Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s done something he didn’t know he was capable of. Harry didn’t even know someone could blow up like a balloon. All without his wand that was locked inside the cupboard. He hadn’t even made it to the second week of summer yet. Thunder pounded in his ears as he swept the floor. The summer storms were coming early, it seemed. His back ached as the welts swelled—his ribs sent stabbing pains through his body with every breath. Harry was cleaning up the mess he had made just moments before. He wanted to defend himself, but that would mean knowing what he’d done. The living room and kitchen had broken plates, cups, and picture frames littering the floor. Chips of wood and metal sat deep in the walls and ceiling. He’d need to climb the ladder to get most of them. His cupboard door hung on the hinges, and his belongings were trashed. Books torn apart, his summer homework flying everywhere. Harry looked up at the new skylight. The hole in the roof was the biggest project, and Harry wondered if any Aurors had been notified. That’s what happens when underage magic happens, isn’t it? Well, if they came, he hoped they saw what the Dursleys had done to him. Harry hoped they put him anywhere else because Vernon had had enough, and Petunia followed his every order. She never stood up for Harry—sometimes she’d joined in on the abuse. She’s disliked him all this time. You don’t give people you like all the chores and berate them for doing them all. Nor do they take a swing at a three-year-old with a fry pan. But now she’ll be doing the chores. If they’re tossing his things … there was no reason to stay. He’d need to make it out alive before he could think about leaving. He was being far too optimistic, but it was nice to dream of freedom. Nothing ever went his way without him needing to fight for it.

The broom hit the edge of the table and stabbed the handle into his ribs. He choked on his breath and wheezed. Yet another bruise. Marge was stuck on the TV antenna, and Harry was grateful that the rest of the nosy neighbourhood was at that gala tonight. It was raising funds for orphaned and displaced children. The Dursleys thought themselves too good for charity events. Even when it applied to them. But Harry had overheard Mrs. Polkis say they weren’t invited when he was at the shops. She’d heard that their behaviour at the last one wasn’t good enough. Buying for pigs never felt so indulging. It was funny, but it also meant that they wouldn’t need to keep quiet. Harry wouldn’t need to have socks shoved into his mouth now. It was also Harry’s luck that they invited Marge for tea because of this. This disaster tonight would’ve been avoided had she not spoken. But that side of the family never knew how to shut up. Harry rubbed his chest where the broom handle had hit him. What if he got expelled? Can you be expelled for something you didn’t intend to do? Would he need to go to court to defend himself? Harry didn’t have a birth certificate, so he couldn’t keep going to school in the Muggle world. Not that Vernon would pay for his schooling anyway.

Footsteps thundered louder than the thunder outside as Vernon descended the stairs. Harry continued to sweep despite knowing that he was going to be thrown around. He prayed he’d get to drink from the hose. The chores utilised it more often than not, so they wouldn’t know if a couple of sips were added onto the water bill. His shoulders were gripped by rough hands. Harry instinctively shrunk into himself to protect his neck when he spun around. He would have said a tomato was angry with him if he weren’t so sure it was Vernon. The pudgy face and bulging eyes. Definitely not a tomato. Harry could see Petunia wringing her hands and looking towards the door. Did she know about Aurors? Were they coming for him? Dudley looked horrified, but not for Harry’s safety. No, Harry was being pressed into the cookie jar on the bench. The welts moulded around the embossed designs. The poor baby whale would lose his precious cookies. Boo-hoo. His open wounds were stinging as he stretched into near-impossible positions. There’s no escaping Vernon when he has the grip of a vice. Harry’s heart pounded as he waited for the yelling to begin. It was how the whale liked to start his sessions. He’d run himself hoarse and then resort to his fists—objects were used if Vernon had been working the shop floor that day. Harry was surprised the man never brought a sledgehammer back with him. But the yelling never came; Fists jab Harry in the stomach instead. Then the yelling began once Vernon had a better grip of Harry’s shirt.

'Boy, if my sister is left like this … no one will see your freakish self again,' yelled Vernon.

Though he said nothing else, nor were his fists raised. This was a first. But he didn’t let him go; Harry was still crushed against the bench. Harry didn’t respond anyway—he couldn’t when he was struggling for breath. He can feel his lips trembling as his lungs spasm. Dudley was sneaking around and hiding behind Petunia, who stood frozen in the hall. Her hands were stuck at her sides, and her apron was wrinkled from her son’s grip. Harry inhaled slowly, trying to keep his lungs from spasming again. Dudley was usually out when Vernon got like this. He must not like what he’s seeing as he pulls Petunia away slowly. So, that idiot does have brains sometimes. Petunia didn’t move much despite her son’s silent actions.

‘Vernon, dear,’ Petunia said softly. ‘I do not feel up to cleaning blood from the floor if you do that.’

Yeah, because Harry wouldn’t be able to if he were dead.

Her voice was steady, but she looked anything but. Harry could see her hands shaking. Vernon wasn’t listening to reason as Harry was thrown about. His body hit the wall hard, and his glasses were knocked off his face. He scrambled for them but had his hand crushed by Vernon’s large boot. His knuckles went crunch under the whale’s weight. He could hear Marge yelling for her brother to kill him. But Harry knew Vernon wouldn’t want to upset his pet too much. He’ll just make Harry clean up when he was done. His glasses were shoved onto his face, and he felt his shirt rip as Vernon's ring got caught. The fabric was fraying already—now it was in tatters.

‘Change her back now!’ Vernon grabbed Harry by the neck as he spat in his face. ‘Change her back, or i’ll throw you out the window and make you fix that too!’

Harry struggled to take a breath as he squirmed. Reaching for the fat hand around the neck was a death sentence. So, he let his body go limp as he took shallow breaths. Harry’s vision blurred from the lack of oxygen. He was dropped before he could pass out. Vernon stalked off and went to check on Marge. He was mumbling about ‘useless freaks can’t fix their stupid spells’. Harry scrambled to his knees and rested his forehead against the floor. He needed to catch his breath before he continued cleaning. There was no way that he’d be able to fix her. He didn’t even know what spell he used. Inflatus or something stupidly Latin-based like that. His hand pulsated as he used it to brace against the wall to stand. He limped over to the sink and grabbed the dustpan and brush. If he takes too long, there will be more than shards to clean. He fell to his knees and began collecting the sizeable pieces of glass, ceramic, wood, and metal. Harry cleaned most of the debris off the floor. The bits in the wall would take longer as he’d need to stand for longer. He got up and went to the closest wall; Before he got there, Vernon’s hand closes around Harry’s shoulder again. Harry was dragged to stand below where Marge was stuck to the metal antenna.

‘Fix her, boy,’ whispered Vernon, ‘fix her right now or I will go against my pretty pet’s wishes.’

This man honestly couldn’t stick to one thing—was Harry going to die or not? Harry saw Petunia whispering something to Dudley, not actively listening to Vernon. They weren’t paying attention to him—that was good. He didn’t want them to see him die. Harry already felt totally violated. He didn’t want them to get any satisfaction out of witnessing his death.

‘I’ll hire a cleaner to clean this all up after I bury you under the rose bushes.’

Without warning, the front door opened and three robe-clad men stepped in. Aurors. Petunia inhaled sharply as she turned to face them. Petunia only gasped like that when she hadn’t seen someone for a while. Like Mrs. Perry from flat 7, after she came back from France after 5 years. But what did that say for Harry? Have these people dealt with her before? Vernon released his shoulder, and Harry sank to the floor. He could hear his ribs click as he took in air. Some were dislocated rather than broken. At least few were an immediate risk of puncturing his lung then. The Aurors had Vernon body-bound, lying on the floor and Dudley was led quietly from the room and upstairs. Petunia was speaking to a tall wizard with a flush on her cheeks. The other two brought Marge down and deflated her. The roof and ceiling were repaired in minutes, and Harry sat there with wide eyes. He’d done all that damage … and they fixed it in such a short time? There’s no way it should be that easy! He’d blown the roof off and inflated a person. There was so much debris everywhere—it was like a bomb had gone off! If he was capable of this now … what could he do if he got older?

Harry sat trembling as Marge had her memory altered by the tallest Auror. The man’s face was splotched with unpigmented skin. If Harry was honest, he looked like the Milky Way. His hands moved gently as the memory charms were finished. Vernon would be next, but that wouldn’t stop the beatings. If the Aurors didn’t take Harry now, Vernon would find something else to hurt him for. Petunia was now speaking to the short Auror with shaggy blonde hair—his face was pinched as she spoke. His eyes were golden, and they sparkled as the lights were fixed. But Harry couldn’t see anything else about him through his tears. The third Auror knelt in front of him suddenly, smiling gently. Harry scrambled back in fright as his eyes focused. Did this guy know not to startle people? The man smiled guiltily as he stilled—Harry didn’t want him coming any closer. He hadn’t even noticed him approach. He looked too similar to Vernon’s coworker with his long arms and legs. His hair was even the same dark red color—freckles littered his face. The man’s eye looked far too similar to Mr. Milrose too. That deep chocolate brown that almost looked black. That lanky bastard was why Harry never had his back fully to any doorway. Always had long sleeves. It was hard to get away if he had to run. Bile crept up his throat as shock set in like ice in his limbs. This man wasn’t Mr. Milrose, but the similarities were hard to unsee.

‘Hey—Mister Potter, no one is here to hurt you,' the Auror assured. ‘We’re just here to fix things up for you!’

He didn’t feel very assured. Petunia was standing behind the man, and Harry wanted to warn him; She’s good at swinging fry pans. Her pursed lips made her look as if she were distraught. Harry hadn’t seen it often—it usually appeared around the time her sister died. He never got to eat that day. His portion was always offered on the mantel. He always made sure it was arranged nicely for her. His mum deserved it more than he did, so Harry never complained. He sometimes even made a larger portion to have up there; He took care in making sure nothing was burnt those days. The sound of a door opening had Harry scrambling up and towards the back door. He needed to leave. His hands clasped the doorknob, and he ripped it open. He could feel warmth spreading through his fingers before a tingling sensation took over. He stumbled outside and ended up tripping on debris. Part of the roof was not put back—the metal cut into his leg as he fell. But he had no time to care; His feet carried him to the back fence. He could hear yelling but kept going. Harry needed time to calm down. He wasn’t feeling all that brave right now. The rain came down hard as he jumped the fence. The paint was slippery, and his shoes had no grip left. He landed in the mud, and his knees were pierced by hidden rocks. Harry’s hair was sticking to his neck and forehead—he had the mind to will his hair to fall out. It was cold—he was uncomfortable, and he had little idea of where he was headed. The rain masked the yelling, but he could still faintly hear them. They were telling him to come back; Their words weren’t very welcoming. A stream of blue light had Harry flinching—a shape swirled around him. An eagle perched on a low-hanging branch; Its wispiness had Harry entranced. Then, it spoke to him.

‘It is alright, Mister Potter, no one will touch you,’ the “eagle” said. ‘Auror Maxwell just wanted to check you over.’

Oh. Well it didn’t compute that way to Harry’s brain. He sniffled as the rain filtered through the densely packed trees. Harry was shivering from shock and the cold. His ribs felt like ice webbed his chest walls with pain. The eagle dissipated, and another animal appeared. This one was a lynx—its body was blurred, but its eyes were sharp. He didn’t want to go back so soon, so he kept moving. The rain wasn’t so bad when he was under the trees so he slowed to a limp. If they’re sending animal ghosts then they weren’t in a rush either. The Lynx walked alongside him, blinking calmly. He wondered if the Lynx would speak too. Harry would just be able to touch it with his arms outstretched. Magic surrounding the lynx pulsed as it strode closer. It shouldn’t be possible to feel the “fur”; But it was soft under his fingertips. He walked to a small creek and sat at the base of the tree, shivering. He didn’t want to go back. The Lynx lay next to him, and it was almost as if he could feel warmth radiating from it. Or, maybe he was finally so cold that everything felt warm. Harry saw the ghost Lynx stand and “nudge” his watch. 10:00pm. Harry had blown Marge up at 8:30 ish, and the Aurors must have arrived just after 9:00. Harry had spent an hour outside; He knew he couldn’t stay out here forever. The person casting this spell would get tired and that wasn’t fair. So, they walked the few hundred metres back to the fence, but Harry did not climb. Instead, he walked to the gate of Mr. Rishard’s yard. It unnerved him how little noise there was at the Dursley’s. Two of the three Aurors stood at the front door waiting. Milky-way man and the lanky man, Maxwell. Harry watched as the Lynx nudged his hand as it dissipated. The magic was a silent comfort Harry didn’t know he needed. Milky-way Auror had a letter in his hand and a grave face. There was a Ministry seal and two different insignia. Harry knew it wasn’t great news. Not if it was hand delivered.

‘Mister Potter, I am sure it is nothing,’ said the Auror. ‘Most of the time, for most, it is a formality to have a written statement about the situation.’

He wasn’t given praise or letters most of the time, and Harry wasn’t most people.

‘We are also going to be escorting you to the Ministry.’ Maxwell looked uncomfortable. ‘These living conditions are not on par with the law, and we cannot leave you here.’

Petunia had his things beside her and stepped aside when Harry picked them up. His trunk was broken, and his things were destroyed. So, was it really worth it to bring them with him? He needed his ruined assignments, and he could fix his trunk with some new hinges. So yes, he did. Harry didn’t need to ask before the Auror closest to him shrunk the trunk down. He pocketed it and looked over to see his wand in Petunia’s trembling hand, snapped in two. Hagrid had told him what a snapped wand meant. Either it happened in a duel, an accident, or you’ve been expelled. So, was it Vernon’s fault when he broke his things, or was that because he’s been expelled? If it was expulsion, does the magic snap it? Or did the Aurors do it whilst he ran? The letter was handed to him, and for once it wasn’t Vernon ruining his things. Go figure.

Dear Mister Potter,

It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that, because of your underage magical episode, we hereby expel you from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You have been removed from the attendance book and will be required to state your case to another schooling facility.

Your options are the following:

• France’s Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

• Northern Europe’s Durmstrang Institute

• The United States’ Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

• Brazil’s Castelobruxo

I wish you well and hope you do well moving forward.

Signed,

Cornelius Fudge — Minister of Magic.

This was the man who praised him for defeating the Dark Lord in the papers—yet won’t find reason for this one thing? Harry can’t find it in himself to be surprised anymore. At least he won’t go to Azkaban for it, he hoped. Was it illegal to blow your aunt up without meaning to? Harry thought Dumbledore may’ve said something at least. He was expelled for this, but not when he killed Quirrel, or the basilisk? Though, Dumbledore’d need to confess to hiring a possessed professor and harbouring a deadly creature. So, of course he won’t defend him.

‘We must get going, Mister Potter—we do not wish to keep them waiting.’

Keep whom waiting? The magical world’s version of CPS? The Education Board? Harry looked over at the pieces of his wand and sighed. If he ever got a new one … it wouldn’t share the same feather that murdered people. He wondered if it would feel different—having a new wand. Would he get Holly again? Would he get a different core? How does the wand even choose him? Harry also wondered if his basic French was enough for Beauxbatons. He could hold a decent conversation, but he’d need to learn how to pronounce spells. So maybe not. He couldn’t speak any Northern European languages, so Durmstrang was out. America seemed too big to be real for Harry—he was far too used to being locked in small spaces. He could survive in Brazil since he could speak both Spanish and Portuguese. Finding work there was easy too. Miss Santiago would speak to him in the library at school a lot. She’d tell him all about how much help the government needed. He wasn’t past doing free labour for a place to sleep over summer. Were there any schools in India? He’d be able to celebrate holidays properly then. His Hindi was definitely his best language that wasn’t English too.

A crack had Harry looking up; He could see Dudley peeking out from the curtains upstairs. His pudgy face was pressed into the glass. Vernon was sitting in the lounger by the sitting-room window with Marge. His face was still red, and his voice was all hoarse, but he looked calmer. Petunia turned sharply as she re-entered her home, not giving Harry another glance. Harry knew these people would live their lives just fine without him. They didn’t want, nor need him to live comfortably. He followed the Aurors after they reminded him it was time to leave. He heard the door slam shut, and yelling ensued. That wasn’t his problem anymore. He wondered how many walls would be busted because Harry wasn’t there to be used.

The neighbours were now returning from the gala, and the Aurors switched robes for CPS jackets. Most drove by with no emotion, but Mr. Rishard looked devastated. Harry smiled sadly. He hoped that man lived well. Mrs. Polkis almost crashed into her front garden from staring at him. Those roses need to go, so maybe he almost did her a favour. Mrs. Fig almost toppled over when getting out of her taxi at the sight of the men. The umbrella the Aurors had conjured was obscuring his view a little bit. But it was a little funny seeing her so entranced—she looked just as Guilty as Petunia did. Interestingly enough, she held out her hand, almost like she wanted him to stop. But, Harry Potter was no longer surviving at Number 4, Pivot Drive. He had no reason to if the Aurors did their job.

The rain picked up as they walked to a small house with a sign by the door that Harry couldn’t read. The print was too small and his glasses had too many raindrops on them. It was a two-story home with stained glass windows and a pitched roof. The raindrops turned different colors as they hit them from the lights on inside. The exterior was painted what looked to be a soft yellow in the streetlight. As they walked up the path, he could see the sign clearer: Foreign Minister’s Office. This had to be a cover-up for keeping an eye on things. The Foreign Minister’s Office, the real one, was in London. Everyone knew that so people must think its a funny joke or something. Harry’s attention was now transfixed on the person waiting by the open door. The woman was short and pudgy, very pink, with a vicious grin on her wrinkly pink lips. She had her hands clasped in front of her and tilted her head knowingly.

‘Evening, Mister Potter, let us not waste any more time,’ she said. ‘Dear Cornelius has important tasks waiting.’

She turned and walked right in without further explanation. Her tiny heels clicked on the tiled floor—the echo hurt Harry’s ears. Her short stature was not helped by them either. The four of them entered behind her, and Harry shut the door. He saw the umbrella vanish and felt a drying charm being applied to his hair and clothes. The warmth of the spell only lasted a moment as they walked down the hallway. The shortest Auror leaned in close to Harry’s ear. His blonde hair tickled his neck as they walked.

‘She is a bit of a nutter, so take nothing to heart,’ he said. Harry realised he only knows Auror Maxwell’s name. He can’t call this guy ‘shaggy blond guy’. ‘We don’t know why she’s still employed.’

Auror Maxwell snorted, ‘She’s the reason we don’t get paid enough for our hard work, so it’d be nice to see her go.’

‘Alright, the Minister’s waiting, and I’d like a full paycheck this week,’ the Milky-way Auror said. ‘She has him wrapped around her pudgy finger ... who knows if we'll get anything if we’re late.’

The others were groaning as Harry entered a small room with a giant Floo. Posters of foreign ministers were lining the walls, arguing. Maxwell pushed him into the floo and grabbed a heaping handful of powder.

‘Illington, Cribbworth, I’ll take him if you want to file that report,’ Maxwell said as he entered the Floo and the two men nodded. Harry was now able to put names to faces.

Illington was the tallest of the three, and Cribbworth was the shorter. They waved Harry off with a grin and a promise to see him soon as green flames engulfed Harry’s vision. He felt the ground before he saw it. Stumbling, he tripped over his foot and fell out of the floo and onto the floor. The cream tiles of the minister’s office were warm as a fire raged in a cauldron. An interesting heat source, he thought as he got to his feet. The minister wasn’t in his office yet, but someone else definitely was.

‘Hello Harry,’ he said. ‘Let’s sort this out, shall we?’

Chapter Text

Harry stared at his former headmaster in confusion. ‘Sort this out’? Was he not the one who needed to agree to the expulsion? Dumbledore stared with an ugly-old-man smile. It had always made him uncomfortable—gave him a chill to his bones. Harry rocked on his heels nervously, and Maxwell stepped in front of him. He could feel a blanket of calming magic sweep over him. It melted into his wounds, and Harry felt the cuts knit themselves together. The spell work reminded him of Poppy, and he wondered if this was standard. The magic reminded him of the Lynx. It was so comforting and Harry felt guilt settle in his stomach at having run from it. Maxwell was only trying to help. He saw a medical kit sitting at the foot of the desk—had Maxwell gotten injured during all this? Blood no longer dribbled from his knees—there were still many open wounds, but they weren’t actively bleeding. Harry watched Dumbledore cautiously; He never knew that man’s next move. It unnerved Harry to have someone so unpredictable so close. His every move had Harry’s body tense up and ready to run. Not that he’d be able to outrun a spell from someone as powerful as Dumbledore.

‘How about we seat ourselves whilst we wait for the minister?’ said Maxwell, gesturing to the seats in front of the desk. ‘I think there has been some miscommunication, and Mister Potter needs a Mediwitch.’

Harry doesn’t know what’s right or wrong; He can see the deep-set frown forming on Dumbledore’s lips, though. Someone wasn’t telling the truth, but Harry trusted anyone that got him away from the Dursleys. And the three Aurors looked genuinely concerned and even said his living arrangements aren’t up to code. Maxwell cleared his throat, and Harry stood straighter. He didn’t want the minister to see him slouching. Dumbledore’s brow furrowed, but his eyes kept that creepy gleam. It was the same one he always had when speaking with Harry. A cold, ice-like feeling washed over him as his green eyes met blue. Harry turned his gaze down, he didn’t want to meet the old man’s eyes.

‘Miscommunication? I am afraid I do not follow,’ Dumbledore said carefully. The hair on Harry’s neck fizzled as magic pulsed through the room. This one seemed irritated rather than calming. Was this what Dumbledore was feeling? Surely clearing things up would do the opposite. Unless he didn’t want to clear things up.

Another shiver went through Harry body and he scrunched his nose as the ambient magic swirled around his head. His headache wasn’t as bad as before, but his vision still swirled a little. The colors made him feel a little sick. ‘That is why it is a miscommunication, sir,' Harry said timidly. 'It means there are bits missing that should have been addressed.’

It was like speaking to a child because Dumbledore still looked confused. Perhaps it was time for him to retire as headmaster if he was having trouble with basic comprehension. Can wizards get dementia and stuff? Becuase they certainly can get to the withering age. Maxwell placed a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder and nudged him to the seat closest to the exit. He hadn’t missed the smirk on the auror’s lips. Was it from something Harry said? Or was Maxwell thinking of something to keep from listening to Dumbledore? Harry wasn’t nearly as frightened of him as he had been. He might even say he looks more like Ron’s brother Bill than Milrose. He had no reason to fear this man—Maxwell did nothing to deserve that reaction. His magic was nice and warm compared to Dumbledore’s harsh icy feeling. The door opened—Harry saw the minister enter with the toad-woman. A mediwitch followed closely and shut the door. She stood silently in the corner.

‘Quite right you are, Mister Potter,’ said Fudge as stood behind his desk. An annoyed smile pulling at his chapped lips. ‘It seems my dear Delores has left out a few things. And, it seems that Albus failed to inform you directly as well. We have much to discuss—Lady Burnberry, could you see to him whilst we talk?’

The mediwitch nodded and grabbed the medical kit. Harry held in a snort as Delores’s smile disappeared. Was this really the woman the Minister lets write all his documents? No wonder nothing gets done around here. Was she the reason the duelling club never got off the ground? The school needed Ministry approval before unsealing the dueling room again. Something about Auror specification or something. Lockhart’s attempt was a joke, and Harry remembers some older years had complained about a ‘pug-like woman who did nothing she didn’t like’. Harry thinks she was more like an overly-dressed toad. Though the scowl showed she didn’t regret writing the letter. But why had she left bits out? He’s never met her before! The mediwitch cast copious spells, and Harry felt drowsy. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Poppy only cast a few to prevent this from happening. Was there a difference in training? Or was that Poppy’s personal style? His vision was now blocked by an enormous book hovering in front of him. Dumbledore and Fudge shared a glance. His former headmaster looked smug, whilst the minister looked sickly. This wasn’t going to be good.

‘Now, Mister Potter, it seems my undersecretary wrote a standard letter of expulsion and not the letter I drafted.’ The minister glanced at her with a frown. He then looked at Harry. 'Your accidental actions tonight triggered an old automatic expulsion spell that predates the 1900s.'

'Are you saying that I was expelled, but I can be reinstated?' asked Harry. Why the heck was there an automatic expulsion charm?

The minister nodded with a small smile. 'I am going to be honest, Mister Potter … accidental magic can and will happen at any stage of someone’s life—'

'Which is why, my boy, Hogwarts has made a space for you in the registry again,' interrupted Dumbledore. 'You needn’t look for another institution.'

Fudge looked annoyed. 'The spell was created for those who were a threat to the Statute of Secrecy.' He gestured to the book. 'All you must do is drop a bit of blood onto the page.'

Harry looked sceptical; He didn’t trust these people enough to just give them his blood. 'Why blood, sir? Why can I not just write my name?'

Maxwell moved the enormous book out of Harry’s face and turned to sit at an angle. 'When you are born, a drop of blood is used to seal your enrolment—it is like a failsafe so that the castle recognises your core.'

Harry nodded—that made sense—anyone crazy enough could try glamour as him. That was actually quite smart. He looked around for something to prick his finger when Maxwell unsheathed a small dagger. It was black steel with the image of a dragon etched into it. Harry felt as little lightheaded as he let the man slice his finger. Having not eaten since this morning is probably to blame. He placed the bleeding cut onto the book. Before he could see his name appear, Dumbledore snatched it from the air and shrunk it down. Harry scrambled back into his chair, and Fudge just shook his head. Why did he do that so suddenly? Was it so he didn’t see anyone else’s names? Did people have embarrassing middle names or something? The mediwitch touched her wand to his fingertip. He watched the skin knit together again. Harry wondered how long it took for people to develop these spells. For it to be this smooth, it must have taken decades to perfect.

'Right,' Fudge said as he sat up straighter, 'due to being reinstated, you must, unfortunately, be resorted.'

Dumbledore’s fluffy brows raised. 'Now, Cornelius.' Fudge rolled his eyes. 'I am sure I can persuade the castle to let the boy back into Gryffindor Tower.' Harry wasn’t so sure of that. 'There is no need for a resorting!'

Neither Fudge nor Maxwell looked convinced. Harry wasn’t a Gryffindor anymore; Was this how he died? Being labeled as a no-good-traitor who jumped ship because he couldn’t remain calm? The Puffs would accept him only because they were dutiful. Ravenclaw would shun him, and he’d be an outcast that slept in the stairwell. Slytherin would probably just kill him and make it look accidental. Maybe a new school was the better option. Dumbledore stood and paced the room. Harry saw the mediwitch hand something to the minister. It was a diagnostic scroll—the same ones Poppy used after Quidditch! It wasn’t all that long, perhaps that was because Maxwell had already healed him some. Fudge nodded with a deep-set frown and dismissed her. There were hushed murmurs coming from outside the room as it opened. Harry strained his ears to listen as Fudge spoke with Dumbledore in the corner. It was hard to hear over the low-voiced yet heated argument. He turned to Maxwell and saw a pained grimace. The words he did make out were Potter and placement. The people outside were talking about him. From the sound of the talking, there weren’t many options. Suddenly, Dumbledore stormed out, leaving the two people outside stunned. His heart raced from the sudden actions, and his hands trembled. Why did he storm out? Was he not happy that Harry was going back to school? Was he going to ask the castle to kick him out again?

'Sir,' Maxwell interrupted, 'would you like me to follow up with him?'

Fudge shook his head. 'Let Albus cool a bit before we approach him again—I’ll make sure Minerva is aware. I suppose she should have been my first port of call.'

The two wixen who spoke outside were ushered in. The letters M.C.A.A.I.S were written in bright red ink on the breast pocket of their robes. They were tall and looked intimidating with their identical scowls. Maxwell stood and bowed his head as they walked in—their robes billowed around them with each step. The woman had a mellow yet stern look to her. The man looked like he’s killed before—it wasn’t comforting like you’d want child services to be. Well, that is what Harry assumed they were. M.C had to stand for Magical Child, there was nothing else Harry could think of that fit. Nor would they be here if it wasn’t for Harry being a literal orphan now, again. Though, the Dursleys never actually adopted him—they’d probably go for a child that isn’t half dead most of the time. He didn’t even have life insurance as a reason to kill him. Harry sat up straight—he wanted to stand too, but Maxwell held him down gently. Fudge stood and had to smack Delores to stand. She really does little she doesn’t want to do. How no one has killed her out of rage had the patience of a saint. The two wixen stood to the side of the desk to face everyone.

'Thank you for coming on short notice—I know this isn’t the usual place for your meetings,' Fudge offered his hand and both workers shook it. 'However, as you can tell, this isn’t a usual case.'

'We fully understand, minister—we are just happy that he is here now,' the woman said. Her voice was accented, and Harry wondered where she was from. The woman turned and looked right at Harry. 'Our job is to be there for the child, no matter where or when.'

The man remained silent, but nodded along. He must be a man of few words. Harry could respect that. Maxwell pulled out a stone tablet from his robes; There were little symbols on it along with Petunia’s name. Was it a recording stone or something? He could remember seeing a shop dedicated to them last year. They have to inscribe their voices or something, right? Like a voice recorder of sorts. Harry watched as the woman took the tablet. She almost dropped it as it seemed she misjudged the weight. Maxwell blushed and tilted his head in silent apology.

The woman waved her hand as she pocketed the tablet. 'Do not be sorry; This means there is enough evidence to convict them—'

'She just handed you all of this information?' the male worker asked. His voice was also heavily accented. 'She knows she could serve a hefty sentence for her involvement, yes?'

Maxwell nodded but did not offer an explanation. Harry sat as the adults conversed with each other. They spoke about him and not to him. Apparently, there was a spot at a Boys home that was available for a short-term stay. Harry was going to be fish food if it was anything like the ones on the telly. He was only brave when others were in danger—he never stood up for himself of his own volition. He wanted to listen more, but Fudge gestured for him to follow. He didn’t want to leave—he wanted to stay and hear what Petunia ‘confessed’. But he wasn’t going to say no to the Minister. He kind of liked being alive, for now. They leave the room and head down the hall; This level of the Ministry was huge despite there being only four suites. There was the Minister’s Office, Department Control Office, Child Registration Office, and the International Liaison Office. Harry would’ve placed a few more top-priority departments here too. But this wasn’t his Ministry, so…The minister slowed and entered a small door that wasn’t there previously. Or at least, Harry hadn’t seen it as they were walking. There was no sign on the door, so Harry wasn’t sure where they were headed. The room wasn’t small like he’d thought—it was quite spacious, actually. There were picture frames all over the walls that held past ministers. Harry was led to a portrait of a woman in dark purple and blue robes. Around her neck was this beautiful blue-toned locket with a S engraved into the front. She was regal-looking, but her face was kind. She had soft features, but her eyes were as sharp as knives. Harry read the plaque beneath her frame.

Marisol Potter - Mistress of Magic (1733-1781)

Loved by all until death claimed her in a fight of pure bravery. Honoured with the Order of Merlin, 1st Class.

He had a family member who was a minister? What else has his family achieved? And why was Fudge showing him this?

'She was the first Lady to take the minister’s seat,' the man said. There was a small smile on his lips. 'She was also the first British Minister of Magic not born in a European country.'

Harry caressed the brass frame. 'What did she die for?' he asked. 'It must have been something worth losing your life for.'

Fudge laughed, his chest rising and falling with each chuckle. 'Lady Potter was the most loved Minister the British ever had—she died doing what she loved. Protecting people from themselves.'

'What do you mean by that?' Harry asked as he stared at her portrait. These don’t move like the ones at school do. They’d probably argue the paint off the walls if they were. 'Was there a civil war or something?'

'Yes—she fought for something far worse than land disputes in my opinion,' Fudge said softly. 'She was a potioneer before she was Mistress of Magic too, a young one at that.'

Harry could see the potion bottles behind her on the table. There was a sword hung above her head, and she held a gold chalice. There were animals behind her too: deer, bats, wolves, foxes, cats, and butterflies.

'She was the one who invented the first trialling of Wolfsbane potion before her time as minister.' Fudge placed his hand over the plaque and it lit up. A paragraph replaced her name, and a list of her achievements lit up Harry’s face.

Marisol Potter: creator of the first wolfsbane potion in 1731 and revolutionary for resolving creature-wizard conflicts. She led the regiment of Trainee Aurors on their first mission to disperse the disputes. Her work with creatures and wizards cemented the passing of the Creature Protection Law of 1736. With the help of Eldritch Diggory (Minister of Magic 1717-1733), they culled the pack conflicts between vampires and werewolves to the point where they live on the same lands. She also appointed her predecessor, Lord Diggory, to be the first official Auror Trainer in 1750. Her last point of action was the Great Wizarding War of 1781, when foreign European governments sent soldiers to cull the creatures residing in Britain. She died protecting those she cherished and was murdered by Augustine Spinnerick (Minister of Magic 1781-1783), who took the Minister’s seat by force. This war was the point of recession and downfall for Magical Britain. She remains to be one of the most influential leaders the Magical World has ever bare to witness. She was laid to rest in her home village in Ouro Preto.

'She died because a man didn’t like that she’d done more than him?' Harry asked honestly. 'Is this the man who has that kill on sight law about vampires?'

Fudge sighed and led him over to an ugly man dressed in puss green robes. 'This man ruined Britain and continued to destroy all the good things that your ancestor created. If not by his own hand, then by his influence.'

This man ruined everything good? No one sort to fix his damages and bring back that peace? It seems the people of Britain lacked the backbone that his ancestor possessed. But why didn’t any of his other relatives step up?

'Why are you showing me this? Why did no one else from my family take over?'

Fudge smiled. 'Lady Marisol was the one good thing that came from a foreign country. After she was killed, your family returned to South America for her burial—only returning for trade establishment in 1905.' He gestured for Harry to look at the other portraits. 'She was the only female minister Britain has had, and I wanted you to know that.' Well, Harry was all for female empowerment—perhaps he could convince Hermione to take up office as a career choice. Fudge pulled him gently to another door and pushed him in. 'I am no saint, Mister Potter, but I will do my best to bring back those wondrous things. And I hope you’ll find things you’re passionate about one day.'

This room was chilly and had a lot of books. He could smell the musty spells that lingered. There had to be at least a thousand or so old tomes here. Harry could see them fluttering around and placing themselves on shelves. He could see alphabeticalised family titles and wondered why they weren’t in their family vaults. Were these copies? How many families reside in Britain? The chill of the room was making Harry’s chest hurt. Breathing the air was like swallowing ice needles.

'This is the archive of familial spells that families have created over the centuries.' Fudge led him to the ‘P’ section and straight to Potter. 'Your family has one of the biggest sections to exist in the British archives. And these are just the ones that were created on British soil—any others are left to the family vaults.'

Oh, Harry turned to face Fudge. 'So if anyone were to study the spell, they’d know who created it?'

'Very much so!' Fudge exclaimed. 'Most scholars use this room with my permission to help them study and develop spells of their own! They are to give credit where due, or else it is an automatic failure for being greedy.'

This was so cool, but Harry still didn’t know why he was here and not with the M.C.A.A.I.S. Was Fudge distracting Harry from hearing all the crude details? He didn’t need coddling—he was the one who experienced it all! He needed to tell the truth about everything! Harry’s ribs cracked in protest as he struggled to get a deep breath in. As amazing as finding all this stuff out, he wanted to know where he was going. Fudge looked at him knowingly, but did not budge from his place. Fine, Harry wasn’t going to defy an adult who held all the power over his head. Literally. Fudge could get Harry arrested for defying him. Instead of going back the way they came, they walked further and stopped at yet another door. How did all of these doors connect? Was he summoning the doors each time?

'Mister Potter, questions cannot be answered if they are not asked.'

Blushing, Harry cleared his throat. 'Are you summoning these doors to get to connecting rooms? Or, are these all just connected by magic already?' It was so odd to just have a blank door in the quadrant of departments. But, if it was a universal door, getting to whatever department you needed was so convineint.

Chuckling, Fudge nodded. 'I am … I thought showing you some things most will never get to see was a good idea.' Well, didn’t Harry feel special. 'This is not special treatment—however, this is more to show you what you are capable of in the future.'

'Sir?' Harry asked.

'Yes, Mister Potter?' Fudge replied, his eyebrows raised innocently.

'Why—what—why are you showing me this? Truly?' Harry still was not convinced that he wasn’t getting special treatment. 'Why not just take me somewhere quiet to wait and join the discussion in your office?'

The next door was opened, and inside were a bunch of scrolls, trinkets, large immovable objects, and floating pedestals. Fudge led him to a wall with hanging objects.

'I am showing you this, because you deserve to know of your families achievments—the ones their closest friends do not even know of. Some day, you’ll be placed right next to them too—I do not need to read cards to know that.'

There were small plaques that labeled the patent creator. Right in the middle of this wall were two things: a thin phial and a small mirror. The name of the patent creator?

James Fleamont Potter — Creator of the Wizarding World's first magical Allergen-pen and Communications Mirror.

'My dad created these?' Harry asked, reaching up to touch the plaques. Were all of his family members revolutionaries and inventors? 'Do—do you know why he made these things?'

‘Your father was excellent with his hands, but was deathly allergic to certain food items and needed to be cautious around impure metals.' Fudge waved his hand over the plaques, and descriptions appeared. 'So, he did something about it—because potions weren’t enough on their own sometimes in his workshop.'

How would the minister know that? Harry wasn’t going to get an answer tonight he reckoned. So, he read the plaque about his father’s inventions.

The Wizards Allergin-pen: A thin, phial-shaped tube with a rounded stopper. It shape makes it easy for mediwiches and ordinary people to carry it in their kits and robes for quick access. The concoction comprises of Snap-weed ash, the secretion of adrenal fluid from a willing Merperson, and the dust of a unicorn horn’s shed. These three ingredients are readily available and help to boost a wix’s healing. To use, simply place the stopper end firmly to the middle thigh as possible and incant the word ‘Dimittis’ three times. The stopper will momentarily transfigure into an injectable needle to disperse the liquid into the body. Please note: This phial is not to replace aid from a medical professional—it is to temporarily boost healing to ensure help can be received in a timely manor.

'His pen invention has saved so many people, myself included—I am just hoping he’s looking from beyond the veil at its success.’ Fudge reveals the mirror’s description. 'This one, this one was never released to the public—he never got to give permission before his passing. So I made sure we did not use it because of that.'

Two-way mirror: A mirror made of permanently transfigured metals and glass. It’s charmed to display the person whose name is called three times. It will not turn off unless the words ‘alica dimittere’ are spoken directly to the mirror. It was patented because of an idea thought during his time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With feather-light and anti-tarnish charms, it is also charmed to be unbreakable. The limitations of this product are that you may only speak to the person you have named to the mirror. This has not been worked on since Lord Potter’s passing.

'He made that in school?' Harry asked, mesmerised by his father’s intelligence. Before he could get his answer, a Lynx pounced into his field of vision. Maxwell was calling them.

'Sir—Alejandra and Julio are finished and are ready to escort Mister Potter off premisses.’

Well, that was fast. His watch only read 10:37 pm, so they’ve only been gone for half an hour. Fudge led Harry back to the minister’s office and ushered him inside. The two social workers were standing with his trunk at their feet. New brackets adorned the worn leather, and a padlock was on the latch. Maxwell smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The other two looked indifferent. The toad woman was red-faced, and he wanted to know why she was like that.

'We will keep you informed, minister, of this—I do not think it shall take too long to house him,’ Alejandra said as she checked her watch. 'I am expecting his former Head of House in my office soon after we get him sorted.'

'I see, well, I am glad to hear that he’s going to have support—I am sure you shall give me the rundown in a moment, Julio?' Fudge said, completely ignoring the pink lump of nothing. 'It was an awfully short meeting—I expected a few minutes more, at least.'

Yeah, Harry was hoping to find out the real reason Fudge showed him all that stuff. No one could tell him that what the man said was truth.

'Petunia Evans is, thorough in her explanations, even if they are concise.'

'I see, well, Mister Potter—I hope you are able to wash up and be with a nice family until permanent placement is found—I hope to show you more wondrous things soon,' Fudge said as he pushed Harry gently towards Alejandra. 'Do keep in mind what I have shown you in our brief time here—I expect good things to come from that brilliant mind of yours.'

In a flurry of green flames, Harry was standing in the floo room with a sign that read Alica’s Home for Displaced Children. Wasn’t that just so inviting sounding? He didn’t even get to ask if they’d used a truth spell or something on Petunia. What if this is like a detention centre and not a place for orphaned children? When will he be resorted? Why was no one answering his questions properly?

'Mister Potter, I am Alica, and this will be your home for the next few days.'

A dark skinned woman with bright pink hair waltzed into the room. Two boys flanked her, they looked half dead. Harry stood up straighter, wondering if he’d be punished for not doing so. Alejandra shoved him towards the woman—now Harry was thinking that Julio was the nice one of the two. Who shoves a child like that? When their job is to help them?

'I can assure you, that anyone that comes into this humble abode will leave, invigorated and ready for their forever home.'

Was this forever home a coffin or tome? Because these two looked one gust of wind away from dropping dead. Without any explanation of, well, anything, Harry was led upstairs. The two boys carried his trunk and walked him down to the end of the hall.

'Your owl, if ya got one, will find ya in no time now that your outta the Ministry,' the taller of the two boys said. 'Bathrooms in there, and hot water gets cut off at midnight—breakfast is at 6 and then you’ll get chores for the time bein’.'

'Names Alucious, and that bean poll is Alfred,' the stocky boy said with a twang. He smiled with one front tooth missing. 'Welcome ta Hell.'

Chapter Text

Harry placed his trunk a few centimetres from the doorway as soon as the boys left. He was not risking it. His instinct told Harry this was dangerous. Alejandra left without warning and Miss Alica spoke only a few words. No questions, no quick tour. Those were red flags in Harry’s mind. He knew it was late, but really, she couldn’t show him around at least? The magic was off, too. It felt depressed, like it was being siphoned out. Harry hadn’t felt magic like this before. His body cramped the moment he settled in this room. As if his magic already began leaving him. Did the Ministry know about this place? Fudge seemed so nice before; Surely he wouldn’t send Harry here. Would he? The room itself was bleak; Smoke-stained walls that shouldn’t be in a child’s room, bleak. The door had five locks on it. A matrass sat frameless and dirty in the corner. The bathroom had a toilet and a hose in place of a shower. No sink or mirror. And the wardrobe was a small cupboard. Too small. Too familiar. Harry wouldn’t use it. Especially not when he’d be gone soon.

Well, that was his hope. The window let cold air seep into the room; Harry would need all his warm clothes tonight. Not that he had any left. He’d be surprised if he could find anything intact after all that. The mediwitch had switched his clothes after healing him. Harry had only just noticed that. It was a cotton longsleeve and sweatpants. His shoes still had holes thought. He dug out a scarf for Hedwig to nest in once she found him. His jumper was bundled to be used as a pillow. Harry tugged on a Holyhead Harpies sweater he’d found in the common room. He wondered if his old house would shun him, too. There was no eluding it; Harry would need to be brave. Even if he didn’t feel so. Harry Potter was houseless, and now he was homeless too. The rain picked up and sent blasts of ice cold air into the room.

This sweater was thin from use and the jumper had a massive hole in it. So he couldn’t wear that. And most things were too ruined to wear. The towels he’d stolen were shredded, and soap was mushed into them. He had one set of clothes left; A thin shirt and a pair of knee-ripped trousers. His Quidditch uniform was ripped to shreds. Though he wouldn’t need it anymore. He was being resorted. Harry couldn’t find his blanket that he had. His shoes he’d brought were gone too. His textbooks were wet, for some reason. And his assignments were covered in spilt ink. His invisibility cloak was the only thing still fully intact that he could see. No ink anywhere—but it didn’t block out the cold. He was too tired to dig any deeper, so Harry slammed his trunk shut. But, of course, his trunk didn’t want to close. His wand holster fell out and onto his lap. So much for new hinges.

His wand holster was missing its arm band and clasp; Not that he had a wand to use it. Would he get one from the Ministry? A second hand pile draw or something? Or would they allow him to go to Ollivander? Not that Harry would want either choice. Ollivander sold him his first wand; One that was linked to his parents’ killer. Harry wondered how Ollivander could sell wands like that. One where the brother was held by a mass murderer and dictator. Were there other wand-makers around Diagon Alley? He hoped he’d be able to get one soon. Harry felt a hollow in his chest from being wandless. Powerless. Vulnerable.

A knock echoed through the room, and Harry scrambled to move his trunk. He didn’t want to anger Miss Alica 30 minutes into being here. Instead of bubblegum pink hair, he saw deep brown locks. Attached to that hair was a girl; She looked no older than seven. Her eyes were a light hazel and red-rimmed. Her clothes were just as worn as Harry’s. They were also three sizes too big on her tiny frame. Harry knelt down to her height to keep her calm. Because he wasn’t sure if she was cold or intimidated. A smaller voice behind her called out, ‘Does he have a spare blanket?’ in Spanish.

'You need another blanket?' Harry asked, opening the door wider. 'Does Miss Alica not have any others?'

The little girl shook her head, and Harry frowned. 'I’ll see what I can find.'

Harry opened the door fully and ushered the girls in. They were tiny and Harry didn’t know how old they were exactly. How many kids were here anyway? So far he’s only met four. His sneakers were shucked off as he knelt down to his trunk. The holes in the soles were annoying him. He’ll live if his feet freeze. He hoped he had something in here that he could give them. If not, then he’d give them the sweater and jumper. He hoped they were warm enough. The girls both had big shirts and holey socks on. Far too little for these drafty rooms. Especially during storms. Harry was used to the cold, so he wasn’t shivering as bad as them. He dug around and found a wrapped blanket he’d forgotten about. It was intact, ink free and dry. Mrs. Weasley had knitted it for him. It was a dark blue color because she’d run out of red. He pulled it out and saw a flicker of hope in the girl’s eyes.

Harry unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around them. 'Would you like anything else?'

The older girl nodded, her curly hair bouncing with each nod. 'Do you have anything else for the others—socks, maybe?'

Harry dug some more and found a few pairs, funnily enough. He thinks Dobby has something to do with that. 'Anything else?' he asked, and the smaller girl nodded shyly. 'What are your name’s by the way?'

The taller girl smiled, two front teeth were missing. It was cute. 'My name’s Auriel, and this is Alexa I’m seven and she’s five!'

Alexa was tiny and her hands looked patchy. Eczema, maybe? Harry didn’t have any lotion that wasn’t destroyed.

'Medicine for Amani?' Alexa asked, her voice small as she clutched Auriels shirt.

Harry thought for a moment and then hoped they weren’t cracked. He didn’t know who Amani was, but the girls looked so sad. He reached into his trunk once more and pulled out a box. Inside were three phials full of pepper-up potion. Poppy gave it to him for morning Quidditch practices. He’d used only one out of the four. He pulled out that compartment and found his other stash of potions. Pain relief, de-swelling solution, bruise balm, anti-nausea pills, and virus-eaters.

'Is Amani super unwell?' Harry asked as he took one of each out. He didn’t know what medicine they were after. Nor did he know if Saint Mungo’s was a possibility. He should look for his muggle medicine, too. ‘Are there many of you in this house?'

Harry sat surrounded by seven girls and nine boys now. One of which is lying in bed with a fever. He didn’t have any fever-relief, but he hoped the virus-eater would do just as well. Amani was pale, too pale for this to be recent. Auriel sat next to him with an older boy named Marius. He was the third oldest apparently. Alucius and Alfred sat by the door, ears close to the handle. They were the lookouts, apparently, and the oldest. Perhaps ten or so. Harry looked at the others and tried to estimate the age gap. The youngest looked about four and obviously the eldest was ten. He’d ask for their names soon—he’ll need to know if they’re sick too.

Harry watched as the paleness was switched for flush skin. He wished he had a water bottle for Amani to drink from. The potion was working and his fever was breaking. But his cough sounded painful—the pain relief potion wasn’t working as fast as he’d like.'Has Miss Alica done anything about this?'

Auriel, along with all the others, shook their heads. 'She only looks after us when she knows people are coming to look at us.'

…coming to look at us. It was like they were being sold for auction. Prized animals that were only looked after a month in advance to being sold. Harry wondered if that siphoning feeling made them sick. Was Alica stealing their magic? Taking magic from an underdeveloped core wouldn’t do much. Wouldn’t stealing from a fully developed adult be more fruitful? Harry looked at them all; Their clothes didn’t fit, and they looked like flesh covered skeletons. Suddenly, the Dursley home looked far more inviting. He’d take the beatings for all of them if it meant one proper meal each.

'Sir, will we get to eat in the morning?' one of the older girls asked. 'Miss Alica said only a couple would get fed.'

How old do these kids think he was? Was the Ministry really unaware of this? This was too big to be unnoticeable. Did this woman put glamours on this house? It wouldn’t surprise him—Petunia would do the same if someone important came over. Did Alica only take the time to look after these kids when money was the goal? Harry sighed—he had no idea how this all worked. He didn’t even know where anything was. His ribs were still bruised, but he took a deep breath. He needed to fix this. Contact someone about this. Was Alejandra in on this? Harry was getting more questions than answers. But he’d probably die if he asked them.

‘Does Miss Alica come to check on you guys?’ Harry asked. He wasn’t about to have them sleep on their own. He’d stay up and watch over them if he needed to. The kids shook their heads and Harry realised he hadn’t spoken English at all yet. Did any of them speak English other than Alucius and Alfred?

‘She never bothers, says we’re just to go to our room,’ an older girl said as she picked at some grapes.

Another girl nodded. ‘Yeah, she also gives us chores to do on Wednesdays and Saturdays—we stay up super late those times.’

‘We usually camp in here—it’s the only room with no cracks anywhere,’ Alucius murmured. His Spanish was much better than his English. ‘But me and Alfy stay up most days, just in case.’

‘What about your English? Has no one taught you?’ Harry asked. Most of the kids shook their heads and Alucius moved to lock the door.

‘I teach ‘em as much as I can—but most these kids com fra’ ‘nother ‘ome that only spoke Spanish,’ he said. ‘Marius an’ Juniper came wi’ ‘em and I had ta teach ‘im some English first ta help round the house.’

Alfred nodded, ‘Alica, don’t do much—we learn from each other.’

‘I see, so Spanish is easier for you guys?’ Harry asked, switching languages. Everyone who was still fully awake nodded. 'What are all your names?' Harry asked. Most lined up quickly, no doubt in age order. It looked too rehearsed to be normal—like it was an automatic response. The youngest rubbed her eyes and stood up as straight as she could. Her brown ringlets bounce as she sways.

'Name is Rosa and I am four! I have Brown curls and brown eyes—I have a cut on leg and I like butterflies!' Her English is heavily accented, but in a cute way. Alucious has done well to teach these kids. A boy with dark blonde hair speaks next.

‘My name is Louis and I is four too!' There was a large gap in his teeth. 'I have a bad leg and like animals' Harry notices that Louis was slanted as he spoke—one leg was shorter than the other.

Alexa was next and he wondered if these descriptions were all worked up by Alica. 'My name Alexa and I five! I’s have light drown hair and a boo and Drown eye!' Despite saying they were more comfortable in Spanish, they said all this in English. Her left eye was a dark blue and the right a light brown. 'I has cut on my nose and likes being warm!'

Harry smiled despite the sadness eating at his heart. These kids are listing themselves—like those car sales telling you small defects in the paint work. Another girl was next, she had a large bandage on her foot. Her eye had a patch on it too.

'My name is Sanvi, and I am five—I have dark brown hair and brown eyes—I have oil burns and like muggle trains.’

Harry knew what oil burns felt like, but they shouldn’t be wrapped like that!

The line kept going and soon he knew the names of all 15 kids and their interests. Nico was next and was the older brother of Sanvi and younger brother to Marius; He likes spiders. James was six and had cracked glasses—he had dark brown hair and honey-colored eyes; He likes the sun. Halley was tiny compared to the other six-year-olds and had blonde hair—her eyes were grey; She likes shiny things.

Auriel and Amani were twins—both with brown curly hair and brown eyes; Auriel liked unicorns and Amani apparently likes waterfalls. Juniper was fun—she had bright red hair and green eyes—one of which she shouldn’t see out of; She likes music. Ravi was the fourth oldest at eight and had black hair and dark brown eyes—he was missing two toes on his right foot; He likes checkers.

Marius was the eldest sibling to Nico and Sanvi—he also had brown hair and eyes—and liked nature. Demikja was a fiery nine-year-old with auburn hair and grey eyes—she had small beauty spots on her nose and lip; She likes cooking. Alfred and Alucious were the eldest at ten—Alfred was the younger twin and more stocky and Alucious was taller; They both liked chess and had bright blue eyes and light blonde hair.

All of these kids came from different homes before being placed here. Rosa, James, Auriel, Amani, Ravi and Demikja grew up in Portugal in Saint Anthony’s Home. Louis, Alexa, and Juniper came from the South of France, on the boarder. Sanvi, Nico, and Marius were born and grew up in Cusco, Peru at Saint Martín’s. Halley, Alfred and Alucius grew up at Saint Mary’s Home for abandoned Children in Sainsbury.

These kids had things they like but couldn’t have. Harry knew what that felt like. They all came from somewhere and he wanted them safe. Suddenly, a really stupid idea came to mind. He could be brave for others.

'Dobby?' Harry’s voice was full of desperate hope. These kids needed help.

'Mister Harry Potter!' Dobby exclaimed quietly. The children stared in awe, even Alfred looked mesmerised. Alucious looked longingly. 'What can Dobby do for, sir?'

'Are elves able to take money from family vaults?' Harry questioned. He needed to get these kids something to eat. It looked like it’s been days since they’ve eaten a full meal. They needed proper clothes, too. It’s probably been years since their last new set of clothes.

'Dobby no need money’s for foods! Dobby, take and be back!' Harry blinked—he’ll never fully understand Dobby. But, if it got these kids’ food, he didn’t care for the cryptic messages.

'Where did the elf go? Does he have food?' Louis asked. His freckled cheeks were tear-stained. But there was a hopeful gleam in his eyes. 'If he is, then may I try a piece of non-mouldy bread?'

Out of everything this kid wanted to try, it was a regular slice of bread? No sweets or hearty meals? Harry shouldn’t kid himself—he asked the same when he went with Hagrid to Diagon. If someone came to get him soon … he was asking to get them moved to a better home. And he was getting this bitch arrested. He’ll put out a request to have Alejandra investigated, too. She did no room inspection—she had no paperwork—no welfare check. A tug at his shirt made Harry flinch. Auriel looked just as frightened as she stepped back. Her eyes were pleading, and so Harry hoped Dobby was fast.

Dobby popped back in and snapped his fingers. Fruits, veges, cheeses, breads, spreads, and utensils were on the floor now. 'Dobby, get things for tiny tummies to enjoy, Master Harry Potter Sir!'

'How about a rule, Dobby?' Dobby nodded excitedly. 'I will allow you to call me that, if you promise that you’ll never harm yourself again?'

'Dobby swears on elf magiks!'

The kids were sorting out the food and Harry let them nibble. 'Dobby, how about some warm clothes and blankets?'

Dobby nodded, his ears flopping excitedly. Snapping his fingers, the children were now dressed in warm clothes. Their old ones vanished, most likely destroyed elsewhere. Alica would have to kill Harry if she thought about taking it all away. He thought about sorting his trunk to see what was salvageable. There was no point in staying where he can’t see them all either. He crept back to his room and Hedwig was flittering around, hooting in disgust. Harry held out his arm for her to land. A letter was on top of his trunk. The letter ‘R’ was embossed with gold shimmer on the seal. Where did Hedwig get this? Can owls get called to places to pick up letters?

'Did you go somewhere else, girl?' he asked, stroking her feathers. 'Is that what took you so long?'

Hedwig hooted and so Harry moved her to his shoulder. He dragged his trunk to the other room. The older kids looked happy as they ate, wrapped up in blankets. The room already felt warmer, and the magic didn’t feel so strangulating. Harry stole a cracker and began pulling things out. Squeals of delight rang through the room. Auriel was now petting Hedwig by Amani’s side and his owl was soaking up the attention. Traitor. His other shirt and trousers were out first—he’ll use them as the base of his trash pile. He pulled out all the broken quills and ink pots next. He didn’t care if the carpet got dirty—he’d take the punishment if there was one. The textbooks he had were damaged and hard to read; he wondered if Dobby could create a fire pit for him to burn them. He pulled out his Quidditch uniform, ruined parchment, more ink shards, a kit of destroyed muggle medicines, and a few other books. The sweater Mrs. Weasley was stained blue, and he was devastated. His first Christmas present, and it was ruined. He put it to the side. His invisibility cloak came out last and he willed it to shrink so he could pocket it. Nothing but his cloak was worth saving, so he chucked it all back into his trunk and sat on it. Harry might as well read the mystery sender’s letter. The magic in the seal felt warm, almost familiar.

He cracked the seal and saw it was from professor McGonagall. But why the Letter R?

Mister Potter,

Albus had come to me in a flurry about what occurred tonight. Although it saddens me to lose you as a student of Gryffindor house—I am so pleased that you are alright after these events. Vernon Dursley, from my second-hand knowledge, is to be facing trial in a month’s time for his actions. Petunia Evans, with her recount of events, has had Dudley Durlsey removed from her care. He’ll stay at Saint Alexandra’s Home for Children while she is sentenced as well. I was not clear-eyed enough to see you struggling, and I hope you can forgive me in the future.

I implore you to respond as soon as possible. I wish to make a time to have you resorted before you are to return to school. Despite Albus’ request not to do so and to apologise in person for my neglect. If that is what you would wish to do, of course. Your owl arrived just as Albus left and I knew you were not where you were supposed to be. A student that is misplaced over the summer months is to be housed at Saint Alexandra’s. And, I am supposed to be informed of the situation as Deputy Headmistress by the home coordinator. But, my hope is that you are safe where ever you may be. I am sure the minister has the answers and I shall speak with him in the morning. For now, please tell me where you are and I shall collect you if I am able.

It is a cold night tonight, so I hope that you are warm and doing your best to get some sleep.

Keep your chin up,

Minerva McGonagall — Lady of House Ross.

Oh, R stood for Ross. That made sense. Small hands were wiping his tears, and Harry sniffled. He didn’t even flinch. Just sat there, letting himself be comforted. He knew this wasn’t right. Harry just hoped the children’s home had room for 15 more than planned. He’ll gladly stay here on his own if they all get somewhere safe. He was too tired to think about anything more. Harry wrote on the back of the letter with a broken quill he fished from his trunk. He needed to reply before he passed out. He used droplets of ink from the broken glass to write. It was surprising that the ink was still wet.

Professor,

I am at Alica’s Home for Displaced Children. I’ll trade my place and donate however much to have them all there instead of me.

Alejandra and Alica need to be investigated.

Please send help.

Harry ran out of usable ink, but it’ll have to do. His writing was terrible, and the ink faded some by the second paragraph. He hopes McGonagall understands. He folds it up and sends Hedwig off. Standing carefully, so he didn’t disturb those that have fallen asleep around him, he stood to look outside. The rain was getting heavier, and he worried more kids would get sick. He was surprised there wasn’t more than Amani who was sickly.

'Hari? We save for later?'

Harry turned around and saw Rosa holding a piece of bread. His throat burned as he tried not to cry. Why was he surrounded by kids so similar to him? He knelt down and took her into his arms.'If you eat it all during the night, I will have Dobby bring more,' he whispered. He hoped the kids would be gone by morning and on their way somewhere better. 'I’ll get him to bring some more clothes too.' He slid his back down the wall, giving himself a clear sight of the door. Rosa pulled the blanket around her shoulders. 'Go to sleep and I am sure we’ll be out of here in no time.'

'Ok, goodnight.'

