s bed. After a few seconds, Henry’s head poked out.

“What?” He asked.

“I need to see you.” Henry blushed, and Tom began pushing his way onto Henry’s bed. “You’ve made it quite clear that I don’t own you.” Henry raised an eyebrow.

“Good.” He said.

“But I still want you to be mine.” Tom said. “I want you to be mine to touch, to satisfy. I don’t care anymore that you won’t be mine alone, I just need you. You are the only person I trust in this world, and you are the only person that makes me feel this way.”

“Tom…what is it that you’re proposing?” Henry asked.

“It is quite evident that we both enjoy each other’s…company, so to speak, so why don’t we make an arrangement of it? It would be foolish to ignore our chemistry. Why go to the trouble of a relationship–the time it takes, the struggles you go through–when you’ve seen just how well I can satisfy you? Why don’t we satisfy each other without complicating anything.”

“Basically, you can’t have all of me, so you’re willing to take what you can get?” Henry teased. “I just have to say, how very modern of you, Tom. But what happens when you get possessive again, because we both know you will?”

“I won’t.” Tom said. “As I said, you’ve made it quite clear that I don’t own you.” Henry noted the irritation in Tom’s tone. He really wanted him.

‘Wow, I must be damn attractive if my friend wants to fuck me.’

“Fine.” He said after a minute. “I’ll admit, you do know how to make me scream. But no possessiveness, no emotions, and as soon as you get too attached, this is done.” Tom squirmed, obviously not prepared for Henry to make conditions and rules.

“Alright.” He said, before getting to his knees and grabbing the waistband of Henry’s pyjamas.

“What, now?” Henry asked, slightly surprised.

“Yes.” Tom said. “Do you think I only came over here to proposition you? Your arse is intoxicating, y’know.” Before Henry could reply, Tom flipped him over and pulled his trousers down to his knees.

Henry barely had time to put up the most rudimentary privacy wards possible before Tom had him spread and was diving in to eat him out in a way that he would’ve never expected from someone so dignified.

~~~

As OWLs started, Henry and Tom began sneaking off at least once a day to satisfy each other.

It actually turned out to be very stress-relieving.

Henry got through his first day of theoretical exams with no problems at all, relaxed from his meeting with Tom in the bathroom stall that morning.

He got through Charms, Transfiguration, Defence, Magical Artefacts, and then they arrived for their Astronomy exam a half hour early. You know why. Somehow, it made it even more exciting that they were almost caught by Professor Callisto. Maybe it was because Tom didn’t stop thrusting in favor casting a rudimentary silencing charm and putting his hand over Henry’s mouth.

The next day, they had their Potions theoretical first thing, which they completely breezed through, then they stopped by a broom cupboard before their History of Magic exam.

After lunch was Arithmancy, then Henry’s Healing theoretical, and then he was pulled into an alcove on his way back to the common room.

“Tom?!” Before he knew it, Henry was on his knees, and Tom was pressing his cock to his face.

“I needed a victory celebration.” Tom explained and Henry eagerly swallowed his shaft. “And I know how much you love my cock.” Henry hummed joyfully.

“Certainly love him more than I love you.” He snarked, licking up Tom’s frenulum causing his friend to shudder excitedly.

One hand was around his own cock, and the other was cupping Tom’s balls, which were slick with the most intoxicating sweat.

“Clean those off, why don’t you?” Henry grinned and pulled his mouth off of Tom’s shaft. As he sucked one of his friend’s large balls into his mouth, he kept his eyes on Tom’s. His stomach turned at the look of adoration on Tom’s face.

Henry was so happy that he’d agreed to this arrangement. It was bringing him and Tom so much closer, and it felt really good.

When Henry couldn’t taste any more sweat on Tom’s balls, he moved back to the shaft and slipped his tongue under Tom’s foreskin, lapping up all the precum gathering there.

Tom’s head tipped back and a groan tore from his throat as Henry’s tongue flicked over his frenulum.

“Are you getting close?” Henry asked, smirking up at Tom.

“Yeah.” Tom gasped. “Fuck, you’re good at this.”

“I’ve had my fair bit of experience.” Henry replied simply. “Now, fuck my throat, please.” Tom’s eyes darkened, and that smirk that made Henry’s cock twitch with excitement spread over his lips.

“Your wish is my command.” Tom put one hand on Henry’s chin, and the other on the back of his head. “Ready?” Henry dropped his cock and secured his hands on Tom’s asscheeks.

At the first sign of his nod, Tom’s hips snapped forward, burying half his length in Henry’s throat. Henry gagged and moaned around Tom’s shaft, and then began swallowing, trying to take it deeper.

The sensation nearly made Tom cum right then, so he pulled out, then thrust back in, making a rhythm. Henry smiled happily around Tom’s cock, flexing his throat as often as possible, trying to coax out his friend’s orgasm.

It was only a couple minutes before Tom gasped and pulled out, wrapping his hand around his cock and jerking off, his tip aimed right for Henry’s mouth.

When he came, Henry eagerly caught every drop, then made a show of swallowing it. Then he leaned back in and cleaned off the rest from Tom’s cock.

“Now let me help you.” Henry looked down and remembered his own cock, ignored and dripping precum on the floor. Henry stood up and Tom pushed him backwards, against the wall, and pressed their bodies together. His hand wrapped around Henry’s cock.

Tom’s mouth went straight to Henry’s neck, and Henry’s eyes shut, a pleased look spreading over his face.

“Thank you, Tom.” He muttered.

“It’s my pleasure.” Tom smirked into Henry’s sweet spot.

“Actually, it’s my pleasure, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Henry said. “Thank you for doing this with me. I can tell that I really needed it, and you’re the only person I trust in this place to do something like this with. You’re my best friend.”

“Henry, I have a connection with you. ” Tom let go of his cock. “I don’t know what it is, but I’m meant to be with you forever. We should be comfortable doing anything together.

“We’ll probably be around for far longer than our peers, so we need each other in so many ways. You are the only person I’ve ever thought of in this way, and I hope you will be the only one. You’re special.” A goofy grin spread over Henry’s face.

“My, that seems very much like attachment, Tom.” He teased. “But I feel the same way. Now make me cum.”

~~~

Wednesday morning was the Herbology theoretical, first thing, and after that was the Charms practical. Henry and Tom skipped lunch in favour of an ‘extra study session for the Defence practical,’ and wound up stopping by the kitchens for a snack after they finished, then they went up for the exam. Henry’s last exam that day was his Divination theoretical, after which he went down to the common room and laid down on the floor with his blanket.

Thursday, the Potions practical was right after breakfast, then the Magical Theory project deadline was 12:15, so Henry spent that class time in the library and then ate an early lunch. After lunch was the Transfiguration practical, and then Henry’s healing practical.

By Friday, Henry only had two exams left, his practicals for Herbology and Divination, which were both after lunch. He blew through the day, and then he blew Tom for good measure.

It wound up a good week, and then the last two weeks of classes were filled with revision and preparation for the next year.