Harry felt intense magic tug at him, and he kept his eyes wide open. The house was revolting something. He hoped it wasn’t Dobby being sensed by the wards. These kids needed more for the morning. There was no way he’d be able to sneak them all out. He didn’t even know the location. It couldn’t be any sort of help, because he’s only just sent Hedwig off. A glittering swirl passed by his face—the magic was warm against his skin. A Lynx came into view. This wasn’t Maxwell—the magic was too different. The auror’s magic was gentle and calming; This magic was intense, and Harry almost choked at how heavy it was. All the kids were asleep and Amani looked so much better. So it was doubtful to be accidental magic. The Lynx sat before him—unlike Maxwell’s spell, there was no wispiness. But the eyes were just as sharp. Harry reached out to touch, but his hand went right through. Maybe he was going crazy—his mind must be playing tricks on him. He felt the magic shift and his eyes slipped shut.

Chapter Text

Shouting wasn’t the way Harry enjoyed being woken up. Usually it was Vernon—this time—it was multiple people. It seemed the kids weren’t used to it. Good. They shouldn’t be used to being startled awake. Harry placed Rosa on the bed and wrapped her up in the blanket. He then moved all the children onto the bed to huddle together. His watch read 3:50 am and Harry was confused. Until he saw Hedwig circling in the rain. His letter went through. Alucius and Alfred stood, but Harry pushed them back to the bed. They needed to keep the kids from the door. His mind was racing. He didn’t know what to do. Protecting the children was a priority. But how does he do it? He had no wand—no magic—no way of fending off spells. Heart pounding, Harry placed his ear on the door to listen. The window was too high to lower the kids from it. Nor were these kids able to run from wherever they were.

The yelling intensified as people walked down the halls. His name’s being called, and he almost wanted to open the door. But what if Alica’s messing with him? She charms the house to look normal—so what if illusionary spells are her speciality? It may be a ruse to lure him. Harry wasn’t chancing it. She has to be powerful, but Harry was patient. He could wait her out. His record for hiding from Vernon is a day and two hours. That was so worth the starvation. She could—he hoped—get caught in her own illusion. Find a version of Harry that she’s created. People get caught in their own illusions all the time if Harry played his cards right.

If it were Aurors, then they could use Point Me spells. Or use those blue wispy animals. Either would work. Harry wouldn’t leave until one of those things happened. More people paced the halls, calling for him. A wave of magic rushed through him. He willed the bile that threatened to burn his throat to stay down. Harry couldn’t look after the kids if he was throwing up his lungs and stomach. With heavy breaths, he placed his forehead against the door. He closed his eyes to stop the dizziness. Heels clicked against the floorboards—he knew that sound well. Harry didn’t need spells to know who’s outside. Not when those shoes patrolled the halls at midnight on Tuesdays. Harry knows she knows he’s at the Astronomy Tower. He was always sitting there and sketching his thoughts. Not that he’s any good with a pencil. But it kept him from crying about the basilisk and petrifications. He unlocked all the locks and cracked the door. If it was her, then he’d open it fully. If it wasn’t…

'After having your arm turned to rubber, you have every right to be cautious.'

He let the breath he was holding go. Did she need to bring that up? That was embarrassing. He still had phantom pains in his joints. Not to mention nightmares where Dudley was eating a jelly version of him. Harry opened the door and stepped out. McGonagall had a winter cloak over her nightwear. Her classic knee-high shoes were only have laced up. He could see Alica being led down the hall in cuffs. Her skin was wrinkled and her hair was now grey. She was inconsolable and screaming nonsense. She was the siphon—her life depended on the children’s magic. Harry had blown her facade and destroyed her scheme. A sort of pride washed over Harry at the sight. He’d gotten rid of her—these kids wouldn’t live like this anymore. Their magic was free.

'You retched little freak! You’ve ruined my plans!' Alica screamed. The house shook as the magic seeped from her eyes like blood. 'I’ll get you in the afterlife! I’ll make sure you suffer before you do!'

Harry felt nothing at that moment. No pain, no rage, no guilt. Nothing. She would probably find him once he died. Buthe didn’t care—these kids were free. That was all that mattered to him. He’s been here for less than a day—he probably wouldn’t have lived long. Not if she’d tried anything tonight. Not if that was really an illusion.

'I’ll get out and then I’ll have eternal life! You won’t see me lose next time! I’ll outlive all of you!' Her screams echo down the hall. 'Mathias said I couldn’t do it! But I did—I outlived him and his entire family line—take that you ugly Gaunt Bitch.'

'Bye-bye, Mother Gothel—no more tangled strands of children’s magic for you!' Harry exclaimed. He could feel the house sigh in relief as she went downstairs. 'I’m sure Azkaban has a beachside view for you.' His chest felt hollow as the magic was entering through his fingers. Gaunt? Was that the family line she was talking about? It could have just been an insult. Harry was too tired to think.

'Now there’s the boy I know to be so brave.' McGonagall smiled at him and Harry noticed he was shaking. But it wasn’t from the cold. It was pure adrenaline and intense magic. 'The magic she stole will return to you in no time, Mister Potter.' She turned to look at him intensely. 'I fear, though, that she’s taken so much so quickly, unlike the children...' Her gaze entered the room.

Harry didn’t want to know her next words. 'You understood,' Harry breathed. The magic coursing through his veins was electric. It left him breathless and crackled under his skin. He scratched his arms and rocked on his heels. The burst of magic was overwhelming. He could hear it singing and he wanted it to stop. Just for a moment. 'What happens now?' he asked. Harry didn’t think this far ahead. He hadn’t thought his professor would have gotten here so fast. Or at all. His plan thus far was to fight the bitch and keep the kids safe. He could’ve been a corpse by morning. Not that it would have mattered.

'Now we get you all somewhere far warmer—safer—until St. Alexandra is ready for you all.' Her gaze shifted to him. 'And I understood perfectly—your uncles would give me cryptic messages all the time.'

Harry’s brows furrow, uncles? Harry was so sick of having so many questions. But he had to ask. 'Where would that be?'

Of course, he didn’t get an answer. A band of aurors barged in before he could. Why do people interrupt him before he gets what he needs? Harry stopped them before they went in. 'They won’t like so many of you at once—they don’t speak English well either.' He looked inside and met eyes with Alucius. 'Let me explain what’s going to happen first, and then we can sort out groups.' The last thing he wants is panic. 'One of the kids needs medical care—I’ve done my best to break his fever.' Then he remembered the state of the house. 'Okay, all of them need medical care—I’ll get them sorted.'

Illington and Cribbworth came into view. They pushed the other aurors away. Illington faced away from Harry and spoke in a low tone. His robes were a dark red—Burgundy, almost. The other aurors were a brighter red. Like carmine or a dark vermillion. Trainees perhaps? Cribbworth smiled, his gaze focused on Harry. 'When we said ‘see you soon’ we didn’t mean hours later.'

They were both still fully dressed. No part out of place. Cribbworth had ink stained onto his hands. He must have been writing reports. Blushing, Harry walked into the room; He shut the door slightly. The adults could wait a bit. All 15 children were looking at him tearily. Alfred was holding Rosa and Louis. Alucius had Juniper and Sanvi cradled in his arms, too. Marius had an assortment of children hanging off of him. The rest were surrounding Amani protectively. He walked over and knelt down at the foot of the bed. Alexa jumped into his arms and James nuzzled in close, too. Amani stirred, but didn’t wake. He still looked a little feverish. Harry hoped Cribbworth didn’t mind carrying a sick kid. He didn’t trust any of the younger aurors. Illington will have his hands full too. Was Maxwell here? Harry didn’t trust anyone he didn’t know. Even though he met those three briefly hours ago.

'Red men come take us?' Alexa asked. 'We go with you?'

'We’re all going—together—to somewhere much better,' Harry said. He patted Alexa’s back as she sniffled. 'Alica is going far from here. We are going somewhere safe.' Harry pet James on the head. 'We’re all sticking together; no one is being left here.' Here comes the hard part. 'You will need to hold their hands the entire time, okay?'

'No!' Louis cried, tears falling from his eyes. Spanish was far from the kid’s mind as he spoke in rapid English. 'Red men made leg bad! You not take me to red men!'

Sobs escaped the tiny boy, and he clutched his leg. The muscles rippled as he tried to push himself away. The scar tissue flushed in excursion. Harry put Alexa down and grabbed Louis. He held him tight and shushed him. How the fuck does he calm him down? Harry’s never been the comfort person for anyone. Most go to Fred and George. Even Ron was better at this. 'How about I hold you the entire time? No one else—I don’t let go until you tell me to.' Harry didn’t know how else to get him to go. All the others looked eager to leave. Well, not Amani, but Harry thinks he’d like somewhere else to live. 'Would that be okay?'

Louis looked contemplative before nodding. His cheeks were hot against Harry’s neck as he snuggled down. A warmth spread through Harry’s chest. He doesn’t think anyone’s blindingly trusted his word before. 'Don’t put me down, please!'

Harry stood slowly and looked at Sanvi. 'Will you be alright to walk, or would you like a piggy back?' His answer came in the form of childlike whimsy and grabby hands. Her eye that wasn’t covered sparkled. He smiled and turned around. 'Hold on tight!'

He walked slowly, leading the other children out of the room. Slightly out of breath already, Harry didn’t mind the looks. He was more worried about how cold it was outside. The rain carried on pounding at the roof. There were so many cracks in the ceiling. He was surprised there were no skylights. It’d be no wonder that the roof would be close to full collapse. If Harry didn’t do so first.

'The floo had been taken down for safety reasons as the Ministry would pursue an investigation.' Cribbworth was standing between the aurors and Harry. 'So, we’re taking a Port Key.' Raincoats lined with warming charms were levitating towards them, and the smaller kids hid behind Harry. 'Umbrellas seem impractical as the winds are far too strong here.'

Harry was glad—he didn’t trust these trainees with magic around the kids. He smiled in thanks and told the children to pick their favourite color. Soon, there was a rainbow chain of children walking outside. Maxwell was waiting in the overgrown courtyard, a small box in his hands. Those must be the Port Keys. Harry stumbled past what looked like unmarked graves. The only thing that gave it away was there were dates on the stones. If they hadn’t been there, Harry would have thought them to be decorative. Some were dated all the way back to the 1600s. Maxwell looked uncomfortable, but Harry felt peaceful despite the sight. Despite the tragedy that had to’ve occurred—he thinks death would be peaceful. The magic was still sitting heavily in his hands. His head felt heavy too—but it was pain more than magic. He could see the outlines of children standing in a circle. Their wispy bodies danced around them, singing. They looked relieved, watching Alica be manhandled. A hymn echoed in Harry’s ears as they walked. Her violent actions were blocked from the children’s view by Notice-me-not charms. But Harry could see her struggling. The heavy chains weighed down her wrinkled skin. Her voice was hoarse. Harry smiled internally. That bitch was going to suffer at her trial. This house’ll be free from her torment.

Would the Ministry clean this place up?

Maybe he could butter up Fudge to let him come back. Harry wanted to give the other children a proper sending off. Their voices of pure joy were enough to make him set his plan. This woman couldn’t haunt them anymore. They were free to cross the veil. Because that’s what Harry’s figured out about ghosts. They won’t cross over until they let go of their deaths and past. These kids—their spirits—needed to see her in shackles. Guilty. Gone. Harry would offer his body in an instant if they wanted to attend the trial. Could multiple ghosts possess one person? Hmm, perhaps he’ll figure out how to show people his memory of the trial. Because he was going—no one was going to stop him.

'I’ll escort you if you’d like,' Maxwell said over the rain to Alfred. The boy looked dead tired. But Harry’d take it over dead any day. 'I’ll also make sure Alica never leaves Azkaban, either.'

'Thank you, mister,' Alfred said as they walked down a small cobblestone path. More unmarked graves acting as lining stones. 'It was scary when me and Alc needed ta dig them holes.'

Dig… That bitch made them dig the graves? Harry felt his magic fizzle with rage. His hands went red hot as it settled in the crook of his elbows. Harry dug graves for all of Dudley’s pets. The ones that whale child killed because he was too rough. But he’s never buried a child before. Let alone did a grave big enough.

'Hari,' Sanvi said from on his back. 'Lucy and Al only dug the graves—Miss Alica didn’t want them touching the bodies.'

That made him feel worse. His magic fizzled, and a tree was struck by lightning. 'Thanks, bub, how about we get out of this rain. Do you mind getting a lift from another auror?' Harry’s body wasn’t capable of carrying two people anymore. The green flash of lightning didn’t help either. He could feel his lungs and legs burning from the effort. The magic hasn’t fully returned yet—he still felt like death warmed. His shoulders were filled with pins and needles. 'It’ll get you warmer faster, I promise.'

Sanvi was picked up by a female auror and they swirled with the port key. She was the first to leave. He hoped she was brave until the older kids got there. He could see Alexa leave with McGonagall. The others waited their turns. Rosa looked at Harry and he smiled, mouthing the words ‘I’ll see you soon’. Harry looked down and put his hand into Louis’ damp hair. The wind was wild and Harry did his best to shield them from the wind. Maxwell walked with him to a dryer space. One that wasn’t filled with graves. It was covered in vines and overgrown tree branches. The tree had lanterns hanging from the branches. They were cracked but still burning. Harry saw a grave that was labeled with one date. This one, this one, had a name.

Esmey Zamme 1657

Was this Alica’s baby? If there was one date … she must’ve been stillborn. Devastating, but was it right to kill children to live forever? Harry would have thought she’d do the opposite. Or was Alica taking magic from children to get her daughter back? Harry knows that type of magic needs sacrifice. But why continue when it failed the first time? Harry cradled Louis a little closer as he was handed a port key. His brain was pounding on his skull and he felt nauseas. The key hadn’t even activated yet. His mind raced as the wind rustled the leaves.

'I would like a hit on Alejandra—she must be found!' Maxwell yelled over the ring of thunder. 'No one is to report to anyone but your head auror!'

Maxwell cast a spell after he put the aurors to work. Blue animals burst out of thin air. This magic was different from the Lynx—it lacked that comforting feeling. It was purely for display. The magic didn’t feel as purposeful. It felt rushed, anxious. Cats, butterflies, dogs, bunnies, and different bird species. They ran, flew and hopped around. The children that were left were mesmerised. Harry watched them be whisked away by the younger aurors. Nico held Marius tightly as Illington activated the port key. Juniper was practically strangling Alucius. The rest didn’t look frightened. They almost looked eager to just leave. He couldn’t see Amani or Auriel. Louis was glued to Harry, and he held him closer. Taking one for himself, he tucked his nose into the crook of Louis’ neck. The pull was quick and sickening—that’s what you get when you’ve not eaten yet. A cracker’s not enough, he now realises. He lands and immediately smells the familiar smoke of Hagrid’s hut. They were at Hogwarts. This was where they’d be before St. Alexandra’s—why not St Mungo’s?

'Poppy! They are right here—we need fever relief and nutrition potions!' McGonagall’s voice was slightly muffled by the rain. The steady pour was making Harry’s head spin. 'Mister Potter has little Louis. His leg requires a muscle relactant.'

Harry felt himself being pulled gently towards the entrance. They weren’t close to Hagrid, but that cherry wood he’d stoke the fire with … There was nothing like that smell. His vision was swimming with the squid in the lake as he walked. Maxwell caught up with him and pushed him up towards the Hospital wing. He went through the familiar doors. He doesn’t remember putting Louis down. Nor does he remember standing by the window, heaving breaths. His lungs were failing him and his brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Louis was on the bed now, fast asleep and being healed. Poppy was fluttering around and aurors were taking her statements. There was an evidence folder for everyone. Harry was walking to an empty bed—until it felt like he was underwater. He stumbled over his own foot. The last thing he heard was…

'Harry!'

Chapter Text

Ginny’s lifeless body was laying in a large puddle. Magic lay over her like a blanket. It sparkled as Harry breathed raggedly. The little fragments were a sore comfort that his best mate’s sister was safe. Harry could hear Ron screaming for him behind the rubble. Each scream was breaking Harry’s heart. His friend was trapped and he couldn’t do anything. Lockhart was lying on the ground—mindless. His Babbling was distracting as Harry stared at Tom Riddle’s past being. They should have gotten a different professor. Not that any would have listened. But anyone would have been less infuriating. Maybe even helpful to a degree. The past version of Volde—Tom Riddle — was laughing manically. His normal looking face was unnerving. This guy looked normal with a nose. But he was just as insane. Monologuing mindlessly about taking over the world or whatever. Harry knew he’d run out of time. He hadn’t done enough to protect Ginny or Ron. Harry’ll need to fight this basilisk to get rid of Tom. The book glowed violently when the snake emerged. Because he couldn’t bloody well fight a figment of that stupid book. He didn’t trust his parseltongue to subdue an ancient snake. He stopped speaking it once he’d been told. Told it was taboo. That he was an evil person for having the ability.

'Ah, Harry Potter, you won’t kill me,' Tom drawled. The parseltongue sounded off. Why wasn’t he speaking in English? Had this past version forgotten how?

'I will live on forever. I AM IMMORTAL!'

The basilisk screeched, and Harry’s ears bled. Both from the sound and from Tom’s eccentrics. Magic flew everywhere as the chamber reacted. He really is insane, even if illusionary. The snake slithered around and Harry dropped his wand. Harry wasn’t powerful enough to fight this snake. He could barely cast Reducto, let alone anything else useful. But Vernon said he was poison. A vile little boy with no future. A toxin that they rid of for ten months of the year. So maybe he could kill this snake without magic or weapons. Maybe he was poisonous enough to deter the snake from eating anyone else. He was scrawny enough to get stuck in its teeth. It’ll die trying to dislodge his body from its gums. Harry stood on wobbling legs. Ron’s screams were pinging around his skull. He didn’t dare look at Ginny—Harry just prayed she was alright now.

'I’m sorry,' Harry whispered as Tom grinned evilly.

'A mere mortal, sacrificing himself for two sorry excuses for purebloods and a useless professor! It’s pathetic!'

This memory shouldn’t be saying this, should it? It shouldn’t be able to process new information. Harry’ll never know why it’s doing it. He’ll die soon enough. A high-pitched screech echoed. Tom paused and so did the Basilisk. Harry soon had the sorting hat on his head. The sword of Gryffindor in his hands. The object was so heavy. It wasn’t crafted for a child’s physique. How was he supposed to weald it? He wasn’t capable of killing a 50 foot snake with a sword he wasn’t worthy of holding. He wasn’t a Gryffindor—he wasn’t brave enough. Harry knew he was never very chivalrous, or steadfast. He was a fake in red robes.

Fawkes settled over Ginny just as the Basilisk reared back. Ron’s screams were drilling into his skull. This was his time to die. And he was okay with that. One less child Hogwarts had to deal with.

'This child shall feed you, my dear,' Tom said. 'A tiny little appetizer before we head upstairs.'

The parseltongue still sounded wrong in Harry’s ears. It wasn’t like how he spoke to the garden snakes. Or the puff adders in the greenhouses. It sounded forced. Unnatural. Diluted. Harry panicked as the Basilisk reared its head with a shake. Like it wasn’t sure it should listen. Despite feeling okay with dying—the process of doing so was still scary. He wasn’t afraid of pain, but he didn’t want Ginny or Ron seeing it. Those yellow eyes were haunting as he shivered. But he was still alive … The paper said he’d die! The Basilisks eye’s sparkled with something Harry didn’t understand. How was he not dead? Why wasn’t he dead?

Being a Gryffindor is what you’re doing now. Fighting for others that cannot fight for themselves.

The sorting hat was speaking to him. But it didn’t explain how he was still alive. Why was it talking all this nonsense? He wasn’t brave if he was going to die doing nothing!

You are no coward—nor are you doing nothing. You are biding time, locked in those yellow eyes.

What the heck was this hat on about? Harry was still standing, but maybe the basilisk was waiting for a command. This is…

Mister Potter! The basilisk is waiting for you to release her! She wishes to be reunited with her master.

Waiting … this is Salazar’s snake, and she’s been waiting this whole time? Why not say something then! He can’t read minds. The yellow eyes blink and Harry gasps/ The basilisk roared something Harry could understand.

The sword of the lion shall be my end, little one. Use it to take me to my master! I need not this earth any longer.

Her roar jerked Tom’s illusion. It shimmered, like it was being dissolved. Tom’s voice rang out in tandem with the snake’s last words.

Little Hatchling shall be heard by my Salazar. My venom shall be yours.

'Feast, my pretty.'

The beast roared with pain instead of pleasure. Like she was screaming before the pain hit. Then, the venom of the basilisk coursed through Harry’s veins. His arm burned like it filling with lava. Blood exploded as the one tonne beast collapsed. The sword lodged right between the glowing eyes. Tear-like drops formed a puddle beneath its head. Tears streamed down Harry’s own face as he now lay in a puddle of his blood and stagnant water. He’d killed her—Harry hoped she was slithering to her master now.

‘NO! You killed my beast!' Past Tom screamed. 'I will kill you, Harry Potter! Mark my words!'

With great effort, Harry rolled over and pulled a fang from his arm. He crawled to the diary as magic flew around. Tom thrashed at him—the magic of the diary hit like actual punches. But that didn’t stop Harry. If the hat said he was brave, then he’ll keep going. He grasped the fang and raised his hand.

'NO!'

The tooth of the beast weighed heavily on his hand as the diary went up in flames. Harry couldn’t remember if he’d actually stabbed it or not. His vision was blurry as he saw the young Tom Riddle fade with screams. A skull with a snake hissed in pain. The venom leaked from the pages as the ghost dissolved. The venom was his now, apparently.

Harry’s ears rung as Fawkes cried. He could hear his name being called. There was someone crying beside him. But the ringing was so intense. The venom buried deep into his arm as Fawkes healed him. Almost like it was running away. Using his veins as escape routes. Harry was just happy that this Tom guy couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. His ears just kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing….

—

A bang had Harry scrambling up, but the ringing persisted. He was thinking Alica could come and … do nothing to no one because she wasn’t here. Harry was in the Hospital wing—he could smell Poppy’s rosy scent. He could hear the squeaking of her trolly. The candle wax smell has practically burned into his brain. Stonework that kept the place cool, but not cold, stared back blearily. The scratching blankets were snagging on his cuts. But Harry never felt so safe anywhere else. Harry wasn’t surrounded by crumbling walls. He wasn’t fighting his body to stay alert. Was safe in these walls. There was no threat to his body. But from his mind ... Even if his brain understood where he was, Harry didn’t understand why someone was crying. Because he could still hear it. Muffled sobs echoed around the room. Air was hard to get into his lungs as he gasped. His vision was blurry, and he started panicking. The smells weren’t enough to calm him. First, his magic was stolen, and now he had no vision. His glasses were gone. Pain erupted in his chest, arms, and legs. It was like the pain was webbing out across his body. His lungs were on fire and he heard the crying intensify. He needed to follow the sound. Voices joined the sound of cries. Harry needed to find them. Identify the owners. Determine if they were ploys or real. Harry blinked and could see the outline of six kids and pushed himself out of the bed. His legs were numb, but he’d drag himself if he had to. He needed to find the other nine.

Hands ruined his escape. They pushed him back into the bed. Flashbacks of Mr. Milrose clouded his vision. The memory of the chamber slithered to the depths of his mind. Tears welled in his eyes as he ripped the hands off of him. The smell of disinfectant made everything worse. Damn Poppy for keeping this place clean. Images of those stupid brown eyes had him sobbing out apologies. That stupid back room. Machine noises—jackhammers, drills, belt sanders. He was losing track of reality as more hands grabbed his shoulders. It was only ever Mr. Milrose in that room doing his ‘taxes’. He felt a burst of magic come from deep in his chest. It fizzled in his ears and he fell out of bed. Pain bloomed in his shoulder and hip from the fall. He could make out words, but none made sense. There were speaking too fast for his brain to catch up. His chest tightened to the point of suffocation. His head was too full of memories to understand. Harry’s shoulder hit the corner of another bed as he thrashed. He sobbed and kept apologising to Mr. Milrose. Kept saying he was sorry. Because he was—he was late, again. Summer work kept him late. He kept thrashing—because if he stopped now, then he’d never get away. Tiring the older man out was the best course of action. He left with fewer bruises that way.

Harry’s ears popped, and suddenly the room was far too bright. That golden lynx was back. And so were the hands—these were just five times smaller. What he thinks are grey eyes twinkle a little. Both with tears and a bold sheen of magic.

'Hari is scared, but that okay.'

Magic swirled his head—a brilliant, fuzzy, yellow light lit hit his face. The Lynx became the only thing he saw. Gone were those grey eyes and anything else he had seen. It was so clear it was like his vision had been restored. All those memories that haunted his dreams vanished. Suddenly, he could breathe again. Hands put his glasses on and the world was less blurry. The Lynx brighter than before. He still had no clue who cast it. But he didn’t care. It was a silent, mystical comfort. Until it disappeared again. Just like anything good in his life.

'Harry?' Poppy whispered. 'May I come closer?'

Harry saw she was near her office. 20 paces away. The children were huddled on one bed in the far corner. The Aurors were in a corner speaking in hushed tones. McGonagall wasn’t around, and Maxwell was gone, too. Harry wheezed a breath before nodding. He didn’t trust his voice. There wasn’t much he trusted right now. But Poppy—Harry would always trust Poppy. She’s like those grandmothers that could fix anything. No matter how broken. One piece shattered beyond repair? She’d make one. A chip in the ceramic? She’d rebuild it. Poppy kept Harry in one piece. Stitching his skin together.

'A few things, Harry.' Poppy said. 'May I list them?'

Harry nodded mutely. He watch as she pulled out her wand. It wasn’t to hurt, but to help. No hexes or curses, Harry. No bad spells.

'The first is a scan—I need to know where my spells are needed.' Her voice was soft—Harry almost wanted to fall asleep again. Crying and thrashing tires him out. 'Then I’ll do what I can magically—do you remember that balm?'

'The mint infused or eucalyptus?' Harry rasped. He remembered the shards of the jars he had. Blue for mint and green for eucalyptus. Like sapphires and emeralds. Shards at the bottom of his trunk. 'Well, it would depend on the injury, won’t it?' His lips were so dry it was hard to smile. 'I know the drill Pop, I don’t mind you just getting it done.'

'You very well know I like to give warning before spells, Harry.'

His lips upturn slightly. 'I know.'

Blue light blurred his vision as the diagnostic spell worked. The scroll wasn’t long. But Poppy had her famous worried frown. That wasn’t good. But it meant she would be thorough. Maybe if the kids see her fixing him, then they’ll be less fearful. Because he can see them huddling together, some injuries haven’t been treated yet. They all had tears in their eyes. Rosa and Alexa’s eyes were far too red to be recent. They’d been crying for some time. Time Harry lost being passed out. Unable to look after and monitor everyone.

'Just relax Harry, you’re safe here—you all are.'

Poppy’s magic swelled in his chest. It was stupid to miss the feeling. But he did. He missed the comfort it brought—feeling the magic go to every crevice of his body. Harry felt his muscles swell and relax as she worked. These spells had such stupid names. Tensio Expellere — expel the tension. It was one of her favourites to use after quidditch. Your muscles ripple in relief as the spell works through each fiber. Connexum vulnus was another of her favourites. It was spicier than the others because it was knitting his flesh together. It went deep into the wound rather than lurking on the surface.

'Your thoughts are deafening, Harry—mind sharing?' she asked. Harry flushed but shook his head. She smiled, continuing to mutter quick spells. Another thing he loved about her—she never pushed him to say anything.

Harry felt his eyes droop as his shoulder and hip warmed. Poppy looked knowing and stopped. She always knew when to stop. Perhaps she could teach the Mediwitches to notice these things, too. But at St. Mungo’s—Harry supposed things needed to be done all at once or else nothing would be resolved. Louis popped into his line of sight, as did James. Their tear stricken faces had Harry biting his lip. The burn in his throat was painful as he willed himself not to cry. These kids were to be the death of him. A death he’d gladly accept. James burred himself in his arms. Louis sat next to him quietly. The others were inches closer, and he patted the bed. Poppy moved away, and they all scrambled for him. Her smile was small, and she waltzed away with a spring. Amani was up and about, fever completely gone. Two front teeth were missing from his smile. It warmed Harry’s heart to see Auriel happy. These kids were so different now that they weren’t drenched in fear. They almost seemed normal. Almost. Maxwell interrupted with a guilty smile. The other aurors stood back respectfully.

'I promise you that I’ll find justice for everyone.'

Harry saw the kids unfurl themselves fractionally. He smiled, 'thank you, for what you’ve done.' Harry looked at the others. 'All of you.'

The team of young aurors nodded and waved to the kids. They left silently while Illington and Cribbworth gave the kids small smiles and high fives. Well, more like palm-to-palm’s after Juniper flinched. They pledged the same thing.

'Justice will be found.'

'A mind healer’s coming in for a check in tomorrow.' Maxwell kept his distance but was forward with his tone. 'Things need to be documented—we cannot leave this how it is.' Harry locked eyes with the man. 'I am so sorry for being blindsided by her.'

Harry didn’t need to hear her name to understand. Alejandra had played them all.

'Thanks you, mister Lynxy!' Rosa said, her toothy grin vibrant. The other kids offered their thanks, too. 'Is de mine healy person nice?'

Harry smiled tiredly; these kids are already so much more outwardly than before. James snuggled closer—his glasses were new and cold on Harry’s neck. They no longer had cracks and probably were a proper prescription now. Alucius and Alfred were holding three kids each and Marius had the rest. It seemed they liked his long legs as seats. The bed was creaking with each movement. Maxwell gave one last smile before he left. He didn’t look the sort to waste any time. Harry now wondered what time it was. When had he passed out? He already knew the why—Poppy was going to lecture him later. When the kids were all asleep. There was a lot he’ll need to explain. Not that he wanted to. That’s baggage he didn’t think people’d want to hear. He wanted these kids safe, and he wanted his magic back. Without spilling his guts.

'Harry?'

His head was heavy, so it took a moment to look at Poppy. Her lips were pursed and her eyes racked over the kids. There was that worried look, and Harry bit his lip. He knew what was next—the ‘let’s talk about your feelings’ thing. He loved her, he really did, but harry was not talking. Not with the kids around.

James poked him in the cheek. 'Ri? Miss Poppy wants to speak with you.' Harry fixed his own glasses as he looked at the small boy. 'Miss Poppy is nice! She gave us a sweet for taking the potions!'

Alexa wiggled in memory. 'She gave me a strawberry one! And the icky potion made my sores go away!'

Soon, all the kids were cheering and listing the flavours they had received. Poppy’s frown was soothed at the sight, slightly. Her shoes clicked as she approached, and Harry sighed. The kids all hoped off when Professor McGonagall arrived. Their little feet tapped against the stone floor—their shoes were gone. Harry could see them all in a neat line below the large pane windows. They crowded around his old Head of House. Smiling and babbling nonsense. The sun was shining in as the sun rose higher. It had to be midmorning. Harry didn’t think he’d been out long. His eyes dragged over the Hospital wing. He saw some beds were missing. They must be getting re-padded or something. Or were thrown out. The floors looked clean. Too clean—Harry knows it wouldn’t last long once Quidditch season came around. But the different coloured stones looked interesting. All the different bumps and ridges.

'Harry Potter, I am most concerned about your lack of awareness.'

He winced at the sarcasm. Harry looked up guiltily. 'Sorry Poppy.' His arms were weak, but he shifted up some. He sat rigidly as she looked at him. 'Can—can we not talk about it for a moment?'

She sighed and nodded. 'For now.' Poppy pulled out a stack of papers and lay them on his lap. 'I won’t make you talk, but I am going to have you look at these pictures. The aurors need to know what items are yours.'

Items? There was a large, almost too large, stack of pictures. He didn’t have that many things he owned. Most went in the bin if he couldn’t hide it well enought. Harry looked at the first picture. A small black dog sat atop the dining table. His breath caught in his throat. He’d forgotten about Padfoot. Dudley had taken him when Harry was three. Said it looked better than all his toys. Harry hadn’t argued—he’d learnt two days prior that arguing is bad. It was just how he’d handed it over—the fur was still black and soft looking. It had no tares, both eyes, and all its limbs. He saw little droplets on the picture. Now his cheeks were wet. His throat burned as he tried not to sob. He remembered how much he cried after Padfoot went into Dudley’s room. He’d earned a beating for it.

'I let you go through them—put them in a pile and I’ll have an auror collect them.' Poppy was smiling now, and wiped his tears. Harry’s lips wobbled as she did so. More tears spilled from his eyes and his shoulders shook. How many things had been kept? How many of Harry’s things had been kept and not thrown out like he’d thought?

'It seems I made the right call,' McGonagall said softly. 'I’ve given Pomona and Filius babysitting duty—it seems we have a little cub to look after.'

For the next thirty minutes, Harry went through each picture. His list of things that were his grew. First it was Padfoot, then a baby blanket, and so on. There wasn’t much, but more than Harry thought. They’d kept almost everything. It was all in pristene condition. Well, they were exactly how Harry had seen them go. Harry held the last picutre with trembling hands. The picture of a wolf toy was covered in tear drops. Why was the dam in his eyes broken now? He had so many other things to cry over. But toys and blankets … it was pathetic.

'You are not pathetic!'

Harry snapped his head up to see McGonagall seething.

'Harry James, you are the least pathetic boy I’ve ever met! You take that back right now!'

'Minerva! My goodness, calm down! He’s seeing things he’s been denied after so long!' Poppy stood and smoothed her skirt. 'Either quiet down and be helpful, or you may leave and floo call St. Alexandra!'

Harry watched with tear-filled eyes as McGonagall took a breath. Her chest was heaving, and she had tears in her eyes too. Poppy sat back down and pinched his cheek. Saying nothing, both women bustled about, staking the papers. Harry watched as Moony and Padfoot were placed on the top of the pile. They were the only two toys he’d cried when losing. The others held no value. It's been almost exactly ten years since they were taken. 

'I apologise, Harry, for my outburst—It has been quite the morning, and I should have settled down by now.'

Harry shook his head. 'You were high-strung—what has St. Alexandra said about the kids?'

Poppy and Minerva—Harry thinks it weird to say McGonagall in his mind—share a look. Then, their gaze zero in on him.

'Eloise is thrilled to have them—however Dudley is struggling to handle the change—' Minerva pauses as Poppy clears her throat. 'So, we have been granted permission to house you ourselves, should you wish.'

'Pardon?' Harry asked. 'Why?'

Poppy held his hand gently, murmuring another healing spell before speaking. 'Minerva had been discussing options whilst you were sleeping.' Her hand tightened a little. 'In truth they weren’t prepared for so many children.' Her smile softened. 'They would need to reconfigure the whole home to fit you in two—the wards are too sensitive to expand at the moment.'

'Which is why I offered to house you as Deputy Head Mistress,' Minerva cut in. Her own smile small. 'I know how hard you worked to get comfortable here in those first weeks of school.' Her eyes were knowing. 'So, why send you to another unfimiliar place, when you are so comfortable here?'

'I’d stay at Hogwarts?' Harry couldn’t believe it. He was getting what he’d wanted the summer of first year. 'With you?'

Minerva’s smile widened. 'Only if you would like—I am sure you could bunk with the older children if not.'

Harry thought to the kids. 'Would—would it be alright if I saw the kids sometime?' Harry’s eyes widened. 'Like with a floo call or something—not actually making a fuss going there!'

Poppy laughed. 'Harry, we’d welcome them back here any time.' His hand was squeezed again. 'You need to heal a bit first—your magic is taking a while longer to return than i’d like.' A flutter of hope welled in his chest. 'But perhaps next week, when you are physically better than now, I am sure they’ll love to visit.'

‘Provided that you keep them in bounds and away from the forest,' Minerva added. 'Hagrid has been inquiring, and I let him know you’ll visit sometime soon.'

'So I can stay? I won’t need to leave?' Harry was in a dream. The magic of the castle swirled in his chest. It sang with glee as he sat up more. 'Won’t the other professors be annoyed? I—I can hide out somewhere! Becuase I can’t go to Gryffindor tower, since I was expelled and all.' Harry was dreading being resorted. 'Is there an old classroom that is out of the way of everyone? I can stay there—totally out of the way!'

'Harry,' Poppy said as his chest heaved with exsersion. 'They are all aware, and are very much delighted that you are alright—they know to keep an eye on you.' Harry sagged a little. 'You will stay in the vacant professors quarters—somewhere safe and close enough for me to tend to you quickly.'

Harry couldn’t believe it. He was staying at Hogwarts. And he’d get to see the kids again. It hasn’t been a full 24 hours of knowing them … but he’d die for them. He really would. Perhaps, he would have killed Alica too. If he had to have done.

'Perhaps, you may stay in your new common room instead?' Minerva suggested. Poppy blushed and Harry was confused. 'Poppy has jumped the wand a little bit—you are in need of resorting, so your new common room shall do, won’t it, dear?'

'Oh shush, Min, I am getting old you know?' Harry admired the way they loved each other. It was beautiful watching their banter. 'Shall I fetch the hat?'

'There will be no need, Poppy—Minerva has already requested I fetch it from Albus’ office.'

Harry stilled as the new person approached. Professor Sn—Professor Prince, walked in with the mangy hat. His black robes billowing behind him. How that man does it—Harry is so jealous. He really did live up to the name Prince now. He was kind of glad he’d changed it and taken up the Prince seat over Yule. Minerva hat muttered about it during her patrols. It must have been one hell of a process.

'Mr. Potter—Are you ready?' Prince raised a brow and Harry nodded. 'I have potions to finish, so do be sorted in a timely manor.'

A yes, such Princely responsibilities that take precident. Harry let the hat be placed upon his head. His vision blurred a bit as the hat crept into his mind.

'We meet for a third time, Mr. Potter—a far more joyous time now.'

I’m not sure being expelled for blowing someone up is joyous. Harry was perplexed by the hats stance on expulsion.

'Never mind that! For I am the Sorting Hat and I know all!'

Fuck, this things started rhyming. Harry mentally rolled his eyes.

'Now, should I place you where your real friends lie? Or shall I place you high in the sky?’

Obviously not Gryffindor, and I’d die in Slytherin! Harry wasn’t so sure of Ravenclaw.

'Hmm, well, loyalty has played a part, but you are a very curious heart.'

I don’t like where this is going—care to elaborate? Harry was mentally questioning a century old hat. He’s finally lost his marbles.

'For the whimsey and magical, I think my descision is fantastical!'

Descision? You’ve made it already? Harry hadn’t been asked anything yet.

'A heart so brave and true, and mind slythering free—I made my discision and you’ll be…'

Harry held his breath.

Chapter Text

One beat—then two. Harry’s heart was up in his throat.

'Ravenclaw!'

Whooping and cheering from the door had Harry startled. He whipped his head to see professors Flitwick and Sprout. All 15 kids surrounding them with chocolate-covered faces. Well, Alfred, Alucius, and Demikja were eating cleanly. The others had bits of juice and chocolate chunks everywhere. They looked the most kid-like Harry’s ever seen them be.

'When I said to look after them—pumping them full of sugar was not what I meant.'

Professor Flitwick ignored Minerva as he strode over—a blatant pep in his step. He waved his wand and soon, new uniforms baring the Royal Blue colors appeared. He sure doesn’t waste any time. Minerva looked fond despite the small frown. Harry felt guilty for leaving. But what could he do? He’d already persuaded the hat once.

'I am delighted to have you as a fledgling, Mister Potter!' Flitwick exclaimed. 'I’m sure you’ll fit right in wearing Royal Blue!'

Harry couldn’t believe it. The first time round … the hat said he wasn’t the sort. He wasn’t curious enough. Wasn't hungry enough for knowledge. What changed?

'Everyone is said to jump without evidence. Can’t blame a wee old hat for his lack of benevolence.'

Was I really that hard to read? I was eleven! Harry wasn’t ashamed to push for an answer. You said Ravenclaw would do me no good!

'Reading a child’s mind is like weeding—an overgrown garden can make judgment be overthrown.'

So it’s my fault for having so many thoughts? Harry guiltily assumed a Ravenclaw would have lots to think about. Especially when being sorted into a house. How were his thoughts different? How did my thoughts alter your judgement?

'Thoughts define the time of sorting—the type you are sporting is what leads to me snorting or wailing.'

Harry didn’t know what he’d thought. Only that he didn’t want Slytherin. This was ages ago! What was I thinking?

'Yours were a sight to behold—a scary sight that had shed light on times that could lead to jailing.'

The Dursleys? You saw them! Harry wasn’t even thinking of them. Can you see things I’m not actively thinking of?

'Of course I can, for I am the Sorting Hat. There is no doubt about that!'

Harry rolled his eyes. He must look so stupid mentally conversing with this old hat. Alright, then what did you see? Because I don’t believe you.

'A series of plight and plunder which made me wonder where you truly should be—though it made it hard, but now I can see—you are now where you can be free.'

Then why Gryffindor? Surely you didn’t say yes just because I asked you to? Harry furrowed his brows. For those that went to Slytherin. Some would have asked, right? I’m not special, so why go with my word?

'I take all things into consideration, for I’m not one for damnation—I put where you are needed and yes I have headed requests—lest I lead children to early graves; but I’ve also sent them to become slaves and know not on which was better.'

Death Eaters? Harry knew a lot of Slytherins have parents who were Death Eaters. Malfoy, Nott, Avery, Warrington, Parkinson—But Harry didn’t believe they were willing. Malfoy’s father’s mark didn’t hiss like Riddles did. It sounded offended when Harry met him. Like Lord Malfoy was a fake amongst the realists. You placed them to protect them? But that also meant turning them towards influence?

'To choose to be alive or dead—those are moments I dread—but a soul works hard to change what’s ahead.'

Sn—Prince? He’s helping them not be Death Eaters later on? Harry could believe it. He cherished his Slytherins—no doubt made them feel safe. Perhaps Harry should’ve agreed back then. What about me? Would I have truly made friends in Slytherin?

'For you, I sensed doom if you were without the chance to bloom—and now you may resume your path to freedom.'

So, you knew I’d be resorted at some point? Harry’s head was spinning. He’s still not eaten more than that cracker. Being in Gryffindor was a test to see if i’d grow up? Or, to see what’s been hiding? Why not just give me a hint? or, just put me where you thought best?

'Yes, and now the test is over! Now you’ve this makeover to who you’re to be. Umlitametly it is you who writes your destiny. What better way to know who’ll you’ll be than to place you where you’ll navigate debris?'

Who am I to be but dead? Harry was getting tired—his limbs were heavy and weak. Who do you think I’ll be?

'Free, Mister Potter—You’ll now be free to fly. So take to the sky but never forget the ground. All will come round in the end. Just wait and see.'

A small burst of magic came out of the hat’s mouth. It left with a poof. Harry sat there blinking, very much confused. Most of that still didn’t answer his questions. Why is everyone avoiding them? Harry liked a challenge, but answering his own questions seemed redundant.

'The hat made you bring it all the way here,' Harry breathed. 'When it could have just done that?' Harry looked at Prince. 'I think you’ve been demoted to pack mule, sir.'

The sneer wasn’t nearly as bad since there were small children about. It almost looked playful. If you tilted your head and closed one eye. There was no remark, just a roll of his eyes before departure. Harry didn’t miss the glad look Prince had. Like he was thrilled to not have to deal with him. He couldn’t blame the man. Harry wasn’t sure how Minerva dealt with him these past two years. Princes’ robes billowed again, and Harry was determined to do the same one day. Professor Sprout was leading the waddling of children around the room. She was humming a tune, and Harry noticed the small creatures. Bow truckles, Snap-weed saplings, Puffskiens, Pygmy Puffs, a niffler, and some Madagascan Bamboo shoots look happy riding the children’s shoulders. The niffler even had a small silver coin poking out of his pouch.

'Ri’s going to the Birdy house!' Auriel exclaimed. The Puffskien on her shoulder fizzled with matched excitement. 'Can we go to the animal houses?'

Minerva looked fond. 'Once you reach eleven, I am sure a letter will reach you.'

The younger kids groaned.

'But that so long away!'

'I still have five whole years to wait!'

'Luci and Al get Riri to themselves soon!'

'That’s not fair!'

'Alright children, I think it is best for us to pop our little friends back for a nap!' Professor Sprout summoned some carpets and the children cheered. The gloom of waiting for school slipping away. Sprout turned to Minerva. 'Eloise is going to meet them at tea-time.'

'Will I be able to see them off?' Harry wanted to let them know they’ll see each other soon. 'Does Miss Eloise know they struggle with English?'

'Harry.' Poppy’s hand goes onto his head. 'We’ve spoken with her through the floo—they’ll be fine.'

'We go see Missy Eli soon!' Alexa said joyously. 'She nicer than meany Alica!'

'Yeah! She said we’d get three blankets each! With any colour we’d like!' Juniper looked thrilled. As does Marius. 'And we get our own bed, with a pillow and sheets.'

'Miss Eli said we can have snacks too.' Louis looked shy. James pinched his cheek. 'She says we can take without asking!'

'Within reason, Lou,' James reminded. 'And we have to be mindful of others—they need snacks too!'

'Look after each other, okay?' Harry asked. 'I’m sure you’ll have a great time!'

'Will you see us, or we come here?' James asked. Still speaking in Spanish. All the adults must be overwhelming. 'If we’re allowed, of course. I don’t want to make anyone angry.'

Harry opened his arms and all the kids scrambled onto the bed. He hugged them all tightly. 'We can all play here next week—Poppy says I need to heal first, okay?'

Cheers bounced off the stone walls, and the professors smiled. Professor Sinistra came in with a few objects and Louis ran to her with Rosa. Those two obviously spent time with her. It was nice seeing them run towards new people. Like Alica was the only reason for their fear. They screamed their goodbyes and dragged Sinistra away. The professor said they’d come to the hall shortly.

'She let them see stars during the daytime,' Juniper said. 'Miss Charity let me and Sanvi look at trains!'

Sanvi beamed. 'Yeah! Amani, Auriel, and Nico were looking at the moving pictures!'

Soon everyone was telling him about what they’d done this morning. Alucius and Alfred went to the Arithmancy classroom with professor Vector. Wanting to see how spells were created, apparently. Marius, Demikja, Ravi, and Halley went to the greenhouse. It was where they got all the creatures from.

'It was so nice and warm inside!'

James and Alexa had been with professor Prince funnily enough. James said he liked how cool it was inside. Alexa said she liked all the colorful potions. Harry knew Prince was a total softy when he didn’t have idiots around. Maybe Harry will have a better time in potions now that he wasn’t trying to survive. Perhaps he’ll even get a decent grade this year. Which sparks a question.

'Um, what happens with my electives? Can they be changed?' Harry wasn’t sure being expelled removed him from them. He doesn’t think divination was his thing. Ron was far better at interpreting things. He’d help Rom with homework, though. If he could change. Or maybe study outside of class.

'Well, what were you thinking of changing to?' Minerva conjured the list of electives. She handed it to him. 'Or, a better question, what would you think will help you choose a career path?'

Harry pursed his lips. 'Um, well, all of them would help—I just don’t know which would be the most beneficial.' Harry wasn’t sure he’d live long enough to graduate—let alone think of careers.

Professor Flitwick smiled. 'Well, why not take two as in-class subjects? Then we can see if more classes can fit and go from there!'

'I can take more than two?' Harry asked. The sheet he had only said to tick two. Any more and he’d have to decide, come school time.

'Of course! And you can apply to take any others as well.' Flitwick grinned. 'I, as well as the other professors, have taught many a student who’s learnt independently!'

'Oh.'

Minerva sat on the chair by his bed. 'Now, I will say to choose wisely for now. I do not have the permission to have a second time turner this year.'

'Hermione?' Harry asked casually. 'She’s taking all of them? Why not learn independantly if it’s an option?'

'Well, Miss Granger needs to be in a classroom, or else she’ll pick up a book and be taught the wrong material if left alone.'

Typical. Harry knew her all too well. He’s had to gently—manipulatively—guide her away to the right stuff. Mainly for Defence class. Hermione is his best friend, but she can only handle so much at once. She struggled with all third-year spells but one before she was petrified. Her claim to learning them was to be prepared. Not that it helped much. Her glacius spell never quite stuck. But it was the beginning of second year, mind. They probably shouldn’t have been testing spells, anyway. Harry enjoyed them—loved how they felt when casting even. Warm and fuzzy despite being a freezing spell.

'I would like if we didn’t require the Time-turner, however she is very determined.' Minerva looked all-knowing.

'She won’t tell you if she struggling, professor—we all know she’ll see it to the end unless someone stops her.' Ron tried once and got an inkpot to the face. Harry’s managed the most times—Neville wasn’t far off either. God, he was going to miss his late nights with Neville. Maybe he could sneak in with his cloak. Sleep by the fire in the common room. Fuck he hopes Ravenclaw tower has warm spots. If it’s drafty, he’s sleeping in the rafters with warming charms.

'You are quite right, Harry.' She smiles. 'But I am hoping the first week back helps her reconsider self-study.'

'How about we all go and have something to eat that isn’t chocolate or strawberries?' Flitwick asked. 'I am sure Mister Potter would love to share a meal with you all before you toddle off.' He smiles widely. 'I am also sure he’d like a tour of the common room before his excursion to your office, Minerva?'

'Oh, yes. Quite right you are—come along now, I am sure Mister Floppy would love to feed you again.'

All the kids’ bar James ran off following Minerva. The little guy stayed sat on top of Harry. Without thinking, Harry scooped him closer. Tucking the dark fluffy haired head under his chin. James snuggled down and sighed.

'Do you need a minute to settle?' Harry asked. 'Is your social battery depleted?' Harry got a tired hum in response. 'How about we have something to eat and then you’ll be able to nap?' Honey-colored eyes blink tiredly in acceptance. 'Help me hobble to the Great Hall then!'

With a small grin, James heaved Harry out of bed. Together, surrounded by the other adults, they made it to the table. All the others were sitting and chatting loudly to the elves. Who were very much enjoying the noise. Their ears flopping about happily. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. How odd. Professor Trewalny looked at him with a smile. Oh no. She knew.

'I have a few books that may help the self study, Mister Potter,' She said. Her fork ended up in her tea. Her spoon failed to pick up the chicken piece. 'During your free period, or any time, I am happy to go over the practical sides of things.'

She was far more clear minded when people weren’t being mean. Harry smiled, a little guilty that she’d seen him choose another subject over hers. He wondered if it harmed her; The visions.

'We all have our strengths—I do not see what is meant to be hidden—I’ve known for a while that your heart’s desire lies elsewhere.' She sipped her tea with the fork still in it. 'Do carve me something nice—I can see you’re very good with your hands. Perhaps not so much with your feet.'

'I’m sorry, but I’ll still take the subject!' Harry was sure she was talking about Runes. 'I’ll try carve a ward stone for your card cupboard.'

Trewalny smiled and cut her toast with a spoon. 'You needn’t waste time when your effort have been spent. And no, my visions do not hurt. But I don’t see the important things until it is too late sometimes. For that I apologise.'

Before Harry could drown in more guilt. A small voice pulled him above water.

'Ri, Look! The sky is inside!' Rosa looked mesmerised. As did the rest of the children. 'Miss Charity said it was a spell—will you learn to do that?'

Harry sat, trying to find a response. 'Um, maybe one day, Rosa—I don’t think I’m quite that clever yet.'

'Ri is going to rule the world!' Alexa cheered. It caused all the other kids to cheer, too. 'Can I choose your crown?'

Harry smiled. 'Sure thing, Lexi.'

For the next ten minutes, they all ate quietly. Small murmurs of planning and things filling the air. Until the clicking of heels had Harry freezing. His fork was halfway to his mouth. His head whipped round to see who it was. Their gait was odd—like one leg was stiff. A prosthetic leg, perhaps? Or a leg-locking charm that couldn’t be reversed? A petite brunette woman walked into the hall. She was dressed in a lovely summer dress. Her hair was in two braids. One of her legs was locked in place, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She was actually walking quickly, despite the winding of her hip. Alucius was the first to stand and greet her. Juniper, Demikja, and Alfred were next to stand up. The rest of the kids followed—their faces showed undoubted excitement. Except James.

'Thank you for looking after them, Minerva.' The woman came to a stop. 'I don’t wish to rip them from you—the other children are eager to meet them.'

'Of course not!' Poppy interjected. 'I have a few potions for them. Would that be alright with you?'

Eloise looked unsure but smiled acceptingly. 'If you are certain they’ll need them.'

'Are we going already?' Louis asked. He was gripping professor Sinistra’s robes. 'When can we visit again?'

'Next week, little one.' Minerva smiled. 'Let yourselves get used to St. Alexandra, then you’re more than welcome.'

Soon, Harry was under a pile of children. He was being hugged goodbye. All but one let go when told. James had his head tucked under Harry’s chin. His small hands gripped Harry’s shirt. Harry rubbed his back and sat up. Leaning on the bench for support. His wounds were driving him insane. But James needed more comfort right now. So it didn’t matter.

'James?' Harry pet the boy’s head. 'What has you scared?'

'Will I really get to see you next week?'

Harry smiled. 'Of course! I’ll be right here for when you arrive.'

James shook his head but got up. Harry staggered to his feet. Petting his leg to get feeling back. He can feel Poppy’s eagle eyes staring. Harry’ll let himself be grilled when the kids weren’t here.

'You’ll love it, I promise.' Minerva was rarely wrong. 'If not, Hogwarts is always an option.'

'But not until you try first, honey.' Eloise staggered over with a smile. 'Give it a few days.'

James nodded and trudged over to Alucius. Harry gave them all a smile and a small wave. They’ll be fine. They’ve survived worse and came out smiling. Louis was holding hands with Sinistra. Rosa wasn’t too far away, either. Eventually, the woman said she’d walk them to the floo. She even offered to help them through. Now, Harry was the only child. The other professors left soon after. So, Harry went with Flitwick. Poppy slipped a pain reliever into his pocket. Cheeky witch. The walk to Ravenclaw tower felt lonely. He knew it needed to happen. But he’ll no longer have anyone. Harry highly doubted anyone’d want to walk with him now. He was a stranger to them. Not a first-year stranger. A same-age stranger everyone knew the name of. He just hoped Flitwick didn’t get caught in the middle.

'Now, how about a go?'

Harry saw they were in the west wing. Three corridors away from the Defense classroom. But a trek from the infirmary. Merlin he was going to die. Ravenclaws were known for their murder mounds. He took a breath and listened.

I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?

'Speak … hear … wind?' Harry stood and thought. He thought of a cave. Because it has a mouth. What happens in a cave when wind’s involved?

'An echo.'

A door appeared, and Harry sighed in relief. At least he can’t get locked out. Unless he’s too stupid to answer the riddle next time.

'Shall we?'

The tower was warm. Almost too warm, like a hug that’s lasting forever. It reminded him of Gryffindor tower. But he knew it was completely different. The staircase gave him a nice burn to his thighs. The rest of his body was on fire, though. But the view was worth it. Gone was the homey feeling of Gryffindor Tower. Now, the feeling of freedom coursed through him. Ravenclaw Tower was so open and light. It was round and had exits like a maze. Windows that were floor to ceiling. The perfect view of the Black Lake. Cushions sat large and neutral in tone. There were desks everywhere—they looked comfy. All plush and cozy. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off one thing. The bookshelves. They canvased the walls between the doorways and windows. Floor to ceiling—filled to the max. So unlike the trinket shelves he was used to.

'You’ve all summer—and then some—to read them.' Flitwicks voice carried an amused tone. 'Each bookshelf is at least one different subject—categorised by series over topic.'

Harry like that. He could go from the first edition to the third without looking. His gut pulled him to one case. Books full of defense spells and creature diagrams. He dragged his fingertips over each spine. Some were old, some were newer editions. There was one totally battered book on the shelf. It was calling him. Little wisps of magic seeped from the pages. He pulled it out and read the title.

A guide to werewolves: friend or foe?

There was a huge red cross over foe. Must be friend then. There were notes in the margins. Some detailed, some sparse. The word Moony came up a lot. Mostly on how to help during full moons. A chapter filled in all areas was cbookmarked. What to do when a werewolf misses their potion. Harry flicked through the pages. Until he got to the last page. There was a minor, heartfelt, note.

You can’t let him win, Barty. Prongs can help, so can I. Let me help you, mon amore. Moony and Padfoot can rip him up if you’d like. Salem and Panda are only an owl away. Your dork is just round the bend. Remember that.

Love — the rose to your thorns.

What a way to get your lover to listen. Use their most used book. Written words can hit harder than verbal ones. Harry wondered if he ever got that help. His head hurt thinking about it. Moony and Padfoot. His stuffed wolf and dog. What where they doing in this scenario? Harry went to the lining of the front cover. He read the inscription and another note. This writing was different. It was delightfully scratchy. Whilst the other was beautifully swirly.

This book belongs to the most curious mind I know. Bartimus Matteo Crouch. I hope he finds the answers he’s been looking for. Even if it was in a book and not from me. Use it well, my spikey friend. Happy Birthday.

Love — the moon and one bright star.

'That book hasn’t been touched for quite some time.'

Harry looked up. Flitwick smiled sadly. 'Bartimus was one of my brightest students.' Harry saw tears glisten in his eyes. 'I regret not looking at how burnt out he was.'

'He was using gasoline to keep himself lit?' Harry turned. 'Found a wick of coal to keep himself burning?'

A sad chuckle escaped the professor’s lips. 'Something like that, Mister Potter—you are welcome to that if you’d like.'

Harry couldn’t stop flicking through the pages. Even as he was led to his new dorm room. It was quant—circular like before. But instead of five beds—there were only four. There were carvings of people’s names in the wood. Marking each person’s bed. Terry Boot. Anthony Goldstein. Michael Corner. Helia Potter.

'Helia?'

Harry put the book on his bed. Or what he presumes to be his. Because last he knew—his name was Harry. But he never questioned it. He never needed to. Harry was so much better than boy. Or trash; brat, waste of space, nuisance, vermine. He turned to Flitwick. Who looked perplexed.

'I think our tour can resume once this resolved.' His frown looked wrong on his face. His charms professor was usually cheery. Not upset like this. 'How about a short trip to Minerva’s office?'

Harr nodded, walking with his hands wringing together. They walk to Flitwick’s office and through a small corridor. A door appeared, and they were suddenly in another office. Minerva had her thinking face on. Pinched brows and pursed lips. She looked up with slight surprise. The papers she was reading vanished into a cabinet.

'Filius what—' Flitwick raised his hand politely.

'I would like to request an in-house Gringotts viewing, Minerva.' The usual jovial tone all lost to the seriousness. 'The castle knows something we do not.'

'Harry?' Minerva stood. 'What’s the matter?'

'Apparently, my name is Helia—can you believe it?' Harry smiled awkwardly. 'The castle wouldn’t put it there unless it was true—right?'

Her face looked pained. 'Filius, call him in, please. I would like to witness this.' Her face turned furious. 'This should have been known before he came to school! Why was I—we—not informed of this?'

'I’ll floo over right now and grab him.' Flitwick speed to the floo. 'My dear friend has some explaining to do.'

'As does Albus.' Oof. That tone meant trouble. 'Come have a seat and a biscuit Ha—Mister Potter.' She was scribbling something onto paper. It morphed into a bird and flew off. 'I need someone that holds no bias—I hope you don’t mind.'

Harry sat for no more than five minutes when the floo roared and a knock sounded. In strode Griphook with Flitwick from the floo. A nasty scowl on his face. Prince opened the office door and waltzed in. All three had hard gazes. But Minerva’s silent fury had Harry shrinking. Prince stood behind his chair and Harry picked his skin. Started scratching to keep his hands busy. Until Prince gave him a rubber tube. Must have been servicing a cauldron set up.

'Alight, it seems Gringotts has done you a disservice, Mister Potter.' Griphook sneered with flat ears. 'For that, Gringotts apologises.'

'It’s alright, really—Is the test one that requires blood?' Harry saw the dagger glint from Griphooks’ belt. He wanted to get this over with. 'Finger or palm?'

'For how long you’ve gone without your scion rings—your palm will do nicely. I am not sure how anyone has missed them.'

Harry dutifully held his left hand out. The Goblin-forged blade went through his flesh like butter. It was painless—that was how it was when the knife was sharp enough. He bled steadily onto a piece of parchment. Each drop causing the paper to fizzle with magic. His hand sealed with a minor spell. Now the page sat on Minerva’s desk glowed. A brilliant blue light almost blinded him. Words bled onto the page and Harry waited with bated breath. The rubber tube was a nice thing to fiddle. Or else his arms would be bloody and raw.

Public Name as of July 31st 1980

Helia Alexander Potter

Ceremonial Name as of August 7th 1980

Ravindra Enrique Altanin Potter

Born 11:59 July 31st 1980 at Number 9 Absinth Way, London.

'Merlin—Filius, look!'

Parents of H.A.P

Santiago Charlus Potter (Dam) (Deceased)

Regulus Arcturus Black (Sire) (Deceased)

‘Santiago?’

‘No one could pronounce it, so he went by James.’ Professor Prince answered Harry’s question. ‘He felt ashamed to have a name that was hard, so he changed it legally.’

Harry looked up at the professor. ‘How did you know that?’ He didn’t think Santiago was hard to pronounce. But people are lazy and racist, so he thought nothing more.

‘My mother worked in the immigration's sector of Child registration.’ Prince offered no elaboration. ‘Let us read some more before we ask any questions.’

Harry turned to look at Minerva. She had tears in her eyes. He willed himself to look away. Lest he bawl his eyes out. He’s already cried today.

Godparents sworn by holy oath August 7th 1980

Bartimus Matteo Crouch (Imperious’d)

Lily-may Evans (Deceased)

Pandora Illiana Evans nee Malfoy (Deceased)

Alison Mirium Longbottom (clinically compromised—undergoing treatment)

Remus Joseph Lupin (Memory charms active)

Legal familial guardians should the above be compromised — oath sworn August 7th 1980

Sirius Orion Black (Imprisoned)

Andromeda Electo Tonks (Disowned)

Narcissa Electra Malfoy (Memory Charms Active)

Evan Valentine Rosier (Presumed Deceased)

Affinity: Null — Yet to be formally tested.

Wand: Holly with phoenix feather core — incompatible with no affinity registered.

There were no more words on the page. This must be a preliminary test. Surely there was more. He knew he had vaults. Were audits separate?

'It seems the wolf won’t need to cry any longer.' Prince sounded vaguely amused. 'I’m glad—my shoulder was more like a pitcher than a body part for some time.'

'Um, if Mister Black swore an oath—what did he do to be imprisoned?' Harry looked up curiously at Prince. Since he was the only one to be answering his questions. 'Did he hurt someone?' Harry strained his neck. 'And who are the rest of these people? I know Lady Malfoy, sort of—is she my aunt?'

'Your uncle supposedly killed thirteen muggles and a friend.' Harry willed himself not to laugh at the face Prince had. From upside-down, he looked like a grumpy fish. 'These others are family friends that your parent’s trusted your life with.' Harry turned around to see him better. 'Narcissa is your aunt from your sire’s side—Draco is your cousin—will there be issues?'

'No—I would like to sort things out with him, actually.' Harry never felt good about how he’d spoken to Malfoy on the steps. But it wasn’t like he’s made friends before Ron. Not that Ron was a guiding influence—not entirely at least. 'Um, would it be rude to interrupt their summer by inquiring about this?'

'Not at all! I can owl Lady Malfoy if you wish.' Flitwick tilted his head. Looking calmer than before.'As your head of house, I am your guardian, therefore I can speak on your behalf.' He conjured a quill and ink. 'I think her being notified might be the best—she’ll need those memories looked at.'

'I shall wrangle to wolf out of the woods then.' Prince turned. 'I won’t be a moment.' He fled the room with a flourish.

'Well, it seems this could have been avoided.' Minerva was scowling. Griphook actually shrunk down at her ire. 'I’ll be sure to pay you handsomely for your services, Griphook.' Her face pinched. 'I’ll even put in a late fee.'

Flitwick was scribbling furiously and muttered, 'go get his rings before she blows.'

'Bring an affinity candle whilst you are at it!' Minerva added. 'It seems a new wand may be in order.'

Harry could hear thundering steps coming closer. The door opened with a bang. In ran a man with mousy brown hair. Golden eyes. And scars that put his to shame. A lapse in memory brought him to the infirmery. A picture of a poloried had Harry matching features. The photo had two people—a younger version of this man and a baby. The caption: Moony holding his Sunny Godson Helia. The date: August 7th 1980. Harry met those golden eyes. Familiarity struck. Memories plastered themselves around the man. A wolf toy, a dog, cats and a bat.

'Happy?' The man—Moony— asked. Harry was struck with a voice in his head. 'Are you alright?'

'H.A.P—so, Happy? Happy little sunshine!' The memory faded as quick as it appeared.

'Remus, standing in the door way isn’t going to make the world spin faster.' Princes voice was like a bucket of ice water. 'Sit down so you can help him with his rite or else I’ll remove you.'

The man sat down next to harry. Childish curiosity struck and Harry reached out. The scars on the mans face were jagged but soft. Pinkish flesh went from his right brow down through his nose to the corner of his lip on the left. No one spoke as Harry moved his fingers.

'Do they hurt?'

'Not anymore.' The scar tugged a little as the man smiled.

'You called me Happy.’

'I did.' The mans smile tugged up more.

'Why?'

'Helia Alexander Potter—Named after your dams granfather and Minnies late husband—you were the happiest baby we knew.'

Harry brows pinched. 'Minnie?' Who was that?

'Me—my husbands name was Alexander Ross—how could I not have known?' Minerva—Minnie—looked pleadingly at the man—Moony. 'Why his name?'

'Jamie loved you like another mother—he deserved to be honoured properly.' Moony was still smiling. But the guilt was evident. 'I hope we can move forward once everything is sorted?'

Just then, Griphook came back through the floo. A small box and a single candle in his talons. Flitwick and Minerva moved. The desk clearing completly as they did. Prince rested his hands on the back of Moony’s chair. Was his Godfather the reason Prince has mellowed? Calmness suited him. The candle was partially melted with a burnt wick. The box had animals carved into it.

'Deaths best friends?'

'Well done, cub—where did you learn that from?' The question wasn’t one of malice. Nor filled with sarcasm—it was genuine curiosity. 'You weren’t quite old enough to hear the story yet.'

Harry blushed. 'I spent a lot of time in the library—reading was a safe activity when quidditch wasn't on.' He thought to the exact bookshelf in the back corner. 'The diary of the first Master of Death—it was interesting—I couldn’t put it down.' He’d read the whole thing in one night when he snuck it out the library. 'Death gave the Master choices—he needed messengers, guides, and companions—so he chose crows, bats and ravens; deer, wolves, and butterflies; And cats, dogs, and foxes.' It was one of the most facinatng things he’s read.

'Moon—he needs his affinity complete to get a new wand—if we want to catch Rowl before he closes, we have to do it now.'

'Surely Ollivander’s is enough?' Minerva said. 'There is no need to take him to Knockturn!' Her tone was concerned not accusatory.

'Why send him to a place that sold him a phoney wand? When—' Prince was cut off when Minerva huffed. 'You know as well as any that Rowle has the bigger selection—the better selection—especially for more developed cores.'

Minerva sighed. 'Yes, you are right—Griphook, would you please—we’ll get this over with, wand and all, and then a nap is in order.'

Griphook grasped the candle and dagger from before. 'Finger this time please.' Harry rasied his left hand and blood dripped from a small slice. 'Now—let the magic settle inside you—do not fear the intrusion.'

Harry didn’t think he had enough magic. Alica had taken so much so quickly. it was taking so long to feel like himself. But he trusted that something would happen. And it did. The candle lit itself as his blood dribbled down the side. A large, raging, dark blue-purple flame startled him. He’s never seen that color before.

'Congradulations Mister Potter—you have a dark affinity.'

Chapter Text

'Dark affinity?' Harry turned to face Flitwick. Knowing he’d be the most knowledgeable. 'Does that mean there’s a neutral and a Light affinity?' The question seems stupid the moment it left his mouth.

'Quite right!' The half-goblin exclaimed. Harry sighed internally. At least the professor was humouring him. 'Now, do not be put-out by the categorisation.' Flitwick summoned a book. 'An affinity—dark or otherwise—just means that you find certain magics easier to cast.' The man cast a spell; books levitated off the tables and shelves. 'Tell me, Mister Potter, what is the spell’s purpose?'

Harry was being tested. Why he was being tested, he didn’t know. But he knew this answer—well, he thinks he does. 'Wingardium Leviosa—if you lift something heavy and release it, it could hurt, or even kill someone.' Feathers were nothing compared to anvils or knives. 'Would it be neutral in magic? If it is normally used for mundane acts? Is that how that works?' Did that mean all spells fit into a category too?

'Very good,' Flitwick said. The books returned to the shelves and tabletops. The first book he summoned remained floating. 'How about this one?'

The pages turned, and Flitwick chose a spell. A book turned to stone. Duro—the spell that hardens things to stone. That’s on the third-year curriculum. Harry remembers Hermione complaining about it. She said it was impractical to turn things to stone. But Harry thought it was very versatile. No paper-weight? Turn your apple into one. You can eat it later once you reverse the spell. The corner pegs for the tent aren’t enough? Make them more durable by turning them to stone. There is also a more deadly use for it. His brain just won’t think of one this second.

'Although useful for mundane tasks … Duro can be harmful.' Harry wracked his brain. There was a smile on Flitwick’s face—that meant Harry was right. To some degree. 'Um, during a duel! You could turn your opponent to stone? Or like parts of them—their wand, shoes, robes—anything that could disarm or harm them. Um, so is a neutral spell too?'

Flitwick grinned toothily. 'Wonderful!' The book floated and landed on the table. 'Spells can be multipurpose.' The pages of the book flick rapidly. 'The levitation charm and the Hardening charm are neutral—however, they can and have been used to harm others.' Harry nodded. 'My point, Mister Potter, is that affinities are not solid proof of one’s character. Like a spell can seem to be single use but performs many outcomes. Hence the common misconception of all round neutrality.'

Harry understood that. 'Like the Hogwarts houses, too?' There were lots who fit the criteria—but only a little. Then the rest of their personalities resemble the other houses. You can’t be sly without a little wit. You can’t be loyal without a little bravery.

'Well, yes, I suppose—can you tell me why?'

Fuck, another test. It was summer—not school. Even if he was staying in one. Harry swallowed, suddenly noticing that he was being stared at. Him and his big mouth wanting to make sense of things. Harry nodded and sat up in his seat. 'Affinities characterise the spells that come naturally, right? But they don’t keep people from casting everything.' He needed to be careful how he worded things. 'So do the Hogwarts’ houses—they all hold values close to define them. But, doesn’t mean we can’t hold other values close or demine them too.’ Harry tilted his head. 'Gryffindor’s can be cowards; Hufflepuff’s can be disloyal; Slytherin’s can be brash; Ravenclaw’s can be dimwitted.' He thought of the upsides. 'Gryffindors can be well thought out; Hufflepuffs can be ambitious; Slytherins can use teamwork; Ravenclaw’s can be cunning.' Whether that made sense—Harry didn’t care at the moment. His brain was fried.

'This must’ve been a long thought out idea.' Minerva took over the conversation. 'But you are not wrong.' Her voice was tight. 'Affinities can, however, also mark where you are placed.' Her eyes looked thoughtful. 'Though you are right, it doesn’t define the person.'

Did the sorting hat know he didn’t know his affinity? That sneaky fucking hat. 'Are there familial reasons for affinities?' Harry wondered—thinking of something other than the hat—if the Wizengamot was divided by them. 'Like, to separate knowledge over opinion?' Harry didn’t think affinity would be detrimental to how people decide.

'Affinity can be generational—you are quite right.'

'However, there are spots in a family’s lineage for difference.' Prince spoke up this time. Harry was getting all professors involved, it seemed. 'The Pureblood families are examples.' A new book appeared. Harry saw the first page. A list of families written in different coloured inks. 'Red is for Dark; Blue is for Light; Purple is Neutral; Each registered family member’s name is listed in one of these colours.'

Harry scoured to find Potter. He found it on page 7. The Potter family was written in dark red ink. 'How do I find individuals?' The book glowed, and it changed completely. Harry searched for his dam’s name. He found it on page 88, written in purple ink.

Santiago (James) Potter — Neutral

Harry let it sink in. Would his dam be proud of him? He didn’t know what type of person he was. Would Harry’s dark affinity change how he was seen? The-boy-who-lived, a wizard with a dark affinity. What a wonderful target he’s put on himself. He thinks to his sire—Regulus Black. Would he be proud of him and his affinity? The book reads his mind and changes families. How convenient. No need for a series of books. The glow dissipates, and he’s left staring at a lot of red ink. Oh. That makes Harry feel a little better. Both sides of his family were primarily dark. The Black family seems to be notorious for having dark affinities. But is that a good thing? Harry has yet to find out. He see’s his uncle and aunts. Harry see’s Draco too—but his was a little surprising. Wouldn’t Draco be under M for Malfoy? He didn’t understand this inheritance thing yet. Perhaps names double up when married. Family registry seems a better reason. So that means if he looked at Malfoy—Draco should be there too.

Sirius Black — Dark

Regulus Black — Dark

Andromeda Tonks (Nee Black) — Neutral

Nymphedora Tonks — Light

Narcissa Malfoy (Nee Black) — Light

Draco Malfoy — Light

Bellatrix Lestrange (Nee Black) — Dark

Harry wonders if people are punished for having a certain affinity. Were there places designated for them? He sees that their status is also in here. They’re all alive. He’s had an entire family this whole time. All these people … he knew most of them. Heard about them. Has met some of them. He thinks back to the inheritance test. His aunt wouldn’t have remembered—not entirely, anyway. So Draco wouldn’t have known either. Perhaps, if they’d known, the conversation on the staircase would have played out differently. He might have found his family sooner. Gotten to know them. Seen them outside of school. Learnt from them. Would they have taught him things from all sides? Or would they have kept to their Pureblood teachings?

'Happy?'

Fuck. That nickname again. It sparks memories in Harry. One’s he didn’t know he had. He closed the book and sat. His body was aching with how much magic was in the air. He felt it was hard to breathe. Harry saw the hand before it clasped his own. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. The hand was scarred yet soft. Grounding. Harry took a small breath in. He was so clueless. All this time, he’d had an affinity. An incompatible wand. What else was effecting him? If memory charms stuck—was he affected by them, too? Was that why he couldn’t remember certain things? Harry always thought he was stupid.

'I think we deserve a break.' Minerva rounded the table. She lent against the desk in front of Harry. 'What would you like to do?'

It was such a broad question. One he had to answer. Truthfully, he wanted to know everything. Learn everything he should have as a child. Affinities. Orientations. Wand compatibility. Inheritance. The lot. Did, did Petunia know all this? Her sister was a witch—surely she would have overheard. Would have wanted to know these things too. Lily—wasn’t his mother. His thoughts But Harry would like to think she loved him. Was that why Petunia hated him? Because he wasn’t Lily’s son? It made sense. Who’d want a child that wasn’t theirs? Or held any familial relation? Petunia sure didn’t. The hand on his squeezed a little. He breathed in and out. A hand found his hair. This one felt smaller—the fingers were thinner. But still so grounding for him. He looked up and pursed his lips.

'Can we get the rings over with and then will you tell me more about them—my parents—and how this dam/sire thing works?'

It was a little confusing. Were there major changes that differentiated people? Was it something you choose or are born with? And how do the rings work? Harry always noticed only a few kids wore them. Most of them were Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. Those in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw must be discreet. Or Harry just never noticed.

'Your dam used to have that contemplative look too—brows wiggling like a flobberworm.'

A flobberworm? Those cabbage-eating things? What an interesting description. Harry pouted. 'I don’t get worms on my face!'

'You most certainly do!' Moony said. 'He’d done it for so long it’s practically ingrained in my memory.' With a wave of his hand, a book appeared. 'See for yourself later if you don’t believe me.'

Griphook grunted with a scowl. 'Your rings, Mister Potter.' Minerva gave the goblin a hard stare. The goblin toned down and pulled out the box. 'Your scion rings help other people identify you as a member of a family.' The small box from before opened up. There were so many rings. All with different crests on them. Metals of all kinds glimmered in the sunlight. Harry just realised it was midday. 'The rings will form one if you are heir to more than one house.' The deep gold one glimmered—so did the black one. 'Should you be direct heir to two houses—one house from each parent—then you’ll wear both.'

'So these other ones—they'll leave designs on the main one?' Harry was a little confused. Why not just stack them? 'How would people know you belong to more than one house?'

'Magic does not lie unless you will it too, Mister Potter—you’re right about the designs.' Griphook removed two of the rings. 'The Potter and Black rings will be stacked—then they’ll absorb details signifying multiple houses.'

'Okay—what about Draco?—does his ring have something about the Blacks?' Harry saw his cousin’s ring was light silver with a small wing design. 'Didn’t he get a design?'

'You needed to be within reach to see the detail.' Griphook held one up. The Black ring was plain with a bird design.

Right. How stupid of him to assume he’d see anything else from afar. He already had trouble seeing things up close. 'Can I put them on now?' Harry was getting antsy. 'Do I need to do anything?'

'No—here—place them on you first finger of your dominant hand.'

Harry grabbed the Black ring first. The ring was flat, like a wedding band. It was cold against his skin—a raven was engraved in the middle. The silver and titanium rings glowed. Soon, a band of each metal joined the black steel. A Lynx and butterfly joined the raven in the centre. It was simple yet stunning—the light metals glowed in the sun. The black steel gave off a subtle gleam. He grabbed the yellow-gold ring next. A jaguar was in the centre this time. It’s mouth open. A ring of Damascus steel rose with rings of white-gold and copper. Soon a deer's head, snake, and jackal joined the band. The four rings of metal were beautiful and shiny. A gradient of from light to dark. The snake went right round the ring—it left a gap for the other animals. The deer went in the middle—its antlers branching out. The jaguar and Jackal settle underneath them. Magic pooled at his fingertip. It made the hollow in his chest more evident. He really needed his magic to return faster.

'Now, the Black ring holds the Selwyn (Lynx design) and the La Fay (butterfly wing) rings.' Alright, Harry will need to do some research. He knew nothing about family houses. He could barely remember the other kids at school. 'The Potter band (Jaguar) holds the Perevell (deer’s head), the Nassir (snake), and the Patil (jackal) rings.'

'Wonderful—get out of my office, Griphook—you and I will be having words later.' Minerva pointed to the floo and Griphook left with a nod. She huffed and turned back to Harry. 'Now, how about we hold off the bodily stuff and find some pictures? I think your brain needs to file all this first.'

Good—all this magic was travelling up his arm. His head hurt. Moony grinned and shifted to sit closer.

'Ah, here—I have a cub to prove wrong.' Moony waved his hand. A book appeared in Harry’s lap. He watched Flitwick leave quietly. Harry’ll need to catch up with him too. 'Sev, why don’t you finish that poison? I know you only have another hour before it goes off.'

Harry didn’t know poison could truly go off. Though, they could now that he thinks about it. Some ingredients wouldn’t be effective within a certain time frame. He knew that much. He felt a hand leave his head and Prince turned slightly. Minerva smiled and stood, grabbing some papers and following Flitwick wordlessly. They must have other things to do. Harry couldn’t ask them to stay. He’s taken up enough of their time today already.

'Well, I certainly don’t need to see your silly scrapbook.' There was a ghost of a smile on Prince’s face. 'Do come and take your potion before afternoon tea.'

Harry was stunned, but not surprised. Prince was being so nice—Harry wasn’t blind enough not to see the relationship. He just didn’t know what kind. Harry also didn’t mind taking a brain break. Rings and his affinity were enough for now. He didn’t feel like an anatomy lesson.

'Alright, will do—Helia?—Why don’t we settle somewhere cosy?'

Harry looked at his godfather and nodded. He felt weaker than before, but stood, anyway. The magic made him tired rather than energised. He grabbed the scrapbook and followed behind. Which was a good thing, because he kept stumbling. Their destination was a small office with a large window. It was next to the Defence classroom. There was a nice long couch they both collapsed on. It was so warm. The view was stunning—he could see the quidditch pitch from here. He pulled out the book. It was a scrapbook titled The Marauders Memories. It was filled with pictures. Both large and small. Each had their own description.

The one Moony was pointing at was mean. Because it was true. Prongs with flobberworm brows before O.W.L.S! It was dated May 7th, 1976. Next to his dam was a dark-haired guy in a green tie. He had his chin in his hand. Looking at his dam with a small smile. Across from both of them were two girls—one white blonde Ravenclaw, the other a dark-haired Slytherin. They posed for the camera. Bright smiles on their faces. Their ties undone around their necks. Sitting on the floor was another dark-haired boy with a red tie. His wand kept his hair up in a bun. He, too, was looking at the camera. A Bowie shirt sat under his uniform one.

'The two girls—' Moony pointed to them. '—are Pandora and Dorcas.' He pointed to another picture.

This one had the two girls posing with a redhead and brunette. Lily, he recognised, and another girl. They were sitting on the doc of the Black Lake. Swimsuits on and glasses framing their faces. The colours matched their house. Whoever the brunette was, was in Hufflepuff. She looked older. But her smile held youth. They were beautiful.

'I think you know Pandora’s daughter—Luna.' Harry sniffed in surprise. This was Luna’s mother. They looked exactly the same. Beautifully wispy. 'Dorcas is also the aunt to Blaise Zabini—who I believe from the class registry—is in your year.'

Wow. Harry could see the resemblance. It was uncanny. His parents were friends with her? He thinks Blaise would bite his head off if he spoke too loud. 'Who do I know that is related to the other girl?' The brunette’s smile was so familiar, but not entirely.

'Well, I believe your god-brother—Neville—looks similar, no?' Moony was trying hard to stop smiling cheekily. 'Alison visited that day—she graduated two years before this picture—her apprenticeship requires teaching time.'

Harry read the caption. The girls back together for the last dip before winter! A sneaky badger joined us. It was dated September 7th, 1975. The picture next to it held the same date. But this one had all boys. Two were reading, one was trying to drown, another. Two were sitting at the doc, and his dam was taking the selfie. Seven of them in the shot. All with shorts and shirts in house colours. Four red, one blue and two green. Their caption. The lifeguards aren’t lifegaurding, as Barty drowns a rat! Moony was one who had a book. Something by Jane Austin. The other had J. R. R. Tolkien. It was the dark-haired guy from before. Only there was a small scowl on his face instead.

'Who’s that?' Harry pointed to the other one in green. The one that looked like Sirius. 'Him.'

‘That—Helia—is your sire, Regulus.’ A rough finger smoothed over the face. ‘He’s the younger twin to Sirius—a total water-phobe.’

'Oh—were my parents together at this point?' Harry was curious. He pointed at his dams smiling face. 'He looks a little scared.'

'James wasn’t one for water when it was cold—so he was the photographer instead.' The book shifted a little. 'He wasn’t all that fond of deep water in general—he much preferred shallow salt water rivers.' Moony tilted his head. 'I’m pretty sure they’d been dating in secret that year.' A small frown graced his lips. 'I know they were together before Yule one year, I just can’t remember which—it’ll be in here somewhere.'

Harry nodded—he hated deep water, too. He wasn’t a good swimmer. Yule was another thing he needed to learn about. He’s decided he liked the idea better than Christmas. 'Why is he being drowned?' Harry’s finger went to the guy, he looked terrified. The one on top of him looked thrilled.

Moony snorted. 'Sirius dared Peter to take a dip—Barty took that as a challenge to drown him.' Moony’s finger traced the picture. 'Evan is the one in green—your other uncle—he teased Barty into doing it.' He looked fond. 'Your sire was one of the cheekiest when he felt comfortable—dared Barty to drown Evan afterwards—gave your uncles a run for their money.'

'Where’s Professor Prince?—Were—is he something to you?' They looked far too comfy to not be a thing. Harry’d eat his old shoes if he’s mistaken. 'Um, don’t answer that! I don’t even know why I asked.' A chesty laugh rang in Harry’s ears. He’s decided that he liked the sound. It was so much better than Vernon’s fake, booming laughter.

'You caught on, did you, Hap?' That nickname warmed his chest. 'Severus and I have been together for quite some time.' A sudden depressed look took over the happiness. 'We were a trio once—before the war took everything away from us—now it’s just him and I.'

'I didn’t—' Moony raised a hand and smiled sadly. Harry’s just fucked everything up.

'Sirius, your uncle—he was the best of us three and I’ll explain it all in a moment.'

Harry looked his godfather in the eyes. 'My sires twin—he was your third?'

'Yes—Severus and I had the biggest crushes on Sirius since first year.' Moony turned the page to one titled Two dogs and their handler. 'Don’t mind the title—your dam came up with all the captions—he was very cheeky.'

'Cheeky enough to keep up with my sire?' Harry questioned.

'Very much so—Sirius was furious when he found out—not because he hated it, but because he never figured it out.' Moony regained his smile. 'Hmm, we got together in our third year after Yule—this picture was taken by James moments after Severus and I asked Sirius out in third year.'

The picture was of his uncle Sirius blushing—he was holding two bouquets. One was a mixture of Iris, Yellow Lilies, Red salvia, and a single dwarf sunflower in the middle. It was tied together with green tissue paper and a red ribbon. The other bouquet was red paper wrapped made up of red roses, morning glories, honeysuckle, goldenrods and forget-me-nots. The caption: The brightest star with his moon and mars. It was a beautiful caption, but Harry didn’t quite understand the Mars part.

'What does the Mars mean?' They haven’t gotten to planet meanings yet. They won’t until later this year.

'Mars represents ambition and assertiveness—Severus is the most ambitious person I know.' Ah, that makes sense. 'Mars also is the central point of the distance between the moon and the Sirius star—at least, it looks that way in the sky.'

So, professor Prince is—was—their glue? It pained Harry’s heart that he’s thought of the man to be heartless. But it makes his godfather smile. These pictures of them—there were only smiles and great times. Harry let bias and outside influences degrade his assumptions of the man. 'He looks after you?' He had to know—no one was going to be hurt under his watch. School be damned. 'And you look after him?'

'Yes.' Moony pet Harrys head—his hand pushed his hair back to reveal the rest of the scar. 'He’s looked after me well this past decade—he’s kept me up to date about you, too.' Tears welled in Moony’s eyes. 'I would have done something much sooner—the blocks prevent me from doing so. I can’t get them removed without damage' A single tear rolls down his face. It pooled in the grove of his scar. 'Every time he tells me something new, I forget about it within days.' A small hiccup. 'He hasn’t been the nicest—but I promise you that he’s trying hard—'

'I haven’t been the nicest either!' Harry interrupted. 'I let people’s words dictate my thoughts and feelings—I did to other what others usually do to me.' He wiped the tears away. 'Please don’t cry!' Harry shifted the book to face his godfather better. 'I didn’t mean to upset you.'

'Goodness—I’m not upset—sometimes crying’s good.' The smile was back, albeit smaller. 'Your uncle Sirius was the best thing that came into my life—no, he was the first of the best things—he showed me what love looked like. Severus—his ambitions taught me to better myself in the best ways.'

'Why is he in prison—really? I don’t believe someone that smiles like this could murder someone!' Harry pointed to all the smiling faces. 'Was he framed or something? Like right place but wrong time?'

'It took me so long to believe that—For the longest time, I thought he really did it.' Moony collapsed into the couch. 'Severus had to drag me everywhere—I sulked for so long after that night.' His crooked finger graced over a picture of Harry’s parents. 'I was so angry at everything—Sirius, Severus, the Ministry, the world really, but mostly myself.' More tears dribbled down his cheeks. 'Because I’m a coward—I let the Prophet and hushed whisper’s define what I thought of my husband.'

'But not anymore, right? You wouldn’t be confessing that—these emotions—if you still thought that way.' Harry put the book away. It called to him, but he ignored it. He had something far more important in front of him. 'So, do you think he killed those people? What do you think really happened?' Harry in the dark about it all. Maybe if Moony talked about it—Harry could help him rework his thoughts. 'Does it have anything to do with my parents?'

A choked sob escaped his godfathers throat. Harry’s first instinct was to get an adult. He was never good at regulating emotions. His own fucked him up enough. But this time, he snuggled up into Moony’s arms. He looked the sort to cuddle his emotions out. Turns out, Harry was right. Arms looped his shoulders and for once he wasn’t scrambling to get away. The magic sitting in his chest fizzled in delight. If comforting him brought back his magic faster. Then, by all means—Harry was going to cuddle the shit out of this man. A man he barely remembers—he knows it’s all there. He just needs to find it amongst everything. Harry could hear the owls hooting as they circled the castle. That means it’s feeding time. Which also means its mid afternoon. Harry didn’t know what time it was when they sat down. But he knows it had to be at least an hour. His shirt was soaked with tears. But he didn’t mind. This was the longest hug he’s ever allowed himself. Not even Ron or Hermione have hugged him this long. A few seconds at most.

'Sirius was framed for being a Death Eater and killing your parents.' Moony’s voice broke the silence. His sniffles tickled Harry’s neck. 'It’s said he gave away the location of their home and let the Dark Lord inside.' Harry nodded—reacting before getting all the information has never boded well. So he listened intently. 'He let him in and then killed the muggles in a fit of triumph—like it was a victory attack for himself.' The arms tighten slightly. 'Your Dam had only just gotten home that night—you had been with Lily and Pandora…'

'And my sire?' Giving his parents titles that weren’t mum and dad was surprisingly easy. 'Where was he?'

'Regulus was on a work exhibition—he worked with the Ministry to ward homes.' A sniffle ruffled Harry’s hair. 'He went missing that night—no one could locate him—still can’t.' Moony pulled away. 'It took me so long to get the right story—'

'And the truth is that it is all my fault.'

Harry shifted to look at his potions professor. The man stood at the door. Harry was losing it—he hadn’t notice anyone approach. 'Pardon?'

'If it were not for my blindness—your parents would still be alive. I’m the real reason they’re dead.' Prince walked in with two trays. One with food on it and the other with multiple potions. 'If I am honest, I thought having you hate me was the best course of action.'

'Did you kill them?' Harry asked. 'Did you physically—magically—kill them?' He didn’t believe adults much, especially not when they claim their faults. 'Because if you weren’t standing there doing the murdering—I’m sure you can’t be the real reason.' Harry accepted the pain potion. He knocked it back and continued. 'Everyone has a reason for their actions—good or bad. If I’m honest, I can’t really miss what I never had.' Even if he cries most nights about them. That stupid fucking mirror. And it wasn’t even right. 'So, how is it that it’s your fault? Because no one has actually told me what happened that night.'

Prince—calling him Severus is a little much—sat with a flourish. His face was pinched in disbelief. 'I have never met a child like you—it almost made me hate being around you all the more.' He poured three cups of tea. One of them had a chocolate square next to it. 'It is my fault because—I followed orders and it lead to many more people’s deaths—'

'You followed orders?' Harry asked—why are adults kinda dumb sometimes? 'Alright—do you know what following orders means?'

'Helia.' Moony’s voice was low in warning.

Prince looked ready to strike something. But Harry—Helia—who ever the fuck he was, was done with narrow-minded people. 'No—following orders, in your words—does not make you the murderer. By that definition—the one who ordered you to do those things is the murderer.' Harry sat on the couch properly. 'You didn’t find that information out yourself, so it shouldn’t be your burden to carry yourself.' He picked up a biscuit. 'Take this cookie.' He held it out for Prince—he took it begrudgingly. 'Now break it.' He did. It was snapped in two. 'Now, did you do that of your own volition, or did someone tell you to?'

'You just told me to, you silly child—'

'Yes, exactly, I told you to break it—if I asked you before you took the cookie, would you have thought to break it?' Harry saw something flicker in the man’s eyes. 'You didn’t did you? Good—did you think to use the information you were given to do the things you were ordered to do?' Harry saw both men’s lips tremble. 'You didn’t do it because you wanted to—you did it because you had no choice, right?'

'Yes, however—'

Harry was having too much fun cutting him off. 'However, nothing—you had no choice. Therefore, you did not kill my parents or are to blame for your husband being imprisoned.' He picked up his tea. 'You were a pawn that stopped something ten times worse from happening.'

'That’s not how it works, child.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Of course it is! If you didn’t do that, you would have been dead and a more willing person would have gladly taken the challenge on and done more damage!' Why couldn’t adults be rational with their trauma? Because all these people probably dealt with it terribly whilst hammering down on Harry. 'When the queen is denied, then she sentences the pawn to death whilst conjuring a more diabolical strategy to get her desired outcome.' Harry picked up the scrapbook and flicked to a page. There at the top was one of everyone. Three babies sat amongst them. The caption: A kaleidoscope family of jewels fit for a bedazzled crown. The date? October 1st, 1981. 'Those smiling people—you’re amongst them smiling too—can you tell me you did all that for nothing?'

'Helia—'

'Your’re a bastard for thinking you could laugh and smile like that then rip a family apart.' Harry shoved the book into Prince’s face. His magic was swirling in his chest. Almost like it was begging to be released. 'Look at this and then at me and tell me you did it all to get close—close to them to kill them in the end.' His knees threatened to buckle. 'Look at me and tell me you followed orders because you wanted to and not because you needed to.'

'I can’t.' Prince swallowed harshly, his lips trembling. A tear rolls down his face. 'None of what I felt for them all was ever fake.' He raised a shaking hand to the picture. Tracing over all the faces. 'I did it—I sold them all out—because you’re right, someone worse would have gladly stepped in.'

'So you didn’t kill them—you saved them from a worser fate.' Harry’s knees gave in. He slumped to the floor. 'I can’t be mad at you for doing what you needed to—but I would like to know who gave you separate orders.' Harry had an idea of who gave the original one. 'Because there was more than one, wasn’t there—can I see the mark?'

'Helia, that is enough—'

'Remus, it’s alright—he’s too much like James to ignore it.' Prince rolled up his sleeve. The snake and skull were unharmed, but the surrounding flesh was marred. He’d tried to cut it off.

'That—your arm is proof that you had no actual option, isn’t it?' Harry asked. 'You tried to get rid of it, not to keep from going to prison—you hurt yourself because that thing made you a person you hated.'

Moony was up and cradling a shivering Prince. Harry wanted to feel bad—he truly did. But he didn’t. He felt full—full of magic and emotion. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Acceptance. Now he felt hunger. Hunger to know what he can do to put his family back together. Because if his uncle didn’t do what he’s been accused of—did he even get trialed? Wasn’t there a truth serum or something? He was sure there was a wand checking spell. Professor Flitwick warned everyone in their first charms class that their wands have histories. Histories that can be traced and checked. So why didn’t his uncle’s wand get checked? Harry sighed—more things he had to find answers for himself. He swallowed harshly and began scratching at his arms. He’d just forced a professor to reveal things he didn’t want to talk about. Merlin, he’s only just been reinstated as a fucking student. Now he’s probably going to be expelled, again. He rocked back and forth. Taking no mind to his knees banging into the table. Those were going to bruise later. Another thing Poppy is going to scauld him over.

'Reaper.' Magic swelled in recognition to the word. Harry inhaled sharply. He looked up slowly to see Prince with red-rimmed eyes. 'I nicknamed you that—it made James laugh so much he pissed himself.' Prince twitched his neck and coughed. 'Your Ceremonial name spells out reap, and you caused havoc wherever you went. So I started calling you that when we looked after you.'

'Severus, I think we all need some time to decompress—how about we all just settle?' Moony was sitting on Prince’s lap. If Harry was anyone else, he’d probably blush or something. Right now—Harry saw two people were finding comfort in each other. 'Would you like to look at anymore pictures?'

Harry looked at the open book, one picture had fallen out. It was of the Barty guy and Moony. They both had ripped clothes and were covered in dirt. But there were grins on their faces. A pile of sweets between them. The date in the corner was October 31st, 1975. The caption read A wolf and a Jackals haul of Halloween sweets! Moony’s first full moon with B.

Full moon. Wolf. Chocolate. 'Barty?' Harry asked. His mind went back to the book on his bed. He looked to Moony. 'You’re the one who wrote that note? You’re the moon—a werewolf?'

'I—where did you—how did you figure that?' Both adults looked at him like he was insane. 'I am, but what note are you walking about?'

Harry hoped his magic didn’t fuck the spell up. 'Accio A guide to werewolves: firend or foe?' He hasn’t managed to do it wandlessly or nonverbally yet. So this will be interesting. The book flew into the room and landed onto the table. Recognition flashed in Moony’s eyes. Harry flipped the front cover—the note was laid out on the table. 'This one! Even if it was in a book and not from me—It means you’re a werewolf.' He flipped to a random page—Moony was written in scratched writing. 'Moony also appears a lot—I can’t imagine there is another I don’t know about?'

With a gentle sigh, his godfather nodded. 'Is that going to be an issue? I take potions for it, but if it—'

'I am on a roll with interrupting people today,' Harry said. His hand was raised slightly—the scion rings a nice heaviness on his finger. 'I don’t care what you are—are you going to leave once the curse kicks in at the end of this school year?' Harry didn’t want to lose someone he’s only gotten back now.

'No! Of course not—cub, I know the curse is stupid, but i’m not leaving!'

Harry smiled. 'Cub was also a give away—now that I think about it.' He closed the book. 'I’m glad you’re not leaving—can you tell me more about everyone?' Harry wasn’t going to miss out again. 'I think I can self study everything else on my own. I have the rest of summer to find the other stuff out.' He’d rather read a book on anatomy than his professors and godfather explaining it to him.

'Do not forget your summer homework, you little demon—Minerva has collected a new set for you.' Of course Prince was focused on academics. 'You also have the Aurors coming this evening—your belongings will be brought by them.'

'Okay.' Harry licked his lips. The potion residue tasted different that usual. 'Have you been experimenting with potions again?' His lips tingled with aniseed. 'It tastes better than St. Mungos stuff.'

'You gave Helia an experimental potion! Severus!'

'He’s alive is he not? And they are the ones I give you—high strength.' Prince looked at Harry sceptically. 'You shouldn’t be able to taste the difference, Potter.'

Ah, the Potion Master’s emotional competence batter has been depleted. 'The ones Poppy use either taste like mint or rotten cherries—this one tasted like aniseed. You use it for inflammation, right?'

'Finish your tea then report to Poppy—she wants you in the hospital wing for the night.' Harry nodded. Prince stood. 'She wants to make sure your magic returns completely by next morning—Filius is collecting reading materials for you now.'

Oh. Bed rest. Dammit—Harry wanted to explore those shelves some more. 'But by tomorrow afternoon—if I'm well enough—I can do my summer homework in the library?'

'Yes—Remus I gave you a square already, you don’t need more chocolate—Potter, get out of my sight before I make you scrub cauldrons.'

'Awe, there he is, the dungeon bat!' A book flew his way and Harry caught it. He wondered if he could trial for Ravenclaws Quidditch team. 'Alright, alright—if I come looking for him to find more about my parents—lock the bloody door!' Harry limped out of the room speedily. Another book flew past his ear—an inaudible scream of profanity echoed behind the now closed door.

'Lets hope he doesn’t poison me later.' Harry shook his head with a smile. His magic thrumbed in content. 'I wonder if Flitwick has muggle books to read.'

Chapter Text

Harry’s trip to the hospital wing was a lot longer than he’d thought. His legs burned, but his chest felt light. He wasn’t out of breath like before. Harry took that as a sign his body was healing. Finally—maybe he’d be allowed to go flying sometime to train up. Build all his muscle-mass up again. Poppy met him at the door. She held a blue potion in one hand. The other was holding a letter. The Ministry seal was stark against the white envelope. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read whatever the letter detailed. She led him to a brand new bed. The frame was larger. The mattress was the perfect height. Harry’s legs barely touched the ground. Falling out of it would hurt, but he didn’t mind. He liked sitting higher up. It kind of felt like flying.

'Minerva had a talk with Cornelius—He wanted you to have this in formal writing—in his own words this time.'

The letter was handed to Harry as he sat on the bed and held out one arm. He knows the drill. Sit and let Poppy do what she wants. Harry read with one hand whilst his other was massaged. Poppy’s magic bled into his muscles. She did this with everyone’s arms after quidditch. Not only healing muscle strain—her magic also detects injury. She must not like how his arms look if she’s doing this. The pinch of her fingers made his arm tingle. The top of the letter was addressed to his actual name. Helia not Harry. That was going to take some getting used to.

To Helia Potter,

To begin, I must deeply apologise for everything. Myself and my colleagues have used Alejandra on countless occasions. None of those times rose any suspicion. An investigation has been constructed. A team of aurors is working through her ‘reports’ as I write this. I have Maxwell leading the hunt for her and Julio. He, along with Illington and Cribbworth, are working tirelessly. I have faith they’ll find justice. Minerva has requested, on your behalf, that this investigation remains under wraps. The team understands the possible torment if released. The children are being identified. Birth records do not match those found. I hope we find peace for all.

Minerva has informed me you’ve had tests done. I congratulate you, heir Potter, for your familial discoveries. It sparks questions you no doubt have. If my resources can be any help. You need only owl me directly. Just ensure you inform your owl to head to Lupton House. Not the Ministry grounds. Minerva has also informed me of your affinity. The dark now has a proper spokesperson. I look forward to your progressions in the Wizengamot. No one else has been informed. I will ensure the records are to be sealed. The dark is lighter from the inside—I promise. Your contributions will be most welcome.

I wish you all the best. Owl me whenever you require,

Lord Cornelius Lupton, holder of Fudge house.

Poppy switched to his other arm as he finished. The letter sat next to him on the bed. Alejandra must have been trustworthy at one point. Or, she seemed that way for so long, no one noticed the shift. It was nice of him to owl personally. He must have been in his office. Though no one would question the minister. Especially when sending to Hogwarts of all places. Fudge must be a lesser title that he has. Harry’s never heard of the Lupton family. Would he need to put all the houses he was in charge of onto his sign-off? He wondered if there were certain things to do when writing to someone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a stack of books. Parchment and stationary on top. His summer homework, he supposed. At least he won’t die of boredom. Harry wanted to die sporadically. During a fight or something. In a way that mangled his body. To the point where cremation’s the only option. Then they’d just chuck him in the bin. Or let the wind have him. He hoped he graduates at least. He wanted to prove he was intelligent. Smart enough to get to—and pass—seventh year. The letter burned beside him and Poppy looked surprised. There was a tingle in Harry’s fingers. His rings felt warm against his skin. Did he just set something on fire unknowingly? Great.

'Well, at least the tension’s gone from that arm.' Her voice held light humour. 'Now, I don’t want you out of this bed till tomorrow morning,' she said matter-a-factly. 'Your magic is still coming back in small increments—don’t push your luck.'

'After that, can I finish my school work in the library?' He didn’t feel like he’s proved himself to sit in Ravenclaw tower yet. If ever. He still didn’t see what earned him the place there. 'I won’t move much—I think I’ve overdone it enough already.' Not that destroying the roof of a house was a choice.

'If your magic levels return to what they were, I’ll allow some purposeful movement.' Her eyes were calculating. 'No serious magic for the next few days, though. Anything could happen—like a letter burning unknowingly.' She cast another diagnostic spell. Harry could see that he still had weak ribs and inflammation of his joints. 'When Severus is free, you’ll be able to get a new wand. Tomorrow afternoon may be a good time if your body allows it.'

Harry nodded, accepting his fate. There was a flush to his cheeks. He hoped those two back in the Defence class kept quiet. Poppy might blow a fuse if she knew he’d cast a spell. Without knowing if it would work. 'Alright, thank you.' She thrust the blue potion into his hand. He drank it without complaint. 'Will I really not be going to Ollivander’s?' The potion tasted like chokeberries. It was bitter and sweet. Not his favourite flavour. 'I thought Rowle was a bad guy.' The after taste of basil had him smacking his lips. The label read ‘magic replenisher’.

'There are a lot of things people will slap onto a person’s reputation, Mister Potter.' Poppy looked outside for a moment. 'Octavious Rowle was a lovely student who was pressured into doing terrible things.' Harry went to apologise by she raised her hand. 'He’ll be delighted to see you—he was good friends with your sire—he’ll make sure you get the right wand.'

He shuffled up the bed to settle. Speaking seemed stupid, so he stayed quiet. If he was a good friend, would he have different stories about his sire? He was interested to see what the man thinks of him. Few people had nice things to say about Harry. His magic tickled his insides as he kicked his shoes off. They landed messily, but Poppy never cared for shoes. Harry did it so often it was normal. They ended up swept under the bed, anyway. A small tray was placed on his lap. Three smaller potions stared at him. Goody. He didn’t recognise the labels—these must be trials, then. Was this how he died? Did Prince speed run a batch of poisons labelled as potions after Harry forced information out of him?

'Severus’s been working on a few things. These are his newest creations for St. Mungo to trial.' Poppy was moving the books. Nice—Harry was right—he was going to be a lab rat. 'The first is a mentality stabiliser.' She pointed to the pink potion. Okay, so they think he’s mental, gotcha. 'That is one for bone density.' That one was milky blue. Harry didn’t mind the sound of that—he was looking forward to not snapping his bones. 'The third is a temporary solution for your vision.' That one was bright red and shimmery. He knew he was blind like a bat—was that one necessary, though? Harry thinks glasses were better. He could hide behind them, too.

'Do I take them all at once? I didn’t think Yarrow and Rosemary were compatible.' Harry examined each one. Both plants’ smell wafted into his nose. They were pungent—Harry almost felt nauseous smelling them. 'Professor Srpout said—Oh, um, what type of rosemary did he use?' He looked contemplatively at the first potion. It looked a little too pink for Tuscan Blue. It should be more red when steeped in water. No matter how long it steeps for. The milky look to the bone potion means lots of Yarrow root. Though he just assumed those were used. Prince may not have used either of those things. Idiot.

'I can assure you he was thorough. I am sure Trailing Rosemary and Yarrow are quire compatible.'

'Oh. Right—Trailing Rosemary is quite docile in acidity—I shouldn’t have assumed. We looked at the two in herbology before the petrifications—' Harry cut himself off. Rambling wouldn’t fix his assumptive nature.

'It is nice to hear students have absorbed my teachings, Mister Potter.' Professor Sprout came in with a few plants. They were levitating behind her. The pots looked heavy—Harry wondered if they could knock someone out. 'Where would you like these dwarf pines, Poppy?'

'Oh, lovely—over by the far window—the air was getting a little stale, so thank you.' Poppy looked delighted. So wizards are aware of how trees provide oxygen. Good to know. Dwarf pines also smelt nice—natural air freshener. 'Harry, your thoughts are raging.' There was a smile on her face. 'Drink up and then I’ll let you tear into your books. Try to quell that curious mind of yours.' She changed the colour of the sheets. He didn’t know why, though. White is a perfectly fine color. 'Do not question my doings, now drink.' Harry’s cheeks pinked.

He uncorked all of them—they all tasted like herbal tea. He felt a slight pressure behind his eyes. His cheeks became damp with unwanted tears. Not because he was sad or anything. But because his eyeballs were going insane. Harry blinked rapidly, trying to disperse them. He could see better, sort of. Things were still blurry as shit. But not as much as before. How Harry’s survived this long with shit vision, he doesn’t know. Was his terrible vision genetic? He knows his fath—did his dam like being considered a father? Harry would ask, but he didn’t want to bother anyone. The third book in the pile looks like it will tell him, anyway. Gallaway’s guide to Wizarding parentage was a rather thick book. It has to have decent information. He knows lots of people that use mother and father to speak about their parents. But that didn’t mean his parents preferred those titles. Maybe Moony knew. Harry notices that his headache was soothed. There was no thrum of pain anymore. Questioning everything gave him an earthquake behind his eyes. His bones didn’t feel any different, though. Obviously it wouldn’t with one dose. As long as it’s nothing like skelo-grow, Harry won’t mind. The two women scuffling around met at Poppy’s desk.

'Mister Potter, if you would like to study visually, then you are more than welcome to the greenhouses.'

Harry looked at professor Sprout. He smiled gratefully. 'Thank you, professor—would you like any help at all later?' His mind was going to shatter if he had nothing to do. 'After I’ve been cleared, of course.'

'Well, that would be lovely!' Her voice was shrill with joy. 'I have new plants that get lonely.' Harry mentally went through his herbology book from last year. 'Usually Argus sits with them—but he’s a little intimidating.'

'The singing hydrangeas? I can imagine their tune would sound off with him there.' Harry can’t promise his company would be any better. 'Would you like things done magically?' Poppy side-eyed him with pursed lips. 'If so, then I’ll get to it soon—I’ll just do things by hand for now.' The smile remained on Sprouts’ lips. 'Next week I can tame the Dragon Lilies if you’d like?'

'That sounds like a sound plan!' A bowtruckle hopped off her shoulder. It stumbled about and went right out the door. 'I’ll leave you to your studying, then.' She turned to Poppy. 'Inform me if the air needs more plant-life.' Then she dawdled off to do something else. Sprout was one of his favourites. She was gentle in her teaching, but remained firm in her instruction. Not even the Slytherins could break her sweetness with their scheduled bout of sourness.

'Right, all your summer homework is here,' said Poppy. Her voice was quiet as she approached. 'Pace yourself, you needn’t do it all in one day.' She conjured a writing table that snapped onto the bed frame. 'I will not be giving unnecessary pain relief from tension headaches. I do not want to trial new variations because you’ve gotten used to it.' Harry nodded and Poppy smiled. 'If you have any questions, ring this bell.' She handed him a small call bell. 'A tray will appear and you can write your question—the best possible textbook will appear.'

Harry thanked her, and she walked away. He shook his head as he picked up the stack of homework. He supposed he’ll start from the top sheet. It only made sense. Herbology sat at the top of the page in swirly writing. He read the instructions carefully. The visual learning obviously wasn’t happening. Maybe he could do his write up and then if it needs descriptions, he can do them later. When he wasn’t stuck in bed. Harry could have just done another subject—he was going to stick to the tier method. He didn’t feel like reaching for the stack again. He set the paper close to his face. Fuck, even with the potion, he was still blind. Has his vision gotten this bad in only a couple weeks?

This task revolves around pre-class research of the third-year curriculum. You must research and complete a three-page essay on one of the following topics. You must have at least two sources in order to pass. Your following topics are:

Monstrous Plants and all things wild.

Mystical plants and all things medicinal.

The Language of Flowers.

Following the Lunar and Solar cycles.

Your reference is not included in your page count. It may be submitted on another page, or simply written on the back. This must be completed with relevant materials. Should you feel like writing about more than one topic, you must owl your professor before submitting. Only one will be graded and submitted to the Ministry for results.

Harry reread the choices. His mind wandered to the two bouquets in the picture. He wanted to know what they meant. It was obvious it wasn’t to do with color. Not entirely. Harry knew the color of specific flower types changes its meaning. He also was curious about the medicinal topic. Maybe to space out his school subjects, he could write about both. Then he’d be forced to take his time. Do one subject a day. That seemed reasonable. Because if he was honest, Harry didn’t think he was going to be let out for a few days. So, he’d need to have something to do whilst stuck in bed. Single player chess can only be fun for so long. Even if he was pants at it. The black and white put him off his strategy. He hated the little squares—it was hard to focus when the pieces moved too. Harry sighed—both topics were interesting—the Herbology books professor Flitwick chose were perfect. He’ll do both and choose his best one. Harry was thankful he wouldn’t need to bother Miss Pince. Yet. He picked up the first book. Margo Monkshood’s guide to medicinal plants. It wasn’t as thick as he’d thought. But it was well used. The fabric cover was fraying just the right amount.

To note: Plants are not a failsafe remedy—because you are rarely safe when coming across wild plants. One may not think before using a leaf, stem, flower, or berry. Beware that the toxins may vary. What you thought was help is now your hell. This is the guide to keep you from an untimely death.

Well, isn’t that comforting? Harry went through each page, collecting notes. It was an interesting topic—he hoped it wasn’t brushed over in class. It seemed as equally important as the other options. The sun was now high in the sky by the time he read the whole thing. He had even requested a book on the history of medicinal plants. Knowing what is what’s great—Harry didn’t think it was enough, though. Because how did one know the difference? Did people eat them first and faced the consequences? Or, perhaps, a spell was used. But who knew to create a spell without trying things first? His hands were covered in ink as he did little doodles of random plants. Aloe vera, ginger currents, and grasses. Doodling kept his mind active. Too much writing and reading was boring. Hermione hated it—said it was a waste of parchment. Harry had taken to using a muggle pen on his arms then. It still irked her, but he got his work done still. He spaced out his themes and points to two per page. Harry thinks that talking about the benefits and potential side effects of each thing was a start. He also thought to base his research on geography. Where did things grow and what did native people use? Perhaps he can do the pros and cons, then back it all up with geographically historical evidence. He listed all the plant categories. Herbs. Shrubs. Trees. Creepers. Climbers. Aquatic. Reading through the common British plant chapter—most plants he knew from weeding Petunia’s garden. A lot of these he’s used to treat himself. Harry put the outline to the side to focus on the other topic he chose.

He picked up the next topics textbook. Valeria Opsteins’ language bouquet was on top. It was thick and well used. The pages were yellow, but the book was a second edition. It was published two years shy of a decade ago. The front page made him swallow harshly.

A note: Magical flowers are terrible for bouquets, as they usually have minds of their own. And temperaments that we do not need in the house! So, non-magical flowers are the best at speaking silently!

A bouquet is a telling of things you can’t say out loud. Putting flowers together in a bundle can spell disaster—literally! Each flower has a special meaning—get it wrong and you’ll suffer the consequences. It is an old testament of love, loss, war, and victory. If you fancied someone and were as shy as a demiguise—let the flowers speak for you! But be careful about what you pick—put two together wrong and you might blow your chances.

He flipped through the pages—he was so happy they were in alphabetical order. As he found each flower in the picture, he wrote them down. Each bouquet’s meaning was cool. Distinctly chosen flowers based on their choosers’ personality and the desired message. He was already off task as he listed the flowers. He drew the flowers from memory too. These books had no diagrams, but his sketches weren’t terrible. He looked at professor Prince’s flower choices first.

Iris usually means hope, and Yellow Lilies signify happiness. Red salvia signifies the term ‘forever mine’ and Dwarf sunflowers, particularly singular ones, signify adoration. Harry’s potion professor was showing his uncle how much he adored him. Told him how happy he was, and that he was hopeful to call him ‘forever mine’. That seems about right. It was a beautiful message. One Harry began seeing as normal for the dungeon bat. He didn’t think one could fake the endearment he saw on the man’s face. Prince would need to be one hell of an actor to fake an emotion like that.

He was now sketching the bouquet of his godfather’s choosing. Red roses mean love and morning glories signify affection. Honeysuckle represents ‘bonds of love’ and Goldenrods symbolise encouragement. Forget-me-nots represents true love’s memories. It was fitting for how Harry saw his godfather. He seemed timid, almost scared to speak of his feelings. It just solidified Harry’s thinking that Hogwarts’ houses are based on forward presenting traits. It seems both of their flower talk was immaculate. He hoped his uncle cherished them. Did his family have to do this research thing, too? It seemed like a place to start.

Sketching with a quill was an experience. One he didn’t want to have ever again. He moved his side quest to the side. His flower language pages were blank, and he didn’t like that. He spent the next two hours really reading the book on flowers. Harry had begrudgingly requested another three books. Going for historical and geographical links too. Making sure he cross-referenced information as he went. A lot of it was from the Victorian era. But it was no less interesting. It wasn’t as methodical as the medicinal plant’s books. But there was still lots of information. He took as many notes as possible. Putting facts into his own words. He then outlined his essay. Three key points per page. Harry made sure he used all four references at least once per page. He started writing his essay—filling in the gaps with information. The other one could wait—he was already on a roll. Stopping now would deplete his work ethic. He finished the draft an hour later. It was a little embarrassing how fast he wrote a draft. Hermione took an entire day to draft hers. But Harry ended up happy with the final product. So it didn’t matter in the end. He started writing up on medicinal plants by the time the sky darkened. Poppy came back with a tray—three more potions on it. Harry put his things away and sat up better. His hands didn’t hurt like normal. The bone potion must be working then. Usually he’d need to ice them in the bathroom sink after dinner.

'I see you’ve gotten stuck in!' Her smile was one of fondness. 'If your magic levels look better by tonight, then you may rest elsewhere.' She was seeing something he couldn’t. 'The aurors will be here soon to give you your things.'

Harry accepted the tray. It was the same as before. He downed them all and licked his lips. The taste was still better than anything else he’s had. It trumped his at-home concoctions he had to make in the shed. He watched Poppy bustle about. Her magic spread through the room as she cast spells. The sheets straightened, the curtains were drawn—the candles lit themselves. The magic felt like a blanket. But instead of drowsy, he felt alive. Like her magic was temporarily acting like a pepper-up potion. There was a knock on the door and Poppy frowned. Perhaps her ‘soon’ was later than the aurors take on the word. The door opened and Maxwell walked in, a box in his hands. He smiled and was flanked by a woman. She had dark green robes with St. Mungo embroidered on the breast. She was beautiful—slight wrinkles by her eyes meant she laughed a lot. It was refreshing seeing them. Petunia had none, being all ‘laugh to seem normal’ and not actually amused. Poppy and Minerva didn’t have any either. He knew they laughed and smiled, but the inset reminder wasn’t on their skin.

'You look like a busy bee—ah, would a busy bird be more appropriate?' Maxwell wasn’t very good at making jokes. But Harry smiled and giggle any ways. 'This is Andromeda Tonks—I requested she come meet you tonight rather than tomorrow. I’ll leave you to it in a moment.'

Andromeda Tonks. Harry thinks back to his inheritance test. He blinked a few times. Standing in front of him was his aunt. One of them—the one that was disowned. Probably for some stupid reason. Her black hair was bouncy, with lots of volume. Her hands looked warm. Eyes sharp with a no bullshit gleam.

'You recognise my name, I take it?' She asked as he looked at her. Her smile was kind, but she looked hesitant. 'I assure you I was not disowned for murder—actual murder at least.' Dark humour. Now that was more Harry’s style. 'Would, would calling you Harry make you more comfortable? I don’t know who got that idea—they must have been half deaf when hearing your name.'

Was he more comfortable as Harry? He hadn’t actually thought about it. Summer homework and pictures sort of took up his time. He didn’t stop to think of his real name. It was like he’s done himself a disservice now. His time could have been spent learning about himself. Instead, he took to a scrapbook for a brief time and his essays. He looked at his aunt with pursed lips.

'I don’t think I’ll get used to it if no one calls me by that name.' His parents named him Helia—so he’ll be called by that name. 'Were you close with my parents after, you know?' Being disowned—the words never escaped his lips. 'Moony has told me a few things—after I met him, that is.'

'Ah, Remus finally got to Hogwarts!' She took a seat by his bed. Her magic was poking at him—almost like she was feeling out to see what he was like. 'That man is lovely—but he cannot show up to places without a formal notice that he’s required to show.' Her laugh was soft when he looked at her confusedly. 'What I mean is—Remus is so timid, he won’t go anywhere on his own merit unless someone tells him to.' She pulled out her wand. A warm sensation washed over him. She was doing her own diagnostic. 'I’m sure it was Severus that needed to pull him out of their den—Merlin, he is so hermit-like sometimes.'

'He has this scrapbook and was showing me a few things a while ago,' Harry said. Wanting to say something she might add to. 'My sire was your brother, right?'

'Half brother, yes—we share the same dam but have different sire’s.' Oh, wow. 'Your sire was the more level-headed, but no less chaotic, twin—your dam brought that chaos out.' A diary was pulled from her robes. It had his name on it. 'I would love to talk about them more—teach you things you haven’t learnt yet—but I have a job to do first.' He took the diary he was handed. It was dark blue. 'I won’t sit and ask you stupid questions—but I would like you to go through this diary and log all the dreams and thoughts you have. Sketches even—if you don’t feel up to writing.'

'So you won’t make me talk about it?' He hated talking, but he liked to write when his joints allowed him to. She shook her head, a small smile on her face. 'Alright—so I just fill this book out? What happens after that? Do I need to do anything?'

'Once filled, it will bring itself to me to review—I don’t want you to think I’m over the top of you—so we won’t have traditional sessions.' She tapped the book with her wand. 'It will alert me if you write anything concerning, and that is when we will have a little chat in a place that suits you.' Her gazed wavered between him and Maxwell. 'If you’d like to go somewhere off site, then Maxwell, or a trusted auror, shall collect you.'

'Will you make me talk?' Just because you’re my aunt doesn’t mean I’ll spill my guts. I don’t even know you—I didn’t know I had you. 'I’m not very good at speaking.'

Her soft laugh echoed throughout the room. Poppy was nowhere to be found. 'I wouldn’t get anywhere with my clients If I forced them to speak to me. We can sit, have tea, and you can do something with your hands.' Harry noticed his doodle page in her hand. 'Pictures can speak louder than words—if drawing your thoughts, even if they’re scribbles, helps you get this emotion out, then by all means.'

'Is this what happens after an operation?' I get rescued like a pathetic idiot and then slammed by a psychiatrist? The question would definitely trigger that stupid spell. 'Are the kids getting people to talk to?'

Maxwell cleared his throat, placing the box at Harry’s feet. 'It is protocol—we want to ensure that you are looked after—the kids each get someone to speak with for however long they need.' He opened the box. 'You get the same liberties—Fudge requested Andy to keep things familiar—it’s not standard, but he knows a lot more than I do.'

Well, wasn’t that cryptic? Harry rolled with it, nodding his head. He clasped the book close and said nothing more. His aunt wasn’t familiar, but it was better than an old lady that glares at him. And he didn’t need to talk—just draw in the diary, or write if he feels like it. Maxwell smiles awkwardly as he bid his goodbye. A promise to check in later was the last to leave his lips as he left. His aunt Andromeda—or would she prefer Andy?—smiled as he stifled through the box. The blanket he remembered snuggling with came out first. It was light green with animals embroidered onto it. Not a stain in sight.

'That blanket—your grand-mere embroidered it when she found out.' His aunt’s voice was soft, but something that sounded like hurt filtered through. 'It was the turning point of her and Regulus’ relationship. We—I’ll rephrase that—that blanket was the reason we all talked things out.'

'Did they not get along? I know with you, um, the, you know—'

She shook her head with a smile. Clearly his garble of speach was ammusing. 'She was so blinded—it took everything she had to reconcile.' Her fingers found the edge of the blanket. 'James was the one that accepted the gift—he practically was the bridge for Regulus and Sirius to see their dam again.' Harry blinked and looked at the blanket. 'It’s tradition for the grandparent to make a blanket for the baby’s first swaddle—it offers comfort for the child before their presentation. She, along with the other family members, doesn’t get to see the baby until two months later. So, she’d be there in spirit and magic while she waited.' Her smile widened slightly, almost mischievously. 'James had practically locked the three of them into a room on presentation day. He refused to let anyone hold you until the magic lost its hostility.' She fiddled with his drawings. 'That blanket was your favourite—you cried until you were swaddled in it. He used it as leverage.'

'So, my sire, uncle, and grandmother reconciled—over a blanket?' Harry fiddled with it—the fibres were still soft. The embroidery was still clean. 'Did—did they reconcile quickly? Or did it take a while? And what about you?'

'Goodness, it took the better half of the day!' Her eyes were bright—that same blue he remembers in his dreams. 'Walburga was a stubborn woman—her sons got that same stubbornness.' The blanket glowed in the candlelight because of the golden thread. 'James had checked in every two hours—you in his arms—just out of reach. It drove the three of them mad!' He liked her laugh—it was solid, but held that delightful airiness. 'By the sixth hour, they had red-rimmed eyes and were calm—Walburga got the first cuddle, and was silently crying the entire time. The timing was perfect—your birth—Orion had passed two months before you were welcomed into the world.'

'Was it perfect because he was controlling? He’s the reason she was, um, absent?' Harry didn’t know if he’d worded that correctly. 'Did he—'

'I wouldn’t know if he’d hurt them at all—My sisters and I lived with our sire Cygnus.' She conjured a picture. 'We’re a mismatch family of pureblooded bigotry—Walburga was forced to be with my sire first to have an heir … it never happened—Orion swooped in after Narcissa was born and four years later Sirius and Regulus were born.' There were two men, one pure blonde the other raven haired; a woman sat between three girls and three boys. 'It wasn’t until Cygnus wanted another go thar Evan was born—she was considered baron after him.'

'Neither man cared, did they? They got what they wanted.' The picture was dated August 7th, 1976. 'How were you, you know—'

'Disowned? It was easy—my sire Cygnus found out I fell for a muggle born and threw me to the curb at 16.' Her laugh was icy. 'My uncle—your great-uncle—Alphard had given me a home until I finished school and married Ted at 23.' Her eyes had a dreamy gleam. It was nice compared to the gritted teeth from before. 'I had my daughter, Nymphodora, a year later. I got a blanket in the post the morning of her presentation—your sire and uncle had escaped Hogwarts to meet her; James had been their alibi.'

So much for doing her job first. It was almost funny how sidetracked they both got.

'They escaped? I don’t think professor McGonagall would be that daft not to notice students go missing.' No matter how much Harry thought his dam’s alibi may have been convincing. 'She sent you a blanket despite being disowned—surely that would mean she cared, right? At least a little! I don’t think she’d have done it out of obligation.'

'I sent her pictures for a while until Orion found out and sealed the floo.'

'What happened to your sire? Is he still alive?' Harry questioned. The blanket was now bundled in his arms. He can feel why he loved it as a baby.

'Unfortunately. That old bastard won’t die, no matter how many poisons I send him.' Her smile unnerved him a little. It was a bit sociopathic. 'Walburga is still alive, though—If you feel up to it sometime this summer, I am sure she’d love to see you. The house will welcome you in without a doubt.'

'Would it upset her that I lived and her son didn’t?' He died because of me.

His aunt frowned. 'Most certainly not!' she said. 'I’m sure she’d be delighted to see you! If you’d like—once you’re healed up—you can visit. I'll have Narcissa take you—have you formally met yet?'

He shook his head. 'I don’t have the best relationship with ma—Draco, I knew little when we first met so I didn’t handle it very well.' Harry’ll need to figure out how to mend that—would Draco even want to be around him? Merlin he was going to be what ruins everything. 'Do they meet often?'

His aunt nodded. 'Mostly for traditional events.' There was a tense pause before she shook her head. 'I won’t keep you any longer—I probably should have waited until after hours to speak of all this.' Her lips pursed in thought. 'I can come in the morning if you’d like—out of hours and talk about with no obligations?'

'Only if it doesn’t pose a threat to your work schedule!'

'You may join us for breakfast, should you wish Andromeda.' Poppy’s voice caught Harry off guard. Her steps were silent. Muffling charms. 'Bring Ted with you if you can—I have things I need to discuss with him.'

'I’ll drag him if I need to.'

Suddenly, dust-like magic sprinkled over Harry’s head and everything went blank. His vision was distorted, he couldn’t hear anything. Harr’s limbs went limp and for a while he had no sense of feeling. Like he was a bag of flesh existing to be decor. Blinking, the numb feeling lifted and Harry looked around, confused. A strange warmth crept up his neck and settled at the base of his skull. What the fuck was that? One minute he’s having a conversation—the next he’s out of it. Poppy was nowhere to be found and his aunt was gone, too. Their magic felt cold—like they’ve been gone for some time. He was still in bed—the hospital wing hadn’t changed. But the sky was pitch black—what time was it? He looks for Peeves, wondering if he was enjoying having someone at school. But the poltergeist usually monologues before he pranks anyone. Harry also didn’t think Poppy would leave him like this. So where was she and what the fuck happened?

'Ah, it seems my creation was a success!' Dumbledore’s voice was like a wave of uncomfortable words. 'Poppy has gone to do something for me—do not fret Harry, she shall return in no time.' That stupid smile was back. It sent shivers down his spine. 'Now, why don’t we sort you out?'

Sort me out? 'Pardon? Sir, professor McGonagall already sorted me.' Did she not tell him? Or did the old man not like what he heard? 'All my stuff was moved into Ravenclaw Tower.' I am not getting resorted again, you ugly man.

'Now, now, let this old man try to fix this mistake—your mother and father wouldn’t want you in a place you don’t belong.' A pouch of powder was on the foot of his bed. 'The hat made a mistake and I am going to correct it.'

Mother and Father, what—Before Harry could protest that same dust was blown directly into his face. The haze returned and his limbs went numb. His mind was foggy, and he had no strength to fight it.

'Now, we shall begin.'

Chapter Text

Harry’s ears were ringing again. There was slight pain in his scar. He could feel a small trickle of blood coming from it. His vision swam as if he were being drowned in the Black Lake. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. He could see Professor Flitwick arguing with someone. His hearing was gone. He could see their lips moving. Harry tried wiggling his fingers, but it was like they were cemented to the bed. He tried taking a breath in and felt a warmth in his finger. The one with rings. It travelled upwards into his lungs, and he took a deep breath. The chilly night air plastered itself to the lining of his lungs. As if the spell shattered, noise hit Harry like a bullet to a Kevlar vest. Harry raised his weak arms and cupped his ears. Flitwick was yelling, and Dumbledore was twitching his fingers. Flitwick’s face went blank, as if he’s forgotten everything. Harry watched the man cough a little and smooth his robes. Dumbledore—that ugly old man—just obliviated someone. And Harry had watched the whole thing. The ring warmed again, and his head felt like it was being wrapped in plastic. Like a protective layer had been added.

'Filius, think for a moment, then try again. What brings you to the infirmary?' Harry willed himself to be still. Hands back where they were. Hoping he hadn’t been seen moving. He watched as his new Head of House scratched his chin and shook his head. 'I see, I see. That is alright! I was just taking my leave from visiting young Harry.' That fucking gleam was back. Harry wanted to throw up. What the fuck does the gleam mean? 'I congratulate you on your newest addition—I have no doubt he’ll thrive under your care. I bid you good morning, and see you soon for breakfast.'

Morning? It was already morning, and breakfast was soon. The sun was going to rise soon. Harry’d been bewitched the entire night. The sun peeked from behind the trees. His watch then started beeping. Harry didn’t know his watch still worked. Turns out, it doesn’t—because it wasn’t his that was going off. Poppy came rushing out and was startled to see Harry sitting up. Had she been a victim of Dumbledore’s spells, too?

'I didn’t expect such eagerness to leave, Mister Potter.' Her voice was hoarse from sleep. Her nightwear hung loosely behind an untied dressing-gown. 'What brings you here, Filius? Do you require more dittany? I was sure I gave Severus your vials!'

'Pardon? Oh, no, I have them, thank you! I was just checking on Mister Potter.' The charms professor sounded unsure. His eyes were a little glassy. 'I’m just going to collect the books he’s used, to de-clutter his workspace.'

Harry moved then, albeit stiffly, as he collected the books that he had used yesterday. He handed them to the charms professor with a smile. 'Thank you, these were very nice to read—are you sure I’m not cheating if you’re recommending books?'

Flitwick waved his hand dismissively. 'Of course not! Most students have the same resource selection in Diagon.' The bright, cheery nature of his professor was back in full swing. Harry was confused, but smiled politely. Was there a public library somewhere? 'I hope to help you settle in soon—say in another day’s time if he goes with Severus this morning, Poppy?' There was a cheeky grin widening the man’s lips. It was almost too hard to say no to. 'I assure that he’ll be knee-deep in textbooks to do much else other than read!'

'If Rowle is only available this morning, then he may go,' Poppy said with a grumble. She didn’t look unhappy about it, just sounded tired. 'I will keep him until tomorrow afternoon if that is so.' Three potions appeared on Harry’s tray. The diagnostic spell was fizzing under his skin as she fluttered around. Harry prayed he was at least well enough to leave soon. 'If by then he is well enough for my liking, then he shall be able to settle in, yes.'

'Wonderful!' said Flitwick with an enormous grin. 'Mister Potter, a word of advice, if I may?' Harry nodded—he was actually intrigued by what the man would say. 'A dueller is never caught dead without a second wand—registered or not!' A book was thrown at the man’s head and he toddled away with a laugh. 'I shall see you soon. I’ll remind Severus to have your forearms and calves measured!'

The door closed with a small sound, and Poppy whipped around. 'You will promise me right now, young man, that you will not use unregistered materials on these grounds.' Poppy was looking at him. Harry stared at her blankly. She sighed and hung her head a little. 'I suppose, should something happen—in dire circumstances—you may use that second wand. But promise me it will only be in the company of of-age wizards.'

Harry was sure he didn’t need a second wand. Was that even allowed? 'Um, I promise—I didn’t even know you were allowed two!' Did people who duel really have two wands? It must be a gate kept secret—Professor Flitwick was a duelling champion, though. Was his new House Leader telling him to have a backup? Minerva would have told him to slug someone if he lost his wand. 'When will Professor Prince come and collect me? And where are we going?'

Fresh clothes lay at the foot of the bed. A bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit appeared in front of the potions. Poppy came closer and sat—she gestured for him to eat. He chewed as she explained the day’s events. She told him that after he was done eating, Prince would pick him up and Floo him to Knockturn. There, this Rowle guy would get him a new wand, and then it was straight back here and into bed. She smiled as he ate and told Harry that his magic levels were rising nicely. Poppy commented that he’d be able to go to Ravenclaw Tower tonight if they raised more by this afternoon. She turned her head, and Harry followed her gaze to his pile of homework. He sighed seeing that history was next—the title of the assignment was to research historical buildings. It was different from the other assignments. Perhaps Professor Binns has finally been replaced? Maybe now they’ll learn period-relevant things. The potions he just downed still tasted like freshly brewed tea. Without the cream and sugar. Poppy checked her watch and nodded.

'I have a meeting with a few people this morning—so if I am not back by the time you return, then someone will be here to keep you company.' She went to walk to her desk before halting her steps. 'Also, Andromeda owled very early this morning to inform me she won’t be able to see you for some time. St. Mungo’s has cut funding, and she’s been caught in the middle.' A frown etched onto her face. 'We all saw it coming, but she says you are more than welcome to owl if you’d like any questions answered.'

'Oh, that’s okay! I didn’t expect her to throw clients and meetings out for me anyway.' Harry scribbled onto some paper to act as a reminder. Only bother her if it’s something only she can answer. Check with Moony first if he’s not busy. 'Is this cut going to affect Hogwarts?' He’ll need to avoid injury then—not that he’s never not attempted to avoid injury.

'Severus is more than capable of brewing everything I’d need, so you needn’t worry.' She smoothed out her clothes. 'I look forward to seeing what your new wand is made of—don’t let Octavious push you around.' Her footsteps were quiet as she went back into her office. His bowl vanished as he placed the spoon into it.

Harry got dressed quietly, finding it astonishingly easy to change. His body wasn’t nearly as sore as it usually was. He could rotate his arms without cracking. His knees didn’t feel like there were daggers in them, either. Harry could stand and not be so lopsided. The linen dress pants he was given were sleek and soft. His fresh shirt had long sleeves in dark blue silky material—Harry’s raised scars were singing in relief. No more sweaty cotton for now. The shoes were polished, though they were a size too big. As he dressed, he was stuck thinking about Dumbledore’s schemes. The dust and memory charms—they seemed illegal. Were illegal unless done by a certified professional. But really, what else was new with this man? Nothing, nothing seemed new—it was all far too practiced to be a recent development. He sat back on the bed as he wrote notes to research later when he was in Ravenclaw Tower. Away from Dumbledore’s prying eyes. For a moment, at least. He folded the small list and tucked it into his pocket. He was not leaving it in a place Dumbledore had free rein of. The sound of a limped gait had Harry scrambling up. Harry wasn’t about to get caught looking like he was unprepared. He straightened his homework into a neat pile. The books were piled on the table. The man waltzed in languidly with a small sneer.

'Good, you’re dressed—we’ll be taking the Floo in my lab.' Harry nodded and tried fixing his glasses. They sat crookedly on his face. He gave up after they warped again. 'Come along before Poppy glues you to the bed.' Prince waited by the door and Harry walked as fast as he could. He felt like a fawn walking for the first time. His legs felt like jelly. 'I’m sure Octavious has something for you to sit on—come now, it was a miracle he could fit you in. Let’s not waste his time.'

Surprisingly, walking became easier as they made their way down to the dungeons. The cool air became damp the lower they went. It was nice—not that the fresh air was terrible, but Harry was used to the thick musk. It reminded him of his cupboard, but it was all so open—he had no reason to fear the area. The trek from the Hospital Wing to the lab was shorter than the Defence class walk was. It was all downstairs, so he wasn’t straining to keep up. Walking behind the potions professor still made Harry jealous. The billowing robes—Harry wanted to learn how to do that. It seemed so cool! But the man didn’t need to know that yet. The door to the lab opened without Prince touching the handle. Harry also wanted to learn how to do that.

The fresh smell of plants had Harry breathing in deeply. He loved the smell of the potions classroom—too bad he was always trying his best not to die each time to enjoy it more. Keeping Ron, Neville, and Seamus alive during these times was a little more important. He followed dutifully towards the front—the door to the bat’s office opened without a touch, too. It was a lot warmer in here than inside the classroom. Three large cauldrons lined one wall—the herbal smell was so intense he could taste it. They were holding the potions he was taking. Harry wondered how many more he’d need to take before Poppy was satisfied. The floo roared to life as Professor Prince threw some powder into it. The man muttered the word ‘nightshade’ into the flames, and they flashed blue. Was this a way of warning people they were getting visitors? Cool.

'Alright, Potter.' Ouch, back to Potter in that horrid tone. Wonderful. 'You will walk straight in and keep moving—this place is untraceable, so there is no address. Nightshade unlocks the charm that’s sealing the floo, if you were undeniably curious.' Harry nodded and waited for permission to walk. A flush stuck to his cheeks at being called out. It wasn’t a warning—it was to unlock. That was so smart; it was like a lock on the door. 'There will be a few people in the workshop—pay them no mind and walk towards a blue cabinet to wait.' Okay, he could do that—people stared at him all the time. 'Now, walk in a straight line—off with you.'

Harry walked and kept walking until he saw the blue cabinet. He surprised himself by not tripping at any point. The room he was in was chilly—wands lined the walls—wood and core jars scattered amongst them. Workbenches took up one side of the room by the window. A glittery film sparkled over the only lit fire in the room. If there was a fire going—why the heck was it freezing in here? It seemed pointless, but Harry wasn’t a wand maker, so he couldn’t judge. People stared at him from their stations—some with surprise, others with dangerous curiosity. Harry stood relaxed because they were just more people, no different from others in the halls. A pale man with white hair walked up to him. There was a dark gleam in his eyes. Harry said nothing—Prince never said it was safe to do so. So he nodded his head slightly—he won’t be rude and ignore the man. The blonde guy stood, surprised. Almost expecting Harry to run his mouth or shun him. This man was sussing him out—Harry was good at pissing people off by staying quiet. When Harry remained silent, the gleam vanished into something softer. It was stupid of people to assume he’d do either. If he had a choice, he’d probably hide until they left. Like a cat or something.

'Sev said you were overly polite, never said you were smart, though.' The man had perfectly clean teeth. His grin looked predatory. Harry didn’t know what this man meant by smart. He doesn’t think he’ll get an explanation. 'My brother Tav will like you—your magic smells delicious.' Harry sniffed as the man stalked closer—stooping low, the man took a big breath in. 'Those healing spells work wonders, don’t they? Poppy always knew what spells to use.'

'Thorfinn! Leave the poor thing alone, will you?' A soft voice called out, and the man, Thorfinn, backed up immediately. Harry refrained from saying anything. This man—he had to have some sort of creature inheritance to have smelt spells of all things. The same soft voice echoed again. 'Goodness, you’re shaking like a leaf! This room needs to stay cool, so the wood doesn’t cure. I was sure that I told Severus to bundle you up.' A woman with long brown hair walked in. A baby was on her hip, and a smile illuminated her face. 'That chair behind you has a cloak on it—put it on or you might freeze because it’s about to get colder.' The fire in the room crackled and flung embers into the shield, keeping the warmth in. 'The fire is for forging only—goodness knows why it’s lit. We have no commissions today.'

Paying no mind to the fire, Harry turned his head to see a wooden chair. On it was a folded cloak—the woman used her hand to wave him into taking it. It was a little big, but it was warm. A nice dark green with a gold clasp. The rune ‘Fehu’ was stamped into the soft metal. Harry remembered it from one of the books he’d read last year.

'Severus said you needed a new wand—I’m glad Tav gets to make it! Regulus and James ought to see you now! All grown and such.'

The Floo erupted just as Harry finished clasping the pin. That comment was lost to the wind as Prince waltzed in. The woman handed the baby to him the moment he stopped. He looked put out for a moment before looking defeated. The baby squealed with delight and began playing with his hair. Harry snorted softly, watching as the baby yanked on the strands. The woman put her hands on her hips. A stern brow raises as she gestures towards Harry. Almost in a ‘you sent him here knowing it was cold’ sort of wave. The baby that was now being cradled by Prince gurgled—as if they were adding emphasis to their mo—dams statement. Harry didn’t know what term to internally call these people. Prince looked indifferent as he made the baby let his hair go.

'We were in a rush to evade Albus trapping us in pointless conversation.' That was a shit argument. Nor was it true. The woman didn’t even seem convinced, so Prince cleared his throat. 'The clothes Minerva ordered have not arrived yet—I had no cloaks that would have fit.' That might be true—Harry wouldn’t know, though.

The people staring at him inch closer—they aren’t very slick. Their movements were deliberate, but useless at hiding the fact that they were getting closer. It was kind of sad seeing how sneaky they were trying to be. Harry turned to them, tilted his head, and then smiled. Most of them stopped as if glued to the ground. They almost looked scared at his smile. The scar on his face might not be helping him seem nice, either. It has expanded since the basilisk—it now settled over his eye instead of just his eyebrow and nose. Only one person kept moving, and Harry locked eyes with the man. His green eyes met blue, and Harry grinned. These guys are terrible at trying to get him talking or having any reaction. Looking unsatisfied, the blue-eyed man stopped. The magic radiating from him was warm—he kind of wanted the man to get a little closer. Harry’d take that as a minor victory, anyway. Death-Eaters don’t scare him—not when he faced their ugly master as an 11-year-old. Albeit a parasitic version. Their old marks were faded but still very much visible. Most had mutilation scars around them. Just like Prince’s. They made no move to hide them. Meaning either they didn’t care—or Prince informed them that Harry was aware.

'Hmm, alright,' the woman said. She still sounded like Prince’s argument was shite. Her gaze found Harry’s, and she smiled. 'Octavious is in the back sorting out cores and wood, so why don’t we have tea? He might be a moment, as he’s a little meticulous about how he sets his station.' A few cups and a kettle rested on someone’s workbench. There were nine cups in total. 'These guys won’t cause any trouble—I made sure myself, didn’t I?' Her smile turned threateningly sweet. Everyone nodded and sat around the room. The man with the blue eyes shrunk into his seat. Her face turned uncertain. 'I know you’ve seen the marks—but they really have good hearts. They’ve just been misguided for some time.'

'Helia—you can talk, you know,' Prince said, like it was common knowledge. The woman almost dropped the kettle when hearing his name. Like it was a sacred thing she’s hearing for the first time in forever. 'They’ve all sworn not to utter anything about what transpires here today.' The baby on the man’s hip made him look so domestic. Did Prince hold him as a baby? What a weird thought! 'Octavious may ask you some questions, so you’ll need to answer them.' The baby wriggled and looked like they wanted to be put down.

'Oh, Severus, leave the boy be—sit down, you lot, and take your tea!' Everyone sat down, and the woman looked satisfied.

'You don’t need to justify anything to me,' Harry said. 'I have no right to judge you for your decisions.' He met Prince’s eye. 'You all had people to protect, and you did it in the only way you knew how—the only way you could.' Harry scanned the room—it had the bare minimum; all their clothes were threadbare. 'My sire was one too, wasn’t he?' The woman, whose name he still didn’t know, nodded hesitantly. 'If people can say good things about him, then they can say bad things, too. The papers and public can say all they like—if you haven’t any good in you, then I wouldn’t be breathing right now, would I? You’d get your lord back using me.'

'We aren’t child murderers.' The blue-eyed man said, his cup clenched in his hand. 'The worst any of us did was move equipment and guard places. Never ended up doing any dirt work.'

'Didn’t have the brains to, they said.' The Thorfinn guy muttered. 'We weren’t devoted enough to the cause. Some of us went on raids as eyes and ears, but that was as much war action that we suffered.'

Suffered. Harry stared into his empty cup—tea leaved were settled at the bottom. It looked like a pine tree. 'Sociopathic and psychopathic people wouldn’t care if I was a child or an adult. If they met people with shared ideals, then it wouldn’t matter what the order was, they’d do it anyway.' Harry cradled the empty cup tighter. 'You all obviously had no choice. I feel that many people who have that mark only went down that path because it was the only one they had.' Surprise lit up people’s eyes and Harry cradled the cup this time. It wasn’t his to break. 'No one is truly evil or purely good—you can be made into a bad person—' Harry looked at their arms again. '—and you can reform into good people. You can’t do that on your own or without a reason.'

'Thank you for saying that,' Thorfinn said. 'Regulus—like all of us in this room—had nowhere to go but to the Dark Lord. Didn’t have a choice that was safe to take.' He said nothing more than that. Harry didn’t need him to. But there was a part of him that disagreed. Though not everyone had good people around them—most were lumped together on the same sinking ship.

'But you’re doing better things now, right?' Harry asked. 'If you weren’t good people, then I’d need to go back to Ollivander. He already sold me a wand that bothered the ugly, noseless bastard. At least here I’ll get one with an original story.'

The room lit up with laughter, and the blue-eyed man snorted amusedly. 'Good ol’ Olly is a successful wand maker—but Tav’s are better for those like us. Original and a little beat up.' Harry’s gaze shifted around the room. 'We don’t get many kids coming here that aren’t from … families, you know?' Harry nodded—Death-Eater families, got it. 'Though I spose you’re one, aren’t ye?'

'I suppose I am—is it offensive to say your Lord was kind of useless? Because he was murdered by a child, supposedly? His ideals also didn’t seem worth dying over either.'

'Well, here’s to the boy-who-lived getting rid of that old fucker.' More laughter rang through the room. 'What was the story behind that wand, anyway?'

Everyone was staring at him, but he welcomed it. 'Ah, well, when I was shown around by Hagrid—who didn’t really explain much about wizarding culture but is still really cool—he took me to Ollivander’s. The man was very ominous and went to the back after failed attempts, and well … the wand he picked had a phoenix feather core from the same bird as Voldy-shorts’ wand did. So, brother wands and what-not.'

'Well, shag me sideways and get me to kiss a Selkie—what was that man thinking?' Thorfinn said. There were murmurs of agreement from the others. 'And Hagrid showed you around? Merlin—wait, that means you came from the Muggle side?'

'Huh? Oh, yeah, I lived with Muggles—still did until like a day or so ago—and didn’t know I was a wizard till my Hogwarts letter arrived.'

'Merlin, that’s fucked up!' a sandy blonde woman said. 'You got expelled for blowing someone up, right? Sevy was talking to us about it—we were scheming to see how ya did it.' Everyone muttered their agreement. Harry’s cheeks flushed. 'What house did ye get this time round, anyway? Sev spoke about it yesterday—that cuz you were expelled, you were resorted.'

Harry blinked. 'Oh, Ravenclaw! Still don’t know what the hat saw in me for it though—but the riddles are easy, at least.'

No one spoke as something crashed in the other room. The baby was crawling around carelessly, not minding the noise. The small trousers then snagged on a nail that poked out of Harry’s chair. Perhaps the tiny thing was a little too careless. Harry, with his cup in one hand, tugged the snagged fabric free. Tiny hands found his fingers, and the baby then gripped his trouser leg. With a little help, the small child got up on unsteady feet. Then Harry had a lap full of pale blonde hair and light eyed child. Their little body was warm—Harry shifted so that the baby was sitting comfortably. He could feel all eyes on him, but he’s taken to not caring. They were the ones wasting their time staring. Even if they’d shared a fun moment. The woman had a small smile on her lips. Harry’s rings flared with warmth as the baby played with them.

'Now that ain’t fair,' said the blue-eyed guy after a few seconds. There were a few more crashes in the room parallel to where Harry was sitting. 'Not even a full five minutes and this kid's got Jasper clinging to him. I bet you that’s James’ silent charm right there.'

'Oh hush, Riv—you’re just sour you made the poor thing cry this morning!' the blonde woman said. A broad smile appeared on her face.

Before the man could respond, another pale blonde-haired man walked into the room. 'Alright, fuckers, piss off—you all know you’ll annoy me in no time. Go out and do somethin’ worthwhile—the kid doesn’t need you starin’ at him.' The man walked to the bench and put some tools down. Then stalked over to Harry and picked the baby up. 'This means you too, Jas—why don’t you go destroy Uncle Thor’s lab? How does that sound?'

Joy-filled giggles erupt from Jasper’s little body. A dramatic sigh escaped from Thorfinn’s mouth. Begrudgingly, the man took the baby and stalked off. Though Harry caught the wisp of a smile as he left. The woman vanishes the tea and kisses Octavious on the cheek.

'Be nice, or else you’ll do the dishes indefinitely.' She tugged on Professor Prince’s cloak. 'You can come with me—I don’t trust Xander’s potions any more than I trust a drunk Hippogriff.' And then it was just Harry and Rowle. The others stalk off outside to keep busy.

'I take it Sev didn’t actually explain how this will work, did he?' Harry shook his head. 'We don’t sell pre-made wands—I make them to order, sort of. I base it all on your magic before finding the right woods and core.'

'I don’t need to bleed, do I?' Harry asked. He didn’t need his blood being in the hands of an ex-Death Eater. Even if he was reformed or whatever. 'I’m kind of over bleeding for tests and stuff—is there a spell or something instead?' A rough laugh has Harry looking up as he stands. This guy was freakishly tall. 'If I need to, can I do it myself?' More laughter makes Harry think this guy was nuts. Though anyone who willingly followed a murderous maniac was bound to be nuts.

'Had your affinity and inheritance done then, did you? Sev mentioned it offhandedly last night.' The fire behind the see-through barrier went out. 'That narrows down the woods I need to find.' Rowle walked over to the bench. Beckoning Harry to follow as he does so. 'No blood needed—I’d have no need for it, anyway.' Good to know his blood was essentially useless. 'Now take a seat there and we’ll get started.'

Harry sat on a steel stool and waited patiently. The room got colder, and the tips of Harry’s fingers went numb. Jasper had been crawling around—Harry felt envious of the baby. He’s always hated and feared the cold. His joints hated him for it, too. As if it were Harry’s fault it was so fucking cold each winter. He tucked his hands into his pockets and watched Octavious waving a springy wand. It had a tiny branch with a little green leaf on it. The magic that came out of it felt warm—Harry unconsciously leaned into the bench. Trying to chase that warm feeling. Three types of wood appeared. The one in the middle sparkled with magic, and it seemed obvious to Rowle.

'It’s the middle one, huh? Good, or else this consultation would’ve been awkward.' He moved the other branches. 'The other two woods were a softwood, and a muggle engineered wood which is useless but keeps things interesting.' Harry watched as multiple branches appeared in front of him. He counted twelve in total. 'The one you chose is hardwood—known for speaking to dark wix with brief flares of magic.' Three of the branches fizzled with sparks. 'Softwood is more inclined toward neutral and light affinities.'

'Um, what happens if more than one branch is fizzling?' Harry was very confused. All the wands in Ollivander’s shop were made of one wood. Not multiple. 'Do I just pick up the one that fizzles the most?'

Rowle’s eyes glowed with a hunger Harry’s never seen before. 'Oh, is that so?' Harry nodded. 'Well, aren’t I lucky?' The man gestured to the wand woods. 'Show me which sings to you and then I’ll tell you why there’s more than one.'

Harry swallowed and pointed to the first branch he’d seen. It still had pink and white flowers on it. The branch itself was slightly rough and was a deep brown color. The second branch was thinner and had no flowers of any kind. It pale with dark ring-like patterns. The branch that sat on the end was thick at the base and thinned at the tip. It was a light reddish-brown color. Harry saw the dazzle in Rowle’s eyes brighten with each point of Harry’s finger.

'More than one wood isn’t overly common—but it mainly means your magic leans in multiple directions.'

'Like certain spells?' Harry asked. Then, a lightbulb exploded in his head. Can direction also mean the subject path of magic? 'Oh, do you mean subject wise—like Transfiguration or Charms?' He remembered Ollivander mentioning something like that before.

'Precisely.'

'So these three woods lean toward a certain thing?' Rowle nodded and removed the other branches. The three remaining were lined up neatly. 'What are they?'

'Dogwood, Birch, and Yew—what an interesting combination—I’ve had very few people resonate with any of these woods.' The smile the man had turned hungrier. 'You are your sire’s son—when I first started wand making, he was my first experiment. He got three woods too, rare in their own way.' The smile morphed into a softer one. 'Your dam was my ticket to sourcing all this. The suppliers—his relatives—still outsource to me, and I’ll be forever grateful.' The rings on Harry’s finger warmed, and his magic fizzled in his chest. Just like the wood did. 'Before we continue—how do you feel about being here knowing what I was—am? Did you feel threatened at all being in this room?' Rowle asked. His eyes gave away the slightest bit of nervousness. 'I know Sev showed you, but how’d you figure we were, you know?'

'Being ex-Death-Eaters?' Harry asked. There was no point in saying it timidly. 'newspaper clippings in my best mate’s room.' Harry said. 'Everyone who was in here before … I saw their marks, too.' Ron’s walls were covered in random bits. 'You’re trial ended in permanent community service to the Ministry, I think.' Harry doesn’t remember the other terms of his freedom. 'Everyone else in that room had the same or similar, right?' Rowle nodded, and Harry sighed. 'Why follow a madman, anyway?'

'Wrong place, wrong time—family obligation felt better than death at the time.' Rowle coughed slightly. 'I was young, reckless, and wanted a place to belong—the dark didn’t have a safe space for us at the time. Knockturn could only feel so safe. I’m sure the others have given their reasons.'

'Was—did my sire choose to be one? I doubt he wouldn’t be one if he knew you so well.' Harry didn’t know if that was insensitive or not. 'I—no one has specifically told me a lot about him—said he warded homes and stuff.'

'Your dam did—spent time around me, and he wasn’t one.' Harry stared at him blankly. Rowle barked out a laugh. 'Regulus was dragged along becuase of biggoted family member’s—he was a mole of sorts—one of the bravest men I knew because of that.' A mole? 'Your dam held him together with treacle tart and binding spells at one point. I thought they’d die well before they did once the war got kicking.'

'You thought they would have died young?' Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know how young the guy meant. 'How old was he when he got the mark?'

'Too young—your uncle Evan was in the same boat—chained by familial duty and all that crap.'

'Right, onto the wood types,' Rowle said. Harry fell back a little. The warm magic that bled from Rowle was turning cold. Stopping the topic of conversation seemed wise. 'We’re here for wand making, not for sob stories—if you want, I’m sure I can find never-seen-before pictures for you. We’ll see how we go, yeah?' Harry nodded—he felt fuzzy with anticipation. Both with getting a new wand, and with getting to see more of his parents. Rowle picked up the middle branch first. 'Birch wood is hearty. Doesn’t bend all that well—it’s loyal and not very good at accepting others using it.' He handed Harry the branch. 'It’s best used in Transfiguration because the wood itself is all about change and creativity.' The wood felt heavy in his hands. Its bark was smooth despite looking rough. 'People who find birch as their wand wood are looking for a new beginning, and are symbols of the sun—all bright and shite.'

Harry snorted as he turned the branch over in his hands. 'If it’s loyal, does that mean it can’t be used with another wood?'

'Usually, yes,' Rowle said with a grin. 'But you aren’t normal, kiddo—your magic sang when these three lit up.' He let the man take the wood back. 'However, I owe yer sire a favour—so you’ll get one birch wand all its own. These other two I’ll bond together—they’re the real kickers of the wood world.'

'Really?' Harry didn’t know what he was questioning. 'What do the other two mean?'

Rowle laughed heartily. 'Now, dogwood is a funny wood to work with.' He picked up the flowering branch. 'Wix, I know from the registry that have one made of dogwood, links to heroics and political movements.' The flowers turned a bright pink—almost like they were blushing. 'Magically, dogwood is a healer’s wood and very protective—just like a dog is.' He handed Harry the branch—it was lighter than the birch. Its flowers were soft. 'It works best with Charms and can be stubborn—it harbours the owner’s traits, so be careful of how you act when using it.' The flowers fell off the wood and exploded into small piles of fire. 'Dogwood is also known as the King of kindling—not actually used in fires, but is best used with warm spells.' Rowle didn’t elaborate as he picked up the last branch. Harry didn’t ask him to—he’ll read up on it when he gets back to school.

'Yew—this wood is rare—I’ve only ever gotten two branches.' A goofy smile rested on Rowle's lips. 'My lovely Carmine has the other branch—made her the wand as a wedding present a few years ago now.' Harry could see this man was compassionate. Perhaps the community service is doing him good. 'Anyway, you have the other branch.' A smug smile inched its way onto Rowle’s face. 'Ollivander fears this wood and won’t work with it at all.'

'Really?' Harry asked. He knew yew trees grew in cemetery’s—that shouldn’t stop someone from using them though. 'Does it have a negative connotation?' Obviously, but it might be different from what was usual. Ollivander was an unusual person after all.

'Ironically, it’s known as the witches wood—the wood of death is my favourite saying.' Harry snorted and got a cheeky look from the man. He could feel his shoulder relaxing. 'This wood is best for rituals, divination, and alchemy. Working with it can bring some ghostly friends, so be careful of graveyards.' Goody, Harry needed new friends. Maybe he’d pass history if he had some ghost friends. 'James cut this branch themselves from the Potter’s private graveyard in India—it’s fate I tell you.'

Harry sat there for a moment, completely stunned. His wand was going to be made from a branch … this was unbelievable. Rowle put the three branches to the side and conjured nine glass jars; one of them looked empty save for a tiny scrap of scale. Some had hair—others had horns or skin. There was no time to think about the yew branch—these wand cores needed his attention for the moment. He could cry about it later. Harry didn’t see any sparks of magic, so getting one must have a unique process. He’d probably need to touch them or something.

'Usually I have about eighteen cores available—however, since you have a dark affinity, you are much better suited to only nine.' Rowle turned the glasses so Harry could see the labels. 'The way a core chooses an owner is if, when you touch it, it needs to feel you out and see if you are worthy.' Harry looked closer at the jars. 'I have Selkie mane in this jar—have a go at that first.'

Harry was handed the first jar. He twisted the top off and pulled out the fine hairs. They were soft in his hands, but he felt nothing. 'Um, is it supposed to be a mind-blowing feeling, or something?' Rowle nodded his head, looking hopeful. 'Sorry to disappoint, but it just feels soft and slightly slimy.'

'I see—how about this, dragle scale—readily available and responsibly harvested.' Rowle sounded like a robot spewing legal stuff. 'Give that guy a go.'

The scale was rough and almost painful to touch. Like his fingertips were burning. 'Is it supposed to feel like my fingers are on fire?'

'Definitely not, drop it!' Rowle lunged for the scale and ripped it out of Harry’s hand. 'It seems water isn’t a friend, huh? Okay, how about a feline then?'

A jar of orange hair was gently placed in his hands. 'Rangogou hair,' Harry said as he read the label. The fur was soft, but Harry sneezed as soon as he pulled the tuft out of the jar. Rowle gave him a small vial labeled ‘sneeze-be-gone solution’; Harry drank it gratefully. 'Does this mean I’m allergic to cats?' He hoped not.

'Nah, it just means your nose is sensitive to touch.' Rowle twisted the next lid off. It was a large feather. 'Thunderbird?' Harry gave it a go. What was the worst that could happen? The feather bloody zapped him. He now had a lightning-shaped burn on his wrist. 'Hmm, getting closer.' Harry looked at the man like he had a second head. 'I mean, it’s because the burn burned and didn’t take your hand off.'

'That doesn’t help me feel better!'

'It wasn’t supposed to,' Rowle said with a smile. 'Um, how about we try dire-wolf mane?' Harry sneezed again, more violently this time. 'Okay, what about Doxy wings?' The pads of his fingers tingled unpleasantly. 'Far out, alright, so mundane creatures won’t work.' Rowle took back two jars. Meaning Harry had two options left. 'I have exactly one of these—your mate Hagrid actually gave me this.' Harry picked the jar up.

'Thestral rib-bone?' he asked. 'It’s curved, how do you turn it into a wand core?' Harry inspected the piece. 'Do you fragment it or something?'

'Yup—that means that I can only do one wand. It’s a powerful piece; being the third rib on the left.' Rowle pulled the bone out. 'Rib was closest to the heart and core of the animal. It was exposed to the highest amount of magic.'

The jar in Harry’s hand was replaced with the bone. Warmth flooded his palms, and that made it hard to let go. He held it close to him, trying to get the warmth to spread across his body. Rowle waited for Harry to finish soaking up the warmth. Harry finally put it back into the jar. He twisted the lid on loosely—he didn’t want to be tempted to pick it up again.

'Do you know what a Thestral is?' Rowle asked. Harry nodded. 'Do you know what it means to have a core made of one?' Harry shook his head this time. 'I see. The rib-bone specifically helps its owner hone their spells. They are very temperamental and don’t like people who don’t understand them.' Rowle gestured to the jar. 'They thrive on all things death; meaning that the Dark Arts is most compatible. I know only two others that had Thestral parts as a core.' Rowle’s blue eyes met Harrys’s green ones. 'One was a raven just like you—who sadly let rage consume him. You may know him as Grindelwald. The other met with death like they were long-lost friends.' A picture appeared—it had a date and caption on it. December 12th, 1978. James has dubbed this as his wondrous death wand! 9 inches, made of Heartwood and Thestral jawbone.

'You made it for him?'

'Regulus asked me to—it was a wedding present, and I couldn’t deny such a request.' Rowle took the picture back. 'Let’s get this done and I’ll see what other things I can show you.' He frowned when he picked up the other jar. 'Unfortunately, I don’t have enough Basilisk skin for a wand—it was already rare when I got a piece—but have a go anyway and I’ll see what I can do.' Rowle handed him the skin. Warm sparks erupted from Harry’s hands, stunning the man in front of him. The warmth travelled up Harry’s arms and settled in his chest. 'Well … it seems I have a basilisk to find,’ Rowle said as he took the skin back. 'Basilisk wands are incredibly scarce, as the beasts are rare to begin with and hard to kill—ah, don’t pout.' Harry sat there, missing the warmth the skin gave him. His magic was exploding behind his ribs. 'Normally the core’s passed down from generation to generation, usually Parselmouth or budding Dark Wizard families.'

Harry had a dumb but possibly greatest idea ever. 'What if I told you I knew where a basilisk corpse was? Like, not even a month old?' The chamber was cold, so he was sure it was preserved a little. 'It’s at school.'

'You have an entire basilisk—how in Merlin’s name—I don’t even know what to say!' Rowle’s eyes were bulging out of his head. 'Do you know how much you could get with one sliver of skin?'

'Um, I’d assume a lot,' Harry said in reply. 'Would you like to see what you can harvest from it?'

'I’d be actually mental if I didn’t—does anyone know about this? Sev said nothing about it!' Rowle was passing the room now, his hands wringing together. 'Let me go get Sev and we’ll discuss this further.' Harry watched as Rowle all but ran to the door screaming, 'Severus, you bastard, we could have been rich!' A smack sounded and Harry winced. It sounded like it hurt. Harry pulled the snakeskin closer to him—he wanted to hold it again.

After a few minutes, Rowle came stomping in with Professor Prince behind him. Harry felt like he was in trouble now because neither man looked happy. Prince stared at him, expecting Harry to burst into flames. If that were an option, he’d like to do it now. Being a pile of ash seemed pretty good right now. Rowle slumped into a chair, looking emotionally exhausted. Harry wrung his hands—his chest was full of nerves. He looked at his potions professor through his eyelashes.

'Are you capable of locating this basilisk corpse?' Harry whipped his head up to look at his professor. 'No, Potter, I’m not asking about it—can you find this dead beast or not?' This was definitely not what he was thinking he’d say. Harry sort of thought he’d get a smack too, for keeping this from people. 'Well?'

'Oh, uh, yes—Dumbledore said nothing of this?' A sudden look of realization splashed across the man’s face. Harry sat back in his seat again, his brows furrowed in thought. 'I, I thought he would have told everyone. You know? Because it was a giant snake that was petrifying everyone?' Harry froze as this morning came rushing back into his brain. He said nothing though—he wanted to make sure that he was right. 'Right, well, I can open the chamber if you’d like? Right now if you’d prefer.'

'Well, if Sev doesn’t mind—I’d like to see how Hogwarts has changed,' said Rowle. His initial shock seems to have passed. 'Let Minerva know I’m coming for a visit?'

'I’ll let Minerva know to keep Dumbledore occupied.' Prince stalked to the floo and started speaking into it. A few minutes later he came back and gestured for Harry to stand. 'Minerva has gotten Albus doing reform checks and signing off exam results. He’ll be occupied for the rest of the day. Let us go now as I am sure that Mister Potter would like his wand as soon as possible.'

Harry stood and shook out his trousers. 'Well, shall we be off then?' His mind was foggy as he stepped back through the floo. Still surprised that he didn’t trip. The lab smells amazing, and Harry took a deep breath in. He followed Prince back into the potions classroom as realization hit. 'Professor?' Harry asked as they made it to the door. 'Are there any doors that won’t open in the common room?' Harry didn’t think Salazar Slytherin wanted to walk very far to get to his chamber.

Prince paused and then nodded. 'How did you know that? Snuck in before, have you?'

Harry shook his head. 'Nope! But I imagine it smells like this classroom, just with more books and couches. Perhaps a grand staircase? House colours, or something.' The man didn’t need to know he had in fact been inside. As an honorary—ah, no, he was definitely Gregory Goyle, or had he been Crabb? He couldn’t remember. 'I think Salazar would have rather kept his Chamber of Secrets a secret, so why go anywhere but there? The way I got in before must have been an emergency exit.'

'Alright, follow me then, Potter. Octavious, I am sure you know your way around and can keep up?' The limp in Prince’s gait was still pretty noticeable. Harry wondered if he was continuing treatment for it. Fluffy did some damage. The entrance to the Slytherin dorms was how Harry remembered it. 'Nyquil,' said Prince, and the three of them walked in. 'Well, Potter, best get your bloodhound traits going or else Albus will smell your schemes.'

Harry looked around—definitely a lot of silver and green, but not a disgusting amount, thankfully. He saw the Bloody Baron floating around and approached him. He walked up calmly and greeted the ghost. 'Good morning, Lord Bayler. I was wondering if I could bother you with a specific request today?' The ghost stared at him—if Harry wasn’t full of anticipation, he might have been a little unnerved. All the blood was a little unsettling.

'Request? And what would you need from a dead man such as I?'

'Salazar Slytherin—his chamber has multiple access points. I would like to know if you were aware of such doors?' Harry could feel drafts coming from different directions. There were quite a few options to choose from. 'I’m sure I can ask Nearly Headless Nick to leave you be for a while if you can pluck that memory from the void.'

'Hmm, there is one entrance I know of—how long is a while?' the Baron asked. 'Make it a week, and I shall search the castle for all of them. The perk of being dead is I needn’t use doors.'

'I can do it for the entire year if you’d prefer—a week seems too short for all that work.' Harry could see the two men looking at him. Observing him with neutral faces. 'The basilisk that I unfortunately needed to, eh, release from her suffering is going to be put to use.'

'I see, follow me, child—Severus, stop looking like you’ve sucked a lemon. You’ll be a wrinkly old bat by the time you’re forty.' The baron led the three of them to the office. Inside looked like the potions classroom office. Warm and filled with potion bottles and cauldrons. 'This statue will reveal a door if I remember correctly—though, I do not know the password.'

'How is that—'

Harry hissed at the serpent statue that sat by the hearth. Its pewter body coiled up tight. 'I want to see inside the master’s lair.' Its eyes glowed red, and the hearth transfigured into a door. It opened with a creak. 'I shall return to seal you once more when my task is fulfilled.' Harry walked right in and followed the curve of the stairs. They were damp, and the air was humid. It was familiar and terrifying simultaneously. 'Watch your step—I’ve not been this way before, so I don’t know if there is anything to worry about.' The stairs ended and Harry found himself in a study. The walls were covered with old tomes and scrolls. A large door—like, basilisk large—was on the far end. It took everything in Harry not to go straight to the books. 'I think it’s this way!'

'I’m sure the smell of dried blood was a giveaway, kid.' Rowle wiped his nose on his sleeve. 'This has been down here this entire time, huh? Imagine all the texts we could’ve been using, Sev!'

'We are here for a snake’s corpse, not a library session!'

'Ouch, touchy, touchy—just because Moony wouldn’t snog you in the librar—humph.'

Harry whipped around to see that Rowle’s lips were gone. Prince’s wand was held to the man’s throat. Both men grumbled—one a little clearer than the other. Harry sighed and turned back around. A sudden fear scratched at his heart. He walked forward and placed a palm on the door. Magic swam in his head; it muttered about a long-lost master, or something. The words were mostly in old Latin that Harry didn’t know. He grasped the handle, and the smell of venom hit Harry in the face. He walked in with his heard pounding. Memories of his fight clouded his vision.

'Holy fuck! She’s huge—Severus, how the fuck did you miss this?'

'I was busy keeping my muggle born Slytherin students alive, Tav. I also do not heed myths; facts have been proven, and I was not chasing something that may not have been real.' Prince came to stand next to Harry. 'You killed this thing? With what? Pure Gryffindor spite?' There was underlying humour hidden in the insult. Harry snorted, the guilt and panic eased in his chest.

'Something like that,' Harry said. 'How do you want to go about this? What would a snake that’s this size be worth?'

'Millions,' Prince said, striding forwards. 'A single fang would bring in at least 500,000 galleons, if not more.' Harry stood where he was—he still needed to process being here again. Not at the risk of dying this time.

'Well,' Rowle said. 'Shall we get started before Dumbledore finds out?'

Yes please, Harry thought, I want a nap, and it hasn’t even gotten to midday yet.

Chapter Text

It is just now hitting Harry how huge this part of the chamber is. It was to the point where Harry wondered how no one seemed to know it was here. Minerva had gone on about how the entire castle had been searched, but nothing was ever found. If Harry was honest, he thought they could have searched harder. This part of the chamber was so big it was a wonder the foundations never caved in. The charm keeping it all stable is insane for that. That should have made it obvious. Like, how could no one find a place that is this saturated with magic? Harry couldn’t wrap his head around it. Whilst Prince and Rowle were looking at the basilisk, Harry was feeding the curiosity that was eating at him. He wasn’t actively dying now, so he could look around and appreciate the place. The rubble was a little scary to look at, and so he avoided that part. Rons screams for him echoed as Harry walked away from where his best mate had once been trapped. He roamed the small alcoves that he found, finding little trinkets that he’d research later. Spheres, small toy-looking things, a magical rope, and small snake-shaped relics. As Harry paced, he thought of what this part of the chamber was used for. The basilisk obviously took up space when she was let out, but that seemed to have been a long time ago. But it was a long, platform-like area—Harry now thinks it could have been a duelling space. A place to practice spells and what-not.

The smell of rotting flesh was burning his nose-hairs, so he went to the other side and began exploring. He found another snake statue, so he surmised that this was how Salazar concealed doors. Ingenious if you were a Parselmouth. He hissed at it, and the eyes glowed blue as a door appeared. Inside were a desk and a cabinet of inks and large quills. It smelt of wet earth, not unpleasant, but it may become bothersome after a while. Especially when this place had no windows or way of ventilating the area. Were there charms to ventilate windowless places? Perhaps when Salazar was around, he charmed the areas himself. He stepped inside and sat at the desk. An aged letter sat atop the dust-covered workspace—the ink was a dark, muted from time, green colour. With a small breath, Harry blew the dust away to read what was written.

'To my dearest Willowdeen…' Harry read aloud.

I write to you in trying times, and I pray to the stars that you are safe. Hogwarts has become overrun with fresh blood, and I cannot bear to leave without teaching them the basics first. Godric has warded the castle, and I hope that one day you may be able to see what I have created for us. It is glorious, and I am proud to be able to bring your thoughts to life.

Helga has relented and convinced Rowena to let people access the Astronomy Tower whenever they please. When I tell you she sealed herself away for some time before agreeing, it was quite hard to get her to leave her precious tower. You’ll now be able to see the stars up close—like you’ve always wanted to.

I have sent for supplies to be brought to you, my love. Food, clothing, water capsules, and medicines. Please remember that the owl is a friend, not food, and will take your letter if you ask nicely. A serpent of mine shall also bring me updates about you. Please inform your village that they are keeping you safe—they will not harm you.

My dearest Willowdeen, all this shall pass in time. Think of my offer and press red ink into the seal if you accept.

Harry couldn’t make out the rest of the letter, but it didn’t seem like any new information. There must have been a famine during this time. Was this Willowdeen person a Muggle? Because, like, why would they need owl messaging explained to them? The concept seemed simple—an owl brings you a letter and you send one back the same way. Even Harry understood that, and he wasn’t raised a wizard. Pigeons were used during wars, even in those times. The snake part makes more sense. Most people would probably think of beheading it above all else. What intrigued him the most was that, if she is a Muggle, then everything about Salazar Slytherin wasn’t completely true. The ‘Muggle-hating, Muggle born loathing’ man didn’t hate them as much as Harry reread the legible bits of this letter. He’ll need to find a portrait of the man to ask him for truths. Harry skimmed the letter once more—he didn’t know the Astronomy Tower had restricted access. Rowena Ravenclaw didn’t sound like the type of person to gate keep knowledge. He wondered what Lady Hufflepuff had done to convince her to open it up. Harry was grateful—he gets his quiet cry time in that Tower. The bottom of the page was covered in split ink. Either it was done by accident, or something happened that caused it to spill violently. It covered most of the bottom paragraphs. Harry left the letter alone then—it really hadn’t been his right to read it. But he was always curious, perhaps too curious. It was a flaw he often overlooked and pulled back from. Dudley was the primary star in the muddled Dursley home. So Harry could never be so curious about things. Feeling like he had intruded on a timeless, heartfelt moment that may have ended in tragedy, he left. He asked the serpent guarding the door to reseal it. Returning felt rude, and so Harry walked away, hoping he’d forget what was inside. He found another serpent and asked it what lay inside that room. The hissed response burned the guilt and relit the curiosity. Inside this room was a laboratory. Not for potions or herbology—this lab was for spell crafting, if the creation texts were anything to go by. At least, that is what Harry thought at first. Until he found a table full of Alchemy textbooks. The texts were in pristine condition, as if the cold of the room preserved them. He walked around slowly to take in the ambient magic he felt. Some areas were warmer than others, meaning they were exposed to more magic. This room was filled with Salazar’s magic—it felt comforting, warm despite being a parselmouth. It was like his magic was his own heating rock. Self-sufficient.

He found detailed textbooks on how to create metal, gems, elixirs, and craft jewellery out of wood, pebbles, and water. Lord Slytherin didn’t sound the type to be into jewellery design. Harry was proven wrong when he came across a locket design. It was chunky and quite plain, but the reasoning behind it held all the depth it needed. 'The locket that will give my dearest Willow a glimpse of my world.' The patent form had been filled out but seems to have never been filed. It was an ingenious design. It let Muggles see what wixen could see. Offering them a glimpse of real magic but not using it. The gem looked as if it had liquid inside. An elixir of some sort that made it possible for the Muggle to see everything. The idea was extraordinary and left Harry thinking. Salazar Slytherin was not a Muggle hater—he couldn’t be if he had made this locket. Literally for a Muggle to see magic. The spilled ink on the letter lets Harry’s imagination run wild. Something must have happened for the man to change his entire perspective of Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. Harry wasn’t one to pry, so he won’t investigate. But then again, what if Salazar was tricked or something? Tricked into a falsehood, and led astray. Made to believe something that wasn’t true. He had made something that let this Willowdeen person see him for what he was. And someone ruined that.

One mystery at a time, Harry thought as he picked up the locket drawing. He shouldn’t take it with him, but the nagging in his head told him to. Like he needed it for something. If only he could shrink it, then he’d fit it into his pocket. He waltzed around the room trying to find a small-scale version. Vernon always had small-scale pictures of his newest patents. Suddenly, a small beam of light flashed as his hands went warm. The page that once was the length of his forearm, now fit into his palm. Harry spun around in the room, looking around to see if anyone had come in. There was no one but himself—did the room read his mind? Harry was too tired to do much thinking. So he’ll roll with it. He walked out of the room with a promise to return. There were many things to be found in that room. Perhaps it will help him find answers to the questions he’s been harbouring.

His venture was cut short as Prince found him as he sealed the door. With a raised brow, Prince gestured for Harry to follow. He let himself be led back to the main part of the chamber. The basilisk was now in different piles. Skin, teeth, bones, the eyes for some reason, organs, and two dangerously large venom sacks. Rowle was waving his wand and chanting in a low voice. Harry walked closer with such rigid steps that he tripped over his own foot. On his front now, he was inches away from where the golden eyes lay. They couldn’t kill anyone now—not that she wanted to kill anyone in the first place. He moved to sit on his knees and felt a pulse of magic. The eyes were glowing, and he felt like something was being pulled over his eyes like a cloth. He was still in the chamber, but he no longer felt attached to his body. It was freezing where he was standing behind where his body was kneeling. Footsteps bounded over to where his body was. He could see the two men but felt nothing when they got close to him. Prince knelt down, and Rowle swore in a language Harry didn’t know. A hiss rang in his ears, and he was face-to-face with the basilisk. Or rather, the spirit of her. Prince and Rowle’s bodies began fading until the basilisk was all he could see. Even the chamber faded into nothing—whiteness replaced the damp floor and dripping walls. There was no smell, no sound of breathing. Just the overwhelming feeling of magic surrounding him. He could taste iron in his mouth, but that could be because he’d tripped.

'Hatchling has put my body to use! Salazar has been watching and is very pleased. Hatchling must use my fangs for his wand!'

Harry gaped at the snake. Is she serious? 'You’re happy that my professor butchered you?' Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 'No one should be happy at being chopped to bits!'

'Oh but she is, my little descendant! My darling Ladon was most pleased when you granted her death. Her nest mother’s fangs were used to craft my wand. Being used as a wand core is an honour as well.' Harry apparently didn’t need to wait to see Salazar Slytherin himself. The man was standing right in front of him. He was far tanner that Harry thought. Did he spend lots of time outside, or … Harry thought it was rude to continue that thought. You know, assuming race and all that. 'I see you have also found my patent. My first attempt was a fluke, I tell you. Worked the moment I finished it. I am enraged that my useless descendant came into possession of it. Destroyed its worth and turned the magic away from its purpose.'

'Useless descendant?' Harry was confused. 'What do you mean by that?' The hissing coming from his lips was soothing. Speaking in Parselmouth was nice no matter what he was saying—he didn’t think he’d be able to let himself anymore. Not after the whole heir of Slytherin thing. 'I, I’m not your descendant! I come from the Perevell line—'

'Ignotus, yes, he married my granddaughter, Ladona.' There was a genuine, almost dreamy smile on the wizard’s face. His beard moved as his lips shaped into a smile. 'So if anyone is the rightful heir to my house, it is you. Because I am not having that disgrace ruin my reputation any longer.' The man frowned, peering at Harry’s hand. The one with the rings. 'You do not bear my ring—though you obviously were not aware of your lineage. You’ll need it to get into the other parts of the chamber, I am afraid.'

'I, huh, what?' Harry was dumbfounded. Harry tried thinking back to his inheratince test and was running a blank. 'Alright, so then how is Voldemort related to you?' It wasn’t making sense.

'My grandson, Victimus, married Ignotus’ elder brother Cadmus. That line eventually bled and bled until the Gaunts.' Ladon hissed something he didn’t understand—like it was a dialect of Parsletongue he didn’t know. Lord Slytherin smacked her snout. 'We are not uttering such vileness in front of my descendant. Behave yourself, or I shall send you back through the veil.'

'Hatchling needs to know how terrible the noseless man is! Terrible descendant! Nosey made Ladon hurt people! He is—'

His mind was blown—Cadmus, the second brother. Merlin. 'That—I’m related to Voldemort!' Harry said, interrupting Ladon and her spiel. Harry was losing what was left of his mind. The man—no, this was a nightmare—it had to be. Lord Slytherin smacked Ladon’s nose again as Harry’s mind went for a spin. A string of tempered hisses filled Harry’s ears. He laughed softly, even now that he wasn’t connected to his body. 'Oh, trust me, we had met before—I killed him once, just not well enough for him to stay dead. I was an infant though, so that didn’t help.' Harry watched Lord Slytherin’s face flash with multiple emotions at once. Relief seemed to settle into the man’s forehead—anger lingered at the edge of his brow. Harry added, ‘He wasn’t, isn’t alive anymore. Not in a literal sense, anyway, I don’t think.’ The green-clad founder raised a brow. 'The projection that was sealed in the diary was from decades ago, I’m sure.' Harry doesn’t know what happened, or is happening to the presumed dead.

'I see. I’ve only seen glimpses of the last few centuries. You, opening my private study was the first time in years that things have been seen for more than a few seconds.' Harry nodded in understanding. Could people really see what you do from up above? Harry hopes his parents aren’t too mad at him for being a fuck-up. Salazar cleared his throat, even though he’s been dead for however long. 'I will, however, tell you to keep an eye out for a large black dog. Some people across the veil have given me that to share. I was not told what it means.'

'A black dog? Like an omen?' Harry asked. The descendant thing was passed over a little too fast for his liking. 'Or a literal dog?' Harry sees large dogs all the time. Did they mean Fang? He wasn’t going to be cautious with her. She was lovely. Any animal Hagrid raised has the perfect temperament. Fang was the only reason he wasn’t so afraid of dogs anymore.

'I fear that is up to interpretation—revealing too much may cause you more harm than good. But I assure you that it is not a bad omen. So, do not listen to those who are rat keepers.'

Harry could see their bodies waver. Rat keepers? God, Harry was too tired to think of what that meant. 'Are you—is this your doing? The projection?'

'Yes, I felt my lab being opened, and I needed to see which descendant it was. I had magic stored before my death to be able to greet my descendants like this. It puts my heart at ease knowing that it is you. Your dam was very close to opening the chamber—it was quite sad that he was always led away.' A bunny spirit hopped into Harry’s field of view. Lord Slytherin looked down with a fond smile. 'Ah, if only you had led him to the other entrance. Perhaps this could have been avoided if he’d opened it.'

The bunny faded into a ball of pure magic, its nose twitching. It was warm as Harry reached out, and the magic exploded around him. Stars appeared and formed a constellation. Lepus hopped around his head before settling at eye level. Another figure sparkled and bounded around him. Canis Major barked and yipped happily—the Sirius star gleaming brightly. Twinkling as it does in the sky. It was one of Harry’s favourite stars to look at. Harry couldn’t wait to head to the Astronomy Tower to look at them through the scope. Ladon coiled around them all and hissed her farewell. 'Little hatchling is smart! He shall figure everything out. Canis Major’s child shall find you! As shall Lepus’ little girl,' she said in a long hiss before disappearing into the constellation she’s named after. Her eye twinkled, and he was reminded of Draco. His star is the eye of Ladon. No wonder he tends to kill all the life in you. He was the basilisk’s eye.

'Are you going to leave now too?' Harry asked. He had so much to ask the man.

'I will shortly, but I will come when called—come to chamber and I shall know.' The projection wavered again and Harry caught a glimpse of Prince. It seems Lord Slytherin did too. 'My successor, the Prince fellow, is a wondrous man. I admire his teachings—he truly leads the Slytherin House the way I’ve always wanted it to be led. The others are happy with their successors as well—they’re the embodiment of what their house is to be.'

'So everyone was the right pick?' Harry asked. The man nodded. 'So, to go off of your statement, you never hated Muggles?' Harry thought he’d die if he didn’t ask. 'What made people think you did?'

'Ah, so you’ve read my letter to my dear Willowdeen?' Harry nodded—he could feel a flush climb his neck. 'She was the first squib I’d met. Her parents exiled her to a Muggle village to live when she was a child. We met at 13 during the summer, and I asked to court her. I went to the Muggle village that raised her, asked her for her hand, and courted her until we married at 20. I made that locket for her when she accepted my courtship at 15.' Harry pulled the patent out. The pad of his finger iced over the S in the gem. 'I conquered Alchemy for her—my dislike for Muggles came when they hurt her. Tortured her for being a witch, even though she possessed no magic. The magic they thought she possessed came from a child who was passing through with their family. She was just in the way. That letter I had written, I never got to send it because Shesha had alerted me of the torture.'

'You hated them because they hurt the person you loved.' Harry could understand that. Being hurt and hating because people didn’t like to find truth. 'Then, everyone perceived that you hated Muggles in general. If you don’t mind my—' Harry couldn’t finish his thought, thinking it rude to ask what happened to her.

'She died giving birth to our children, twin boys, three years after the torture.' Lord Slytherin must be good at finishing thoughts, or he could read his mind. 'My sons were later killed young because they possessed the same gift as I.'

'Parseltongue?' Harry questioned.

'Presicely. My eldest son, Ravindra—Ladona and Victimus’ dam—was killed first at 21. He had spoken to a common garter snake at the time of his death. My other son, Emir, bore no children, nor had a partner of any kind. He died at 22 when the viper trade was roaring in Wales. I watched them both die, and I couldn’t do anything about it.' Harry watched the man pause, sniff, and then sigh. His eyes were glassy, and the magic turned stale with grief. 'Ah, I don’t think small minds need such big things to think about right now. Visit again soon, and we shall certainly meet again. I’ll have much better things to share.'

Harry felt himself being pulled back into his body. He didn’t even have time to say goodbye. Hands were cupping his face and Poppy had her eyes closed, chanting something. He felt nothing happen, but her hands were warm. Harry leaned into the touch, practically melting in her hands. Poppy opened her eyes and squished his cheeks. They were glassy with unshed tears. He could see Rowle cowering behind Prince, shoulders shaking with what looked like grief. Until he saw Harry blink.

'You little fucker! You scared me half to death—I’ve got a kid, you know! Can’t leave Carmine to look after him alone!' Rowle’s face was purple with flushed exasperation. 'Merlin, I thought those damn eyes killed you. Until Sev said they weren’t connected to a living snake.'

'Sorry,' Harry said with a raspy voice. 'I don’t know what happened. Does—did Professor Dumbledore find out?' The whole point of the distraction was that he didn’t know they were here.

'No, he did not. I sent Remus to keep him company for a short while to bide time,' Poppy said. 'I originally sent him to collect your exam results thinking you might like some time with him.' Her gaze met Rowle and Prince’s. 'I did not think you’d be down in this mucky place. Goodness, I didn’t think it would be this large inside.'

'What happened, Helia?' Rowle asked. The name rolled off the man’s tongue so naturally. 'You tripped, and then there was no waking you! I thought the basilisk had gotten ya.'

'Lord Slytherin said he likes how you’ve shaped Slytherin house, sir,' Harry said instead of giving a straight answer. Prince raised his brow and pursed his lips tightly. 'Said it was how he wanted it to be done. Lord Slytherin didn’t hate Muggles, by the way. He was just portrayed that way because of something that happened to his wife.' Harry didn’t think he’d need to mention being a descendant. There was already enough to deal with now.

'We can discuss this later. Your magic levels have skyrocketed!' Poppy stood and smoothed her robes. 'As happy as I am about that, what happened here is stifling. So, I would like you to rest where I can get to you promptly should you turn poorly.'

Damn it. No settling into Ravenclaw Tower then. 'Okay—did you say my results were ready?' Harry wanted to know if he had failed or not. 'Will I get to read them in the Hospital Wing?' His brows furrowed. 'How did you get in?'

'Severus sent a Patronus to me, and I met him in his office. The entrance to the chamber remains open until it is verbally closed, apparently.' Oh, that’s good to know. He’ll need to make sure he closed it before doing anything.

Harry nodded and stood on wobbly legs. 'Are Professor Flitwick and Sprout around? And professor McGonagall. The founders said things about them too.'

'We can find them once you are settled for lunch, which you should have had before going exploring,' Poppy said with assurance and with a hard look at Prince. 'Let us go now—I am sure we can find you more undisturbed time down here later.'

Harry let himself be led out of the chamber. He closed the entrance with a tired hiss and was dragged to the hospital wing. His bed from before had been made—it no longer had creases. Harry sat down per Poppy’s instruction. His shoes were kicked off and shoved under the bed again. Rowle was sitting on the bed parallel to him. He shook like a leaf and was handed a calming draught. Harry felt bad, but he didn’t know that tripping like an idiot would lead to astral projection. Prince and Poppy were standing at the foot of his bed. A tray of potions floated over, and Harry drank them as the door opened. Moony stepped in with a letter in his hand and a small, anxious smile on his face. Instead of standing next to his bed, his godfather sat next to Harry on the bed. He appreciated the warmth from the man. The outer-body experience made him feel a little chilly. The letter was handed to him with shaky hands.

'Albus wanted to hand it to you, but I insisted—told him he had duties to uphold. I left Minnie to deal with him—I’m recharming her classroom as an apology.' Moony looked nervous, almost haunted as he spoke. 'We also have somewhere to go later this evening, so I need to sort some things before we leave.'

'Do you think I passed?' Harry asked as he disregarded everything Moony said. 'With the whole basilisk thing, which she did not do willingly, I don’t think I did very well. Does everyone know what I got?’ He looked at Prince, who was shaking his head gently.

'I’m sure that’s nonsense! And as professors, they do not get to see what you get until after you’ve opened your letter,' Poppy said as she tended to Rowle. 'I am certain that you’ve done exceptionally well. Go on! Open it. Then, you’ll have lunch and a nap.'

A nap sounded so good right now. So did some food—which was a weird new feeling. Usually, he didn’t feel hunger until after a day or so. With shaking hands, he broke the seal of the letter. A brief light illuminated the room as he unfolded the letter. Overzealous much. Prince rolled his eyes, and Rowle snorted at the light display.

Examination for the 1992-1993 academic year.

Student code: 7788 Helia Potter

Astrology: O

Charms: O

Defence against the dark arts: O

Herbology: O

History of Magic: E

Potions: EE

Transfiguration: O

'See! You did wonderfully!' Moony said. 'I failed history in second year and barely scraped an 'A' in potions and herbology. So this is something to be very proud of!'

Poppy smiled, and Harry felt magic pushing him down. The table floated over, and food appeared. 'Alright, let us eat and let Mister Potter rest. I am sure tonight will be long.'

Blinking groggily, Harry tried to remember what he ate or when he’d finished eating. He couldn’t remember when everyone had left, either. The clock on the wall told him it was four o’clock—he couldn’t recall the time it took them to do everything in the chamber. So his nap could have been short, or a few hours long. He was sure it was just after 11 when they’d returned with Rowle. His bones told him he’d been in REM sleep for some time, though. But with those potions, time meant nothing when they made him feel well rested. He lay in bed looking around the room. There was no one around, but there was a note on the tray next to the bed. A fruity smell lingered as he used the table to sit up. The note had small, evenly spaced writing, with a few ink drops dotted around the page. He looked over and saw a fresh set of clothes on the table too. The herbal smell of his godfather filled his nose as he read the note.

Helia,

We didn’t want you to wake up alone, but Severus and I are with Tav sorting out your wands. We’ve taken fangs rather than skin, I hope you don’t mind. He’ll bring them by in a few days. Poppy and Minnie are keeping Albus busy with the duties he’s been neglecting. Filius is with the goblins discussing a few things that will happen later this week. The other professors are heading away to spend time with family. They send their well wishes to you, and hope you enjoy the rest of the summer.

If you read this before four, then please shower and dress. If you get up after five, Severus and I will be back to help you get ready.

Love, Moony.

Harry looked at the clothes again. A pair of blue-black slacks, a smaller pair of polished shoes, a silky dark purple shirt, and a black cloak. A smaller note in Poppy’s nice writing told him to shower with the window open to help ventilation. And that there are toiletries for him on the counter. After stretching and making the bed, Harry made his way to the bathroom. It was huge compared to anything else he’s used. He’d seen it once before when grabbing something for Poppy when he’d visited Hermione. He undressed before running the water—having warm water was something he still wasn’t used to having. Cold water meant the water heater never switched on. Meaning the Dursleys never knew when he drank warm water during winter, or showered. He kept his glasses on to read the directions on each bottle. Sighing, he turned the dial and let the water heat. The directions said to use warm water, so he will. Shampooing his hair was weird—he hadn’t used scented things on his head before. He smelled of sour fruit and vanilla. Harry reread the hair mask’s directions and hummed Bohemian Rhapsody to get the proper six-minute wait. His glasses rested on the counter so he could wash his face next. His scar burned a little as he scrubbed. It was slowly getting bigger, and his eyelashes were going white in his right eye. Soon the scar would take up the right side of his face. He wasn’t sure he was ready for the comments about it once school started.

The water cut as Harry turned the dial again. He watched the steam travel out the window. A towel danced its way into his hand as he summoned it. He was halfway through walking to get another towel when he realised what he’d done. So much for not using magic for a while. The shoes he’d been lent had water on them, and so he needed the other towel to dry them. Why he took them with him into the bathroom—Harry sighed as he put both towels into the laundry bin. Stupid, he thought as he put the shoes on, why bring shoes into the bathroom? Did you need to chase the water? Shaking his head, he tried, for the fifth time, to tie his laces. The other pair had the laces tied already, so he’d just slipped them on. With a growl of frustration, Harry flopped backwards. Fucking shoe laces. Useless hands. Why—he could cast spells and draw somewhat decent pictures, but he couldn’t for the life of him tie his shoes or button his shirts? Harry sat up in silent fury and looked at the buttons. Crooked. They were all fucking crooked! He took off his glasses and scrubbed his face in frustration. How he’s survived school so far without this happening … oh, it’s because he’s never done his things up. Just slipped them on already done up.

Footsteps pounded on the stone floor during his frustration-induced breakdown. Harry was tugging at his hair and throwing a shoe across the room when Moony opened the door. The polished shoe hit right next to the man’s head as he walked in. Harry’s hand froze where it hung in the air. Fuck.

'Woah, where’s the fire, Helia? I don’t think putting it out with your shoe is effective.' Moony smiled and then frowned, seeing the disaster that was his godson. Wonderful, another adult who thinks he’s mental. 'How about we take a moment, yeah? Since you’re up and mostly ready, you have plenty of time before we leave.'

'Why is there a perfectly polished shoe in the doorway?' Prince asked as he barged into the room. 'I was sure shoes were made to be worn on feet, not discarded on the floor.'

'Well, it would go onto my fucking foot if I could tie the damn laces!' Harry said in pure frustration. He raised his hand and summoned his shoe back. It flung itself into his hand, and Harry threw it onto the ground by his foot. Moony stalked over and placed his hand in Harry’s hair. Sniffling in depressed frustration now, Harry leaned into the hand. 'My hands and body can do lots of things! Why can’t I do the things babies can do?'

'Babies are unable to articulate their clothing, so you are closer to a toddler at the very least.' Prince got the same shoe to the face and Harry buried his face into Moony’s abdomen. Harry heard the man grunt and limp over to stand at the foot of the bed. 'Wolf cubs do not possess opposable thumbs, nor can give me a resting bitch face. You, little Wolf, are more akin to a bitch at the moment for that shoe.'

Harry buried his face deeper in the cardigan Moony was wearing. 'I wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice the shoe to an untimely demise if you were helpful!' Akin to a bitch, what rubbish. Harry wasn’t usually this cranky, but he was so tired of not being able to do simple tasks. 'You’re the king of bitches, sir.' He wasn’t sure he was heard as the wool muffled his words.

'Helia, get your face out of his cardigan and slide your shoes on so I can help—once you get your wand, then I’ll teach you the spell.' Harry, who almost didn’t respond to his given name, sat up straight and pouted at the man. Whose wand was being waved as he slid both shoes back on. A bit too roughly if anyone was asked. 'Knowing you, you’ll have the spell down by the second try.'

Harry didn’t pay attention to the spell, just the affects it had on his clothes. His shoes tied themselves and the buttons on his shirt looped through the eyelets. His glasses brightened as they were cleaned without a cloth. Harry sat there as the potions master fixed his clothes—the magic was colder than most people’s magic. Like an ice pack on a bruise. He felt like a big bruise right now, so it was nice. His muscles relaxed as Moony moussed Harry’s hair into a fluffy mess—Harry would need to use that hair stuff more often. Fingers always got caught before you tried combing his hair. He leaned into it, chasing the rough hand that parted his curls. A tap at the window startled Harry into head-butting Moony’s hand. Harry turned his head to see a large eagle owl sitting at the window. A letter in its beak. With newly tied shoes, Harry stood and opened the window—he held his arm out for the enormous bird. He pulled up his sleeve first. Because if he didn’t, the claws would have ruined the nice shirt. The bird let him take the letter, and Harry summoned treats from the kitchens. He stood there blankly, noticing that he’s just cast another spell. God Dammit.

'I think teaching him the spells wandlessly would be easier than you thought, Sev. Perhaps Minnie would let me teach him a few things for his rites this year.' Moony had a shy smile on his lips. 'Though it would be Poppy that would have the final say.' Moony held out his arm and the owl hopped over with a hoot. 'If Alzir is here, that means it wasn’t Lucius who sent the letter. He’d have sent Asphodel instead.'

Harry looked at the pristine letter and seal. It was sage green with a peacock feather design. He cracked it open—the letter was short but no less dramatic. Typical of a git like Draco. The swirly writing was hurting his eyes.

Helia,

Shocking is not the emotion I’d use to describe this. Devastating is more like it. You, in my house, for dinner no less. You better have palatable table manners or I’ll sick the peacocks on you. I will not have a cousin who has no decorum. Mother will not tolerate piggy fingers at the table, either. Don’t think for a moment that I’ll be calling you cousin straight away. You’ll still be Potter for the foreseeable future. But you are the son of my mother’s favourite sibling, so I suppose it wouldn’t take long to get used to you. I have much to teach you, it seems, so you better be a good sport. Or I might just set you alight.

You’re still a git, so expect little from me. I also will never call you Harry—that isn’t your name, so I won’t be using it.

Your newfound cousin,

Draco.

Sniffing languidly, he put the letter onto the table. He expected a longer, more gitish rant about how he didn’t want Harry as his cousin. Perhaps his aunt was standing behind the blonde git as he wrote it. Prince cleared his throat, and Harry raised his head to see a raised brow. Moony looked amused as he let Alzir preen his hair. They both were dressed smartly, wearing ironed shirts, ironed slacks, polished shoes, and tailored cloaks. Well, Moony had a comfy cardigan on for the moment. Harry reached out and patted the enormous owl—who then flapped his wings once and landed in Harry’s hair. His neck felt like it was going to snap, but the bird was king here. Harry didn’t want his eyes pecked out.

'Now we can really say your hair is a bird’s nest.' Prince had an expressionless face as he commented on Harry’s new headpiece.

'I’m not finding your company to be very beneficial to my health at the moment,' Harry said. He reached up to pat the heavy owl. 'When do we leave?' Harry was tired even though he’d gotten up not even an hour ago. The shower was refreshing until his shoe crisis.

'Right now if he’s sent you that letter. Knowing Narcissa, she’s gotten herself into a tizzy about this.' Prince gestures for them both to leave so Harry fed Alzir. Leaving the window open for it to fly out of. Prince waved his hand, and the window snapped shut once Alzir flew out. 'Best leave promptly. Narcissa is not the best when it comes to people being late.' The man's hand found its way to Moony’s cardigan. 'Put the cloak on, or else she’ll burn it.'

'Dammit,' Moony said under his breath. 'Can’t I wear it till we get to the Floo? The cloaks are heavy!'

Harry walked behind them feeling highly amused. This was so domestic—he didn’t see the fuss of the cardigan, but could feel the wrath that hadn’t appeared yet. It was chilling, and he wasn’t even the one at risk of being told off. He summoned his cloak quickly after forgetting it. Hoping neither man had noticed. He clasped the hinge closed after too many attempts. The frustration had built by the time they’d gotten to the Floo in the Potions lab. So much so that he’d contemplated just running to the chamber. He didn’t feel like blowing someone up tonight. He’d had his explosion for the summer. Prince muttered another password, and the floo roared to life. Harry prayed he’d stay upright going through. Instead of astral projection, his aunt would probably send him to hell. Prince went first, and Moony guided Harry to go next. He held his breath as he pushed forward—the flames were cold on his exposed skin. His feet betrayed him the moment he stepped out of the Floo. Harry’s nose smashed into polished tiles. The glasses that were on his face are now in pieces on the ground. They weren’t very good glasses. He lay there for a moment contemplating life. Hands pulled him up from the ground, and he felt his nose being put back into place. His glasses were placed on his face and icy hands cupped his cheeks.

'Not only does he have James’ eyes, he’s also got his knack for tripping on thin air.'

'Mother! You said I couldn’t be rude, so why can you be?' Mal-Draco’s voice echoed in the receiving room. A term he’d learnt yesterday—at least he thinks it was yesterday. Time was relative in his mind at the moment. Harry couldn’t even remember what day it was.

'I’m his aunt, Draconis. Teasing is what aunts do!' came the retort. A small smile was plastered on her red lacquered lips. 'And there is nothing wrong with what I said—Helia is like a fawn! Stumbly like he should be until he’s on a broom. He is his dam’s son after all.'

Harry doesn’t know whether to be offended or not. He was more focused on the thumbs padding across his cheeks. He could feel the cold magic of the manor. It felt like it was suffocating—like something was blocking or poisoning it. Like an idiot, he couldn’t help himself. 'Why does the magic in here feel like an iceberg?'

'What in Merlin’s name is an icebug?'

Harry snorted at Draco’s perplexed face, earning him a small slap on his shoulder. He tried his best not to flinch at the feeling. 'Icebergs are large blocks of ice that you see floating in the ocean. They’re chunks that have chipped off an ice shelf or glacier—massive, slow-moving bodies of ice and snow that form on land—and float away.' He smiled a little at the confused face that became more so. 'They can sink ships if you’re not vigilant enough or the conditions are terrible.'

'Well, they sound stupid! Mo—'

'You can feel the magic? Severus, why hadn’t you informed me!' The icy hands left his face in order to poke into Prince’s chest. It seems he wasn’t the only one with a knack for cutting people off. 'I could have had things prepared for him to study!'

'Narcissa, dear, how about we settle into the dining room? I’m sure we can discuss this over dinner—an early meal will leave time for more searching.' Moony’s magic sparkled softly as he guided Harry’s aunt away from the potions master he had as a husband. 'I’m sure Helia would appreciate more reading materials that Hogwarts doesn’t posses.'

'You have books that Hogwarts doesn’t have?' Harry asked as they walked through the cold halls. The dining room felt like a walk-in freezer. 'If those books will help this room stop feeling like a freezer, then I’d be grateful.'

'You’re actually cold?' Draco asked, his nose scrunching in confusion. 'It's summer! How can you be that cold? And what is a fresher?'

'Draco! How rude—go fetch your sire for me while I see to our guests.' Harry’s eyes found Draco’s as he was pushed towards the table. 'A freezer, darling, is like a charmed ice chest.' The blonde was guided away towards the door. 'Tell him he’ll need to bring the red box with him—he’ll know what I mean.'

The next five minutes were freezing for Harry. This room was the coldest place he’d been in—being outside during winter would be more tolerable. His cupboard had been warmer during the winter than this place. He couldn’t tell if he was shivering or not, but the magic felt more constricting the longer he sat. Moony gave him his cardigan—an item he’d not removed before Flooing over. The magic was warmer, familiar, but did little to keep him warm. Bullets of icy magic hit Harry’s skin as he heard two voices approaching. A feint hiss could be heard, and Harry looked around for the culprit. They were a family of Slytherins, but he didn’t think they’d own any.

Ungrateful handler! Going against the master’s wishes. Couldn’t kill that boy or those pesky half-breeds!

Turns out the Dark Mark could speak. Before it was just hissing noises and not comprehendible words. The hissing intensified as his uncle walked into the room. Harry’s gaze locked onto the blonde man’s right arm. He could see angry sparks coming from beneath the man’s robes. His ears picked up a softer, less hostile hiss. It was coming from Prince’s arm. It was actually the opposite of what Lord Malfoys was saying.

Master will not be pleased when he returns. Little boy is going to suffer. You must choose a side!

'Helia?' A hand shook his shoulder. 'Helia, are you alright?' Harry didn’t respond. It was as if he were frozen. Stuck listening to the Dark Marks hiss. Why now? Did the chamber boost his magic so much that he was suppose to feel like this all along?

That little boy killed your master, and yet you house him! Disgrace!

'Mother, what’s wrong with him? Why is he shivering like that?' Shivering? Harry wasn’t shivering. Was he?

Little hatchling won’t survive another killing-curse. Master will kill him!

'Mimsy! Get me the dark green cloak—yes, the one with the stars at the bottom!' Stars … Harry liked stars.

Warmth enveloped him, and Harry blinked rapidly. He looked around—his aunt was carding her fingers through his hair as she sat on the arm of the chair. Moony was going through a box of things—books, scrolls, and loose parchment. Draco sat opposite him, fiddling with his thumbs as he stared. Prince and Lord-Uncle Lucius were nowhere within Harry’s line of vision. He looked down blankly and saw stars glittering around the bottom of the cloak. It looked like they were winking at him. Harry sat there and let himself be held for a few more minutes before he swallowed harshly.

'Why did—I’ve never reacted like that before,' he said, leaning into the touch. 'How did this cloak cover up the magic?'

'Those who can feel magic are more susceptible to being overwhelmed by it. Charms have been developed over the last few centuries to dampen the effect.' His aunt stood back up and picked up a plate. 'I think a term that closely represents what you’ve experienced is sensory overload, a Muggle term Andy told me about.' The plate was put in front of him. There was a small pile of chocolate chip cookies. 'Instead of your body reacting to the environment, it is reacting to the magic that is controlling it. I don’t know why it is happening all at once for you.' The frown looked wrong on her face. The downturn of her lips was upsetting. 'What did you hear?'

'Narcissa—'

'I know the look, Remus—James would get the same one. He’s heard something, and I need to know what was said.' She had a hand raised in front of her, stopping Moony from saying anything. 'If the words came from an object, I need to know if they can have a place in my home or not. Sirius was mutch better at feeling rather than hearing the magic. So I know there are a lot that may have tried speaking with him.'

'It wasn’t an object—it was the, um, marks … they were speaking in parseltongue,' Harry said softly. His aunt’s hands found his hair. Draco stared at his father’s arm in subdued terror. 'I don’t think you’ll want to kick your husband out of the manor.' He looked at his aunt with tired eyes. 'Would you?'

'There have been many a time when I’ve contemplated kicking him to Azkaban myself. But I’ve never managed to alter the wards.' Her tone was light, but grounding despite the jab it implied. 'What were they saying, Helia? I fear the worst when my husband is involved.'

'Father isn’t that bad!' Draco said in protest, a big pout on his lips. His gaze ripped from his father’s arm. 'He can—'

'Do not excuse my prior actions, Draco. I made quite a few choices that are not up to your mother’s standards.' Lord—Uncle Lucius walked closer and the icy feeling came back. But it was subdued now thanks to the cloak. The hissing was also dampened to the point where he couldn’t catch the meanings. 'There were times I should have done more to keep out of things. Your mother has every right to think this way.'

Pouting, Draco nodded. 'Sorry.'

'Your marks said different things,' Harry said as Prince walked back in. 'Like they had their own personalities.'

'I see. Well, do you feel well enough to eat supper? I will not have you ill.' Aunt Narcissa put her icy hand onto his forehead. He nodded and sighed at the cool feeling. 'You don’t feel warm, but you’ll need liquids rather than solids to keep your stomach settled. Sirius could never handle too much after an episode. James outright refused food, but I will not have you starving.'

There was no talking as food appeared. It seems Harry’s episode subdued the mood. His uncle and potions professor—wait, if he’s married to his godfather and uncle … Harry didn’t feel up to thinking about the man who’s loathed him for a while as an uncle. Vernon was enough, and they weren’t even related in the end! The two men were staring, but Harry said nothing about it. The food was good—a little salty, but good. It was a clear soup with small bits of soft vegetables. Draco was astonished when Harry blatantly refused the pork bun he’d offered after a while. That was until Harry softly explained that he didn’t eat pork or beef. And he rarely ate chicken or lamb—his diet when he was at Hogwarts was mainly veges and fish. His explanation was the only bout of noise there was until everyone was finished. Harry looked away shyly as his bowl was still three-quarters full. The portion had been three times what Poppy gave him for meals. Harry felt ill from eating as much as he did, but he didn’t want to feel rude. He felt Moony lean down—his magic was much warmer, but slightly muted thanks to the cloak. He didn’t like that; he’d just wanted the cold to go away, not the warmth.

'You’ve done well with what you were given, Helia. Don’t feel bad for not finishing it—Narcissa has the elves send all unfinished food to the village north of here.' That seemed odd—why send what he’s put his spoon in? Moony laughed at his confused face. 'The things we couldn’t finish in our bowls or on our plates are sent to the farm for the creatures to enjoy.'

'Oh. She won’t be mad I only had a little?' Harry could feel his stomach churn. If he didn’t feel sick before, he definitely did now.

'Of course I won’t!' Aunt Narcissa said, standing and tapping Draco on the shoulder. 'I am glad you had something, as little as it was.' Harry still felt like he wasted it, but wouldn’t protest. His aunt turned to Draco as he stood up. 'Draco, why don’t you take him to change into some more comfortable? We’ll retire to the lounging area in the west wing, where I hope it’s warmer.'

Moony pulled Harry up and guided him gently towards Draco. Who pivoted to lead Harry out of the dining area. They went up a grand staircase and took a left. A long hallway took up Harry’s vision. It was cold, but not freezing like before. There were small balls of magic resting on each doorknob. This was a new development. A terrifying development. Harry’s never been able to see magic like this before. Ambient magic was invisible, at least he thought it was. Why develop now, though? He’s always felt magic, but he’s never seen magic the way he can now. Harry was sick of all these new things he didn’t understand. But there were only so many hours in a day, and people were busy. Busy doing more important things. Harry would just need to live with doing research whenever he could. His list of things to look at was growing, and thinks that this is all stuff he would have learnt if he weren’t an orphan. If he knew he had family members that were alive … He stopped himself from plowing into Draco at the last moment. The blonde opened the door and guided Harry towards a large wardrobe. It was already open, and Draco shoved a set of pajamas into his hands. Though he wasn’t fast enough to hide the fuscia pink frilly set.

'You laugh, I push you down the stairs,' Draco said with an enormous blush. 'Pansy got it as a gag gift after I gave her a magical hairdressing kit.'

Harry frowned, not understanding. 'Why would I laugh? What’s funny about getting a gift? I mean, the frills are a little much … the pink is a little bold too, but it’s not terrible.' He poked the shiny fabric. 'It’s not like you’re obligated to wear it, are you?'

'Well, of course not!' The flush crept down the blonde’s neck. His own set of pajamas clenched in his hands.

Harry pursed his lips. 'Then you had nothing to worry about.' He unfolded the set he was given. It was a dark blue set made of soft cotton. 'Can I use the bathroom to change?'

It was Draco’s turn to frown. 'Why? It’s not like I’m going to stare at you.' Draco’s shirt was already off. The moonlight made him look blue. 'I’d like to think i was better company than those brutes in Gryffindor.'

'I was hoping to save you from being traumatised, actually,' Harry said. 'There are things I don’t think most would want to see.'

'Did they really hurt you that bad?' Draco said in a whisper. His belt was halfway unbuckled when he turned to face Harry. 'Uncle Sev spoke to Mother a few times about it. I didn’t want to believe it.' He raised a hand to rub his flushed neck. He fixed his collar too. 'I wasn’t supposed to hear any of it, but I needed something from her study.'

Harry shook his head. 'Let’s just say if magic didn’t exist, I’d probably be dead—would have been dead a long time ago.' Draco’s eyes went wide. 'But if you don’t mind, then I’ll just change here.'

'I don’t—Uncle Sev said not to ask about it…'

'Good thing your eyeballs can’t talk then, huh?' Harry said with a twang of amusement. This wasn’t a time to feel weird or terrified. He needed to get it over with. Being scared was saved for other things like demons or mountain trolls. Not your blonde git of a cousin. 'How long does it take you to change, anyway? So we get to the lounge in a timely manner.'

'Oh, my mother expects me to take forever. So if you’d like another shower, or bath, I can ask Tizzy to do it.' Draco almost deflated when Harry shook his head. He didn’t feel like invading that part of the room. He just wanted a place to change. 'Alright then—wait, did you get your exam results back!' Draco's face lit up at the thought. His pajama pants held loosely in his hands. Harry had changed his bottoms first—he’d done it when Draco was staring at his face. 'Mother said if we both did well, she’ll take us to France to meet Great Uncle Alphard.'

Harry’s never seen this bright version of Draco. It was nice. No sneers or sour words. 'I have, but why would she take me? I also don’t know who that is.' He needed to go over his inheritance test again. He’s already forgotten most of what it said. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen what line he descends from. Hopefully, he gets that audit soon to find out. 'I assume you did well, regardless?'

'Well, obviously! Just because it was a second-year test, doesn’t mean I was going to slack off!'

Harry laughed—this blonde boy was like a wiggly ferret. A noodle with fluff and fangs. 'Um, I didn’t bring it with me. I left it on the table in the Hospital Wing.' Suddenly, with a loud POP, Dobby appeared with his results letter. Draco stopped his eager bounding to stare. Harry flushed with exasperation. 'Dobby! How, how did you get in? I thought—stupidly—that I’d free’d you?' How did he know he was here?

'Dobby be going wherever Mister Harry Potter be needing Dobby.' The elf’s ears flopped in excitement. 'Dobby also be hearing the Hoggy warts elves be talking about tonight! Dobby wants to see little Master Draco again!'

'Dobby?' Draco asked as he stood rigidly. The room lost all the excitement. 'I’m sorry about father, but he wouldn’t let me take you as my elf.'

'Little Master Draco is not allowed to be mean to himself! Dobby is happy at Hoggy warts and can be there when little masters call!' The small elf popped away leaving both boys stunned. Harry clutched his letter tightly.

'Um, right, goodbye then Dobby,' Draco said to the vacant, elfless space, before turning to Harry. 'Swap results then finish changing?' Harry couldn’t refuse such a domestic request. He handed his over and took Draco’s carefully.

Examination for the 1992-1993 academic year.

Student code: 0707 Draconis Malfoy

Astrology: O

Charms: O

Defence against the dark arts: E

Herbology: E

History of Magic: O

Potions: O

Transfiguration: EE

'Merlin, that’s so good! How the bloody hell did you ace History?' Harry asked. The blush Draco had returned full force. Harry snorted, feeling his body relax. 'Gosh, my cousin is a swot who loves history of all subjects.'

'No cousin of mine is going to fail history this year! So you better study!' Draco read over Harry’s results again. 'How did you get Os in Transfiguration and Defence—don’t you dare tell me the teacup let you turn it into a frog! Or I will push you down the stairs, Helia!'

'Oh?' Harry asked. 'And what happened to Pottah? Did the old Draco Malfoy go for a walkabout, did he? When’s he coming back?'

'Oh, shut up! You’re also a swot, but instead of history. You’re a total nerd for plants!' Harry rolled his eyes, taking his results back. 'Mother is definitely taking us. Great-Uncle Alphard is going to love you, especially when you received an O in his favourite subject.'

A knock on the door startled them both. Damn carpeted floors—can’t hear a damn thing. They scrambled to finish changing before Draco took the results from Harry and threw the door open. The bouncy ferret was back, and Harry stood like a stick in the mud.

'Mother look! Can we take Helia to France now?!'

'Draco, get those out of your mother’s face. We will discuss this after you’ve dressed properly and come downstairs.'

With a flush, Draco closed the door. Harry burst out laughing at the haunted look on his cousins face. Pants were thrown at him, but Harry caught them with ease. Grumbling, Draco took them back and put them back into the wardrobe. The two of them made their way through the still-freezing manor to join everyone. Harry had put the cloak back on—he didn’t want to hear the hissing all that much. He was pleased when it was so muted it was almost too hard to hear. The perfect level to ignore it. Draco tugged Harry’s arm as he made his way to the small couch. It was closest to the fireplace that was roaring with green flames. Blinking, Harry looked at the lime-green flames with interest.

'Something the matter, Helia?' Moony asked. 'Are you still cold?'

'You use wood scraps for your fires?' Harry asked as he turned to face everyone. 'I kind of thought you’d buy freshly seasoned wood for your kindling.'

With a small flush to her cheeks, his aunt cleared her throat. 'Andy had told me that older, used wood burned better. I order them in from wood mills. They never explained the green flames—however, they are wonderful at keeping the house warm.'

'There is copper somewhere among the wood bits. Copper shavings burn with green flames when heated with wood.' Harry wriggled a little to get comfy. 'If you soak copper in turpentine, you get blue pigments that people used to dye clothing. It was common in certain parts of Egypt. I don’t think it can produce any other colors, though.'

'I see,' she said. Her gaze settled on the green flames. 'Do you feel more settled with the cloak on?'

Harry nodded, snuggling into the green fabric for emphasis. 'The talking has been dampened,' he said. 'But it’s still a little cold, not freezing like it was earlier. Why do you have magical locks on all the doors?'

'Ah, well … Some acquaintances were too curious for their own good. Isn’t that right, dear?' His aunt turned to face her husband. Who pursed their lips and placed their wine glass down. 'And it was a safety measure once Draco got big enough to reach the handle.' Harry nodded. That made perfect sense. 'Let’s not fuss over that—Severus has given us the bare scraps of what’s happened. And I’d like to hear everything from you, to help you with anything.'

And so, the next hour was spent going through the events leading up to tonight. From the night he blew Marge up, to being in Salazar’s chamber and his exam results. Draco was staring at him the entire time—eyes wide like his eagle owl, Alzir. He was surprised the blonde didn’t erupt with a million questions. Moony came to sit on the arm of the couch, and was carding his hand through Harry’s hair. Prince sat next to Uncle Lucius, well away from Harry. Possibly to keep their marks from speaking too loudly. Harry knew it was something he’d need to learn to control or ignore. He just hoped he wouldn’t be so cold all the time. But he was glad that he wouldn’t feel like he was sweltering. Elves popped in and out, providing refills of tea and stoking the green flames. The hand on Harry’s head leeched at the headache he was experiencing. Harry could feel his shoulders relax as they spoke.

His uncle waves his hand, and a gigantic pile of books and objects appears. They weren’t summoned like most things Harry’s seen—they popped into the room instead. Harry watched as his aunt raised a singular, well-sculpted brow in the man’s direction. 'I believe we had another clause to our agreement from this morning, Lucius?' she asked. Her red lips upturned into a condescending smile. 'I am sure the couch would love company if not. Get that over with, and these can be used tomorrow.'

'Mother!' Draco said with a gaping mouth.

'Draco, hush, or else I shall take back that lab time,' Prince said with a small scowl.

'Severus, that won’t be necessary,' Uncle Lucius said calmly as he stood up. 'He was there when we discussed it. And I very much prefer sleeping in a bed and not on the couch.' Harry watched as the man muttered a spell in French and three orbs lit up. 'Considering I almost killed her nephew, I have more than couch slumber to worry about.' The three orbs hovered above Hary’s head as his uncle stood in front of him. 'Please, Helia, accept my apology for such a heinous act. This is one of many moments where I shall ask for forgiveness.'

Harry had a few questions before he did anything of the sort. 'Was this—the diary and basilisk—was it a task you chose, or were made to take? Your answer will change mine.' He watched the man swallow, but he already knew the answer. With a smile he said, 'I’ll learn to forgive you—you are fortunate that Ladon didn’t want to hurt anyone. I think she made sure there were reflective surfaces wherever she went. Lord Slytherin isn’t pleased about how she was used.' Harry’s lips turned down into a shallow frown. 'I would hate to think that that was a tame task—there were tasks far more sinister, weren’t there?' With a stony expression that was crumbling before everyone’s eyes, his uncle nodded. With a nod of his own, Harry sniffed, 'I’m not happy about my friend being possessed, or my peers being hurt for no reason but to allow a dead man’s spirit run wild. I hope these orbs are more than random decor.'

'They are not—they are the first of many apologies. Please choose one, and that wish shall be granted regardless of what it says.' Now wasn’t that ballsy? 'I do not know what they are—my darling had charmed them before you arrived. The colors hold no importance.'

'That you know of, my love,' Aunt Narcissa said with a smirk. 'Go on, I promise they are worthwhile. His dear sister Pandora had given me a list of things to use against him if he miss behaved.' Her eyes dazzled with mischief. 'I am sure your godmother will be thrilled to know it will be put to use.'

'Will you tell me more about her?' Harry asked as he stared at the orbs. 'She married Lily—how hard was that for you to swallow?'

'My father had disowned her for it,' his uncle said. 'In the end it didn’t matter what I thought—Lily Evans was one of the brightest of her age. I cannot disgrace power, no matter who bears it. My wedding gift to them was their rings. I had them made from James’ design.' His uncle had a far-away look to him. 'If you’d like, we can talk more in the morning. If you’re staying the night, of course.'

'Minerva is making sure Albus does all his catchup work, so I’m sure she’ll be delighted to be free of us all.' Prince stood and walked around the couches to stand at the window. 'I am sure Griphook will find Helia fine enough in the morning. Perhaps, Lucius, you can explain how the audits work?'

'Of course,' the blonde man said, swallowing slightly. 'I’ll pen a letter to him about sending the audit here in the morning. I won’t be a moment—in the meantime, make your choice.'

The floating bauble-like things flashed almost excitedly as the man left with Prince. One was red, another was green, and the last one was purple. Harry hoped they weren’t career ending—not that his uncle was sore for money. Everyone busied themselves as Harry stared at the orbs. Draco had a book, and Moony was speaking to Aunt Narcissa in the corner. His aunt had given him a notebook to jot his ideas down to help him decide. Like she knew he’d have to think. The orbs whistled as Harry poked the purple one; a flash of light had Harry blinking the spots that clouded his vision away. A small scroll of weathered parchment unfurled in front of him. A deal of your choosing—was written in delicate writing—there are no limits other than your morals. Harry looked over to where his aunt sat perched on the couch arm. Her hand was carded through Draco’s hair as she spoke to Moony.

The door to the room opened quietly and with a hesitant nod, Harry’s uncle sat in the chair opposite Harry, noticing the parchment. Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day. Harry now had the task of choosing what the man had to do either tonight or whenever Harry wanted. Which begs the question … What do you get an ex-Death Eater to do to be granted forgiveness? He could make him wear something ridiculous around the manor for a week. Harry had noticed that a lot of the tomes in the chamber were in languages he didn’t understand; maybe his uncle could help him translate them. Or find someone who can—he was the international liaison officiate, so that wouldn’t be too difficult. Donations came to mind—votes on clauses and laws were a possibility, too. Would it make his uncle look good? Yes. But the point was to make Harry forgive him—almost killing a bunch of people was a hard thing to forgive … Harry would figure it out, though. Especially if this was one of many acts of redemption. Giving to those who need it was definitely a start—Harry liked that idea the most. The notebook’s page was filled with ideas—Harry noticed his aunt’s smile widen, and his uncle’s complexion pale. Perhaps donating to St. Alexandra would be good. Harry was sure the children would love more blankets and clothes that fit—rooms of their own and things to play with. Was there an organisation that catered to that in the Magical world? Harry’s never come across any—Hermione would have talked his ear about it if there were such things. Perhaps his uncle could be his beneficiary for one. If only he knew how to do anything like that.

'Helia? Would you like some help in choosing? You’ve got an awful lot of choices there already,' Moony asked. His large hand found its way into Harry’s hair again. Harry hadn’t noticed the movement but nuzzled into the touch. 'Perhaps we could finish in the morning?'

'No, I have an idea,' Harry said as he turned to his aunt. 'If one wanted to create an organisation, how would one go about it?'

Her gaze turned thoughtful. 'What kind? Would you like him to donate? As lovely an idea as that is … is that something that you want?'

'Why not a broom, or something practical! Make him beg on his knees or whatever it is those Muggle mobby people do,' Draco said, butting into the conversation. Harry snorted, mobby people, god, that was funny. 'What would your organisation even cater to? And what would you call it?'

What would he call it? Who would he cater to? If his uncle was tasked to kill him using the diary—most of those petrified were Muggle-born’s. Harry’s mind was running wild with so many potential ideas that his head hurt. He couldn’t even finish a thought without adding three more. The idea that stuck in his brain the most was to help Muggle-born and Muggle-raised wixen understand the magical world before school started. Donations to St. Alexandra could just be an off cut to that, because a lot of those there were misplaced wixen from the Muggle world. Thoughts of his godmother, Lily, sat at the forefront of his mind.

'It has to sound cool or else no one else would think to support—Ouch! Mother, don’t smack me like that!' Draco was rubbing his arm, pouting. 'I’m just saying, it has to be meaningful! And father has to know what he’s supporting and why. Obviously it’s because of the chamber thing, but you know what I mean.'

'The Lily Evans Foundation,' Harry said. Moony’s hand froze, tangled in Harry’s curls. 'I want this foundation to help all those raised in the Muggle world. Help them integrate into wizarding life—give them etiquette texts or summer classes a year or so before they start. Show them where they can and shouldn’t venture. Make sure that they know the basics so that they don’t offend anyone. Things like that.'

'That sounds lovely,' Moony said simultaneously as his aunt muttered under her breath.

'Pandora thought of something similar,' Aunt Narcissa said. 'When she met Lily for the first time. She made up this box of essentials for her. To help Lily integrate into dressing like a witch, looking like a witch. She called it ‘Lily’s box of everything a witch needs’—it was quite clever.'

Pandora. Pandora’s box. Finding hope at the bottom of the new and scary things. 'Pandora’s box could be a part of it! All the essentials a person would need to get started. Especially when money’s tight. A pair of school robes, shoes, wand holster, beginners guides to wizarding life. Everything one would need to understand the basics before you go to school!' Harry swallowed as his uncle’s eyes bore into his skull. 'Would putting the idea out be alright with you?'

'He’ll help you draw it up tomorrow, after he’s helped you understand audits,' Aunt Narcissa said. 'Draco will help you as well—learning together is far better than on one’s own. He’ll be able to help you get terminology quicker too.'

'Well, I think that is enough thinking for the night. How about we settle in and pick this up in the morning?' Moony asked. 'Helia has had quite the day, and his two hour nap probably wasn’t enought.'

Everyone nodded, and Harry realised how tired he was now feeling. Draco dragged Harry back up to his room. Leaving all the adults up to do their own thing. A smaller bed was being made up as they walked in. Dark blue sheets and blankets were a stark contrast to the light color pallette of the room. Harry saw Dobby ordering the other elves around. Looking as happy as can be. Pillows were being fluffed, and the sheets were being straightened. Snacks were put onto the bedside table with practiced ease. Draco said nothing as he padded around hesitantly, collecting a few trinkets. Like he was scared Dobby would pop away if he was seen. He didn’t need to be spelunking for much longer as all the elves popped away by Dobby’s direct order. The elf popped away shortly after, and Draco huffed tiredly. It seems those trinkets were useless. Until Harry got a dumb, bonding idea.

'Got any tips on how to beat Ron at chess?'

That snarky, boyish smirk was back, and Draco’s eyes lit up. 'Oh, I’m going to ensure you have the skills to crush that weasel.'

Chapter Text

Harry was feeling confident that he’d be able to beat Ron at chess one day. Especially when he was finding new strategies to try. Last year, when Hermione tried to teach him, he couldn’t grasp certain things about chess. He’d taken to reading a book about it, learning simple plays that way. It even had charmed pictures that moved, so he could learn visually! Hermione had just regurgitated most of her knowledge from the same book, anyway. Harry had enjoyed the pictures in the book a little better than Hermione’s iron grip on the chessboard. She also got petrified before they had their next lesson. But Draco was the best teacher by far. Harry sat bundled in the green cloak as the blonde explained every piece and the strategies that he’s learnt from his father. Which were bloody complicated, but worth it.

Harry was making a lot of progress, not an expert, but he could beat Seamus at least. Though that guy was much more interested in killing off his pawns than winning. So, that win wouldn’t be hard. Dean would be a match to have—Neville would be too worried about the pieces going everywhere. The pieces were staring at him—he knew that—but Harry was looking at something behind Draco. It caught his eye after the second match, and he couldn’t stop glancing at it. He shifted uncomfortably as he stared at it. It was a bag from Madam Malkin’s. School robes were hanging out of it—a Slytherin green tie staring at him. Flashbacks of his first robe fitting flashed, and Harry had a thought. A dangerous, undeniably straightforward thought. He hoped he didn’t burn the bridge he was trying to build by asking it.

'Do you think we could have known each other better if we’d introduced ourselves properly at Madam Malkin’s?' Harry asked as Draco reset the chessboard. Harry was so close to winning one—the first three rounds were terrible. But he could taste the win. The cloak seemed to sense his optimism and warmed slightly—he’ll need to ask his aunt what that means. Draco froze with the knight in his hand—inches away from the board. 'I think we could have avoided that conversation on the stairwell if we had. Maybe even had a much better time at school. Gotten to know each other from the start. Maybe I could have learnt about the wizarding world better.' Shown me I had family this whole time.

Draco frowned as he put the queen and king into their places. 'That may have done us well, but if I’m honest, I still think what I said on the stairs wasn’t terrible. Calling out Weasley is normal—we do it all the time when they get invited and William takes him. I bet he never explained that.' Harry frowned as Draco gripped the rook tightly. 'I wasn’t—aren’t always nice, but he threw it back just as much!' Harry swallowed—Ron said nothing other than Draco being a slimy git. Harry didn’t even know Ron went to those fancy parties—he thought that would have been something Ron would complain about. He always had something to complain about. Harry would need to find some parchment and write a careful letter later.

'But I admit that I could have handled it better. Worded it differently, but I had …' Draco put the knight down and sighed. 'Some families would have gobbled you up, Helia, and you really would have hung out with the wrong sort.' Harry raised a singular brow and Draco huffed. 'Okay, I admit I wasn’t, aren’t, the best to be around and I’ve been a git for as long as you’ve known me. But I am better than some people—Zabini’s good despite what you’ve heard—he’s soft if you play to his strengths. Nott … not so much unless you really play into what he likes.' He moved the pieces, so they were all facing forward. 'You’ve done well not hanging around with people like Smith.' Draco scrunched his nose in disgust. 'He would have eaten you alive—still could if you decide to be a numpty. But what I said wasn’t entirely my fault!' Draco gestured to everything in his room. 'If it wasn’t obvious, my parents aren’t all sunshine and non-bigoted. I have expectations, and there are a lot of rules I can’t break.'

Harry’s skin began crawling as small sparks shot out from the bedside lamp. Good to know he wasn’t the only one that sparked magic when he was frustrated. 'So the time at Flourish and Blots last year? You were just following along? It makes sense, you were being towered over by your father.' Draco swallowed harshly. Harry will admit that Mister Weasley could have easily walked away. The entire confrontation could’ve been avoided if the adults had acted their age. 'What about the repeated times you brought up the Heir of Slytherin thing? Were you jealous or something?' The chess pieces started nodding along. The pale skin on the blonde’s neck flushed in embarrassment. Harry swallowed thickly at the memory of all the teasing. 'I don’t know what there was to be jealous of—the basilisk was literally out to try killing people!' Harry saw Draco’s broom out of the corner of his eye. A dangerous feeling erupted within him. 'Or what about the word you used to refer to Hermione?' he said with a slight scowl, which softened when he saw the guilty gleam in Draco’s eyes. 'I saw Avery loom over you a lot. I suppose it wasn’t easy being surrounded by superiors.'

'That was uncalled for … growing up how I have doesn’t make apologising and working things out easy. I add sticks to the bonfire more often than not, if you couldn’t tell.' Harry was definitely seeing that, yes. 'Mother would encourage it, but I was with my father most of the time because she was too busy planning galas and looking after Grandfather Cygnus. Who I am glad you never had to meet.' Draco moved his King to E4 with a shaking hand. 'That’s not an excuse! But I couldn’t learn to be nice if no one around me was nice. That word was used a lot on my father’s side of the family—especially when talking about Aunt Lily.' The mention of his godmother made Harry lick his lips nervously. 'She sounds like a nice person when my mother talks about her. My Aunt Panda wouldn’t have thrown herself away from the family if she weren’t worth it. I still have the baby blanket she had charmed for her mastery. I know you had one too.'

Harry moved his knight first, hoping that the play he’s thought of would work out. He breathed in nervously as he watched his cousin pick up his rook. 'I’m not asking for forgiveness—I don’t think it would work out because there’s far too much to ask forgiveness for,' Draco said as he waited for his next turn. He wasn’t wrong about that—there was a lot to work through. But Harry never made that easy in the first place. If only he’d introduced himself properly. Draco looked outside for a moment, and Harry held his breath. 'But do you think a redo could happen? Get to know each other better? Could I make up for my bigotry through being better from now on?'

Harry watched as pale hands clenched in nervousness. He thought about it as they played; he’s lost most of his pawns by the time he’d finished thinking. And it was a lot of thinking because he wasn’t going down without a fight. Draco also seemed calmer from moving all his pieces for the last 20 minutes. 'I think there is a lot of work to be done to get us to a place of common ground.' Harry swallowed thickly. 'I didn’t, don’t like how you’ve acted. I needed to convince the Sorting Hat not to place me in Slytherin because I was scared. Scared that everyone in that house would be the same,' he said. Entitled, bigoted, selfish, bratty—so much like Dudley. He lost his king and was stuck trying to defend the rest of his pieces. 'I’d been surrounded by similar bigotry in the Dursley home, and I am not about to subject myself to the same things I did my damnest to get away from.' The bellowing laughter when he messed up dinner, the sneers in the hallways at school. The teasing and shoving.

Harry angrily shoved his queen forwards. 'I’ve noticed that race doesn’t mean shite here, but blood does, and I’m not about to be around people who think haemoglobin of things is a defining trait of supremacy.' Harry lost and sighed. 'I’d like to get to know you, because I didn’t think I had any family left.' If things don’t work out, then he won’t have family left. 'But things will have to change. I don’t want to know the Draco Malfoy you’ve had to throw yourself into being—I want to meet the one that hides behind closed doors—if they’re any different from what I’ve seen so far.'

'What sort of change?' Draco asked as he won. Harry’s Queen sobbed as the game reset. He kind of wanted to sob too. 'I can’t promise huge progression, not a quick one at least—family has always been a big thing for me, but I can’t just remove my entire life’s worth of bigotry in one day.' Harry nodded as he watched the blonde fuss over the board. 'Father is like a weed you can’t get rid of, and if I go against him—I just can’t promise change will come as quickly as you’d like.'

'I’m not saying to rework yourself entirely,' Harry said as he shook his head. 'Nor am I saying you need to do it right now. I’m asking you to put in effort to turn yourself into a better person. A person you can be proud of.' Harry moved the chessboard out of the way and he turned to lean against the headboard. They had been playing on Draco's bed for the past hour and a half. It was now nearing midnight. 'You wouldn’t be your gittish self if you started puking rainbows,' he said with a small smile. 'The name-calling, sneering like a ferret—we can work on that. Find moments where it can be funny instead of offensive.' Harry looked outside to see the moon was peeking out from behind the clouds. The light made his lenses sparkle, and he turned back, taking them off and sighing. 'Perhaps we can teach each other things—you teach me the etiquette without the bigotry, and I teach you how to mould your life lessons into something non-bigoted.' He saw Draco bite his lip nervously when he put his glasses back on. 'To start, you can keep that word well away from school—I don’t want to hear it—I’ll find a snake to bite someone if they make you say it. I’ll make it bite you if you say it without coercion.'

Draco snorted, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Harry. 'Am I really that bad of a person? And where are you going to find a live snake? There are only statues at Hogwarts.'

Harry shrugged. 'Everyone is terrible in someone’s eyes. But I think there is a lot of good in you, and no one can unsee it once you show them,' Harry said as he handed Draco an apple from the nightstand. The blonde’s stomach had been growling, and both boys had ignored it. 'I’m most certainly not the best person ever—I have so many flaws that people don’t like.' Aggressive, impulsive, naïve, blunt—Harry was all those things and more. 'I think it’s the outer layer we need to alter first. Keep your inner thoughts inside until we can ensure you say things at the right place and time.' Harry smiled to himself and then grinned evilly towards Draco. Who swallowed nervously. 'I can also summon snakes because I was so sure the whole reason we were in the Heir of Slytherin mess was because of you. Suppose I should thank you anyway, I found an ancestor because of the chamber.'

A heavy flush painted Draco’s cheeks from the memory of the duel. It seemed Harrys thanks went unnoticed. 'And if people hate me more for wanting to change?' Draco asked. The apple remained intact, looking like it weighed heavily in his hand. 'I know many who’d wish me dead for going against the proper ways of polite society, so much so that I’d be shunned from Slytherin skinless. Put on a stake even, as a display.' Draco took an angry bite. 'I apologise for the accusations and teasing, but I couldn’t stay quiet. Not when I made an arse of myself on the stairs.'

'I take it the older ones are always watching?' Harry fiddled with his thumbs—his scars were burning with itchiness. He was so tempted to scratch until they bled, but this wasn’t his bed, nor his home. So he fiddled with his thumbs instead. What a stupid time to become itchy. 'Quidditch was obvious, but I never saw people in the halls when we had our talks.'

'Disillusionment charms—they’re always being tattle-tails.' A pinched look made the blond look even more ferret-like. 'They’d owl my father if I sat in an older serpent’s chair, for Merlin’s sake! I can’t be this nice person when Uncle Sev and a few others are the only ones that would like the change. Avery isn’t so bad unless his father’s been a bastard—same with Warrington and Pucey—their mothers are the ones to worry about. That time in Quidditch was the day after they’d gotten a rotten letter.' In three large, spiteful bites, there was only a core left of the apple. 'I wanted to apologise to Granger, I really did, and Weasley, I suppose, but the longer they stood there, the more scared I felt. Quidditch I can do without, too—buying my way in was father’s idea. I am much more of an academic.'

Draco, you’re such a numpty for thinking you’d be able to quit, Harry thought as he listened. If they took the bribe, then they’d take him for what he was worth. 'I don’t think I’m cut out for it—the brooms are staying, but I’m leaving. Mother wants me to focus on my studies and not flounce around in the sky. Father wasn’t happy, but I think he prefers sleeping in a bed and not on the couch, so he said nothing.' Draco stared at the core. 'I wouldn’t know the first thing to change either—everything, I suppose.'

'Don’t change everything, just be mindful of your actions,' Harry said, leaning forward to look out the window again. This time he could see stars twinkling—Aquila and Lyra were staring at him as they shone in the sky. 'No one can argue with you if you hold your tongue.' He turned back to see Draco looking outside too, eyes glassy from emotional exhaustion. 'Ron is just as much of a git as you are. He says a lot of things that are out of the gate, so it’s not just you that can improve. I think many would be happy that you’re trying, anyway.' Harry was already happy that the blonde was taking this so well. If he refused the idea of change, then he would have hexed Harry without a second thought.

'But I have the most improving to do, don’t I?' The core was thrown into the bin—all the way across the room. No need for a rebound, just straight in. Harry hoped Draco kept at Quidditch—he was bloody good at throwing. So maybe he should go for Chaser instead of Seeker this year.

'That really depends on what you think needs improving. We all have flaws, Draco. It just means we need to work together to be better.' Harry gave Draco another apple, and the blonde chomped on it angrily. Juice and bits of flesh going everywhere. 'If I’m honest, I would have shaken your hand if you hadn’t made those comments. Ron was a git, still is, but he was my first friend, so I stuck with him.' Harry began itching his arms. 'But I’m looking forward to getting to know you and learning a lot. Do you think Zabini would let me read his book on the Maya? I’ve seen him carry it around all of first year.'

'He can’t even read the bloody thing!' Draco scoffed. 'He wanted to look regal or whatever he said—he thought Italian and whatever language the Mayans spoke were the same. Blaise is a real idiot sometimes. Theo’s no better—he’s got this book on—'

'Pre-colonial rituals of the Aztecs! I’ve seen him carry it around too. It will be in Nahuatl,' Harry said as he wriggled in excitement. 'The Maya textbook will be written in Mam, I think. Both are ancient languages, but there are a lot of updated texts in the Muggle world that can help them translate. Much cheaper than asking an old guy who will most likely rip you off thousands.'

Draco looked startled, but then nodded as he relaxed his shoulders. 'I see, well then, I’ll write to them in the morning before breakfast. Blaise will be off to Italy tomorrow afternoon, and Theo—I can probably just floo to him, he doesn’t really go anywhere over summer.' Harry snorted, way to call your pretty friend boring, he thought as he turned to face the door.

The two sat there for some time, not actively engaged in conversation. Draco was rubbing his chin, and Harry was thinking of the two textbooks, wondering how those two had kept them in pristine condition. There was so much more to unpack too, but Harry didn’t think they’d get there anytime fast. Almost three years of hostility wasn’t making difficult conversations easy. Maybe they’d talk about it one day before school starts—perhaps France might get them into a talkative mood. Even if it is only a brief trip. Lights began flickering as they sat on the bed. The pyjamas were so soft on his skin that Harry had thought he was naked. The flesh on his arms was still on fire from itchiness, though. But he hadn’t broken the skin, so they were safe from ruin. He forced air out of his nose as he looked up at the canopy of the bed. Not itching his skin raw was difficult, but he didn’t draw blood. Stars were littered over it; lace textured them, and a permanent light twinkled.

Draco shifted and turned his head to peer at Harry. 'You can hit me for asking, but when did you stop eating meat and stuff? Is it dietary, or like, religious?' Draco threw the other core into the bin in one swift movement. Harry blinked at the subject change but turned his head to look at his cousin. 'I couldn’t stop thinking about it after supper. I’ve also never seen you eat much at school. Mother hasn’t told me much about your dam, only that Uncle Regulus was enamoured.'

Harry snorted, laughing lightly as Draco scrunched his face at the term. 'I’m not hitting you for asking a question, Draco,' he said, liking the way the blonde’s name felt in his mouth. 'It’s a respectful question that I don’t mind answering.' Harry sat up after having sunk into the mattress. It was far too soft—he was used to hard floors and thin mattresses. His scars were driving him insane—he wiggled his legs to get some friction. 'Growing up, I’d always known I was different from the Durselys; tanner skin, dark hair, hyper-pigmentation, height, glasses. It wasn’t until my teacher at school taught us about religious practices and culture that I knew I was completely different. That magic wasn’t the only defining factor, even when I didn’t know about it until much later.'

Harry looked up at the stars again. 'I made sure that I did what I could when I could. Petunia liked that I no longer had the scraps of red meat or pork after supper. She’d make me cook them for Dudley’s breakfast. I couldn’t do any rituals, or participate in anything the school did because Dudley took precedence. I’d pray whenever I could, light incense, and give offerings when they weren’t home over the summer. At Hogwarts it was a little easier.' Harry thought about the times where he’d sneak around everyone early in the mornings, and before sunset. No one noticed when Harry never finished his meals either—he offered as much as he could on special holidays. He had a small spot in one of the alcoves of Gryffindor Tower to do everything. 'I’ve managed somehow, but these last few days have been too much.' Draco was looking at him funny. 'Ah, I’m rambling and didn’t actually answer your question, did I? I suppose I stopped when I was eight, just before summer break.'

Draco nodded, and Harry bit his lip—the irony taste of blood filled his mouth as he sat there. 'Is there a special place you need to pray? And like, at specific times?' Draco asked. 'I know Singh—she’s a seventh year this year coming—uses adjacent classrooms for, um, prayer in the mornings. In the evenings she uses the dueling room in the common area.' Draco furrowed his brows. 'Why didn’t anyone say something about it to you? I was sure Professor McGonagall made a notice about religious requirements. Uncle Severus did in Slytherin.'

Harry laughed bitterly. The cloaked warmed in attempted comfort.'No one told me how to get to the platform; I needed to ask Mrs Weasley. I also knew nothing about what the subjects were until I got to the class. So, the thing with Prince wasn’t entirely my fault—I had no time to read anything until I got to the train. So, it’s like everything else—I had to spin in to make it make sense. Not knowing you're a wizard until your letter comes is also not fun.'

'Oh.'

Harry continued speaking, trying to fill the awkward silence. 'These last few days … this summer I prayed, and did other things every day, up until the Marge incident. They weren’t home much, so it was easy. After that I was too busy kinda, you know, surviving—I don’t even know what the day, or date is!' Harry tried looking around for a calendar or something that would tell him either thing.

'Well, today—well, yesterday now—was the 3rd of July. So it’s now Sunday, the 4th,' Draco said and then twisted to reach for a bedside calendar standee. 'We’ve been out of school since the 12th of June, if that’s any help. So, a little over two weeks.'

It was and also wasn’t. If today were the 4th, then that would mean he blew Marge up on the 29th, possibly, maybe. Damn, Harry’s been out of his mind for five days, maybe, possibly, fuck. He sighed and sank back into the mattress. All the energy—albeit limited—had drained from him. The cloak added a weight he didn’t know he needed as he watched Draco get out of bed. Magic began to swirl in his chest at the thought of being abandoned. Harry wallowed in his misery and rubbed his chest as the blonde walked to the door. Five days. Five days he he couldn’t remember properly. All he could find in his mind were the copious questions he’s been left with. The stars on the canopy were mocking him—they were so full of life, no thoughts racing for them to catch, and Harry was struggling. He remembered his little reminders, not that they helped him remember much. Harry wondered if his aunt would help him find answers to his questions before summer ended. He rubbed his face and then let himself go limp as he heard the door open again. Draco came back with a box—it was small with a bunch of designs on it. Harry didn’t sit up, just tilted his head to be able to see Draco better.

'I’ll get mother to speak with McGonagall—I’ll even owl Singh if you’d like.' Draco kicked off his slippers and sat back on the bed and gestured to the box. 'I know Mother wants to add some things, so I won’t hand it to you yet. There is a map in there, and some trinkets from Uncle Regulus. I wanted it close, so I wouldn’t forget about it.' The flush was back and Harry laughed a little at how ridiculous his cousin looked in the moonlight. Splotchy like a speckled ferret. 'Mother will probably come up soon. We usually go to the North Wing to look at the stars for a little while.' A frown was etched onto Draco's lips as he kept glancing at the box. Sighing in frustration, Draco picked the box up and shoved it into Harry’s chest. Harry did his best not to cry at the pain in his ribs as he held the box. 'I take it back—Mother can wait to add to it—I need you to see this stuff. It’s a little annoying that you know so little.'

Harry opened it with an amused sniff, finding cutouts of pictures, rings of different metals, a prefect badge, small figurines, and a map. He peered around the room and saw gaps along the walls and shelves. His gaze met Draco’s and saw he was even more flushed, despite it being so dark inside now. The moon had disappeared behind a cloud, but the flush on his pale neck was unmistakable. Even when Harry was blind as a bat. He smiled, looking at the small trinkets. 'Did your mother ask you to collect these things, or did you do them of your own volition? Is this why she wanted to add things?' The blush intensified as the moon shone through the window as it peaked out from behind the cloud again. Harry’s grin widened. 'You’re a cheesy git! Now isn’t that a nice upgrade?' Harry had a split second to put the box down before he was shoved off the bed. Laughing, he lay there, chest heaving from the effort he had put into it. The pain in his body wasn’t enough to wipe the smile off his lips. 'You’re improving already,' he said, taking a deep breath. 'Soon you’ll be as light as your hair in terms of positivity.' Air was a little hard to get into his lungs, but the thrill of the fall was exhilarating.

'Go find a pair of slippers, you idiot!' Draco said with a flushed face as he slid back off the bed, trudging towards the wardrobe. 'We’ll figure out a nice place for your morning prayer before bed. I think mother has some incense you can use—I think that’s something Hindus do, isn’t it?' Draco froze and turned to face Harry. 'You would be considered a Hindu, right?'

Harry hummed in confirmation as he lay on the floor for a few minutes. The room was spinning slightly, so he waited for it to dissipate. Then there was a knock on the door. He got up, had a pair of slippers thrown at him because he was too bloody slow, and was whisked away to the North Wing. There was no time to think or ask anything, just whisked away to where they were going. His aunt was in a light blue nightgown, blue slippers, and an over-robe that shimmered in the moonlight. His uncle wasn’t around. This must be a mother/son thing. Harry now felt awkward intruding. He slowed down to be at the back, walking languidly behind. The walls were bare of any portraits in this part of the manor. It was nice not watching the people sleep in their frames. Harry was a little creeped out about it. They were now in a large glass dome-like room. The only opaque walls were the ones that connected the room to the manor. Everything was made of charmed glass and steel. Draco went over to a daybed and lay down. His aunt snapped her fingers, and a telescope popped into the room. She turned and smiled at him.

'I’ve set a room up in the East Wing for you in the morning—I thought we could have a relaxed breakfast afterwards.' She handed him a small pouch. 'I’d forgotten to give this to you after dinner. Open it once you return to Hogwarts after our trip—think of it as an early birthday present. We’ll be far too busy in France for us to exchange like this. I admit I would have forgotten about it by then.'

'Mother! Helia! There's a meteor shower!'

Harry watched Draco sit up and point excitedly at the sky—he smiled as the sky burst into a shimmering light-show. Yeah, he thought, Draco will do just fine if this is the person he shows people. By the time it was two in the morning, Harry had seen Draco flounce around telling him all about the stars and their stories. Before bed, he’d lit an incense in the corner of Draco’s room and prayed. He went to sleep with the sound of soft snores coming from the bed beside him. The smell of vanilla and lavender soothes the tension in his face. The green cloak was like an extra blanket—a pleasant weight that dampened the magic that was swirling around the manor.

—

Harry woke up warm, almost too warm. He didn’t feel sweaty, but the warmth from all the blankets and cloak was getting uncomfortable. He pushed himself to sit up and peered around the bedroom. On the wall, there was a clock that read 5:05. Blinking rapidly, Harry pushed the covers off of himself and slid out of bed. Draco was curled in a ball, sleeping soundly. His arms were aching from where he’d scratched last night, but kept walking towards the bathroom. He needed to clean them up before he headed downstairs. Finding the room was going to be a challenge—he didn’t want to go into a room he wasn’t allowed in. Something his aunt seemed to have brushed over. The blood that had pooled in the scratch marks hadn’t seeped into the material, which was a relief. So he finished up in the bathroom and wandered around aimlessly. Until Harry slapped his forehead. Surely the door I’m looking for would be the only one without a glowing handle, you idiot, he thought as he peered at each one. The doorknobs would glow if they were locked, so the one Harry was looking for wouldn’t be glowing.

He walked around the hall until he found a door slightly ajar. No need to look at the knob then, wonderful. Harry pushed the door open some more and squeezed through. It was much smaller than the other rooms of this manor, which was nice. Comforting almost, as it seemed normal. Large spaces left too much to the imagination. Too many things could jump out at Harry if he stood in one spot for too long. But there were lots of hiding spaces if anything were to happen. Though that was the only plus he could conjure up about large rooms. A large purple mat had been unrolled for him, and there was a small box sitting on top of it. Photos were sealed in intricate golden frames, and Harry knelt down to look at them all. They were all individual pictures—Hogwarts photos, and some from before that night. The dates were slightly faded from sun exposure. Harry stared at them for what seemed like forever when he noticed a sliver of sunlight peek into the room. The soft beam hit his face, and the scar on his face warmed until it became uncomfortable. He brushed his hand over the scar, wiping the warmth away. A note caught Harry’s eye as he reached for the box, no doubt full of incense. The writing was swirly and hard to read, but after a minute he understood what was written.

Minerva has been spoken with, and I believe she has recruited input from students and is in the process of getting consent from the board.

I have laid out a scheme for your foundation to her as well, and I shall go over it with her proper this afternoon. You require a signature from either her or Albus as a minor still attending a school facility. I shall meet you in her office after your time in France.

Harry put down the note and sighed. It irked Harry how choosy that man is—was it because it was anchored around the wife of his sister? What a rotten excuse. Silently, Harry lit the insense his aunt had left him and prayed. He’d wait to have breakfast with his aunt and cousin before he offered food. So, he looked around the room and saw a notepad and Muggle pen with another note. To pass the time whilst my son takes forever to wake up. Snorting, Harry took the items and sat on the mat. He drew his parents’ faces and random objects around the room for a little while. They weren’t perfect, as his hands shook slightly, but they held their shape well enough. Harry drew until he heard muffled, most likely slippered footsteps approaching. He pocketed the items and saw his aunt enter first, still in her nightgown, and Draco walked in groggily after his mother. His pajamas all wrinkly and hair moused, with ink staining his fingers. Harry wondered if Draco looked like this at school, or if he worked to style his hair before he went down. Harry thought of his uncle, but didn’t seem the type to lounge around in sleepwear. The cloak was on still, Harry hasn’t taken it off other than to get everything in its place. The yelling coming from different objects around the room annoyed him to the point where he almost choked himself putting it back on before prayer. He was now rubbing his neck as his aunt smoothed Draco’s hair back.

'Being able to sense magic is a Black family trait, but the Potters were known for it as well,' his aunt said as she sat down with a small tray, not offering any greeting. She conjured a table into the center of the room. It was narrow—the perfect width to reach for things. Pillows were perfectly soft for them to kneel on. Draco had a little trouble keeping his balance as he knelt down. Harry did his best to hold in his laughter. 'Some people can feel, hear, see, or taste magic,' she said with a raised brow. Harry bit his lip as she dished out tea. 'It all depends on what the person needs the skill for. Diviners attempt to find out how the magic knows before the wielder does, but they never manage to.' Draco dug into his breakfast while Harry waited for his aunt to take a bite first.

It was after her first sip of tea that he silently thanked everyone for his meal and began eating. He’d save the waffles for his parents, taking the bowl of oats for himself. 'Tasting poison, seeing curses, hearing magic—each family can hold on to different parts of their ability. Especially when the magic knows of legacy occupations like taste testing for higher powers.' The smell of Draco’s sugary waffles made Harry’s stomach churn uncomfortably. Glad that he’d be offering it and not eating it—did his parents like sweet things? He swallowed harshly and willed himself to keep eating despite the thought and smell. 'Thorfinn, whom you’ve met, can smell magic. He works with the Ministry to test foods and poisons before they’re consumed at banquets.'

'Like a personal taste tester, without eating it, but by smelling it?' Harry spooned the smallest amount he could and savoured the taste. He willed the bile down as he ate. Usually he’d have a dry piece of toast, not wet oats. It seems his aunt and Poppy had their favourites in terms of breakfast meals. 'Was it a part of his contribution for being a servant?' He didn’t think blurting out Death-Eater was polite. Draco’s fork froze halfway to his lips at the mention before shoving it in roughly.

'Yes,' she said as she put fruit onto his small portion. He ate one of the strawberries slowly, ignoring her pursed lips. 'They wanted Octavious to do it—however, this gift has limits. Not every family member has it—usually, it is one in each generation. Normally led by the eldest of the line. However, Sirius has it for my generation, and Alphard, who you have yet to meet, has it for the previous generation. Both were the middle children, while not uncommon, it was rather odd.' She took a sip of her tea. 'Your dam, from my knowledge, would have received this gift from his mother’s side of the family, but a cousin was the one to receive it.'

'Does Rowle dampen the ability when he isn’t working?' Harry asked as he mixed the fruit in to hide them. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them—he loved fresh fruits—it was just that he needed to trick his brain into eating it. 'Does he use any sort of cloak or other garment?' He took a small spoonful and brought it to his lips, shoving it into his mouth before asking. 'Was there anything else that Uncle, um, Sirius used to use?'

'I know Thorfinn has a necklace that he uses,' she said, answering the first question. 'The cloak you’re wearing was Sirius’ that our mother had made for him. I’m surprised it has worked as well as it has because it has Sirius’ magical signature embedded into it.' His aunts own bowl was cleaned out—Harry’s was still half full. Eating became more difficult the longer she stared at him. 'I’ll have the tailor come and render you a cloak or item of your own. Jean-Pierre knows how to craft the best pieces.' Harry nodded as he stood and placed the plate of waffles and bacon on the small standee that had been placed there.

'Why aren’t you finishing your food?' Draco asked as he kept stabbing his waffle. The small bit wouldn’t go onto his fork. 'Is it not to your taste? I’m sure the elves can find you something better.'

Harry shook his head. 'Offerings,' he said. 'I should have explained more last night, but anyway ... I’ve prayed this morning, lit incense, now I’m offering the food to...' Harry looked at the picture of his parents and the rest of his family has passed on. ' … offering the food to my parents and those who have passed on.'

Draco put his fork down and frowned. 'Oh. How long have you been doing that? I know you said you didn’t know about it until later on. And the praying, but you never mentioned offerings at school.'

'I started doing it every morning in first year,' Harry said as he got up to return to the table. It drove Hermione insane when he’d leave breakfast early with a full plate and eat nothing of it. 'I’m still learning, so there are a lot of things that I still don’t know. But doing this is better than nothing—I feel more connected now that I know what I am, despite still learning more things about myself.'

'I know James left a journal for you somewhere in Potter Manor.' Harry watched his aunt clear the table once Draco was finished. As if the name sparked recognition, the cloak warmed as Harry pulled it closer. 'I’ll have Lucius take you sometime this week—Severus mentioned some children you were going to have at Hogwarts, so you might like to wait until they leave to go.'

'Kids?' Draco asked, looking lost. Harry couldn’t remember whether he’d explained it or not.

'Oh, yeah! They were the kids who were being held for their magic. A whole investigation is being done to find the people responsible.' Harry hoped they rot in Azkaban. Draco gawked at him for being so relaxed about it. 'They’re coming by soon, in a few days I think, and I am really looking forward to it!' He hoped they were settling in well, and that they were allowing themselves to be looked after. 'Do you think he’d mind taking me? I wouldn’t even know how to get in!'

'Lucius will teach you how to enter your ancestral home once you return from France in two days' time—Severus will collect you to meet the children whilst we stay for a little while longer,' his aunt said as she stood. 'But this conversation can wait until lunch. Lucius received the audit from Griphook early this morning. So, the two of you will go wash up and meet him in his study.' She walked towards the door and opened it. 'I have a meeting with a few people this morning, so we won’t see each other until lunch.' Her gaze went to Draco. 'I expect you to be helpful, Draconis, no teasing when he doesn’t quite understand things yet, yes?'

'Of course, Mother,' Draco said as he dusted his pajamas. 'Would it be rude of me to owl Alexander and Cassius about this? They had spoken to me about the commotion—' Harry watched his aunt raise a sculpted brow. Draco swallowed harshly and nodded guiltily. 'Their fathers eavesdropped from the liaison office and so—'

'I see. Owl them to be present for lunch before you dress. Add that their fathers must be present as well. Word it that I wish to speak with them about their vineyards. Nothing more. The portkey will not wait for us this evening, so inform them to be prompt.' Her eyes held a sharp gleam—just like Petunia had when she was planning someone’s downfall. Harry didn’t like it, mostly because his aunt had the literal power to make heads roll.

Draco nodded, and Harry let himself be tugged away and straight to his cousin’s room. A set of clothes was piled on both their beds and Harry, having lost his courage, scrambled to change in the bathroom. Last night was dark enough that Draco seeing wouldn’t have mattered. Now that it was bright out, Harry was feeling far more conscious of how his body looks. Harry avoids the floor length mirror and took his glasses off. He couldn’t even look at them without wanting to throw up. He felt a note on the tiled floor, it must have been on top and fallen. He freshened up with deodorant he saw two off, one was new as it was heavier than the other—he was not using his cousins things without explicit permission. Even if it mean he wasn’t fully clean yet. Deoderant didn’t seem so bad, he could easily replace it later. He picked up the note, avoiding bending down too quickly, and reading it. The clothes sat on the counter as he licked his lips.

These are from Regulus’ closet from when he used to visit. He hated itchy fabric, so these are made of silk and weathered cotton. I thought they would help your scarring breath better. Do call for Elwin before you dress so that she can help you; Poppy owled me early this morning that she has a new salve for you to try. Your potions have been reduced to only nighttime use, so you’ll have them with dinner.

Harry swallowed thickly as he put the note down. Sighing he mustered up the courage. 'Elwin,' he said as he rubbed his chest in nervousness. He didn’t want anyone, elf or no, to see his body. His wardrobe was going to consist of long sleeves and trousers for the foreseeable future as it has been for the last two years. He’ll learn how to apply cooling charms to them for summer and remove them when winter comes around. His legs began to shake from standing in the same position for more than three seconds. Poppy’s potion regime really was keeping him from collapsing. How he’d survived without them before was beyond him. Maybe his body had finally given up being in survival mode. A small pop startled him into kneeing the sink.

'Elwin is sorry for being late! Missy Poppy called Elwin back to grab Mister Helia’s things!' Harry winced as he rubbed his knee, he could feel a little trickle of blood roll down his shin. Stupid thin skin. He straightened up and smiled politely despite wanting to swear. 'Elwin is sorry for making Mister Helia hurt himself!'

'It’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting it,' he said as he turned to greet the elf properly. 'It is very nice to meet you, Elwin. Aunt Narcissa said you’d help me this morning?' Harry watched the small elf’s ears bobble about as she nodded. 'Wonderful. Now, what were you grabbing? You said my things needed collecting?'

'Oh yes! Sevy told Elwin that you’s is going on a trip to meets some family! Missy Poppy be putting all you’s things together for Elwin to give.' The elf snapped her fingers and a muggle suitcase popped into the room. 'Elwin be given orders to give it to Mistress to add to the port key. But Elwin wanted Mister Helia to see if he wants things first!' She snapped her fingers again and it unzipped, folding out for Harry to look through. 'But first, Elwin was told to help Mister Helia with this gooey healing jelly!'

'Oh, um, you don’t have to!' Harry said as bile crept up his throat at the thought of someone touching him. No one was going to touch him at all for the next century—hugs were going to be minimal if he can help it, and handshakes were more than enough contact. 'I’m sure I can figure it out.'

'Don’t be silly! Elwin will turn around and not look while Mister Helia changes and Elwin will make him feel better!' She snapped her fingers as she spun around. A jar of electric blue jelly popped into his line of sight and he swallowed down nerves. 'Mister Helia won’t need no hands close if an elf is helping!'

Sighing, Harry shucked the cloak off, along with his shirt and pants. He snagged new underwear from the trunk and put them on first. He then put the plain black slacks on, then a light green silk shirt. Harry decided to keep the socks he already had on as they weren’t sweaty or dirty. A cooling sensation had Harry tensing before the itchiness in his body lessened. There was no longing to rake at his skin now, so he sighed in temporary relief. He whispered the spell to fix his shirt, feeling his hands warm as his shirt buttoned itself. His wandless magic crackled a little and he flushed in embarrassment at having the elf so close, even when not looking. Harry heard Elwin snap her fingers again and a warm sensation took over his body—he felt his muscles relax from the warmth. He put his glasses on as the last button was done up. Elwin turned and smiled as she snapped her fingers and he felt his hair be tugged gently. The cloak floated and clasped itself as his hair was being tended to. Harry closed his eyes a little at the gentle tugging, liking the massaging feeling.

'Elwin be setting Mister Helia’s curls! Little Sirius and Regulus always called Elwin to help them when they’s were not at Hogwarts or at Kreachers home. Kreacher no do it right! So Elwin always do it.'

A knock on the door interrupted the domestic, calming act, and Harry whipped around. He watched as Draco’s head popped in slightly—his hair was slicked back a little and wasn’t nearly as greasy as it used to be. Elwin bounced around and Harry felt his hair be tugged a little more forcefully as she snapped her fingers. He blinked as he pushed his glasses up, and bit his lip nervously.

'Alright, then?' Draco asked as he opened the door a little more. 'I did knock a few times, but Elwin’s magic can make things a little hard to hear. She’s great at giving you a distraction.' The blonde looked him up and down and nodded. Harry scrunched his nose at being judged. 'Mother had his clothes altered temporarily so that you could grow into them if you wanted. They look good! Green is always a good choice in color—you can never go wrong with black, either.'

'Is your father, sire, er—is he waiting? I’m not taking too long, am I?' Harry asked as he nudged the suitcase closed with his foot. 'I didn’t mean to take so long! Um, Poppy—Madam Pomfrey sent me a few things to help and—'

'Helia, I’m not an idiot and I very much take forever getting ready. 30 minutes is nothing in the Slytherin dorms, so think nothing of it. Also, I still don’t care about how you look! I have no right to stare or ask, so I’m not going to. That’s something we learn early on in Slytherin, and it’s common curtosy! Don’t hide when you have no need to next time, okay? But you also don’t need to bring yourself out if you don’t feel up to it.'

'Oh, alright,' Harry said as he turned to Elwin, who was smiling giddily. Draco’s words were a little contradictory, but it was nice to have the options. 'Would it be much trouble for you to take the suitcase now? I can always carry it down!'

'Elwin loves doing jobs! So she be taking the Muggle trunk to Mistress while you’s be going and doing things with Master Lucy!' She smiled as she popped away, taking the case with her.

Soon Harry was walking down the hall in ‘day slippers’ towards his uncle’s study. The cloak was doing so well in keeping most of the pressure away from his body. There was so much ambient magic around that it was starting to hurt Harry’s eyes. The locks on the doors, the portraits on the walls, and the objects that were scattered along the hall. It seemed the cloak could only do so much since it wasn’t really his. But it was better than the nightmare he had experienced last night. Draco was waltzing along, chatting about all the trinkets that sat on small pedestals. Some were made by his ancestors, while others were brought for the pristeige. They ranged from small handheld objects to large ornamental vases. All with a sage green hue somewhere on the piece. Definitely a Malfoy color. Harry listened the best he could, but there were a lot of words and people he didn’t know. So, it was a little difficult, but Draco seemed enthused, so he kept listening. Just encase it all came up later and he could ask about it.

For what seemed like forever, Draco stopped in front of a large door. But, before he could raise his hand to knock, another elf popped in front of them. This elf was tiny! Their robe, sheet, whatever they wore was the same sage color as everything else he saw. Draco frowned and lowered his hand—turning, he motioned for Harry to be quiet by putting a finger to his lips. The elf bowed and put both hands up as a motion for them to wait here. Harry looked around as they waited, noticing that this door was the only one crafted out of mahogany and not whitewood. For another few minutes Harry watched Draco squirm in anticipation. The elf from before popped back into view before he could ask a question.

'Master Lucius will see you both now—Esme be getting tea and scones for you!' Their ears bobbled as they spoke. 'Young Master’s be going in now!'

The door opened and Draco led Harry into the room. It was darker than the rest of the manor—dark walls were lined with dark cabenits that were filled with bland-looking books with even darker covers. The large windows were cloaked in dark grey curtains and only a sliver of light filtered through. That was until they opened with a snap and an owl hooted as they made their way in. The window wasn’t even open, so there must be a spell that lets them fly through the glass. Harry sat in one of the oversized armchairs and swallowed thickly. Draco lost all enthusiasm and sat rigidly—Harry was beginning to miss the bounciness of his cousin. It seems it wasn’t just peer pressure ruining their schooling experience, but rather the parental pressure influencing it. His uncle’s gaze was melting Harry’s brain as they sat there. No greeting, no beginning conversation, nothing. Even the owl looked put out, perched on the desk with a small package. Its large, dark body, ruffled in impatience, and that seemed to snap all three of them out of their staring match. Though his uncle kept the blank look, he was just blinking normally now. It was unnerving.

'We will keep this as brief as possible—I have much better things to do—Severus was sure you’d be taught this during your first visit to Gringotts.' So much for wanting forgiveness, Harry thought as he sat there, waiting for the blonde man to begin explaining. And, Prince thought a lot of things until this year, so that’s old information, dude. 'There are a certain amount of components that go into an audit and I implore you keep up. There are a notebook and pen there for you to take notes as I will not be repeating myself.' Harry picked the items up and hooked a leg over his knee to make a perch for the pad. 'Draco is only here to absorb what I have explained, he will not be simplifying anything in my presense and will wait until this is over to repeat anything, am I clear?'

Both boys nodded, and Harry waited for the blonde arsehole to start speaking. Maybe Harry will put a bar of soap in between to waffers and make the man eat a soapy ice-cream sandwich to clean his mouth out a treat. 'Now, there are a few terms you’ll need to understand before you read the rest of the sheet,' he said. Harry nodded and began writing into the notebook. He willed himself not to frown as he did so—his uncle could do that for him. 'The first is direct heir, which means that you are first in line to the Lordship. If you are second or anything after the fact, then you would be considered an understudy heir.' Pale, well-manicured fingers danced across the page as his uncle explained everything. The yellowed pages hovered so that they didn’t need to crane their necks. The only nice thing he’s done this morning. 'Available unoccupied properties are properties that have not been reclaimed by Gringotts and are not being actively used. They tend to be absorbed by the Goblins after 15 years of no entry or ward remodeling.' Harry squinted to see the words on the paper as his uncle kept explaining termanology. Merlin he needed new glasses—perhaps he’ll jump on his uncles non-existant guilt and make him buy new ones. If only he had no sense of self-sacrifice, then maybe he’d do that.

Draco, out the corner of his eye, sat like a statue the entire time. His uncle cleared his throat after explaining what Ability carrier meant. Literaly just a person who has an ability—Harry could have figure that out. 'Vaults are simple to understand,' his uncle said as he pointed his nose towards the papers with attitude. Harry had the urge to roll his eyes at the display. 'They can be split into as many miniature sections as you’d like. Usually a subsection would be set aside for portraits, and another for income and so on.' Those same stupidly perfect fingers pointed to heir access next. 'You will not see the extent of the audit, stupidly, becuase you are not yet fifteen—this is a much more condenced version and so the bear minimum of important things are listed. Blocks, Family lines, Abilities, vaults and their sections of importance, and vacant plots that you may access.'

Harry scribbled it all down, and waited for further explanation. Frowning when he got none, he peered at the owl who was still waiting for his uncle to take the package. With a sigh, the blonde man took the small wrapped item and thew it onto the corner of the desk. The noise made Harry flinch and hold his breath as if it was going to rebound and hit him. When no impact struck he let the air out of his lungs slowly and watched the owl peck at his uncles hand angrily before flying off. The cloak wamred up and Harry felt his muscles relaxing. Draco was still sat stiff as a board and Harry felt bad for him. He’d hate to sit like a statue all the bloody time, so he hoped they were dismissed soon. It didn’t seem like they’d be talking about his foundation idea. His plea for forgiveness really was fabricated if he wasn’t putting in any effort. It was all a show to be able to sleep in his bloody bed.

'Now, this is all straight forward, so you needn’t ask silly questions.' Harry took offense to that and sat with a small scowl. 'This is where you may take the audit and sit in the sunroom to go over it with Draco.' His uncle stood and brushed off non-existent dust. 'I have a meeting to attend, and so you’ll be smart and leave quietly, we will talk about the foundation once I have gotten approval from Minerva,' he said as if this was the most painful thing he’s endured. Harry wasn’t sure if he even spoke with McGonagall—adults aren’t above lying to get out of their responsibilities. His uncle was looking more and more like Petunia in a white-blonde wig with magic. 'Draco, I expect you to be able to make this the simplest thing to understand. Your mother is with Lady Parkinson, so best keep out of her way.' Dull blue eyes locked onto Harry as he rounded the desk, picking up the parcel as he did so. He looked back at Draco with the same blank stare. 'Take him and stay out of the way—you have until lunch to have him fluent in basic audits. You are both dismissed.'

Draco all but dragged Harry roughly out of the office and towards another part of the manor. This one had so much natural light, it was almost too much. The audit was thrown onto the table, and Draco collapsed into the lounger and sighed deeply. Pale hands scrubbed the blondes face in obvious frustration. Harry sat nervously in one of the smaller armchairs. He’d let Draco vent his frustrations whilst he read over the audit to see if he could make sense of it himself. No point asking questions when he’d written notes of the Termanology of each thing. His uncle isn’t making it easy for himself to be forgiven, there was bound to be so much more than what he’d spoken of before. Harry will have to piece it together himself. Grabbing the audit he saw blocks were the first thing that was tested and found.

• Blocks: first placed on the 31st of October, 1982 — Since been breaking steadily since the 31st of July, 1985.

  • Magical sight—feeling: broken completely 3rd of July 1993

  • Parseltongue: broken completely on the 1st of January 1985

  • Partial Meta-morph: broken completely on the 31st of July 1991

  • Memory alteration: partially broken 25% since the 13th June 1987

  • Magical gaurduan override: Sealed and maintained by APWBD since the 31st of October 1981

Yippy, he was magically violated at two years old. Go fucking figure. Soon, this audit will tell him he had millions to spend! Harry took notes of what to bring up, the first being the memory alteration. Because someone didn’t want him remembering anything. And he was determined to find out what; because what if it was incriminating? What if he saw something and someone messed with his mind to make sure they could keep doing it? He wouldn’t be surprised if the Durselys dabbled in magic to make sure he forgot certain things. Anything for their Dudders. He felt sick at the thought of the different scenarios that could have happened, and he didn’t remember them. He wasn’t sure what he could remember now that the memory charms are breaking, so he’ll have to ask how they work. As, for the magical guardian thing—why did the world hate him? Merlin, why couldn’t the goblins explain all this in one go? At least then he’d get all the information at once! But no, he’s now sitting in a well lit room wondering about who fucked his mind up. Initials can have countless possibilities considering he knew no one with them. Huffing, Harry slammed his pen down and kept reading. The Perevell and Selwyn lines were next for him to read, and there are now more things he needs to add to his list of things he doesn’t understand.

• Perevell — direct heir. Ability carrier: Parsletongue (through Slytherin descent)

  • Vault 07—heir access: 4,000G

  • Vault 07 investments section: 700,000,000G 9,000,000S 2,000,000K (frozen until heir takes seat)

  • Available Unoccupied Properties: Perevell Castle — Puerto Rico. Point Nemo Floating Villa (unplottable)

• Selwyn — Understudy heir. Third in line.

  • Vault 333 heir access: unavailable

  • Vault 333 investments section: unavailable

  • Available Unoccupied Properties: Raven Ridge Cottage — France.

Seeing unavailable must mean he won’t get anything unless he was the direct heir. Or, Harry thought as he pursed his lips and wrote it down, perhaps the Selwyns didn’t have sufficient funds for it to display to the third in line. The frozen part wasn’t making much sense either, but he didn’t want to disturb Draco. Who looked miserable lying there on the seat, face flushed from rubbing so vigorously. He bit his lip; surely he’ll understand the more he reads. Uncle Lucius said it was simple, and Harry didn’t think he was dumb, so he’s bound to figure it out. Hopefully. He’ll probably wad the audit and throw it at the blonde man if he couldn’t. Shove it down his throat if he wasn’t going to explain things properly. That's what he’d get for not taking the time to explain it. He has his list and was sure Moony would help him if no one else would. Harry reluctantly dragged his eyes back over the yellowed paper.

• Slytherin — direct heir. Ability carrier: Parsletongue.

  • Vault 03—heir access: 5,000G (Inactive until heir claims ring)

  • Vault 03 investment section: 15,040,000G 300,000S 2,250,000K (Sealed from investments until claimed)

  • Available Unoccupied Properties: Slytherin Den — Puetro Rico.

Sealed—simple my fucking arse! How his uncle can claim all these things is simple … this man better like kneeling because Harry is going to make him grovel for lying. Harry bit his lip to keep himself from throwing everything across the room. Draco sat up at the perfect moment and winced at Harry’s pissed expression.

'Got to the whole sealed until claimed shite and unavailable statement, then?' he asked as he got up, walked over, and perched on the arm of the chair. 'I don’t know why Mother said he’d need to explain it—Father has had audit readings drilled into me since I was three.' Harry watched him take his notes, blushing at how terribly written they were. 'How about you just read over the rest and then ask me questions? By the time I answer everything and go over it all, it will be lunch time and I still need to owl those dunderheads.'

'How about you go owl them whilst I read it over and then I’ll bombard you with questions?' Harry said as he straightened the parchment. 'How do you think they’ll react to seeing me?'

Draco snorted as he stood. 'Honestly, Alexander and Cass are the least of our worries. They tend to be much better than everyone else, still arses, but that comes with the pureblood bigotry. Conjure a snake and they’ll squeal like pigs who had their tails chopped off.'

Harry nodded with a small snort, remembering Dudley’s tail from before his first year, and shoved Draco lightly, who scuffled out of the room to write those letters. Getting comfortable once the door closed, Harry leaned back and kept reading. He hoped he didn’t need to do anything until he was of age—this all seemed like something only adults discussed. He loved learning, but this … this was mined blowingly boring. History of Magic was more interesting than this stuff seemed to be.

• Potter — direct heir. Ability carrier: Parsletongue (through Slytherin descent)

  • Vault 177 heir access: 4,000G (to be renewed yearly as of 2nd of July 1993)

  • Vault 177 investment section: 42,000,000G 999,000S 312K (to be monitored by magical guardian)

  • Available Unoccupied Properties: Absinth Way — London. Potter Manor —El Salvador. De Marco Cove castle — Colombia.

   

• Black — understudy heir. Second in line. Ability carrier: Magical sense: sight — Metamorphagus Minor.

  • Vault 118: 9,000 G (to be renewed yearly as of 2nd of July 1993)

  • Vault 118: 33,000,000G 999,000S 0K (to be monitored by magical gaurdian)

  • Available Unoccupied Properties: Velvet Terrace — Spain.

   

• Nassir — direct heir. Ability carrier: Parsletongue.

  • Vault 422 siphoned trust fund: 8,000 G (renewed yearly)

  • Available Unoccupied Properties: Elmir Grotto — Cairo. Nassir Manor — Cairo. Alexandria plane.

   

• Patil — understudy heir. Third in line. Ability carrier: Parsletongue (through Nassir line).

  • Vault 817 heir access: 12,000G 4,000S 0 K (shared between heirs)

  • Available Unoccupied Properties: Edger Cove. Tamil House.

   

• La Fay — understudy heir. Ninth in line. Contents unapplicable.

Alright, Harry was lost on most of that. He didn’t even know one could have that many zeros in the bank—vault—and couldn’t even begin to think of ways to use it wisely. As he takes it, he won’t get access to anything more than his heir vault until he was of age. So, what the fuck was so hard about saying that? All his uncle had to do was say your too young to get most of this so just wait until later. But no, he wanted to be a fuck-nugget and leave Harry confused. The cloak warmed and ruffled on his shoulders as if it was laughing at him. If it wasn’t keeping all the magic at bay, Harry would have ripped it off in frustration. How dare this piece of cloth laugh at him! Harry silently wished Draco would hurry up with those letters and put him out of his misery. He hoped this cloak wasn’t a sadist that got off of his pain. That wouldn’t be very nice. For what seemed like forever, but realistically was only five minutes, Draco came in with his lip in his mouth.

'Okay, so i left the room with nothing and I have returned with an ugly pair of leeches, one that bites to be playful and the other that bites to kill,' he said and Harry raised his head and pouted in confusion. Until he saw two tall slytherins that were not Avery or Warrington. Heat found its way to Harry’s cheeks as he stared. 'I may have forgotten that they have free will to use my floo—'

'My, my Potter, that scar sure is making you look like a true war hero, doesn’t he, Theo?' Zabini said as he waltzed right in. 'I am very much glad you’re being given lessons. I swear Draco was going to lose it if you keep using the wrong fork at dinner.'

Wrong fork? Lessons?

'Blaise! I was not going to lose it over a fork! He also is not getting lessons yet, we’ve only just gotten past co-existing!' Draco denied, but the look on Notts face told Harry otherwise. The perfectly sculpted, ugly fucking face—Harry scrunched his face to stop himself from doing anything stupid. 'I did not let you come through the floo for you to torment him! Either you be respectful or get out.'

'I am being respectful! Would you rather I spoke like our dear flower, Pansy? She would have ripped him a new arsehole by now.'

Um, rude. Parkinson has nothing on the mental torment that Piers fucking pinhead Polkis would unleash over summer. So Harry was sure they needed to reevaluate how vicious she is. He was reminded of a pug more than anything vicious, without the smushed face and breathing problems.

'The both of you are being stupid,' Nott said as he too walked right into the room. He was wearing a dark blue cloak and it swished with each movement. 'Now, Pretty Potter, Draco let slip that you’re getting a new wand.' Harry nodded, and a toothy grin had his heart beating wildly. Fucking fangy arse. Nott grinned wider as he strode forward. 'What core and wood did you get? I know Uncle Tav wouldn’t give you anything but the best.'

Uncle Tav?

'Theo! Blaise! Fuck—Merlin, you two are terrible at subtlety.' Draco gawked at the two slytherins, and Harry grinned. Pleased that Draco was being put on the spot. 'Don’t answer him, Helia! I also did not, the stupid prat saw it on my calendar!'

Soon, Harry was sitting in the chair, holding the audit papers and watching the three Slytherins bicker. Zabini was being insulting more than anything, while Nott was being factual in his bullying. Draco was just a tomato dancing around the room trying to defend himself that he was a vegetable, not a fruit with how flushed he was. They went back and forth with their insults until Aunt Narcissa walked in and smiled sharply. The three of them had the right mind to freeze and wait for her to speak. Harry stood and placed the papers onto the table. Her gaze caught them and her smile tightened. Looks like someone was sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future.

'We have two more joining us for lunch, I see,' she said. 'I also see that my dear Lucius has gone off to Merlin knows where. Did he explain it all, Helia?'

'Mother—'

'He explained a few terms, but not many,' Harry said truthfully. He’d very much rather throw his uncle under the bus than to lie to his aunt. If she was anything like Petunia, then she wouldn’t be a woman to cross. 'He said he had a meeting and didn’t want to waste time. Draco’s been a huge help, though, so I understand quite a bit now.' That was a total lie he hoped his aunt didn’t see through. Harry was sure his blonde cousin will just oversimplify it all later. He picked them back up and stalked closer to the small group that has formed. Zabini draped himself over Draco and Nott nudged the small of Harry’s back to push him into the middle. His aunt smiled as he flushed. 'Would you like some help with anything before lunch?' he asked, clearing his throat. 'How did the meeting with Lady parkinson go?'

'It went splendidly, thank you for asking, Helia,' his aunt said as she gestured outward, silently asking them to follow her. Nott’s hand pushed him forwards again, gently, whilst the other two flounced down the hall with the grace of two billy goats. They’d walk properly if Zabini deleeched himself. The cloak fizzled with excitment at the touches and Harry remained flushed. 'The elves are handling the setting out of lunch so how about we sit and clear a few things up? Severus has informed me of the things you still are not quite sure of. I’d be happy to explain a few things before our guests arrive. I know our two extra’s will be most helpful in those regards too, won’t you dears?' Zabini and Nott nodded dutifully, almost scaredly as they all walked down the hall towards the dining room. Her smile was still sharp, but softened slightly at the edges. 'Wonderful, shall we?'

Chapter Text

Since there were going to be quite a few people at lunch, his aunt suggested choosing one or two things to clear up before they arrived. There were so many things Harry wanted to have explained that he was having a bit of a hard time choosing. However, there has been one burning question he’s had since finding out it was a thing. So, as he waited for his aunt and the others to sit, he thought of something else that he hoped wouldn’t take too much to explain. Draco sat next to his mother, and Harry was sandwiched between Zabini and Nott. It was as if the universe was testing him all over again. On one side was a venom-tipped tongue, and on the other was a set of pearly teeth. Teeth that would have no trouble ripping Harry to shreds. An elf popped in the moment Harry sat down; her ears were the longest he’s ever seen on one. That was saying something because the elves at school were so old that their ears went down to their hips. This elf had ears nearing their knees.

'Missy Cissy! Saeya is cooking a lot of food for guests. Are there any allergies Saeya needs to be aware of?' she asked, ears bobbing up and down as she spoke. 'Saeya doesn’t want to make anyone sick!'

'No red meat or pork for Helia. He also cannot have any stone fruits—so no peaches, nectarines, plums, apricots, or cherries.' Harry gawked at his aunt as the elf nodded. But Harry loved cherries! 'Theodore cannot have cherries either, nor can he consume anything with kiwi or pineapple.'

'Saeya will make sure all the food is safe from those items!' the elf said and then popped away.

'Helia, it is rude to stare like that,' Aunt Narcissa said. Heat flushed up his neck as he swallowed harshly. His mind was still stuck on the fact that he couldn’t eat any stone fruit. He’s never had a reaction to them—well, none that he can remember. 'I was so sure you knew, given how much time you are in the Hospital Wing.' Tea appeared and their cups were filled as she raised a brow. That was a bold assumption, as he spent most of that time unconscious. He frowned a little at the lack of thought towards why he was always in those white-covered beds. 'Severus said you blatantly avoid all stone fruits, so he was sure you knew of this allergy, did you not?'

'Um, no, I was not aware. I avoided those fruits because …' Harry bit his lip, wondering if he should say it now, in front of Draco’s friends. A pinky latched onto his, and he sighed. There was no eluding it—Harry just hoped the two he was sitting between didn’t use it against him at school. The pinky hooked on his meant nothing—the pounding in his chest, however, was definitely something. 'It was the only type Dudley would eat. Most of the time I needed to make pies out of them, so there wasn’t much nutritional value.' The pinky felt warm against his skin, and Harry swallowed as he felt Zabini’s eyes boring into his head. 'He would throw all the stones at me; he’d take the pail I’d used to collect them all and save them for whenever.' Harry gripped the pinky gently, but firmly enough so it wouldn’t unlatch itself. He could feel hot flashes of magic burst from beside him. Anger coated each flash like a cloak. Harry didn’t know why Nott was feeling this anger, but he wouldn’t question a man’s feelings. 'I never knew I was allergic because I never got to eat anything that I made using them.'

Draco stirred his tea with a tight grip on the spoon. Zabini bit his lip before taking a silent sip of his. Nott just swallowed harshly, and glared at his plate—Harry was worried that the plate would explode because of the intensity. The pinky never let go, and it was a silent comfort Harry was grateful for. Harry watched his aunt run her tongue over her teeth in annoyance. Over the next 30 seconds, elves popped in and out of the room—teacups were refilled and fruits that were safe to eat were placed within reach. Not that anyone picked at anything, they were all sat silently until his aunt cleared her throat.

'I see,' his aunt said, her red-lacquered lips pursed. 'We will come back to that, Helia.' Harry knew that wasn’t a suggestion; he just hoped that it wasn’t too soon. Her smile returned, smaller than before, but it made him feel better. 'Have you thought of the two things you wished to have explained whilst we wait for our main meal and guests?'

Harry nodded, and the pinky let go. He almost felt naked without it hooked on his own. 'The whole dam/sire thing, how does it work? Like, is it just wizarding terminology, or is it biological?' It probably wasn’t a topic to speak about at the dining table. But he’s been itching to know what it means.

'Ah, well, it is quite simple really,' Aunt Narcissa said with a small smile. 'This will be explained in depth in your Defence class once you reach fifth year. To oversimplify, if you don’t mind, being labelled as the dam of a relationship pertains to physically having children.' Harry wished he had a notebook, but then he felt he’d seem stupid if he were taking notes at the table. His aunt just smiled at him warmly, the edges of her lips curling nicely. 'In wizarding culture, there isn’t any stigma of who gives birth and who doesn’t. Rituals that make birth possible for all people have been used for centuries, especially during famine or war. For males, or those with anatomy that makes the act impossible, there is a ritual that can magically alter their bodies to allow them to birth children. Does that make sense so far?'

'Yes, it does,' Harry said. It made perfect sense to him. 'So, did my dam identify as a male, then?' He saw Draco nodding along, and Harry felt stupid for thinking this was a crude topic. The others must have been told this years ago!

'He was—not to be crude at the table—but your dam decided that he still wished to keep his original anatomical parts. So, he still had the ability to sire children, choosing to bear them foremost. It is entirely reversible, and many male persons choose to revert to their original anatomy after having children.' Harry nodded, satisfied with that answer. 'Now, in terms of what children call their parent/s, it is highly influenced by familial titles. For the Potters, the titles dam and sire were most commonly used. For those like the Blacks, who were heavily influenced by their French ancestors, they commonly used maman and pere.' The fruit was all gone by the time she finished speaking. Most of the apple slices went into Draco’s mouth, and Zabini had a hand in devouring the grapes. Nott was nibbling on the blueberries, whilst Harry stole the strawberries. 'Does that lessen the itch a bit?'

'Yes,' Harry said as he picked up a large strawberry. 'Um, actually, are there rituals for females or those with um—'

'—that find it difficult to sire children without a cauldron? Yes, there are quite a few depending on where you go.' Harry ate his strawberry and nodded. The juice dribbled down his chin, and a napkin wiped it away. Nott placed it onto the table, and Harry’s face was now on fire. He avoided his aunt’s gaze as she spoke. 'Lily actually underwent a ritual that aided her in having Luna. She reverted the moment we knew Pandora was pregnant,' Aunt Narcissa said as she pushed the plate of strawberries closer to him. 'Anything else on that topic?'

Harry nodded. 'Um, is there an age that you, um, choose to complete these rituals?' He bit into another strawberry as he waited for any form of confirmation.

'Many young wixen complete these rituals during their schooling. Those who do not grow up in a wizarding house don’t find out until their fifth year, unfortunately.' His aunt sipped her tea and moved the plates towards his side of the table. 'James had performed his ritual at 13 as he knew exactly who he aspired to be. I do not know of any wixen to have performed this ritual at a younger age.' She smiled at him, and Harry felt completely satisfied with her explanation. 'Anything else before our guests arrive?'

He ate another strawberry as he thought. A lot of the things he wanted would probably be covered by the lessons Zabini was speaking of. So, he wracked his brain for anything that isn’t etiquette. The cloak warmed as if to say, ‘Ask about me!’, however there was a more pressing thing he wanted to learn about.

'When the aurors came to get me, there were these blue wispy things. They could talk and stuff! Do you know what they are?' It was driving him insane with how often he had seen them. Only he never got to know what the bloody things were called! 'I’ve seen a lynx more often than not—I know it’s some kind of spell, light in affinity I think, and there was a golden one too!'

'I see,' his aunt said with clear amusement. 'What you are describing is the Patronus charm. Light guardians that protect those from dark creatures like dementors.' Harry remembered Poppy mentioned that spell back in the chamber; he felt stupid for not making the connection. He wondered what shape Prince’s Patronus was—it had to be something regal or swottish like an ostrich or something. Those speedy bastards. Harry’ll need to read up on these dementor things later. 'I know Remus will be the best person to ask about it, so I’ll let him give you a full explanation.' Harry pouted a little—he could taste the juice of the strawberry as he pursed his lips. 'He is much more knowledgeable on this topic, so it is best to get the right information from him, Helia.'

'What is up with the Helia thing?' Zabini asked.

'It’s his public name, you twat,' Draco said as he ate a blueberry. 'Helia Alexander, the swotiest name ever.'

Harry snorted, 'like being named after a dragon constellation isn’t?' He sipped his tea as Draco spluttered. 'I’m named after a sun god and you’re named after a constellation with a fat arse and a long neck. If that doesn’t scream, ‘I’m a total swot’, then I don’t know what would.'

'You, you—'

'Draco, shut up and eat your goddamn apple slices,' Nott said as he put his cup down to pick up blueberries. Harry couldn’t help the sniff of amusement that came from his nose. He saw Zabini smile into his cup too. It seems purebloods can get fed up with pureblooded-ness. 'I also say he has a very flat arse instead, like, have you seen this beanpole? All neck, no arse—something he got from his father.'

'Oh, don’t get me started, my little teddy bear, our Draco is so flat he needs padding in his Quidditch robes so he can ride his broom for longer than five minutes.' Harry whipped around at the unfamiliar voice and saw sparkles coming from the person’s shoes. Muffling charms, Harry thought as he stared at them—they were attached to a very buff-looking Avery. He let his eyes wander a little; this summer has done this guy some good. The new muscle he’s gained was glaring at him, and Harry didn’t know where else to look. 'My father will be inside in a moment, Lady Narcissa. Our owl decided his favourite cloak was a nice nest.'

'More like she wanted him to look stupid,' Warrington said with clear amusement as he strolled in. 'My mother is currently strangling my father for being an idiot, so he may be more than a moment.'

'I see. Please sit and join us.'

'Boys, Potter,' Warrington said as walked further into the room. Dark grey eyes latched onto Harry’s green ones. 'I’m digging the scar, Potter. How’d it grow larger? Survive another killing curse? Kill another professor, or do some other fantastically impossible feat of magic?' Harry knew it was humorous, but Draco nor Zabini seemed to think so. Nott sat rigidly with his fork halfway to his lips—it looked ridiculous. He shook his head with a laugh as the two boys glared at the blonde, who now looked mortified. Nott just grumbled something in a language Harry didn’t understand. 'Um, I didn’t mean it offensively! It really is a cool scar!'

'It’s quite funny how offended you are when you have the same sick sense of humor,' Harry said as he de-leaved a strawberry. The amount he’d eaten was ridiculous—it was a surprise he hadn’t felt ill yet. He saw Draco duck his head, and nibble on another apple slice childishly. Zabini just huffed and picked a pear up. Nott just kept eating, his lips getting coated in juice from the oranges he was now snacking on. 'I found it funny,' Harry said. 'So no snake bite for you.' Harry met Warrington’s gaze. He could feel Nott staring at him, his cheek burning from the intensity; his fork now resting on the plate after his finished bite. 'Not this time at least, but I’ll let Draco be a big boy and explain our agreement.' He turned his head towards Avery. 'You aren’t safe either, Mister I need a broom balancer. Perhaps instead of adding extra weight, you just sit higher on it—maybe then you’d score more goals?'

'I think that is enough for now, Helia,' Aunt Narcissa said as he turned back in his seat. 'I expect to be filled in later, Draco.' Draco nodded with a flush as two men came in; their clothes were wrinkled and feathers fell from their outer robes. 'Afternoon gentlemen, why don’t we get a few things underway, yes?'

Harry watched the four newcomers sit down. Lord Warrington took a seat on the right of his aunt, and Lord Avery sat on his right. Avery Jr. sat next to Zabini, and Warrington Jr. took the seat by Draco, their faces going from amused to nervous. Harry knew nothing about their home lives, and he wasn’t about to assume. He sat there observing the two new adults in the room whilst his aunt summoned bits of paper. Documents of some sort, Harry guessed as he stared at them both. Lord Avery was a large man, tall as he was wide. His blonde hair was smoothed back, and his face was clean-shaven. His robes were now feather-free and had no rips or holes. They were dark brown with silver metal fastenings—not exactly what he expected from a lord. Though wizarding clothing was nothing like what he was used to from the Muggle world. The man’s eyes were dull grey, holding an air of impatience—Harry wasn’t sure he liked that look. They reminded him of how Petunia would stare him down as he did chores. Harry kind of wanted to gouge them out of the man’s eye sockets and stamp on them until they burst. Like grapes under his shoes.

Now Lord Warrington was a tall, lean man who looked like he’d kill you with a glance. His hair was silvering black, brushed back with no product. His clothes were dark red and tailored to fit him. The cloak he had on was black, inky like tar. He was much thinner than his acquaintances, with less meat on his bones, but no less deadly. Those eyes looked like he was wired to kill without hesitation, like black voids ready to suck out your soul. Harry would much rather have Lord Avery as an opponent than this bean of a man. But if he was going against their son’s? Warrington was his choice; that guy was a beanpole like his father, and he was a fawn in terms of duelling. He fumbled his spells a lot, and Harry had enjoyed watching the older guy lose drastically to someone a whole year younger when he ventured into the Slytherin common room. It was how Harry found out that the younger Avery was vicious with his wand, so much so that Harry heard he was banned from doing any practicals on live opponents. But Harry liked danger, maybe too much, so he thinks, if shoved to do so, he could take Avery out. 

‘Staring at me won’t do you any favours, little boy,’ Lord Avery said as they locked eyes. Out of the corner of Harry’s eye, he saw Avery Jr. wince. Seems like father dearest wasn’t a party favourite. ‘Regulus would do the same, and he learnt that lesson quickly.’ Harry’s stare hardened at the mention of his sire. ‘Never stared at me again after the first time, so you’d best stop that unless you want the same lesson.’ Harry swallowed harshly at the thought of punishment—his aunt’s cup never made it to her mouth as she turned her head to stare at the man. ‘I won’t give you any sympathy either. You got what you got, and that was that. Sympathy makes a weak wizard.’

Harry raised a brow, and the younger Avery had the mind to look embarrassed. Different from the usual haughty demeanour. Harry scowled a little and willed himself not to throw one of the strawberries at the man. His aunt sat quietly, her eyes downcast, so Harry took that as a sign to mess with this gorilla-like man. ‘Lesson? In what exactly?’ he asked as he kept his gaze on him, blinking obnoxiously. ‘I didn’t think it was illegal to be respectful of those speaking—eye contact is important, you know? It shows that you care about the person talking, but I suppose you’d know nothing about that.’ He felt small pulses of magic warn him, but he was good at ignoring them by now, so he brushed the feeling off. The cloak seemed offended and sent a small jolt of magic through him. Though it only fueled him to keep talking. ‘Unless you are Alica Zamme, there isn’t much going for you in terms of sapping energy to earn compliance.’ Harry looked to Lord Warrington for a split second, but saw no movement in the man’s steeled face. ‘Eavesdroppers are people who don’t know how to gather information any other way. So I have nothing to fear from a penny-pincher. Especially one that uses his weighted pockets to get out of things instead of his intelligence. Which seems to have skipped your generation.’

'Helia, don’t be rude,' his aunt said, though there was a pleased look in her eye. 'Lord Avery is an intellectually competent man.' Her face made it look like the words pained her. Harry snorted in amusement, which peeved the burly man off. 'He just rarely gets to use it, though not for the lack of trying.'

The man spluttered at his aunt and then turned to Harry, red-faced. ‘You are a little-’ 

'A little what?' Harry asked as he moved his plate away from him. He dreads having anything put onto it; otherwise, he’d have an obligation to eat it. The four strawberries he’d had were more than enough considering he’s had breakfast. 'A little 13-year-old who fought copious amounts of dark creatures that most adults die from within his first two years of magical schooling?' Harry watched as a flush crept down the man’s neck. He didn’t let satisfaction mar his face; the man deserved it. 'I fought a mountain troll in my first year of schooling, and I fought a possessed professor, too.' Draco swallowed as Harry held the Lord’s gaze, the words just slipping off his tongue. ‘This school year that just finished held the same standards as first year. I fought a basilisk, you know, those XXXXX-rated creatures that kill from just looking at you? Yeah, I can’t say many people have faced one and lived. I also had to stop a crazed professor who thought wiping my memory would bring him glory.’ Nott shifted with a deep frown, and Zabini coughed. The older Slytherins shifted uncomfortably, and Lord Warrington looked like he’d want to be anywhere else right now.

Lord Avery was now sitting with face flushed, but his gaze held no actual heat—more like it was filled with defeat. 'What have you done in your life, sir? Because I doubt you’ve done anything like I have. So, I doubt your lesson would stick. Because I just escaped having my magic stolen from me only a few days ago by someone whom the Ministry trusted, though you are welcome to try. I don’t think you have the brain cells even to comprehend it.'

'Stolen?' Warrington Jr. asked with wide eyes. Aver Jr. turned to Draco with the same expression. 'You never mentioned that in your letter!'

'I mentioned nothing in my letter, idiots,' Draco replied. Warrington and Avery both flustered, sputtering rebuttals, but Draco wasn’t having any of it. 'I told you to get your fathers here to discuss a few things with my mother, to clear some things up before you assume.' Harry turned away from the tomato-looking lord to look at his cousin. 'Helia lived with Muggles until an incident a few days ago, for starters. So his actions make sense, don’t you agree? No poise at all.' Harry pursed his lips, but said nothing; he’d already spoken out of turn, so best not continue. He also didn’t know if his cousin was joking or not, because it didn’t seem humorous to him. Not really, anyway. 

‘Ah, right, um.’ Warrington swallowed and said nothing else. Avery sat rigidly as his father muttered things under his breath. Things Harry couldn’t hear, but didn’t care for. 

‘Let us get some things cleared up properly then, shall we?’ Aunt Narcissa asked. ‘Lunch is ready, and I would like to be able to finish packing before the port-key arrives.’ His aunt’s eyes sharpened as she glanced at the muttering Lord. ‘Helia is in the care of Severus and Remus, so if you have anything you’d like to discuss further after this meeting, they are who you turn to.’

‘I am not speaking with that sorry excuse for a wizard! And Severus is just as useless to speak with.’ Harry blinked before his foot cracked against Lord Avery’s shin. The man tried to censor his curses but ultimately ended up with his lips sealed by Lord Warrington. Harry did his best to hide the grin that spread across his face—the cheeky glance from the bean lord made him feel much better about having to stare at this oaf of a man. He almost felt bad for Alexander now, the key word being almost. 

‘A basilisk, you said, Potter? If I may be so bold as to question over the top of my dear friend?’ Lord Warrington asked as the food was laid out, and Lord Avery grumbled some more even though he had no lips right now, shooing the elf away as they laid down his plate. Harry felt the man’s gaze burn his skin a little; he forced himself to sit still, not knowing why he felt that way. ‘How on earth did you find one, let alone kill one?’ The man’s confusion was fake; his eyebrows furrowed too much to show genuine emotion. Almost as if he already knew about it. Go figure, these Death Eater parents really like throwing children into danger. Even to the extent of losing their own. ‘You must be proud of yourself, no?’ 

Harry wanted to swear but didn’t want to face his aunt’s wrath. ‘Ladon was Salazar’s familiar, sir, and she was forced to petrify people for, um, a soul projection of a young Dark Lord.' Harry didn’t miss the intake of breath from the five young Slytherins. 'I don’t know how killing someone is something to be proud of.’ Harry swallowed as the bean lord nodded. ‘So, she asked me to kill her before school ended, you know, with being a Parselmouth. A skill I didn’t know that was a thing until this year, so boo to you who thought otherwise.’ Harry ignored the shocked looks of those in front of him. Really, these purebloods were so dramatic that they should start up a drama club. It was almost pathetic. ‘It was a tragedy that some idiot let a dark artefact into the school that forced her to do something she didn’t want to do. I pity the tiny brain that works too hard, making stupid decisions for its host.’ 

‘Yes,’ Lord Warrington said, his skin paling as he swallowed harshly, ‘It was a tragedy, indeed.’ He moved food around the plate. ‘People could have died; I am a little surprised that no one did. Whoever, as you say, let this happen did not in fact think of all the variables.’ Surprised, huh? Lord Warrington almost looked saddened that no one perished. Cassius looked genuinely confused as he nibbled his food, trying to piece together what his father was getting at. ‘You were uninjured in your endeavours? I do not see many wounds on your person other than your arm.’ Ah, so he’s a pervert, looking under my clothing? Does he have X-ray vision?

‘Father! You can’t just do that!’ little Warrington said with wide eyes. His fork clattered onto his plate. ‘He doesn’t need to disclose any of that! You’re being a pervert—what did mother tell you?.’

‘That is what we are here for, no? Getting all the facts so that we do not make assumptions? It is not like children entice me either, so no harm done.’ 

Spluttering, the younger Warrington stared at his father, and Harry swallowed his bile. Mr. Milrose's voice sounded so similar, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him and his stupid face. Cassius stood with a red face. ‘No! It is not. We are here because you can’t keep your nose out of anything.’ He turned to Harry with his lip between his teeth; Harry just felt worse knowing that the younger Warrington had to deal with this idiot. ‘My father gets cranky when he’s the last to know anything. He has a stupid gift that lets him see beneath the surface, or whatever.’

'So no different from anyone else, then? Just more skilled at finding things out. I see, well, so long as he doesn’t go sputtering about it, then we can say it’s water under the bridge.' Harry looked around to see what he wanted to force himself to eat. His fingertips found his arm, and he began scratching—flashes of Mr. Milrose’s face plaguing his thoughts of what to pick. Not that his mind was going to let him eat after knowing the man saw under his clothes. That gift was devil-sent, and Harry swallowed down the bile that was creeping up his throat. 'Until you go against that, then I’ll use that water to drown you.' Then drown myself for letting you stare at me like that. 'As for the pervert thing, I’m not too bad with a spoon, and if you keep staring, I’m sure your eyes will end up in your mouth if you aren’t careful. You’ll see how dirty your insides are then.' If only he could have done that with Mr. Milrose, then he thinks he could be free from that bastard. Maybe a memory charm would do some good too. Make the ugly man forget the things he’s done and never think like that again.

The two lords looked at him, and as if he had flipped a switch, Lord Avery smiled at him. His mouth having been returned to him while Harry was trying not to throw up. 'Now that’s more like it. I was worried you’d back down.'

'Well, I had no worries about you, Lord Avery. I have experience dealing with narcissistic parents who see no wrong in their actions, and who think that disciplining other people’s children is alright.' The smile turned into confusion, and the younger Avery had to hold in laughter. This man was so rotund he looked just like Vernon, and Harry was not about to let either ugly bastard win him over. 'I’m sure we will get along great if you decide to do better by everyone; personal growth gets you places, you know?' Harry smiled at the man. 'Anything you were curious about? Any burning questions about me? I have no doubt your son has admitted his distaste for me, so I am curious about what you want to know.' Harry sniffed a little, Let’s get this bullshit over with so I can nap and forget about meeting you. 

Avery Jr. was flushed now, sputtering about how he didn’t dislike Harry. But he never said he liked him either, so Harry assumed he was tolerated at best. Which was enough for him—he knew full well that most would hate him and few would truly like him as a person. He watched as the adults looked at each other, no words shared between them, their conversation spoken in facial expressions. Coughing, Lord Avery stood and pushed his chair. Lord Warrington followed suit, pulling out his aunt’s chair for her. He watched her smile and stare at the two men. Something evil lingered in her gaze, and Harry wondered where they were going. They hadn’t even gotten to the point of their lunch.

'It seems I miscalculated the maturity of those in this room. So, the children shall stay here and converse with each other, while we get down to business in the study,' she said with her hands at her sides. 'Draco, make sure all of our guests are looked after while I am gone, yes?' 

Draco nodded, and the three adults left the room, all the food on their plates left untouched. Avery and Warrington Jr. moved seats to sit opposite Nott and Zabini. Who were shifting around, looking unsure of where they should be. Harry watched his cousin smack his lips as he looked around the room. 'Um, right, well, shall we just start from the beginning, Helia? Explain what you had last night?'

'Not that you need to!' Warrington said with exasperation. 'You don’t owe us anything.'

Of course he didn’t; he didn’t owe anyone anything! 'Well, for starters, Draco is right about me not knowing anything about this world,' Harry said as he sat back in his chair. The cloak sagged against him, as if sighing in relief. No more stinky adults. 'I’d like it if you could explain a few things, if you don’t mind, about what I am expected to do.'

'Anything you want to know specifically? Like, things you have heard of but are confused about?' Avery asked. 'Or should we just list a couple of things and go from there?'

Harry wasn’t sure he knew much to ask about, so he just asked them to explain random things. Random was better than nothing at this point. If he was getting lessons, then brief explanations were better than going in blind. 

'What about a list?' Nott asked. 'Make sure that we cover at least the basics?'

'Alright, then you’re telling us about this whole magic-stealing stuff,' Warrington said as he summoned some paper. Harry watched as he scribbled a small list onto it, in small, swirly writing. 'Okay, Potter, be prepared to have your brain melt.' 

—

And melt it did, but in a way that left Harry satisfied, because after an hour of listening and further questioning, since he can never help himself, Harry had absorbed a decade’s worth of learning spoken in brief explanations. Avery, who has insisted Harry call Alex, charmed a notebook to record everything they said for Harry to read later. It was much better than having a quill scratch against the parchment. Cassius, who was now staring at an adder Harry had summoned to show off his parseltongue ability, had explained most of what he had learnt. How to dress, walk, talk, act, sit, and ask questions. Av-Alex explained a few parts of the Wizengamot and how Lordships work. The three younger Slytherins gave their input too; Zabini, who was very much still Zabini, explained how banks worked in different countries, and how someone navigates them. Draco sat flushing as he hurriedly explained courtship and relationships, whilst Nott, with a bored expression, explained rituals and celebrations. All in all, Harry had a summarised version of a childhood’s worth of teaching. The notebook was a good 500 pages by the time they finished, and so Harry kind of thought that lessons besides practical ones were redundant. Why explain things twice? Granted, there were things everyone was still learning, so he wasn’t too worried about not knowing everything. The basics were more than enough for now. There was bound to be more they hadn’t told him, but these seemed to be the most important.

'Alright, pretty Potter, start explaining some stuff before you bugger off to Merlin-knows-where,' Nott said as he turned to face him. 'We don’t need your life story as such, so summarise it a little.' The curiosity in those stupidly pretty eyes gave away that Nott did not mean it.

'Right, in a few words then,' Harry said, nodding, that isn’t happening. 'My parents were killed by a useless person I found out I was related to, go figure. Um, I was sent to the Muggle world to live with people I thought were my aunt and uncle, but turned out not to be. Um, they were shit, and I’m not going any further than that.' Harry was wracking his brain for ways to say everything in a few sentences, without rambling. 'Uh, they had a son who would, um, do some things I didn’t like … Um, oh! I found out I was a wizard on my 11th birthday, then was dragged around Diagon by Hagrid, who wasn’t all that helpful in terms of explaining things.' Harry was not explaining how Dudley would chase, beat, humiliate and squash him. No one was going to know about that until he was ready. 'Ah, and um, I met Draco at Madam Malkins that same day, and he was a giant prat in the end, but he’s working on it.' Draco’s face flushed and the other boys snorted. 'Started school, fought a troll, killed a professor, was locked in a room most of the summer,' he said under his breath. None of the boys seemed to catch the last part as they leaned in, looking hopeful that he’d repeat it. But he’s not going to.

Harry fiddled with his sleeve as he spoke, feeling the swelling skin of where he had scratched. Talking about himself wasn’t a strong suit as he was coming up blank. He blinked a few times and then skipped to this year. 'Then the petrifications started, then the whole heir of Slytherin thing, which is true as I’ve found out, and then I killed Ladon, the basilisk. Um, then summer started, I blew someone into a balloon,' he said, skipping the part where he was beaten for it. 'Then was rescued by aurors, then taken to a crazy person’s place where my magic was stolen. Met some neat kids who I miss, and I’ve only known them for a few days, got my heir rings and inheritance stuff. Found some family members, a godfather and now I’m here explaining everything.'

'What?' Alex asked. 'What the hell is your life, Potter!'

'At this point, just call me Helia. I need to get used to it. And to answer your question, my life is shit, but I don’t feel like being dead at the moment.'

Nott snorted, 'That’s valid. And when I said a few words, I didn’t mean so few. I would have liked some context at least.' 

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face. He was now looking into Nott's steely eyes. Grey was looking to be his favourite shade. 'I can’t read minds, and I’m far too tired to read between the lines, you numpty.'

'Valid, that is not valid! You don’t need to be speaking like that!' Draco said with wild hands, ripping Harry’s gaze from the brunette. 'My mother would not like needing to bury you!'

Harry snorted, 'Who said anything about being buried? What if I aspire to be cremated or just pulverised into a pulp?'

'Helia, what the actual heck is wrong with you?' Alex asked whilst Draco spluttered. 

‘No, that is valid. It is normal to cremate loved ones in Eastern Europe. The ground is too hard to dig up, even with magic. So it is a nice way to keep loved ones close,’ Nott argued. 

'Oh no, we have a sap in the room. I’m so glad Draco is still a ferrety arse, or else there would be too much sap.' Harry felt the cloak warm up as if it were snickering along with him. It was so warm, but the heat was pleasant and not making him all sweaty.

'I will bury you just to spite you, Potter!' Nott said, and Harry gripped his chest in fake misery. 

'Oh no, I’m so scared,' he said with no fear at all. Harry smiled and then furrowed his brow in mock confusion. 'But if your parents’ precious lord couldn’t kill me, how do you think you can? Or would you wait for someone better to kill me and then just bury me afterwards?'

Harry didn’t have time to think before he was running down the hall, and the other three Slytherins were left at the table. He hasn’t run this fast or this much for a long while, so his legs were burning already. His feet bounded against the marble floor as Nott chased after him. Instead of fear coursing through him, Harry felt nothing but elation. Being chased has never felt so exhilarating. His strides evened out as he ran outside, down the gravel trail and into the forest. Zig-zagging through the trees seemed like a good way to evade the Nott heir. Well, it would have been if he hadn’t been caught. Despite his efforts, Harry was on his back with twigs and leafy debris stabbing him. Nott, who was now covered in mud from an obvious tumble, was on top of him. The guy was glaring at him and wheezing. Harry just grinned up at the steel-eyed boy. 

‘Now that was the most exercise I’ve seen you do for as long as I’ve known you, Nott. Ever thought of taking up track?’ 

A pillow appeared, and Harry held his breath as Nott smothered him with it. There was little to no pressure, and so Harry knew this guy did in fact not want to kill him. Harry didn’t bother struggling, knowing that could cause the boy on top of him to apply proper pressure. So he lay still and was breathing as shallowly as he could without annoying him. For what seemed like forever, Nott removed the pillow and Harry fixed his glasses. He saw a pout-like scowl on Nott’s lips and Harry just grinned upward. Harry could feel his muscles strain from being sat on as his legs were extended, having not had time to relax, before he had a lump flop onto him. He could hear the trills of different birds and the bounding of four-legged creatures. Sitting up felt like a mission, and he didn’t want to shove Nott off, lest he get that pillow to the face.

'How did you get a pillow all the way out here?' Harry asked as Nott got off him and leant against a nearby tree. 'Did you conjure it instead?'

'Yes, Potter, I conjured it,' Nott said sarcastically, 'How else would I have gotten it?'

A growl interrupted their conversation, and Harry swallowed harshly. Looking around, he tried to find the source of that growl, but came up empty. Nott was rigid, no movement at all, and Harry wondered what the heck this animal was. It sounded K9, too deep to be a feline, and not guttural enough to be inherently magical. If it were, then it was most likely a firewolf, or perhaps an overly large crup. To his surprise, the growling turned to whining as Harry sat up more. The cloak he had on was warming, almost burning in recognition. 

'Potter,' Nott said huskily as he whispered, 'Don’t move.' 

But like everything else he’s been told to do, he ignores the command despite the feeling of not needing to. Turning around and getting onto his knees, he came face to face with a large black dog. His ancestors’ voice echoed in his head as he stared into the dog’s pale blue eyes.

…keep an eye out for a large black dog…

'What part of don’t move did you not understand!' Nott said, his voice rising with each word. If there weren’t a look of concern on his face, then Harry may have been unnerved by the volume. Hands were on his waist as he was being pulled back gently. Fingertips dug in with little pressure. The dog growled weakly, and Harry pulled away slightly to shuffle towards the emaciated dog. Nott sighed as he moved, his grin easing a little. ‘We don’t even know where he’s come from—what if he’s got diseases? It could attack you, and you’ll die a stupid death because you didn’t listen to me.’ The hands tightened, and Harry could feel nervous magic roll off the boy behind him. Sighing softly, he lent into the magic and tipped his head back to look at Nott.

‘It’s a dog, Nott, and it’s emaciated! What is it going to do? It’s barely able to keep itself upright!’ Harry said as he turned to look at the dog, who had taken to lying down. He pulled out of the hold completely as he sat down to look at the poor thing. Its blue eyes were dull, and Harry wondered if the elves could come out this far from the manor to bring food. ‘It needs a snack, or something! Can you look at me and tell me this guy doesn’t need help?’ 

Nott used his fingertip to hook Harry's chin, turning his head. Grey eyes met green. ‘This dog does not need any help.’ 

Pouting, Harry stared at Nott, the dampness of the ground not bothering him. ‘I’d feed you if you were a starving dog! Why can’t we just feed him a little and then leave him be?’ He could feel the hot air escaping Nott’s mouth as he sighed. Harry was not about to give up on this dog; it was a sign, and Harry was going to head it.

'Potter, he’ll follow you everywhere you go once you feed him,' Nott said as he leant back, but Harry could still feel the nervousness roll off of him. 'Do you really need a shadow for the rest of its life?’ 

‘You say that as if my abandonment issues haven’t already latched onto this guy,’ Harry said, ‘and who’s going to say he won’t outlive me?’ 

With an angry pout, Nott shakes his head. ‘Potter, you are not feeding the dog.’ 

‘Potter is feeding the dog!’ Harry said. ‘Once Potter thinks of something nice to eat.’ Maybe some rice porridge and chicken will do for now, he thought.

'No,' Nott said as he stood up, 'Potter is not giving that dog anything.' Harry shuffled backward to be closer to the dog, his cloak warming to almost uncomfortable temperatures as he did. Nott looked delectably dangerous standing over him like this; eyes steely, jaw clenched and lips pursed in silent annoyance. ‘Helia, if you feed this dog, and it finds you again to eat you, I’m telling you I told you so from your grave.’

Harry grinned, knowing he’s just won. ‘You aren’t very good at this arguing thing. I expected more of a fight.’

'You’ not going to listen to reason, no matter what I said or did,' Nott said as he reluctantly knelt on Harry’s left. ‘Go on then, you sap, feed him and then face the consequences.’ 

reSmuggly, Harry thought of what food dogs can have. Marge would only feed her dogs raw diets, so perhaps this guy would like something like that? He bit his lip as he felt Nott’s magic calm down. Harry won’t apologise, not for wanting to look after someone who needed it. The dog shuffled closer, and the cloak fizzled with recognition and glee. Frowning, Harry wondered if this dog was Draco’s, and if it was, then that git was going to taste his fist. The poor thing was skin and bones! How could someone do this to an animal? Harry knew his uncle was a heartless bastard who only cared for himself and his assets, but this was just wrong. He could see small patches of fur had been ripped out, and Harry lifted his hand to touch there. The dog froze for a second before leaning into the touch. Harry saw Nott mumble something under his breath and soon a young elf was standing in front of them, hands holding a plate of various foods. Smiling, he nudged Nott gently.

'Sap,' Harry said.

'I will find a way into Ravenclaw Tower so I can kill you,' Nott said in reply.

Scoffing, Harry turned his gaze towards the dog, who was now swallowing bits of meat whole. 'Sure you will, but why kill me in the tower when the Chamber of Secrets cannot be entered without me? No one would know if I’d died, or just went missing then, and you don’t have to be a Parselmouth to get out.'

Leaning forward, Nott got right into Harry’s personal space, their noses mere nanometres from touching. 'Do you want me to kill you?' Nott asked, his voice just above a whisper. 'Why?'

'Because I know you’ll make it worthwhile,' Harry said, inching closer so their noses grazed. 'I don’t want to die a boring death—I’d much rather be killed by someone who’d make it fun. I’ve seen the runic scrolls and the poison’s catalogues.' Harry smiled, flicking his eyes up to meet the steel grey ones he’s fallen for. 'Would you kill me if I asked?'

Before Nott could answer, the dog wedged itself between them with a large huff. Snorting, Harry shuffled back, causing the dog to topple onto Nott. Despite being so skinny, the dog was still large; if it were standing up, then its head would reach Harry’s ribcage. Which was considerable since Harry’s grown a fair bit these past few days. It’s insane how much too, as he never thought he’d grow above 5’4, and now he’s surpassed that by an inch. He wasn't sure he'd grow any taller, feeling as if the damage has taken its tole on his height. He’s saddened a little as he watched Nott wrestle with the dog, about how tall and healthy he could have been this whole time. Harry looked down at his arms to see how skinny they were—his wrists were depressingly thin, and he’s astounded that he’d survived flying without snapping them. He watched for a little while longer, listening to the laughs that managed to escape Nott’s mouth. They were a little deeper than he thought but no less pleasent to listen to. The dog was now licking all over Nott’s face, and the elf teetered worridly.

'He’s okay,' Harry said softly in the hopes he didn’t startle the elf. The little elf just nodded, like they were afraid to speak. He swallowed and kept watching until a wispy blue swan flew into view. The elf popped away in fright and the dog snapped its head up with a whine.

'Thedore, your father wants you home, and Helia, the portkey will be here soon so you’d best come back hastily.'

Harry sighed. 'Um, right, raincheck on the whole murder thing?' he asked. 'I’d rather not have my aunt ruin her clothes by doing it herself.' At least if she did, it would be his actual aunt this time. 'What’s your elf’s name?'

'We have to get going and you want to start up another conversation?' Nott asked as he got off of the ground. The dog snorted like he found the scene amusing. Harry poked his tongue out and Nott grabbed his chin, pulling him closer. 'Her name is Prim,' he said, leaning down. 'I would like to cash that raincheck in next week, if you don’t mind.' Sharp teeth glared at Harry as he looked up; despite having grown some, Nott was still taller by at least two inches. 'I have some poisons that I would like to test.'

'Merlin, Theo! I did not tramp all this way to find the two of you half-way to snogging!'

Harry spun around to see Draco sneering at his surroundings. 'Did you two have to run this far out? We’re near the border of the property! It took me ten whole minutes to fly around to find you.'

'Why couldn’t you just ask an elf to come grab us?' Harry asked. 'Nott had his elf come from an entirely different place!'

Scowling, Draco shook his head and mounted his broom whilst throwing shrunken ones towards them. 'Hurry up, Mother does not like having to order a portkey becuase you’re too slow,' he said before kicking off.

'What crawled up his arse and died?' Nott asked and Harry shrugged.

'Probably the fact that his arse hurts from not being in his Quiddith robes.'

'I heard that!' Draco screamed from the sky and the two still on the ground cackled with laughter.

'Alright then, Pretty Potter, expect an owl from me later. Surely we brushed over owling ettiquite enough for you to know what to do?'

Harry rolled his eyes and mounted the Nimbus 2000 his cousin had thrown at him. 'Yes, yes, I’ll make sure its the right ink and shit. Now piss off before I wack you with this broom.'

The two rode their respective brooms back to the manor. But only one walked back inside. Harry was standing outside, shrunken under his aunts hard gaze whilst Nott went home through the floo.

'Now there has been a slight change of plans,' his aunt said. 'I was hoping we’d get some peace with Alphard, however there has been an altercation we cannot avoid.'

Harry frowned. Altercation? 'What happened?'

'Great Uncle Alphard was overheard talking about metting you, and well, now everyone is going to be there,' Draco asid. 'And most of them are worse than my father in terms of being a biggoted arse.'

Without a beat, his aunt nodded. 'Is this change alright with you?'

Harry nodded despite it being the worst news he’s heard all day. 'It was bound to happen, so I’d rather it be over and done with.'

Before any could say anything else, the portkey activated and Harry held his breath as they were swept away. The next two days were going to be hell.

Chapter Text

Harry felt the ground before he saw the ground. His foot twisted as he landed wrong and fell to his knees. With a screwed-up face, Harry staggered to his feet and peered around the garden they were in. It was large, and from the decor, you could obviously tell that they were in France. Trimmed hedges were scattered around the place, with fountains in between them. The whole vibe spoke of aristocracy, which the French seemed to bathe in. Everything was clean and well maintained—Harry thought it was nothing less than perfect. The magic that swirled around the place was fresh; clean in a way that Britains wasn’t. Draco breathed in deeply as if he needed the entire oxygen supply in his lungs. His aunt stood patiently, waiting for them both to face her. Her hair was blowing in the soft breeze, and Harry could see the smile that graced her lips. She looked at home here, and he wondered if she spent a lot of time in this garden. He noticed their bags were no longer at their feet, so he assumed they had been taken whilst he wasn’t looking. Most likely to wherever they were going to be sleeping. Without warning, his aunt turned and walked down the gravel path towards the house. Her shoes created an awful crunching sound with each step. Following quietly, Harry soaked up the ambient magic, liking the way the small particles felt against his face. The cloak had let in more magic than he thought, and it felt much calmer than it did in Britain. Harry assumed it was because Britain was a hostile environment. However, considering how many revolutions took place in France, it was a little confusing that the magic here was different.

They walked for a few minutes until Harry spotted a well-dressed man; his robes were ironed and pressed, and the cane he was using was polished. He had his hair swept back with a hint of product, and wore a soft smile on his lips. His aunt stood on her toes to kiss the man’s cheek and offered a small smile.

'Arcturus, you are looking rather well,' she said as they all walked down the tiled path. 'I take it the treatment is working?'

'Oh, most certainly!' Arcturus said with an enormous grin. 'Ted knows the right stuff, that is for sure. I was so glad Andi kept hammering me about getting something done.'

'Will you be able to come to the Manor this year for Yule?' Draco asked, bouncing on his toes a little. 'Mother said that, since Helia is with us now, we’ll have a proper Yuletide.'

'I’ll see what I can do, little dragon,' Arcturus said as they walked through the doors they came to. The man’s gaze left Draco’s and fluttered to Harry. 'It is so good to have you back with the family, Helia. Everyone has felt like a piece of our souls was missing each year you were not with us.' Harry sunk into himself and gave the man an awkward smile; a smile the man took in stride. 'I have to apologise; my nosiness gets the better of me, and Alphard can never say no when I ask him to elaborate. I have a loud mouth too, quite loose-lipped if anyone were to ask, so I may have mentioned you to my children, who are eager to see you.' Harry watched the man gesture around the place. 'Welcome to Château de Langeais, home to over twelve generations of Black children.'

Harry nodded as the man, Arcturus, led them towards a small lounge. The hallway leading up to it was lit by the natural light that came from the large windows. Paintings were hung on the walls encased in white-gold frames; small white-stone pedestals held various objects that sparkled with ambient magic. In a matter of small strides, the four of them had gotten to a set of pale-oak doors. Inside were pale blue walls with white-gold trim, furnished with intricately patterned seats and lounge chairs. The ceiling was painted with constellations, and Harry craned his neck to see them all. A gasp alerted him to the people in the room, many of whom now stared at him, hands covering their mouths. Three women were perched on seats pushed together, whilst three more stood behind them. Their dresses ranged from white to blue to yellow to purple to a dark forest green; each embossed with intricate designs. Two men were sitting in deep chairs whilst a third was pacing the room. Their clothes were dark and pressed. They were quite plain if Harry was honest. All of them looked to have been aged by grief and time; greying hairs styled perfectly and wrinkles waving from the corners of their eyes. Eight out of the nine fresh faces had holsters either on their arms or hanging from their dresses. Only one seemed empty-handed, which intrigued Harry greatly. What intrigued Harry more, though, was the amount of magic that was held captive in this room. The cloak let him see bright swirls of magic glitter and move around the room. It illuminated each person’s face with a different colour, all whilst being invisible to everyone else. He needed to blink the spots away as he took in everyone’s expressions.

'Can he see it? All of it?' asked the man who was pacing the room. 'I tried to get everyone to remain calm, but they argued the moment you stepped outside.'

'Snitch!' one of the sitting women said, her tone haughty with arrogance. 'We only argued because it was you who was notified, and not any of us!'

'That, dear sister, is because you are a baboon who would have driven Helia away just by flashing your ugly mug!' another woman said, her tone holding annoyance.

The woman glared, and Harry saw a spark of angry magic fizzle around her. He took a step back in fright. 'We share the same ugly mug, you dolt!'

'And yet I have a darling husband, and you are a foolish, husbandless bitch!'

Harry swallowed harshly as the magic thumped like a rapid heartbeat; the room swirled with anger and mirth. Panic crimped at the edges as it swirled. He could hear portraits joining the rising volume of voices, and the sheer thumping made his head spin. The men now joined the argument and stood from their chairs; their voices carried the onslaught of insults.

'If your idiot of a brother-in-law had raised his idiot son better, then he wouldn’t have been taken from us!'

'Oh please, Cygnus, if you had raised any of your children right, then they’d be out of Azkaban and alive!'

Harry flinched as one man slammed his fist onto a nearby table in exasperation. The magic flowing out of him was dark; so dark that it almost made the furniture in the room disappear. It whipped around and began lashing at those arguing, and Harry hid fearfully behind his aunt. His hands gripped her dress tightly. He shook as the cloak tried to compensate for the force of energy the room had. But even the fabric covering his body wasn’t strong enough to keep the ferocity at bay. Whimpering, Harry stuck to his aunt’s back like glue as the yelling intensified. The words welded together into strings of incomprehensible nonsense. Memories of Vernon and Petunia fighting had tears welling in his eyes. The only difference now was that magic was involved. He heard spells shoot from wands and items from around the room shatter. A hand found one of his and gently pried it from his aunt’s dress. It wasn’t comforting, not like he thinks the person hoped it was. It made Harry feel like he wasn’t allowed to hide, like he was a burden to her. The hand gripped his as he shook, tears rolling down his face.

'Enough!' Arcturus said with a rasp. 'One more spell and I will banish you all until you can learn to behave yourselves! Look at what you’ve done!'

Harry screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to see anyone right now. His other hand was taken by a much softer one. He could feel Draco’s pale magic seep into his palm, and he sniffled; his head was planted between his aunt’s shoulder blades. There was light murmuring that Harry didn’t care for, and he felt the magic shift from being a typhoon to a light wind. His aunt’s magic curled around him like an extra blanket as the cloak melted away the anger-laced magic. He didn’t dare move from his haunched spot as he heard everyone move. The seats creaked as they all sat, and he opened his eyes to see the tear stains on his aunt’s back. Draco squeezed his hand, but Harry didn’t dare lift his head. He felt too much shame to do so.

'Helia? Mon Soleil. It’s alright now—they’ll lose their heads if they move even an inch,' his aunt said in a soft voice. 'I am sure you are going to want to be standing up to hear my father’s apology.' Her tone now held no room for refusal. 'Because if he wishes to see Draco or you at all after this, he is going to grow up and set an example for you to look to.' Harry wasn’t so sure if the man throwing spells at family members should be held to a high standard. Especially not one who’s a Death Eater.

'Apologise! I will do no such thing!'

'Then I will make sure you get a nice card by owl, grandfather,' Draco said as he pulled Harry to stand. Now he could see over his aunt’s shoulder, and everyone was staring in his direction. 'Yuletide festivities will prevail even with your absence, so choose which path you’d like to take.' If Harry weren’t so fucking scared right now, then he’d show his gratitude. 'It has already been a long day, grandfather, and I did not expect to deal with more than one idiot today.'

Muttering under his breath, the man stood and walked straight to the Floo. The green flames engulfed him, and Harry shrunk down at the ferocity with which they vanished. Arcturus, who looked dead-tired, hobbled over to Harry and patted him on the head. Sniffling, he turned to look up at the man, who easily towered over him. Blue eyes pierced his green ones, and the twinkle in them sent an icy shiver down his spine. Harry ripped his gaze away and burrowed his face into his aunt’s hair; the smell of lilies and warm vanilla filled his nose as he breathed in to calm down. That twinkling was the same as Dumbledore’s, and if that ugly coot does it, then it cannot be inherently good.

'I apologise, Helia, I didn’t mean to intrude,' Arcturus said. 'It is an old habit I have yet to rid myself of.'

'I don’t even know what you did, but it felt cold, so I looked away.' Harry cringed at his raspy voice. He tilted his head to catch his aunt’s gaze, hoping he could be seen in her periphery. 'Is it okay for him to be left alone when still upset?' It was never a positive sign when Vernon left the room fuming. 'Does he live with anyone who will check on him?'

'His wife will most certainly force him to write an apology letter; Druella is wonderful like that,' his aunt said. 'Now, if everyone is going to be civil and put their wands away, bar you, Marius, of course, then we can proceed with settling in.' She snapped her fingers and documents flew into the room. 'I am not having him explain himself, so these are the reports. You may read them once the children are in bed, and we may discuss them. For now, we shall sit for tea whilst we wait for Andromeda and Nymphedora. Any opposing quips?' No one spoke up. 'I thought as much.'

'You never cease to amaze me, Narcissa,' a man with dark grey robes said. 'Now, if you don’t mind me skipping ahead, what did you boys get for your exams? I know from memory that those in this room were less than ambitious in their second years.'

'Marius, you don’t even have magic! So, isn’t it odd that the question you’ve asked pertains to magical examination?' The woman who had started the argument folded her hands in her lap. She looked like a rat with her face pinched.

Marius, who didn’t look put-out, smiled. 'Of course not! I may be a squib, but I care about their education.' His smile tightened. 'All you’ve been caring about it whether your cloak matched your robes; and I don’t think the children care much for monochromatic fashion.'

'They do not,' Aunt Narcissa said, 'and I am sure Draco will tell you all about his examinations.' Draco perked up at the mention, and smiled. Harry could see his aunt’s eyes crinkle a little at the sight. 'I think Helia would too; however, he is much more interested in learning rather than boasting.'

'I see, well, we best introduce ourselves before we do anything, then,' Marius said, his smile brightening. 'I’m Marius, the youngest brother of these lovely people. My line of work is at the Ministry. I catalogue spells and incoming texts for the Minister.'

Harry perked up at the mention of spells. If this guy worked where Harry thinks he does, then that meant he’s been inside the room. Before he could ask a question, the woman with a snotty attitude turned to face him.

'My name is Cassiopeia, and I am the eldest of us. My line of work revolves around travel; I travel to different countries representing Britain for the ICW.' The woman behind her, the one who continued the argument, snorted. With a sneer, Cassiopeia huffed. 'I am the one you turn to should you need anything in public relations.'

'You cannot snark your way into his good-books, Cass. I think you’ve done a rubbish job at it so far,' Marius said. 'Now, to your far left who is standing is Callidora.' The woman was dressed in a light green dress, her smile warm. 'I believe she is your godbrother’s grandmother, Neville, I think his name is. Anyway, she works one level below me in the education sector—she is the one who moderates all of your examinations.' Harry nodded; he could see bits of Neville in her; her nose and brow bone very similar to his. 'Now in front of her is Lucretia, a mad-woman who is obsessed with creatures. She works with dragons mostly, but loves the small critters too.' This woman was in a light teal gown; her hair was brushed but had a wild look to it.

'Now, to my favourite sister, Dorea. She married your grandfather's half-brother Charlus; it was how she got her job working with runes. She’s the one to go to when your attempts fail.' This woman was in light purple—her hair was in a neat bun. The other women in the room rolled their eyes, but Dorea just flashed Harry a cheeky grin. 'The muppet behind me is Alphard—he’s the one you go to for charms. He is a mentor for Beuxbatons and Hogwarts graduates.' Harry followed Marius’ hand to the man, Alphard, who had blue-grey robes. He was clean-shaven and had his hair tousled. 'And in the middle, out dear sister-in-law, Walburga, your grandmother.'

The woman in front of him was the female version of his uncle and sire. Her eyes were cold, though, almost soulless; skin pale and lacking life. Her robes were dark green and fit her well. She looked at him, and that soulless gaze turned into one of sorrow. Harry stood up straighter, swallowing slightly as nerves sought after him.

'If you ever need anything in Transfiguration, then she is your go-to.'

Harry could only nod; he didn’t feel comfortable speaking right now. It was as if there was a boulder in his throat stopping any sound from forming. Swallowing, he waited for anything else, keeping himself close to his aunt. When no one said anything, he looked over to Arcturus, who smiled at him. With a gesture of his cane, everyone filed out of the small room. Their brief journey landed them in a small dining area with a long table that housed twenty-two chairs. This room was darker than the hall and lounge had been, painted in a dark blue with brass accents. The women sat first, picking their seats; and then Marius ushered Harry and Draco to sit between himself and Alphard. Arcturus sat at the head of the table and murmured a spell under his breath. Soon tea was pouring itself, and Harry was slowly calming down. The magic was light on his skin, nothing like the raging war from before. Lucretia and Callidora sat with their bodies turned towards Arcturus, whilst Harry’s grandmother, Cassiopeia, and Dorea sat facing Harry. The tea smelt amazing, and he watched as two sugar cubes landed in it. It was as if the spell that conjured the tea knew how he liked it.

Draco’s was so pale you’d think he was drinking tea-flavoured milk, and not tea with a splash of milk. He saw everyone else had at least one sugar cube, and most had some milk too. He watched the two cubes dissolve and relaxed his shoulders. Now that they weren’t yelling at each other, their magic was pleasant, as was their company. He supposed he needed permission before he called anyone aunt or uncle, or even grandmother. For now, he’ll internalise their first names and wait to be spoken to. Harry brought his tea to his lips and took a small sip, knowing if he drank too quickly he’d throw up. Especially after the Portkey jumbled up his insides. Draco was already halfway finished when Marius spoke.

'Now, I would really like to know what you both achieved on your exams,' he asked as he placed his cup down. 'Second year exams are a fundamental way for your professors to see what you’d be capable of succeeding in for electives. If you do not achieve at a high enough level, then they’ll speak with you to alter your choices.'

'Really?' Harry asked. 'Does it happen often?'

'Well,' Callidora said. 'It is a little more common than you’d think, but not something to be concerned about. If your grades are not at the level they need to be, then the Ministry will give you a supplementary package to do over the summer. Considering you never got one with your results tells me you did well.'

'Right, let’s start with astrology!' Lucretia said cheerfully. 'Then we’ll go down alphabetically.'

'I got an O,' Draco said first.

'I received an O too,' Harry said. He didn’t miss the way his grandmother’s eyes lit up a fraction at that.

'Excellent! Charms?'

'O,' Draco and Harry said simultaneously.

'Defense?'

'E,' Draco said sourly.

'Um, I got an O,' Harry said as nervousness settled in his stomach.

'E’s get Masteries, my dear dragon, so do not be disheartened at a test that amounts to almost nothing,' Lucretia said warmly. 'Now, how about Herbology?'

'I got another E,' Draco said with a warmer tone.

'I got an O,' Harry said softly, taking a sip of his tea. 'How? I’ve yet to find out.'

'History?'

'This one I got an O in!' Draco said with more enthusiasm.

'Swot,' Harry mumbled, earning him a snort from Alphard and Lucretia. 'I got an E, still not too sure how I passed it.'

'Considering most students your age only get A’s, you should be proud of yourself!' Marius said.

'Precisely! Now, potions is tricky, so I applaud you if you get anything above an A,' Lucretia said with a smile.

'I got an O,' Draco said smugly. 'It was the exam I studied hardest for.'

'I got a double E,' Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders.

'Alright, then, last one, Transfiguration?'

'Double E,' Draco said. 'I’m pretty sure I got most of my points from the written part of the exam.'

'I got an O. I found the practical part was easiest,' Harry said before he turned to Draco. 'Did the examiner also ask you to cast lapifors and orchadious?' He’d forgotten he had to do those two things after the second year spells. Harry disliked whoever was fucking with his memories; he’d rather liked those spells. As morbid as they sounded.

'What! No, I didn’t do either spell!' Draco said with a splutter. 'I didn’t know they could ask that of you!'

'They asked you that?' Callidora frowned. 'They aren’t supposed to unless you are a NEWT-level student. Would you mind showing us? It is most unusual for an examiner to ask such things.'

Harry was about to agree when he realised he had no wand. Flushing, he looked to his aunt for help. 'If you are worried about the trace, don’t be. It only works if you are on your own and outside the house.'

'Um—' before Harry could say anything, he heard footsteps padding down the hall.

'If you don’t mind, ladies and gents, I have a special delivery for one Helia Alexander Potter,' Rowle looked dead on his feet, but highly satisfied. 'I would have had them finished sooner if the Thestral bone had cooperated better.'

'You ordered him new wands?' Arcturus asked. 'He doesn’t have one on his person?' He frowned. 'Narcissa, I thought we raised you better than this.'

'Not after what happened a few days ago, no,' Aunt Andi said as she walked in. 'The documents I know you have will explain everything.' Her gaze flashed to Arcturus. 'Narcissa worked with what she had access to, so I would like it if you settled yourself, grandfather.'

'Now, Helia, how about you give them a whirl so that I know they work?' Rowle asked, completely ignoring the growing tension in the room, and Harry nodded, filled with anticipation. 'Nice! Okay, first one! Birch and thestral rib.'

'Thestral! Oh my, James would be thrilled!' Callidora said with an enormous smile. 'And birch is such a lovely wood. I believe Regulus’ first wand was made of the same wood.' Harry accepted the wand, and he felt warmth shoot up his arm. 'How about you cast lapifors, Helia?' she asked. 'It is not a spell that many can master outside of a classroom setting.'

Harry nodded and conjured a random object. He felt everyone’s gaze land on him and he flushed. Swallowing, Harry waved his wand and mumbled the spell; watching, he saw the sponge he conjured turn into a speckled rabbit, its nose pink and twitching. Hopping around, the rabbit sniffed each person it went to. Its body held its shape as it moved. He could see Draco gaping at the animal, and Harry worried his mood would sour again. Instead, Draco turned to him with a grin.

'Teach me later?' he asked, and Harry could do nothing but nod. 'I know you passed potions, but I would like to see what you can do.'

'Well, you’ll have to get in line, ferret, because Professor Prince will probably want to go first. If I survive his wrath, then sure.' Harry tapped the rabbit and reverted it back into a sponge, then he vanished the sponge completely.

'Do you see that! Forget lapifors, he’s just cast Evanesco!' Callidora said with a light tone. 'What has Filius been teaching you?'

Harry furrowed his brow; he was confused about why he was being asked that. 'Professor Flitwick hasn’t taught us that spell yet. I didn’t even know it had a name.' Harry just thought of the sponge going somewhere else.

Silence. Well, there was silence until Rowle coughed. 'Um, how about we test your other wand so that I know if I need to refine it at all?' Harry just nodded, and put his other wand down. 'Now this one, for those curious, is made of dogwood and yew with a basilisk fang core. Despite being made of two woods, this one gave me the least trouble.' He handed the wand to Harry, and another rush of warmth travelled up his arm. 'Try a charm or two this time, Helia.'

Harry nodded and thought of a charm he knew how to do. Which was quite a lot, but most were so basic it was a little embarrassing. Mainly because these people all had such respectable titles; and he felt a little inferior, which was a little stupid. He thought of the two that he had learnt with Hermione—Glacius and Duro. Perhaps he can create a small ice sculpture and then turn it to stone? Yeah, that sounded good, he supposed. It was the only idea he had at the moment. So now he was thinking about what he could make out of ice. The image of the black dog came to mind, and so he focused on what it had looked like. Large, shaggy fur, blue eyes, and patches of fur missing.

'Glaicius,' Harry said confidently, focusing on the image of the black dog. Now, standing in its frozen glory, was the dog that he’d seen in the woods. Before it had time to melt, he cast the other spell. 'Duro.' The dog went from a frozen mass to one made of stone. Black stone to be specific—the detail of the fur was a little lost because of the texture of the stone, but now it didn’t matter. Harry was quite surprised that it had worked in any case. The wand hummed in his hand and, for the first time in a few days, Harry felt whole.

'What curriculum did you find those spells?' Draco asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. 'Were they difficult you hone?'

'Um, not really, they felt quite easy,' Harry said honestly. 'They’re from this year’s curriculum. Glacius and Duro—the ice and hardening spells.' Harry looked down at his little dog, proud that it hadn’t disintegrated yet. It held its shape and looked solid. 'Glacius feels a little cold when casting, but it only lasts a few seconds; Duro feels heavy, like the material you are turning your object into.'

'Helia,' Alphard said, 'not everyone will feel the spells that way.' Oh, right, this whole magical feelings shite. 'Most of the time, spells just feel like their magic is fizzing, but even that is rare.' Oh, Harry didn’t know that, much like he didn’t know many things. He thought everyone felt at least something when casting, obviously not. 'I am glad that you are so in tune with your gift! It took Sirius and me quite a few years before we could control those feelings.'

'Really? His cloak has been doing a lot to help me regulate the feelings and sight,' Harry said. 'When I was at Malfoy Manor, everything was so loud without the cloak. And just before, the cloak had a hard time helping curb the intensity.'

'Oh, Helia, we apologise for not speaking civilly; one thing you must know about us is that we are terrible at communication,' Dorea said, her hands folded in her lap. 'I am sure Druella is putting Cygnus straight right now, so expect a reluctant but somewhat sincere letter later tonight.'

'Alright, thank you, Octavious, for your hard work,' Aunt Narcissa said softly. 'I am sure it will now be difficult for Helia to put them both down. I am sure it will make summer homework easier, isn’t that right?'

Harry nodded. 'I think that the assessment for Transfiguration asks us to practice a few spells and then record our findings. How that gets marked, I don’t know, because it is subject to interpretation and those that live in the Muggle world cannot actively take part.'

'Hmm, I am not sure why that is; the task was supposed to be a research assignment, did you bring it with you?' Callidora asked, and Harry nodded. When he had his suitcase back at the Manor, he’d seen the homework stacked on top of his socks. 'Wonderful, perhaps after dinner we can go over what you’ve completed?'

'Well, if that is the case, do we think an early supper is feesable?' Lucretia asked, looking around the room. 'We’ll have supper and then we can settle in by the fire; tonight is supposed to be chilly.' Everyone nodded and Rowle bid his goodbye, promising to keep in touch over the rest of the summer. Harry was eternally grateful to the man, because Harry felt whole now.

So, for the next half hour as dinner was prepared and cooked, they all sat chatting away. Harry was speaking with Marius about his ideas for the Lily Evans Foundation; he had summoned a notebook and quill to get the man’s input. This man was much easier to speak to than his Uncle Lucius; he had feedback and points that made sense, and he cared about Harry’s thoughts. By the time dinner was being served, Harry had a list of things to consider and what he’ll include. Elves popped in and out with various foods, and Harry’s potion appeared in front of him. Speedily, he drank it and vanished the bottle; the herbal aftertaste made him nauseous. He hoped he wouldn’t need them for much longer. His face wasn’t as flushed now, especially after knowing that no one was going to ask him about it. Aunt Narcissa must have told them before they got here, which was fine as it saved Harry from awkwardly saying it. His plate was now being filled with fresh foods: beans, salmon, mashed potatoes, curried corn and mushrooms, and a handful of roasted mixed nuts. Harry waited for his aunt to take a forkful first, and then began eating.

'So, you and Marius were having a lovely conversation; care to share?' Cassiopeia asked, her fork settling onto her plate. 'It sounded quite interesting.'

'Helia has a brilliant idea that will revolutionise the wizarding world!' Marius looked ecstatic as he spoke. Harry sunk into himself a little; these people were purebloods, so his revolutionary idea could be a hit or miss. 'He’s calling it the Lily Evans Foundation, and it will cater to integrating fresh blood into the wizarding world.' There were a few sour faces, but no one said anything. 'Helia, why don’t you tell them what you’ve come up with?'

'Oh, uh, well … I want this foundation to help those who don’t grow up in magical households. I’ve noticed that many don’t get the same chances to succeed, because they have to learn a decade’s worth of learning the summer before they start school.' The sour faces turned into curious ones. 'I didn’t know I was a wizard until I was 11, and no one really helped me understand my place. Most of what I know is all from self-study. So, I want to help minimise the lack of understanding by helping those integrate easier.' He gestured to the notebook he had resting at his elbow. 'The foundation will have guided tours of places like Diagon and Gringotts, etc. Affinity testing will be mandatory, as will be health checkups for magical allergies. They would go through the foundation for their wand, which Rowle could help with.' Harry moved his food around his plate. 'The foundation would set up out-of-school tutoring sessions completed by scholars wishing to become professors. They would get a geography lesson for where to find magical worlds anywhere they go. And they would work with the library to set up notice days.'

Everyone was staring at him, but no one spoke, so he kept talking. 'I am thinking of a care package that every new wixen will receive. I’m calling it Pandora’s Box, a box of things any new witch or wizard would need. A standard set of school robes, cauldron, beginner’s guides, a basic wand holster, textbook discounts, a Gringotts guide to banking, a menagerie discount token for their first pet, and a few slugs and Jiggers discount tokens for the first time they buy.'

'See, revolutionary!'

'Merlin, alright, that was a bit more than I thought.' Cassiopeia went back to eating as if Harry hadn’t winded himself by speaking so much. 'But I will say that it is a wonderful idea. Is Lucius going to help you?'

'He was supposed to be, but he’s being an arse at the moment.' Draco was twirling his noodles onto his fork. 'So if Uncle Marius isn’t too busy, I think he’d be a much better help.' Thank Merlin had a big mouth, because Harry wasn’t saying anything. 'Father has been far too busy dealing with his idiot acquaintances.'

'Well, I certainly don’t mind! Have you gotten signed-off? I am sure I will have time tomorrow morning to get that done.'

'He said he’d speak with her and get a signature when we get back in two days.' Harry wasn’t so sure it was going to happen, though. 'But I am sure he wouldn’t mind having the load taken off him.' He was sure his uncle would love not having to deal with him and his ideas. Even if it was part of this shitty apology scheme. One that isn’t going anywhere soon. 'Do you think it’s an idea that some people might get behind? I don’t want to make trouble; I just want people to have a place to belong.'

'And you think they belong here?' his grandmother asked, and everyone stopped eating, their forks halfway to their mouths.

'Wouldn’t you rather teach them how to belong in this world than leave them to threaten its safety by not knowing who they are?' Harry could see the invisible cogs working in her brain. 'Because I would want them here, where magic thrives than out in the Muggle world risking everything people fought to protect.' The magic didn’t change; in fact, instead of a hostile storm, Harry felt the magic hide as if scared of the truth. He knew he hadn’t fully convinced anyone, but he hoped that they’ll allow him this. 'I am not asking you to get rid of your views—I’m not asking that at all. My goal is to make sure that we are all safe, and maybe the only way to do that is to teach those that don’t belong in a world where magic is just a fairytale.'

'So, you are not asking me to change the way I view people?'

Harry shook his head. 'I can’t ask that of anyone; there are too many points of view, and we’d all be boring and live like dolls if that happened.' His plate was still half full as he pushed it away. 'No one can choose their views until they’ve grown enough to understand them, anyway. But even so, people view things in certain ways because of influence. People can go about their whole lives supporting a cause they choose not to understand, all because of their upbringing making it seem like God's will. Like they have no other choice but to believe it to be the truth.'

'Well, aren’t you a breath of fresh air?' Cassiopeia said, her plate practically cleared already. 'But really, it has merit, less foolishness that we have to deal with, I suppose.'

'I look forward to seeing you succeed, Helia,' Dorea said, a warm smile plastered on her face. 'Marisol with love speaking with you about this, she may even have some pointers!' Her smile froze and then she looked sheepish. 'Ah, I suppose you haven’t heard of her yet—'

'I have, actually.' He wondered if there was a portrait of her in the manor, or if he needed to wait to enter his vault. 'Um, after an incident this year, I was being held in the minister's office; he showed me her portrait and spoke about who she was.' He was feeling a longing tug at his chest, like his magic was asking him to find her. 'I even got to see the inventions my dam made—the allergy pen and the mirror.'

'Incident?' Dorea raised a brow as he spoke about his dam. 'What incident?'

'Everything is in the documents Narcissa has given you, so you’ll be able to find out soon enough,' Aunt Andi said before pulling out another document. 'Now, I need your signature, Grandfather, for the next Wizengamot session. Alastor claimed you refused with a fuss.'

'Damn right I did! I am not signing that piece of rubbish unless they change the layout.'

'You didn’t read it, then, wonderful,' she said with a frown. Her face scrunched with distaste. 'Whatever you read before is not what is written now. I made sure that it aligns with your values and such—read it over if you don’t believe me, but I need that signature if you want the building consent forms.'

'He’s restricting me for not signing a terrible offer?' Arcturus stood and hobbled over to her, his cane bearing most of his weight. 'Rubbish,' he said as he snatched the papers. Harry was now thinking he wasn’t as nice as he seemed. Not when he was snatching things, his aunt had no proper say in writing. He watched his great-grandfather scan over the document, the pinch in his brow lessening the longer he read. 'Fine, as long as this stupid thing doesn’t change, then I’ll sign the bloody thing. Blood quill, my dearest?'

Harry watched with curious eyes as a black quill appeared; there was no inkpot though. With a flourish, the document burst into flames, and his aunt stood and left with a small smile.

'Well goodbye to you,' Cassiopeia said with a sneer, 'and good-riddance.'

'Cass! Merlin forbid, if you didn’t have your nose so far up that idiot’s arse, then you’d be disowned for being such a slag!' Lucretia rose from her seat. 'If this were based on ability, then you’d be dead and disowned decades ago!' Now Harry was watching another fight, and he was kind of glad he hadn’t grown up with these people. The magic in the room was gaining hostility, and he wanted out. 'Marius is more talented, and he doesn’t even have magic! So don’t you start this bullshite, especially not when we just got Helia back.'

'Don’t bring me into this, please, Luci.' Marius was rubbing a hand down his face. 'I admit this isn’t the place nor the time to be arguing. However, to put my two nuts in—Cassiopeia, you leave with no warning the most out of us.'

'You are all insufferable, that’s why!'

'And you don’t know when to stop throwing your weight around,' Dorea said, standing from her chair. Her eyes met Harry’s, and she smiled. 'I believe we have some homework to look over whilst the children play haunted house?' She pushed her chair in and kissed her sister-in-law, Harry’s grandmother, on the cheek. 'We’ll get some of that done before you go to bed—you have a long day ahead of you boys, and I want you well rested. Calli? Rius?'

Harry nodded and stood, grabbing his two wands and notebook. Draco stood too, whispering for everyone to have a nice evening, and they both followed Dorea out of the room. He could hear the other two walking behind them. So much for a pleasant night before bed. At least Harry wasn’t suffocating in the hostile, magic-filled room anymore. The magic out here was pleasant; the objects were painted with splotches of magic that they held. The walls that held doors had lines of magical energy running from room to room. Harry followed quietly, taking in the pictures and paintings that were scattered everywhere. People of all ages stared at him like he was the exhibit and not them. He wondered how much time and effort goes into charming them, making them move to whichever frame they’d like. His mind wandered as they turned left, walking down another brightly lit hallway. Since acrylic wasn’t invented until the 1930s, there must be so many mineral flakes in this place. Blues made of lapis lazuli, browns made of mummified remains, black made of crushed bones and so many toxic elements to make other pigments.

Their brief journey ended when they stopped in front of a set of double doors. Without touching the handles, the doors opened and Harry walked into the room after his great-aunt. This room was unlike the rest with warm-tone furniture and cream walls, all accented with warm gold. One wall was made entirely of glass panes that went from the floor to the ceiling. The couches were arranged around a large coffee table, and a desk sat parallel to the windows. The three adults ushered Harry and Draco to sit next to each other on the floor, insisting that it was more comfortable than the chairs they were leaning against. Harry could see his homework sitting in a neat pile next to his ink and quill. It wasn’t as flat as Draco’s was, as Harry had already started his. It seemed his cousin hadn’t, or he had and only brought what he hadn’t started yet.

'Now, how about we look at what you’ve already done, whilst you read through your other assignments?' Callidora asked, a quill in her hand. 'I’ve read over Neville’s herbology and his valiant attempt at potions. What have you two started?'

'I’ve read over all of them, but have only started the astronomy essay,' Draco said. 'I have two paragraphs so far.'

She nodded, looking pleased. 'Helia? How about you?'

'I started with herbology, but I found it hard to choose one topic, so I have two drafts done,' Harry said, picking up his two essay drafts. 'I’ll just choose whatever topic I understand better.'

With a splutter, Draco snatched the two essays and scanned them. Marius snorted at the act, and Dorea shook her head with amusement. Callidora chuckled and sat back to wait; her hands were neatly folded on her lap, fingers flat.

'This, these are complete! How the hell have you written two whole essays after everything so far this summer?'

'I was sentenced to bed rest, and I didn’t want to go insane whilst trapped in a bed.' Harry pried the papers out of Draco’s hands and handed them to Callidora. 'I don’t know if they’re any good, and I’ve doodled over them, so …'

'Well, I’ll be the judge of that,' Callidora said as she flicked through the bits. 'What were you thinking of starting now?'

'Well, I was thinking of starting history to get it out of the way, but I think my brain will melt thinking about it.' Harry panned through the stack of papers and landed on charms. 'I think I’ll go for charms—it’s asking us to write an essay on three of our favourite spells and explain the uses and affinity.'

'Do you know how affinities work, Helia?' Draco asked as he fiddled with his quill, a small flush to his face. 'Uncle Octavious wouldn’t have made your wands without knowing it, but do you know what it is?'

'Yes, I do, Griphook did the candle test when I got to Hogwarts. Each spell fits into a category, and your affinity means that certain spells are a little easier to control and learn.' Harry wasn’t telling them his affinity—he didn’t think he needed to. If wood and cores reacted to specific affinities, then he knew these people had an inkling. 'I think I might write my essay on one from each affinity.' He turned to the adults in the room. 'Does that sound stupid? I know a few that fall into each one, and I like many of them—'

'I think that is a wonderful idea,' Dorea said with a smile. 'What spells were you thinking?'

Harry thought for a moment, thinking of all the spells he’s discovered and found interesting. 'I think I’ll do Duro for the neutral affinity, the patronus charm for the light affinity, and I’ll have to think of another for the dark affinity. Maybe the body-bind curse, or something.' It wasn’t a favourite, but he liked how versatile it was—if someone was panicking, then they could be bound and levitated to safety. It was possibly more neutral than dark for some people because of that, but the reason it was created was why it was considered a dark spell. Harry would need to be mindful of what spells he labeled with each affinity; he’ll need to research the history of each spell before he makes a deductive descision.

'Wonderful—what about you, Draco?' she asked.

'Um, I was going to write about Lumos and Reparo. I find them to be two of the most practical spells I’ve mastered.'

'Excellent. Why don’t the two of you get started on a draft before bed, and we will read over your essays you’ve started?' Her smile was warm, and Harry sank to the floor. 'I’m sure Dori and Rius will fetch us an evening cup of tea soon, save Pippin from straying too far from father.' With a roll of their eyes, the two left with a sarcastic promise to spit into Callidora’s tea. Her smile sat plastered on her lips, unwavering from the threat. 'Anything you would like to go over before we retire tonight?'

Draco shook his head, jotting bullet points for his essay. Harry, though, was hesitant to confirm or deny—he had a lot of things to ask, almost too many. But he didn’t want to force them to answer anything; he knew time was both subjective and sensitive. He wanted to know how growing up was like from an older person’s perspective. How was prejudice shaped in their family, and how did they turn into the people they were now? He wanted to know what it was like to grow up surrounded by magic—was it as mesmerising as Harry had thought it was? As much as he wanted to ask, he thought waiting until morning would be better. Despite the warmth he was receiving from the magic, he felt cold and tired; he hoped he could get a few points down for his essay before he fell asleep. In the end, Harry shook his head and began writing the spells he was going to write about.

The sky was dark when Marius and Dorea came back, tea and biscuits floating behind them. Their faces were a mixture of anger and defeat. Someone must have stopped them, and it seems it didn’t end well.

'Calli, Marius will help the children, you and I are going to pay a certain cretin a visit.' Dorea looked like a statue with her emotionless face, but obviously she was hiding a lot of emotions. 'We will return in the morning—Marius, ensure the children get to bed at a reasonable hour, please. I have a feeling we will have to jump ship soon enough and evade treaturous waters for now. Luci will be in to help you in a moment, remember?'

'Yes, yes, I was standing next to you when she offered.' Marius waved his hands to shoo the women off. 'Please, for the love of Merlin, don’t murder them, alright? And read over the report to get a different perspective! I won’t have my sister’s work single-mindedly.' He frowned and set the cups out. 'I can do nothing to help you if you wind up in Azkaban; I am but a magicless nuisance you know?'

With a roll of her eyes, Dorea led Callidora out of the room. The door shut itself with a soft click. Draco and Harry shared a look, silently asking each other what they think happened. When Draco shrugged and returned to his essay, Harry bit his lip and looked down at his papers.

'Why don’t we put those away? I know you’ve both had a long day, so your brains must be in overdrive!' Marius slid teacups over to them both. 'Now I can’t have the tea serve itself, but I am a master at not letting it spill.' Harry watched the man tip the pot with practiced ease, the golden liquid flowing from the spout and into the sugar-filled cups. 'Now, I think drinking this and then heading to bed is for the best. Knowing our family, I know for a fact that something is going to go down, and we need to be well-rested before that happens.'

So now, instead of going over their homework, Harry and Draco were listening to Marius tell them all about the scrolls and books he works with. Draco looked bored, but Harry was intrigued. Knowing where things came from has always been something Harry liked to learn. He needed that history and knowledge before he decided, because what if someone had made the same dicision and it failed? Harry would repeat history then, and that was something he didn’t want to happen.

With their tea finished and Marius tired from talking, they were led to a room with two single beds. The room was dimly lit and smaller than the rest. Marius bid them goodnight and left the two of them to get ready for bed. Harry grabbed his pajamas and fled to the bathroom, leaving Draco to change in the room. He held his breath as he removed the cloak, sighing in relief as there was no onslaught of ambient magic. In fact, there was a lack of it—Harry could only feel small trickles of it as he peeled his clothes off. Perhaps he should have asked Draco if he wanted to shower before bed. How stupid of him to flee and not ask. Because now he was standing, facing away from the mirror, naked apart from wearing his socks. A knock on the door made Harry jump and reach for his wand.

'There are two bathrooms in the room, so take your time bathing,' Draco said from behind the door. 'Uncle Sirius would use the room you’re in, so I think there are magic dampeners inside. When you’re done, you can choose which bed you sleep in.'

'Okay!' Harry said with a flushed face. 'Don’t drown.'

Harry rested in the bath, has been for the last 20 minutes. The smell of lavender and petchuli easing the tension in his head. Mint and rosemary were working his muscles as he soaked. Pippin, a very small elf, had popped in to help him work the taps; they were far more intricate than Harry had anticipated, so the help was appreciated. She had promised to help him with the salve after he’s washed up. Harry had nodded, too tired t argue with her. He closed his eyes and sank into the tub, leaving only his nose above the water. Harry knew he needed to get out and get dressed, but he’s never had a bath like this before. Petunia would throw him into the sink when he was small, dousing him in dish soap and cold water. Over the summers she would bathe him in the large basin outside, water blasting him with the pressure hose. During the winter, she would spray him with bench cleaner and rub him down with an old cloth. For the next five minutes, Harry bobbed up and down, coming up for a breath every minute or so. He wondered how Dudley was settling in; as much as the boy hurt him, his actions were very much fueled by the need to impress Petunia and Vernon. Harry hoped that being away from them would force Dudley to grow up—being fourteen—he wasn’t a small child anymore, so this behaviour needed to stop. Miss Eloise looked nice, so there was hope that there would be proper adult role models at St. Alexandra. A knock on the door had him gasping for air; he scrambled from the bubbless water, and Pippin arrived seconds later.

'Helia? Are you alright?' a soft voice asked.

'Yes,' he said, drying himself off and letting Pippin spell the gel onto his skin. 'I’m just putting some salve on my arms. I’ll be out in a moment.'

'Pippin is finished, little master, so Pippin will take your dirty clothing.' Harry nodded as the small elf popped away, taking his dirty clothes with him. He grabbed his wands and the cloak, foregoing socks for the moment, and opened the door. Standing outside was his grandmother, tear stains on her cheeks.

'Are you alright?' he asked. 'I hope you weren’t waiting too long. The salve is sticky and takes a while to rub in.'

'No, I wasn’t waiting long.' Her placid demeanour said otherwise. 'Come and sit with Draco, please.' Harry didn’t like the sound of that—like he was going to be scolded. 'I believe there are some things we need to speak about before bed.' The look on his cousin’s face as Harry walked over to the bed said it all.

Shit hit the fan, and now they have to deal with it.

Chapter Text

Harry had gotten little sleep last night, staying up to think about everything his grandmother had said. She didn’t apologise, but she sat them both down to speak about how this trip was going to proceed. Nothing about how she felt about his idea, no word on what she thought about Harry as a person. His grandmother was more worried about how this trip was going to affect everyone. Which isn’t wrong of her, she’s been dealing with these people for decades, and she only met Harry when he was an infant. Her priority was those she knew better, and Harry was fine with that. Draco wasn’t, but said nothing until she had left. Complaining about how this was supposed to be their fun in France, not a tailored nightmare. Harry couldn’t agree or disagree because he was just glad that he had left Britain. As he lay awake that night, all he could think about was how much he was disrupting their way of life. He couldn’t talk like they did, or walk the same way; his habits probably would earn him a strapping or something. Harry couldn’t help the way he was raised, and wanted to tell his grandmother that. But she never gave him the time to defend himself or say something in reply. She went on about how their way of life kept them safe, and she wasn’t budging on that. Harry had to stop himself from snorting; did she really think inbreeding was the answer to keeping magic alive? Because the last time Harry really noticed anything, there were now more and more families throwing their children away for being squibs. It was a wonder why Marius was never disowned or killed. Perhaps there was something special about him. Or maybe the Blacks were too proud to announce that they had a squib amongst them and charmed him to be a weak wizard? What if they made it look like Marius had done private learning and lost his magic in a terrible accident? There had to be a reason the Blacks kept their squib relative. After the bundle of pureblood jargon, she had left Harry to think more than sleep. If her plan was to have him rethink his place, then she damn well succeeded.

The sun was hitting Harry in the face when he woke up from only a 30-minute nap. At least, he thinks it was only that short of a time; his body was feeling the way it used to, arms aching and chest heavy from lack of rest. With a puff of air leaving his lungs, he sat up to look out the window, seeing birds flying by. As he turned his head to lean against the headboard, he saw incense and a prayer mat bundled at the bottom of the bed. Pictures sat on the nightstand next to him that weren’t there last night. He got out of bed and dared to stretch, pleasantly surprised that his scars didn’t pull despite the ache in his limbs. Draco was sound asleep, hugging his pillow close with his blanket on the floor. Harry wondered if Draco knew he slept like this, all messy and such. Gathering his things, he put everything in place and prayed, letting the sun hit him as it rose. It burned his eyes a little as he looked at it, but it was a delightful feeling. The incense smelt like amber, and the pictures were of the entire Black family. Some smiling, a few with frowns, and the rest with natural faces. His head felt warm as he rose from kneeling, his knees not cracking as he stood. Hedwig fluttered around in the sky with two other owls, and Harry smiled watching her swoop and glide. She must have gotten in last night, or early this morning whilst Harry was napping. He whistled lightly, knowing she’d hear him, and waited. Harry opened the window, and she glided in with one last flutter of her wings. She preened his hair and pecked at his glasses. Glasses that really needed an update; the potion he was taking for it was nice, but he preferred his glasses. It would take longer to stab him in the eye if he had them on. And he looked similar to his dam, something he never got to experience being shoved with the blonde twats back in Pivot Drive.

'Pippin was coming to get you up, but little master is up already!' Harry turned around to see the little elf bobbing her head, almost looking sad that she couldn’t wake him. 'Lady Dorea has said Pippin needs to get you ready for breakfast!'

With a poorly disguised grimace, Harry nodded. 'I’m not hungry, but I suppose a bit won’t hurt.' He turned to Draco, grabbed his pillow, and threw it at him. 'Get up and dress, Draco! Pippin doesn’t need to waste her time with your lazy arse!'

'Pippin doesn’t mind! Pippin loves to take care of those from House Black.'

'I understand that, Pippin, but he’s being inconsiderate being in bed longer than he needs to,' Harry said, throwing another pillow. 'I’m sure you have lots of other things that you can do to help around the house. Let me handle Draco, and you can pick out what we wear today; how does that sound?'

'Pippin will make sure messers are well dressed!' Smiling, she popped away into the closet, and ruffled around. The magic inside multiplied as she snapped her fingers. Merlin, he was going to go mental if he ever lost the cloak; there were 400 elves inside Hogwarts, and if he had no way of curbing their potent magic, he was going to go insane.

Draco, with a scowl, threw the pillows back and got out of bed. 'You are an arse, so you better watch out today.' He looked at the clock. 'It isn’t even seven yet! I could have slept until at least 7:30.'

'Boo hoo, Draco, go to the loo and sort yourself out and then get dressed. I’m sure there’s a reason for being up so early.' Harry was sure his grandmother would have told them more about where they were going. Shopping and meetings were vague and useless. He wouldn’t be surprised if they canned those ideas and just had them do lessons instead. 'Breakfast is probably already made, so get your arse moving.'

Harry set Hedwig down in the bath and turned the water on. He decided that showing was a must now that he was with these bloodhounds. There was this gut-wrenching worry that they’d punish him for not smelling clean enough. So, Hedwig flittered around in the spray whilst Harry undressed, throwing his nightshirt onto the mirror. When the water was warm, he stepped in, placing his wand that he’d brought with him onto the ledge. The place where the shampoo and soap rested. He washed his hair, his body, his face and feet, and then let Hedwig have her time under the warm water. Standing in a towel, he wondered what Pippin had chosen for him to wear. She seemed wonderful, and he hoped it didn’t come with frills. Harry hated frilly things; they were itchy, ugly and a waste of lace and fabric. After a few more minutes, he turned the water off and watched the soapy swirls gurgle down the drain. As if waiting for the water to stop, Pippin popped in and showed Harry her garments of choice.

'Lady Dorea said to dress nicely but cooly, but Pippin knows you don’t like short sleeves.' A pair of white socks, black slacks, a dark blue dress shirt, and his uncle’s cloak lay on the counter. Shiny black leather shoes sat neatly on the floor. 'Breakfast is being made by Elkie, so dress quickly!' She popped away with a smile, and Harry couldn’t help the way a smile graced his face.

God, he missed Dobby and the Hogwarts elves. Just today and tomorrow until he gets to go back. He’ll make sure he survives long enough to see those kids, too. Maybe he should write them a letter, let them know that he’s doing well, and that he is eager to see them soon. The idea of writing has Harry swallowing harshly—he’s forgotten about the diary entries. His aunt won’t be happy with him, but then again, what adult has ever been happy with Harry? Grumbling, he knows he’ll need to find the diary and start writing, or drawing in it. Hedwig coo’d as she messed with his clothes, and he snatched them back; he didn’t need damp clothes right now. Right now, he needs to make it through the day. In one piece, preferably. He notices the gel on the counter and wonders if he’ll need it for the day, or if he’ll let himself suffer and do it before bed. Harry sighed as he dressed himself at a pace his old self could only dream of; he didn’t want sticky hands, and he had the self-preservation of a moth to a bloody flame. He left his shoes off, and cast a drying spell on Hedwig, who hooted at the warmth. Harry opened the bathroom door and let her fly out and land on his bed. Draco was putting his shoes on whilst sitting on his bed; his slacks were dark grey, and his shirt was white with short sleeves. His hair was slightly damp, and Harry could only shiver at the possibility of water droplets landing on his neck.

'Well, aren’t you a pasty man today?' Harry snickered as Draco raised his head, a blank look on his face. His pale skin already flushed by putting his shoes on; you have to love blood circulation. 'Did Pippin choose your clothes too?' As he sniffed with amusement, Harry put his own shoes on, casting a spell to have them tie themselves.

'No, I am perfectly capable of picking my own attire, thank you.'

'Well then, off to breakfast?' Harry asked as he put the cloak on. The warmth from the material was melting the tension in Harry’s arms and back. But he was pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t been blinded by the magic in the room when it was off. 'Do you think anything is going to go well today?'

'Absolutely not,' Draco said as they both rushed down the hall. Hedwig had made a home in Harry’s hair; he could feel as she tucked her wings in tightly. There goes looking presentable, Harry thought as he looked at his cousin. 'It will be a miracle if anything goes well today. Mother dreads taking me to things she knows are going to end poorly.' Draco leads them down a different hallway, walking twice as long as they had last night.

Harry didn’t question it, thinking it was stupid to do so. If Draco knows where they’re going, Harry doesn’t care. He just hopes he can get away with eating small; perhaps he’ll even allow another sibling row to take place. Then he’d be able to get away with not eating at all this morning. But as Draco opens two large doors, his hopes of an argument have been squandered. Inside were only four people: Marius, Dorea, Alphard, and aunt Narcissa. All four of them were dressed in light clothing. No heavy cloaks or petticoats. Have there been a change of plans? Or were they still waiting for everyone? Harry counted the chairs and saw that there were seven in total. Meaning, that there was another person joining them, or the seat would remain vacant. As Harry sat down, the door opened again, and Lucretia sat down; she was sporting a summer dress with pockets, and her hair was down and curly. She looked ready to garden rather than shop.

'To the point,' Dorea said as she waved her hands languidly, her eyes on Hedwig, who was cooing softly. A flush painted Harry’s neck as Pippin popped in. 'After last night’s disaster, we are not going forth with any of the plans you were informed of.' Her smile was loose and genuine, like she had planned for these things to fail. 'We have arranged for those things to be done over the Yuletide break—gives the snuffs time to stop being pig-headed.' Marius and Alphard both snort and Lucretia throws a scone at her sister, who catches it and cuts it up. Jam and cream added to it. 'I was not having either of you dealing with their childishness. Especially not after the week you’ve had—instead, we’ll be going shopping for you, Helia, to get more clothes and such before school shopping turns deadly. Draco, you will need new robes to meet with the Parkinsons, so we’ll grab some while we’re out.' Tea has been served and Harry takes to it like a fish, hoping to fill his stomach. Draco grumbled something under his breath about stupid meetings. Harry just grimaced at the thought of having to be near Pansy. 'We also need to get you something that can help with the magic; another man’s robes will not be perfect, no matter how well it skives off the magic.'

Harry felt the cloak grow cold, as if the fabric were sulking.

'I think you’ve offended it, Rea.' Alphard had a moustache of cream on his top lip. 'It will still be more than enough until the garment is finished.' The cloak warmed back up, but still held a cold draft as Harry shifted to get more tea.

'No matter! We’ll get you right as rain, and then the fun shopping can happen later,' Lucretia said. 'We all may be old, but we’re better than the gasbags that we told not to attend. Don’t you worry about anything.'

Harry pecked at the scones Dorea put on his plate. 'I don’t think any of you are old.' He didn’t know how old any of them were; they seemed pretty youthful to him. Barely any wrinkles.

'Well, our father is nearly 100, and Cassiopeia is up there at 78—they both like using their age to their advantage.' Marius snorted into his cup as Lucretia spoke. 'But most wixen these days are nearing 200! So they’re still steeping, like bags of terrible tea.' Her smile grew as Harry chewed. 'I mean, Dumbledore is 112!' Harry had to wonder what the age gap was for these people. How old were they when his grandmother had her children? How old was she when she had her first child? 'I’ll explain our ages after shopping—so eat up and then we’ll get going!'

'Where will everyone else be?' Harry asked as he cut his croissant open. He handed one half to Hedwig to peck at, vanishing the crumbs that fell into his hair. Draco squeaked in surprise as the little speckles dissipated.

'Unlike us, they didn’t put in for time off work!' Lucretia said with joy. 'So Cass was needed at the ICW, Wally is in a meeting with her solicitors, Calli unfortunately was needed at Harfang Manor, and father was summoned to the Wizengamot. Andi and Dora are taking him so he doesn't fluff it off.'

Nodding, Harry braced himself for the task of eating more than one scone and half a croissant. Because, despite being well looked after now, his body was still not used to food on a regular basis. He wasn’t sure when it would be, as even his time at Hogwarts meant irregular meals, or the tiniest meals ever. It was a terrible habit he didn’t think he’d ever shake. But he’ll try; he’s never not tried to please people. The conversation died as they all ate; forks scraping against plates filled the silence. No one asked why Harry had Hedwig on his head, but Lucretia reached over every-so-often to pet her head. He felt Hedwig preen under her fingertips, soft chitters coming from her chest. Soon the plates and cutlery were cleared and taken by Pippin and Elkie. Draco was ushered up by Aunt Narcissa, and Lucretia grabbed a small pouch; Alphard and Marius trailing behind them. Dorea stood behind Harry, and muttered to Alphard about taking a moment. There was a bowl of fruit in her hands.

'I took a detour last night, and I hope you liked the mat I had Pippin place for you,' Dorea said as they made their way down the hall, not following the others. They were back in Harry and Draco’s room, and he felt calm again. 'Here,' she said, handing the small bowl to him. Harry took it and knelt in front of the pictures; he placed the bowl down carefully and whispered that he wanted his parents to enjoy it all. 'Alright, off we go then.' Dorea took him down a different hallway and to another Floo room where the floo roared to life; Harry’s body felt light as they walked through, green flames swallowing them. As they exited on the other side, her smile brightened with the change of atmosphere. Her hands fluffing out his hair and ridding it of feathers and stray crumbs. 'It took me a while to find the darn thing, but I wanted you to use it because it was James’ from when he was small,' she said, continuing where she’d left off before.

'Really?' Harry had noticed it was worn but sturdy.

'Certainly, Charlus had taken so long trying to choose one for him, he ran out of time for James’ birthday. In the end, it was three months afterward that he had chosen that exact one.' Dorea led him to meet back up with the others, and Harry was now taking in the place he was in. 'He’d be so happy you’ve gotten into it, and I know that he’ll be proud of you no matter what you choose to keep doing.'

'Okay, rules for our little spree!' Marius said with a clap of his hands. They were standing inside an inn, where food and people bustled about around them. It was much louder than the Leaky, so Harry covered his ears a little. 'I know you aren’t children, but France is not known for child safety charms. So, if you get lost, find the nearest inn and floo back home.' Harry didn’t like that, having to just find his own way home that wasn’t home. Hogwarts is the farthest place he’s ever been. 'Next rule is that if you find something you like, bring it to one of us to make sure it is a reasonable price. It’s not to be snobby, but a lot of these places cater to tourists, and the amount of gouging here is ridiculous.' Alright, that one wasn’t so bad; Harry was glad that he wouldn’t have to make the financial decisions. Because if something was set at an expensive price, he wasn’t even going to bother asking what it’s worth. 'Last rule—do not perform any magic without one of us present. French laws are pretty lax about children using their magic. But we’d feel more comfortable if you saved your spell-casting for home, alright?'

Draco grumbled, but Harry nodded—he didn’t want to do more than needed right now. What would he need to cast spells for? Lucretia was twirling her wand, a creepy smile on her face. 'There is a certain person’s birthday coming up, and I will join you all later.' Harry was mildly concerned about whoever dealt with her for the foreseeable future. 'I will be about an hour, so don’t wait up and I’ll find you, alright?'

'If it is anything larger than yourself, then you can rethink your welcome,' Alphard said teasingly. 'I don’t need fluff and feathers in my home!' Lucretia just winked and flounced away. Her summer dress flailing in the wind. 'Merlin, she will be the death of me—I don’t know what Ignatius saw in her.'

'Potential, dear brother, he saw an endless amount of explosive potential.' Dorea grabbed Marius’ arm and ushered Draco towards Harry. 'Now, we will stick together for the first three shops, and then you both can explore a little while everything is tailored.' Both boys nodded, and she beamed. 'You will have 500 in your pouches, but if you require more, just tap your wand on the pouch and more will be added, alright?'

500? What did they expect him to buy? A lifetime supply of ice-cream or something? Harry couldn’t, and most likely would never, understand rich people. If 500 was a handful of gold to them, he didn’t want to know what was expensive. He took the pouch that was held out to him and pocketed it, knowing none of the money would be used unless he was pressured into buying something.

'Right then, shall we head to get formal robes first?' his aunt asked as she led the way. 'I have a feeling Jean-Pierre will be busy at this time.'

So, for the next hour and a half, Draco and Harry were being poked and prodded with needles and rolls of fabric. The lady wasn’t fazed when Harry asked his aunt if he could keep his cloak on. Rather, she told him in broken English that it was more than alright, so Harry felt much better standing there. Each roll was larger, and more expensive than the last. The reason for the triple-digit price tag was because of an event soon. That event being Harry’s 13th birthday, which apparently was one of the most important that needed celebrating. But if it were so important, then why were there no celebrations at school? It wasn’t until he was done being measured that he found out most old families celebrate either two months before or two months after their child turns 13. Harry thought it was silly, but he won’t question it, because he thinks he won’t like the reasoning for it being structured like it is. Celebrating that way still wouldn’t work for those born during the school year.

In the end, Draco was going to be in a dark grey robe with a pale green dress shirt with no metal fastenings. Harry was going to be decked out in black with a dark purple shirt and gold fastenings. The total amount for just Draco’s was more than what they had combined in their pouches. Harry’s was double that, made of pure silk and bamboo cotton. They are the best for those with war wounds—the seamstress had said in French to his aunt and not him—I noticed he has a lot of them. How would she know if he didn’t show any skin? Did she also have the gift of pervert-ness?

The feeling he had about the woman who had looked at him so closely stuck as they entered the next store. A small boutique that was filled with countless antiques. Marius and Alphard insisted Harry let them get him something early. They ended up spending a further hour here; Harry was scanned by the clerk with a diagnostic spell that led them to the perfect piece. Something Harry wasn’t allowed to see until his birthday—a tradition usually done by the grandfather, but both of his are dead. Draco had shown him—whilst the two men spoke with the clerk—the thing his grandfather had gifted him. It was a small pendant with peacock feather engravings; it was charmed with protection runes and anti-theft charms. It was cool, looking like an oil spill with all the rich colors. Harry’s was unknown, yet to be seen from inside the large velvet box. The two men said they’d return to the manor to put it away and return later. Dorea had taken a peek and smiled sadly, and for the duration of their walk to the last shop the sullen look remained. Lucretia was standing outside and noticed the muted mood. Her smile wasn’t even enough to curb the emotions Harry knew were being felt.

'Alright, this is the last shop before you get to explore,' she said, with her arms gesturing them to enter. This shop was darker than the others; it was bleaker than he had expected. 'Jean-Pierre is in the back looking for some examples, so why don’t we take a seat for a moment. You would’ve done a lot of standing.'

'Ah! Now aren’t you a sweet treat?' a man asked as he bustled into the room before they could even find a place to sit. Lucretia looked surprised the man didn’t take long, but smiled anyway. 'Your uncle and great-uncle had the same expression as you have on now!' Harry wasn’t sure what expression he had on, but the man looked like he was on speed or something. 'Come this way! I will make sure you find the best fit for you!' The rapid-fire French was a little loud in Harry’s ears, but he followed dutifully. He could hear Dorea sigh behind him, muttering about how they had forgotten to ask if he could speak French. Obviously, insight wasn’t their best skill. 'I see that you have your uncle’s cloak—no worries, you’ll use that until I can get your item working properly! That cloak was one of my proudest moments!'

The cloak went hot with happiness that Harry winced at the feeling. As if apologising, the cloak lowered the level drastically, making him feel like he was in a refrigerator. Well, being cold was better than roasting alive, he supposed. The shop went from dark with a gloomy feel to brightly lit the further they walked. There was a pedestal that Harry assumed he’d be standing on soon, and an extensive selection of things. Cloaks, bracelets, lockets, pendants, headpieces, scarves, rings; normal things a wizard would wear. Jean-Pierre turned sharply, making Harry spin to keep himself from falling over.

'And you called him uncoordinated, Narcissa, tsk tsk to you, my dear,' he said with a soft but overzealous laugh. 'Now! Step onto this and we shall begin—just because you might not choose a garment, does not mean you cannot buy from here later.'

Harry was grateful that this man didn’t poke or prod at him; he didn’t even comment on how he flinched when his neck was measured. It took five minutes to finish, leaving Harry to choose from the items the man had picked out. They were nice, not obscenely sized—they were easy to conceal—it was just a matter of what Harry wanted. A cloak meant breaking uniform rules, something Harry didn’t want to do—so a piece of clothing wasn’t an option. Harry already had rings, so those were removed too. The lockets and pendants were nice and light, and they came in different shapes, gems, and metals. One had caught his eye; he couldn’t move his gaze from it. It was a white-gold piece that had a pendant hanging from the chain. It was circular with a compass that held a moon, sun, and a single star in the middle made of a dark purple sapphire. 12 smaller sapphire stars sat in the band of white-gold. He turned it over, and there was an engraving.

Te a sole, luna et strellis regi permitte.

Let the sun, moon, and stars be your guide.

'Helia!' Draco shouted, causing Harry to drop the pendant. 'Your hair! It changed color—Mother, did you see that?' Harry flinched at that sudden shout—that child-like whimsy almost gave him a heart attack. 'He’s a metamorphagus, like cousin Dora!'

'I did, Draco, now calm down, you startled him!'

'Sorry,' Draco said, face flushed as Harry scrambled to find a mirror.

He found one, but his hair was still a black-brown color. 'What did it change to?' he asked, turning around to face everyone. 'Was it a terrible color?'

'It was a chocolate color, the same as James’ was; but it coiled up like Regulus’ used to, tight little ringlets.' Dorea had that sad face again. 'If you don’t take that one, then we’ve wasted our time.' She walked out of the shop and Lucretia followed her, a worried frown on her lips.

'I’ll make sure this is a top priority, my lady; all I need now is a sample of your magic, heir Potter.' Feeling quite upset, Harry cast the first spell he thought of and set a lonely bench on fire. The golden flames reflected on every shiny surface in the room. 'Hmm, as much as I liked that bench, this will do nicely! Now you have a nice rest of your day and cheer up.' Draco grabbed Harry’s arm and rushed out a thank you before they left.

Lucretia was speaking to Dorea in a small voice with a face that meant she was in older sister mode. At least he assumes she was older—despite the humour, Lucretia had this air of seniority about her. Harry let himself be dragged towards a bench and let himself be shoved onto it; his hip hurting a little from the act. Aunt Narcissa joined the duo and placed a hand on Dorea’s arm. And just like that, Harry’s fucked everything up—the rest of the day is going to be shit now, and it’s all his fault. Like always. Maybe he’ll just write in the journal that he’s a fuck-up and can’t do anything right. He can’t keep control over himself and will be a liability and a risk. Then he’d be admitted to a mental hospital; then everyone would get some peace. Wrapping the cloak tighter around himself, Harry sunk down into the seat, waiting to be scolded. Draco kept looking at him funny, like this wasn’t some big deal; people’s feelings were always a big deal, though. To Harry they were, and he’s just hurt his great-aunts’. All because he looked more like his dam for a moment—but a moment is all most people need before they get overloaded with emotion. He didn’t just lose his parents— many people lost a family member they’d known a hell of a lot longer than they’d known Harry. So his great-aunt Dorea had every right to be upset, because grieving isn’t linear—she’s known her nephew decades longer than she’d known Harry, so seeing that person alive and in front of her but not really there would have been a lot. After what felt like forever, the three women broke up their comfort session; Lucretia and Dorea went down the street, and Aunt Narcissa came to them.

'No one is at fault, Helia; Dorea just has a hard time dealing with everything. She faced a great deal of pressure last night.' She gestured for them to stand. 'No one is mad—Lucretia is going to take Dorea and complete a job for me, that’s all.' Harry wondered what the job is—finding a spell book that caters to child murder? He feels like his uncle would have something deranged like that in his study. 'The two of you can explore now, but be back here at three—remember the rules and behave yourselves, alright?'

Time seemed to drag for the first hour they were on their own. Draco had shown Harry all of his favourite sweet shops; Harry didn’t know most of the candies available here even existed. His blonde cousin had spent five galleons on a small trunk of his favourite sweets: Peppermint Toads and imps, red licorice wands, coconut exploding bonbons, mini candied green apples, and popping pixy wings. Harry honestly thought it was pretty basic flavour-wise, but the amount was sickening. All Harry brought—for twelve sickles—was: two acid pops, ten assorted taffies, two sour shrieking sherberts, two caramel camels, and one hocus pocus pop. Most of it will be sent to Hermione, or Harry will throw it all at Nott when they meet again. He only got it because Draco told him to; he said buying sweets in France was a rite of passage. It sounded like a load of bollocks if he was honest.

The second hour was spent in a calmer space—a bookstore. It had rare books written in different languages; the ones Harry found interesting were luckily in languages he could understand. Soon, Harry had ten books in his arms; they ranged from a household spell book to one on advanced charms and curses. Most of them were written in Sanskrit, whilst the others were written in Portuguese. It was at this store that Alphard had found them.

'Find anything interesting?' he asked with blatant sarcasm. 'Let me have a look before you waste your money.'

In the end, Harry left that store with twelve books that had only cost him thirty galleons. He had a feeling the clerk was too scared to raise the price—if the shaking hands and pale face told him anything. Alphard had miniaturised them all and pocketed them. Seeing the books so small was cute, and he wanted to learn how to do that.

'Marius is collecting potions ingredients for me, so how about we find him?'

Finding Marius was like finding a demiguise in a room full of fog; why were there so many apothecaries? Seriously, why does France’s shopping district need twelve of the same shop that were within five feet of each other? Harry could not fathom the need to have so many that sold the same stuff. You can’t tell him that there are twelve different international suppliers; there has to be overlap somewhere with at least five or more of them. Because the last ten apothecaries sold the same stuff—no unique ingredients or tools bar a four-eyed toad he saw in the window of one shop. The eleventh shop was far more interesting; scales shimmered in their jars, live animals scratched at the glass tanks with venom-dipped claws, and there were body parts floating in preserving fluid. Draco looked sick as they left that one, but Harry thought it was cool. He wondered what a human leg was used for; it looked healthy, so perhaps it was going to be used to give someone the chance to walk again. Alphard had led them to the last shop, and warned them not to touch anything this time. Which was the wrong thing to say to a person like Harry, who was a curious cat that didn’t mind death if the satisfaction was worth it. Still, Harry agreed, and the three of them entered the shop; a preserved head was the first thing Harry saw, and he knew things were going to be so hard to resist touching.

'I see you’ve spotted my dear father,' a man with an enormous top hat said. 'Few people look at him with interest—you’ve found yourself quite to oddity, Alphard.'

'This is my great-nephew, Helia—James and Regulus’ son. And you’ve met Draco before.'

The man’s eyes went wide with surprise. 'You’ve found him!' Harry backed up as the man leaned in close. 'Merlin, you were just a tike when your dam brought you here! Gosh, Maida will be thrilled to know you’re alright.'

'Alright, Berlise, where is Marius? If he’s left already, I am going to hex you—'

'I’ve been here for all of forty-five minutes, and you suddenly think I’ve gone missing? I have your stupid ingredients, so we may get lunch now—where are Luci and Rea?' Marius had a large basket of supplies—most of which, Harry didn't recognise. 'Did you boys wish to look around whilst Alphard finds them? Berlise is my favourite person to buy from; I trust no one else in this district to take care of the supply.'

'Now, my squiby little friend, that is honorable coming from you.' Berlise’s smile was toothy, though there were a couple missing. 'You two kiddos need to be careful—I have some live creatures that were shipped in this morning. They’re in charmed crates, but I’d keep my fingers clear of the bars and glass.' The idea of potential loss of limb was concerningly fun; Harry couldn’t wait to see what types of creatures there are. 'Most of them will remain alive for the customer—mostly for sheddings, or re-growable limbs. You’re welcome to look even if they have a sold sign—the ingredient jars are charmed not to break, so take anything off the shelves for a look if you’d like.'

Draco was next to Harry now, a beaming smile on his face; a smile Harry couldn’t help but take for his own lips. His guilt had lessened for now, and he hoped to get his great-aunt something to give her later. For now, he was enjoying having his cousin explain the magical properties of a few rare ingredients. Whilst some were interesting, Harry couldn’t stop looking at three in particular. So instead of giving his cousin his full attention, Harry looked at the three glass jars more closely, half listening to Draco talk about different plants. He read the labels and brief descriptions. The first was of a flowered root—its petals were white, and the stem was a dark green; looks can deceive, and Harry knew most things in the wizarding world would kill him if he wasn’t careful.

Asianic Bloodroot: The sap from this little plant is red like blood and acts as a poison accelerant. One drop of sap is enough to enhance even the most common poisons into deadly concoctions.

Oh wow, Harry wasn’t quite expecting that, but it was intriguing to know that one drop of something can enhance another thing so much. He put the jar back, making sure Draco knew he was still listening—his cousin was currently talking about Gillyweed—and picked up another jar. This one had splinters that shimmered in the light. This one was called Zambian Ghostwood; it was used in making viteserum as its properties led the person to feel compelled to follow orders. Considering how many shards were in here, Harry can assume there weren’t many people who could brew the potion. Harry wondered if Professor Prince could brew something like that; he was certainly ambitious enough to try. He put the jar back, listening to Draco talk about Whistle Thistles and how useless they were, then picked up the other jar that caught his eye. There were small lava-like rocks in this jar—which was hot to the touch, but no hotter than an iron skillet—and they made a distinct popping sound.

Yellowstone Popper Rocks: These perfectly round stones are used to enhance the common pepper-up potion or, more commonly, used on their own. Each one contains the same or similar amount of caffeine as five cups of coffee! It is most commonly used by mediwhiches and Aurors on their graveyard shifts. People under the age of 21 cannot consume anything containing this ingredient.

Damn, Harry kind of wanted to see what effects he’d feel; five cups of coffee was a heart attack waiting to happen. Draco had gone quiet as Harry put the jar back; Harry found him looking at a row of crates, all filled with a dangerous creature. Harry read the signs on each one, some more interesting than others. There were Fire Crabs, Flobberworms, Glumbumbles, Pixies, Red Caps, Moon Frogs, and Fanged Puffskeins on the bottom rows. On the top rows were Knarls, Kneazles, Nifflers, Jackalopes, and Thornback Hatchlings. Draco was kneeling down now, looking at the Moon Frogs, muttering about how he thought they didn’t exist. Snorting in amusement, Harry kept looking around, noticing how many had been sold. Many crates had smaller signs that read ‘kill on site’ and Harry could only assume that the customer didn’t want to do it themselves.

Tiny master! Look this way!

Harry turned his head to see more crates and tanks.

He does not want to speak with someone who produces no venom! How dare you try to take his attention from us!

He sighed; he didn’t think serpents could be so racist towards each other. Leaving Draco to mutter to himself, Harry walked over to the first snake that spoke. He read the sign: Eurasian Hognose — Mildly venomous. The snake was bobbing its head with enthusiasm. The tank next to it held a large Fer-de-lance; it was vibrant and must have shed recently to look that way. It raised its head with clear arrogance, and it reminded him of both Dudley and Draco, something he did not like.

I like a serpent that does not have an overly inflated head. Harry hissed quietly, not wanting anyone to hear him. Casting a muffling charm might attract people instead of turn them away; Harry didn’t want any attention, nor did he want to cast any spells for the foreseeable future. This little serpent is just fine the way he is—he also has venom, just not the kind that can harm a human.

The fer-de-lance shook its head and slithered under a rock. Other snakes either slithered under their rocks too, or they came out looking curious. He could see an Egyptian False Cobra, a Saharan Horned Viper, two Death Adders, a Berg Adder, and fuzzy glimpses of others that were a little too far away to see clearly. He thinks they are a few boomslang and maybe a Horned Serpent.

Erin is just a sour snake! No one wants him because he just smacks into the glass like an idiot. The Berg Adder was the closest to Harry now, its enormous head moving as it hissed. Most of us have been sold because we are not idiots.

Almir is right! Even Boomy is going to a new nest, and he has terrible sheds! The Saharan Horned Viper, whose name on the tank read Noir, hissed in exasperation. Out of us all, there are only four that do not get new nests—mostly because they are too dangerous or not dangerous enough; Erin is just too stupid.

I am not stupid! The non-speakers are stupid!

Harry saw Erin poke his head out, and he snorted when he saw there was a leaf stuck to him. I don’t think non-speakers are stupid, not all of them at least. There were many Harry thought of as idiotic, some even completely mental—he’d never say it in a language people understood. Who has not been adopted? Harry wasn’t looking for a companion, but perhaps he could ask around.

Our dear Horned Serpent has not been claimed, nor has our little brother Hognose—Erin is likely to live here forever, as is our darling Eastern Diamondback. Almir only spoke of Erin by name, so that means the others don’t have one yet.

'I see you have found my surprise, you sneaky thing.' Startled, Harry whipped around and found Lucretia standing with Dorea—who looked much better now. 'A parselmouth without a familiar is a parselmouth waiting for death.' Harry stared at her with wide eyes as she cackled. 'Oh goodness, I fooled James with that line too! Merlin, you are very much his son.'

'Helia, what my idiot of a sister is saying, is that a parselmouth will benefit most with a companion.' Dorea walked over and smoothed Harry’s hair back. 'Berlise was holding two for you to choose from, or both if you’d like.' She turned to the man who came with a set of keys. 'Which did you pick again, Luci?'

'The Horned Serpent and the Hognose! I wanted him to have one that could kill and a cute one to sunbathe with!' Lucretia’s voice was hoarse from laughter, and her eyes were watering. 'The Fer-de-lance gave me the ick, so I skipped him—he kept banging against the glass—I thought he had brain damage!' Berlise opened the Horned Serpents tank first and it slithered out with a low hiss of thanks; the snake slithered up his leg and wound itself around his shoulders. The hognose whipped out of the tank and up Harry’s pant leg, ending up coiled on his head. 'Now isn’t that wonderful! So, Helia, which do you like?'

We do not mind whom you choose, but we would both help you where we can if you take us both. The Horned Serpent’s hissing was low, as if holding aged wisdom or something.

Tiny Master is so nice and warm! The hognose didn’t seem worried about Harry’s choice, as if it knew Harry was going to take them both.

'Both, Helia? Well, I look forward to brewing something with Hognose skin! Their shed is the best for healing limbs, and the Horned Serpents’ sheds are for illness’.' Lucretia looked ecstatic as she gave over a small pouch. 'I’ll take the kneazle too, Berli! I have a friend whose daughter turned 14 in September, so I thought a early birthday present was in order.'

The man smiled and whistled, and soon after an orange kneazle walked out and rubbed against Harry’s leg. Draco started sneezing, and Harry burst out laughing. Oh, what a terrible thing to be allergic to!

'Piss off, you prat! Name your bloody snakes so we can go get lunch! I’ll make sure I stuff a muffin down your throat.' Draco sneezed violently, and Aunt Narcissa did not look pleased at the other purchase. Dorea looked amused though, so Harry didn’t care for his cousins’ temporary suffering.

'How about you think of a name over lunch? Then we can do another walk around seeing what you’d like before we head home.' Dorea smiled as she pet the Horned Serpent’s head. 'James had two companions too—Cheeto and Casidilla, a corn snake and a large yellow-bellied pit viper—god they were ridiculous names, but they stuck.'

The names Harry chose weren’t any better as they were also food themed. Though it wasn’t his fault that he chose them during lunch, food was all he could think about. Instead of caller her hognose, Harry has named her Pastina—Tina for short—because that was what his aunt ordered for him. His larger companion, the Horned Serpent was getting a similar name—one that revolves around pasta—because his aunt made him eat a second helping. Ravioli was a silly name for such an intimidating snake, but the ridges of the pasta reminded Harry of his serpent friend. Neither snake denied the name, and Ravioli liked his nickname—Oli—too. Draco thought they were stupid, but Harry liked having someone who didn’t care what others thought. They liked their names, so Harry doesn’t care. Lunch ended with Harry having a stomach soother, and an early ending to their trip out. In the end, he’d only spent 30 galleons and 12 sickles whilst Draco only spent his five galleons on sweets. He did say that he was going to be spending it over owl order, so really, Harry spent the least of his given money. If the books weren’t so rare and interesting, then he would have spent even less, especially if he didn’t buy those sweets. The clothes they were ment to buy would be owl ordered later, as the day was long enough already. They had Harry’s measurments, so ordering things in the comfort of the manor would be easy—there’d be less social interaction too. If it doesn’t fit right then it’ll be returned for something else. Harry marvelled at the idea, but worried for his bank account with how expensive everyone’s taste was.

The manor’s brightness hurt his eyes as they walked the halls to their room. All the light colors and natural light were too much, and wasn’t sure how Alphard wasn’t sick of it. The magic of the manor was much better, and Dorea said his locket will be ready by dinner tonight; the cloak cinched itself tighter around Harry at the mention of switching. Harry wanted something that was solely his, but he felt safe wearing his uncle’s cloak. His feet drag as they near the door; the stomach soother wasn’t doing much to soothe the ache he was feeling. Draco moved in front of him and opened the door with both hands. Inside sat his godfather and Professor Prince, who was reading a potions journal. Hearing the door open, both men looked up—Moony smiling and Prince staying stone-faced—and stood.

'It seems Filius will have some serpents invade his aviary, wonderful,' Moony said with a small smile. 'Lucretia said she had called dibs on getting you one—what are their names?'

'Stupid! They are utterly mundane, and their species would shun them should they meet one of their kind.' Draco was pouting, and Pastina booped his forehead from her place in Harry’s hair.

'That’s because your ideas were ridiculous and they hated them,' Harry said as he handed Ravioli to Moony, who was handling him with care. 'I told you a lot of words don’t translate well, and yet you failed to use your brain to think.'

'Eclipse was a nice name! As was Nightshade!' Draco flopped onto his bed and was sulking.

Harry had to admit that the names were nice, brilliant even, but they were ridiculous when translated. Eclipse became the blackened moon, which Pastina thought meant Harry wanted to hide her away—which he did not. Nightshade translated to plant of the dead berries, and Ravioli was not a fan of being a berry. He was much more inclined to being named after a meat-stuffed, sauce-covered snack—his reasoning being that people loved ravioli and feared nightshade. Harry was a little confused at the reason until Ravioli explained that most people don’t expect a snack to attack. Pastina loved her name because there were little stars that children loved—that and it was delicious; she knew tha because Harry had let her eat the rest—most—of his bowl.

'What do they translate to? Black moon and death berry plant?' Prince asked sarcastically and Pastina hissed in confirmation. 'Alright, so that is understandable—what are their names then? Pickles and dill?'

The bat man is very amusing, and his wolf smells good! Pastina hissed and wriggled in Harry’s hair. Will we get to see their nest? Do they have hatchlings we can play with?

Blushing, Harry blew air out of his nose and thought of a response. 'Um, well, Moony is holding Ravioli and this little girl on my head is Pastina—Oli and Tina for short.' He pulled Tina from his hair, getting a string of hisses, and balled her into his hands. They do not have hatchlings to my knowledge, and we will be returning to our nest the day after tomorrow, okay?

Pastina booped Harry on the nose, giving him little snake kisses. Okay! Your spicey fabric smells like their triad mate! Will we meet them soon too?

I don’t think so—their mate is in another place and might never come out. Harry swallowed harshly as Oli wound around Moony’s neck as he listened to Harry. I am going to find out what happened, okay? A sudden realisation came to Harry as soon as the last hiss left his mouth. No one had actually answered his question about oaths—his uncle Sirius had sworn an oath, so does that mean he’d be innocent? Before he could ask, more people showed up at the door.

'I see you’ve found them, wonderful! Now, since we did our shopping today, tomorrow will be homework and some spell practice before you leave!' Lucretia was smiling and holding another candle. 'Before we do anything else, we need to, unfortunately, complete an elements test.'

'Elements test?' Harry was sure purebloods just loved testing random shit for prestige. 'I don’t need to draw more blood, do I? I’m kind of over bleeding unnecessarily.'

'Oh, goodness no! Nothing like that, Helia,' Dorea said with wide eyes. 'You know of affinities, but there is an extra bit that most wixen forget about—so much so that even the Goblin Nation have not seen the updated legislation!' Harry nodded as if any of that made sense. 'It is a test to see what type of elemental magic you may find easier to control—not whether it is light or dark or what-have-you—but the element that the spell mimics.' Oh, alright, that made more sense.

'Like Incendeo being fire and auguamenti being water?' He was getting it now, but was this really something wixen used to do? Control an element?

'Exactly! Why don’t we reside in the sunroom; Remus can discuss the things he is here for afterwards. We’ll get out of your hair until dinner after this.'

Harry was sitting in the sunroom, at the large oak table with five objects in front of him. A plant, candle, goblet, feather, and a brain of some animal. Draco was looking at him with interest, whilst Dorea, Alphard, Lucretia, Moony and Prince were standing along the wall. Their expressions were mixed, subtle curiosity to full blown intrigue. His aunt was in front of him, and Marius had a spell book in his hands.

'I want this done before our dear family returns for supper, so this is what will happen—Marius?' His aunt stepped back and Marius stepped forward.

'This test is the basis of what each family does.' He gestured to the items. 'The Blacks, for all their flamboyance, liked simplicity—either you could or you couldn’t. For the Potter’s it was the same. We will go over each element’s test and mark down what changes or remains the same.' The book was placed onto the table, and he could see a family tree on it. 'There have only been a handful of Blacks and Potter’s who could manipulate all five elements—Phineus the first is one, as is our dear father Arcturus. Fleamont, your grandfather, could manipulate all five to a degree; however, he excelled in water and earth elemental magics.' Harry looked at each thing, forgetting about the book for a moment. 'Trust yourself and your magic to do what it was made to. Let’s start with water, shall we?'

Harry nodded, and the goblet was placed in front of him. The task? Levitate a drop of water from the goblet and have it remain floating for as long as possible. He took a large breath, feeling everyone’s magic poke at him curiously. Harry imagined a blob of water rising from the still water, but instead of a round droplet, all the water exploded and shot out of the goblet. Little droplets were suspended in the air and evaporated as Harry sat there stunned.

'Well, okay then, perhaps water may be an element we step away from for them moment.' Marius moved the goblet and pushed the plant towards him. 'Try earth, now.'

The plant looked sad, and Harry’s chest actually began to hurt as he stared at it. It reminded him of all the plants in Petunia’s garden after school ended. She could never tend to them like he could—all his hard work over the summers would go to waste over the school year. He reached out and gently touched the withered leaf and felt a warm in his ribs. Taking that warmth he mentally pulled it down his arm and into the plant. With a deep breath he moved, or tried to move, his magic into he veins of the plant. Color bled into the petals and the flower perked up and swayed with his magic. He let the leaf go and watched it coninue moving.

'Merlin, not even Flea managed that! Oh, he’d be so proud!' Dorea said, her eyes glicening with unshed tears. 'What of air? James was a god on a broom, it would be so nice if you were the same.'

'Oh, you don’t need to worry about that—You are looking at the youngest seeker in a century!' Draco exclaimed and Harry sat with a fat blush on his face. 'I was a prat about it all, but it all makes sense if this test works out. I am still out to beat you this year—cousin or not.'

'Merlin—'

'Lets get this over with! Arcturus is bound to be restless, so hurry up!' Lucretia was looking impatient, but gleeful. Dorea scrunched her nose at beaing cut off, but looked even more gleeful. 'I want to see what he can do with fire! James’ best element was fire—Merlin he was a hoot during bonfires.'

Harry was given a feather and told to make it levitate without his wand. He was suddenly reminded of his first charms lesson and remembered how high the feather went, and how good it felt to see it rise. A small tug in his brain shifted his focus to the warmth in his lungs—instead of saying something, he decided to blow on the feather. If it was a weird approach, no one said anything as the feather danced around in the air, saturated with magic. Harry imagined the feather twirling, its calumus rotating to make it look like it was writing. To bring it down, Harry thought of the magic entering his lungs again, and the feather floated down to rest on the table.

'If you thought that was impressive, wait until you see him on a broom! As jealous as I am, I am looking forward to him beating the Gryffindors this year.' Draco was staring at the feather with joy. 'If his animagus form has nothing to do with flying, I’ll eat a blood pop covered in acid powder.'

Snorting, Marius took the feather and pushed the brain towards Harry. 'Now, this brain represents Mental Magic—or Soul Magic, if you will. All you need to do is peer into the mind, and tell us if you see anything.'

'But there is no central nervous system?' Harry was confused how they thought brains worked. 'How long has it been deceaced? How am I supposed to grab a memory if there is no cognative function?'

'Bloody hell, Helia, you’re a wizard! Trust yourself or whatever,' Draco said with a huff. Harry pouted at him with furrowed brows. 'Usually it would be a live being, but since you’re a Potter, your magic works best with the dead. At least that is what I understand—I read the mind of an owl when I did my test.'

'The dead?' Harry has given up looking at his cousin, and returned his focus on the brain. 'Like a necromancer? Would I be able to get inexcusable evidence from a dead person? For like, a trial or something?' If Harry could read the minds of those his uncle supposedly killed, then he could find out what really happened. 'What type of animal is this from anyway? Its awfully large to be a pig or bovine—it’s not human, is it?'

'I can see the ravenclawness now, Dorea—you’ve got a flittering little future alumni to talk to!' Lucretia looked giddy but everyone else rolled their eyes.

'Um, perhaps you not knowing would be best,' Marius said with a tight smile. Alright then, Harry didn’t want to know where they got it from. But he still did, that nagging feeling in his head told him so. 'As for your question of forensics—did I say that right, I think I did—you could potentially read the minds of those passed for some time, yes.' Harry met the mans eye’s and he knew the man was aware of what he was suggesting. 'However, it depends on familial concent—and whether or not the person has been buried or not. The brain of a wizard remains active for a few months after death as their magic settles to become ambient magic. However, if the deceaced is well preserved, then I have no doubt looking into their brain wouldn’t be too difficult.'

Harry looked down at the human brain—the blood has since coagulated, and he felt a little sick staring at it. But Harry needed to see what he could do; his uncle could be freed if he does this—get new evidence to support the trial papers. He imagined the persons face—small forehead, blue almond-shaped eyes, long dark-brown hair, freckles, and smile lines—and then thought of where this person could have gone in life. As if the cinema was playing, a set of pictures flickered to life in Harry’s head. A dog was laying in the grass, black as night, and this person was waving a stick at it. At least she was before Harry saw her falling to he ground—from her point of view, he could see blood begin to pool in front of her face, and Harry was beginning to feel pain in his temple. Blinking rapidly, he frowned at the brain.

'Where did you get this?' Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know, but a sick part of him did—or maybe a more sympathetic part did. He wanted to know what happened and if they were looked after.

'What did you see, first?' Marius looked uncomfortable. 'Arcturus secured the brain—he has done for the last few decades for each child’s test, the live brain at least.'

'She was playing with her dog before she died—I think she was hit in the head with something becuase there was a pool of blood and pain in her temple.' Harry couldn’t recognise the area she was in—he wondered if the dog was being looked after.

'Marvellous.' Marius pulled the brain back. 'Arcturus said she was hit with a stray rock from a blasting curse—her elder brother was practising for his Defence Mastery.' He looked concerned. 'You said she felt pain in her temple; did you feel it too?'

'Was I not supposed to?' Harry asked.

'Not usually, but not even Fleamont could feel anything when he peered into minds of the dead.' Dorea smiled lightly. 'You and Draco are wondrous; Draco can feel the emotions of those living, as you feel that of the dead. It is extraordinary to see two within the same generation. You should both be very proud of yourselves.'

'You can feel them too!' Harry asked his grinning cousin. 'What is it like looking into a living beings head?'

'Exciting and boring at the same time—its called leginamancy, and few people can master it. Even fewer can feel emotions from the person they are entering the mind of.' Draco was beaming with pride, as was everyone else. 'Occlumancy is the opposite—shielding the mind from intrusion—and I am proficient in that too. Maybe you’ll have an easy time learning that art as well, right mother?'

'Not always, my love—Sirius was a marvel at mind magic, but he couldn’t do both at the same level. I think Helia will be much more like him in that regard.' His aunts small smile didn’t waver. 'I am not saying he cannot master it with time though, it will just take him a while longer.'

'Alright, fire time! Then you can ask all your fun questions before dinner.' Lucretia rushed over and shoved the candle towards Harry with great enthusiasm. 'I can see a fire elemental from a mile away—just don’t burn down the house, alright?'

'He’ll just burn down benches instead,’ Draco muttered with a snarky grin on his lips.

'Huh?'

'Okay, chop chop, I’m in the need for tea before dinner with the riff-raff, on with it!' Alphard said. 'Helia needn’t explain himself.'

The candle was black, with runes on it. Taking a deep breath, Harry blew air at the candle—like with he feather—feeling a firey magic seep from his lungs. The reaction was immediate unlike the others, the fire didn’t take any time to rage upward from the candle. It swirled and whipped around, turning orange and then red, before settling on a periwinkle flame. It reminded him of an asiatic lily, pronged and whipping around like it was trapped in a wind tunnel. Unlike the feather, the flames were a bit more difficult to move—the strain on his brain was starting to annoy him. But he relaxed, knowing that fire was fueled by accelernts, and he didn’t want frustration being one of them. Not when he was close to other people. So he breathed slowly, picturing the flames moving and forming small shapes.

'Well, theres all five!' Alphard said. 'Shall we discuss this more over some tea later? We will let Remus and Severus have Helia for the time being—they’ll be able to answer any of his burning questions, anyway.'

'Yes, tea sounds lovely—we’ll all meet in the dining room at seven!' Dorea left first, tears threatening to fall, and everyone filed out afterwards.

'Shall we find a warm spot to bask in whilst the sun is still up?' Moony asked, Ravioli still on his shoulders. 'I am sure our serpent friends would love to explore at the same time.' Harry nodded and the three of them ended up lounging beneath a tree whilst Oli and Tina slithered around. Their little hisses of wonder made Harry smile. 'Alright, now Minerva had the elves set up beds for the children to be able to stay the night when they arrive. But that is not what we wanted to discuss—Sev?'

'Filius has brought it to our attention that something happened in the hospital wing, and we would like to hear your version.'

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Harry was tiny compared to his godfather, something he liked and hated as he curled up tight—years of malnourishment can do that to a person. Despite being taller now, thanks to the potions, he was still concerningly small. His godfather wasn’t much taller than Harry, perhaps 5'6 or 5'7, but he was twice as broad with a huge amount of muscle hidden beneath baggy clothing. Huddled in his embrace, Harry was bawling his eyes out. His body shivering uncontrollably as he whimpered. On one hand, he was glad he could finally talk about it, but on the other, he was terrified of what might happen if Dumbledore knew he knew. It wasn’t the fact that there were chunks of time missing from Harry’s mind; it was the fact that he saw things he was sure he was supposed to be unconscious during. You know, the headmaster obliviating his colleague and Harry’s new head of house? Yeah, Harry was sure no one was supposed to witness that. So now that he’s told Moony about the dust and twinkling, he was letting himself be held while Uncle Severus sent a Patronus back to school. He didn’t catch everything, but he heard Professor Flitwick’s name being said. The air in his lungs burned as he coughed out his emotions, something he hadn't done since he was little; magic swirled in his vision, and he could smell grass burning. His eyes hurt and his limbs ached from all the trembling. The new muscle that was slowly forming was straining in the awkward position. He could hear something cracking but didn’t think to look; instead, he burrowed into his godfather's arms as he continued to sob. Everyone used to tell him that crying made you feel better, but Harry felt worse. Much worse—because now Moony was going to do something about it. Because he believed him and Professor Flitwick; something Harry knew wasn’t very common. His charms professor was well respected at school, but he was sure there was still horrid prejudice outside of school the man had to deal with.

The whispers coming from Moony were concerning—Harry was only half listening as he tried to calm down, but he could hear something about turning Dumbledore into a snack. A blood-soaked snack for a rogue werewolf. As Harry listened to his godfather scheme, a warm hand found its way into his hair as his shoulders shook. The hand raked its fingers through his hair. It was soothing and irritating, mostly because the hand had chipped nails that snagged his hair every few passes. Sounds of rushing water passed over his ears, blocking out the murder plans, and the magic in the air slowly lost its fiery heat and settled into a gentle breeze as it washed over him. Perhaps he’ll write about this in his diary; it could be used as evidence later on. Though if they decided he was mental, then nothing would happen and his strife would be dismissed as him being delusional. Which would be no surprise, really. The wind picked up, and some pollen got into his face—a flashback of the dust had Harry scratching at his face to get it off. His actions caused him to hit Moony in the chin with the top of his head. Jesus, he was a mess—he hated to think what he looked like at the moment. A red-faced, pollen-covered mess.

'Would you like to take him home, Remus?' Harry heard a man’s voice, Arcturus perhaps? He didn’t know, because the moment someone started speaking, Harry buried his head further. He wanted to hide, burrow down and escape the embarrassment. 'As much as I would like to get to know him more, this place isn’t home.' Okay, that was definitely Arcturus—his accent had more of a French twang than the others. 'He also doesn’t need this many people around him—simplicity and calm magic is best.'

'Hogwarts is not home either, and I am not letting Albus near my cub!' Moony said insistently, his voice husky like he was containing a growl. Harry felt the magic shift, but it felt like a shield rather than a threat. 'Minerva is sending him to Geneva for the conference she was supposed to attend. He leaves tomorrow morning, and I am not having that man so close until we find out what the dust does!' Harry trembled at the volume. Oli and Tina slithered over his body and curled around him—Oli around his waist and Tina coiled around his neck. Their hisses vibrated the skin on Harry’s neck, like a massage chair. Their words weren’t the most comforting, but they were better than human voices at the moment.

'I wasn’t talking about Hogwarts, Remus, I was referring to your den,' Arcturus said in a soft voice, like he was trying to keep Moony from ripping him up. 'I know you didn’t want him there without Sirius, but we both know he’s not coming back.' A whimper escaped Moony’s throat. 'Take him there, just for the night, because staying here won’t help.'

'Surely the family magic—'

'You are just as much his family as we are, as is Severus—you both spent far more time with him when he was an infant than we had. His magic recognises you both more than it will ever do us, and that is our fault for being so dysfunctional.' Harry could feel the whispers of their magic, but they were nothing to the steady flow of magic from his godfather. Even Uncle Severus’—Merlin that’s a little weird to think about—magic was calming, although a little colder than Moony’s. He’d never really noticed the difference before now that he knows what it is. 'Take him, and we can meet up again soon—summer won’t end tomorrow; we have time.'

'His things are with Severus, and Narcissa is organising a Portkey for you. Dorea is taking over from Lucius regarding Helia going to Potter Manor, just so you know—that pointy child can find other things to do for forgiveness.' Lucretia was holding a small box with a serpent on it. Harry heard someone snort at his uncle being called pointy. 'This is a box of my design—it keeps our limbless friends safe during travel.'

Tiny Master, we get a tiny cube to hide in! Do you think Lady Dragon Mother gave us mice to eat inside? Harry unburied his head enough to see the small box. It was the size of a shoebox with runes carved into the sides and lid. I want a snack before we leave for the nest!

I don’t know, Tina, but I am sure we can get you a mouse to hunt before we leave. Harry felt the hand in his hair pause and then leave. He almost wanted to whimper at the loss of touch. Harry looked up with trembling lips, and Moony cuddled him closer, hand returning to Harry’s head. If the den was saturated in Moony’s magic, then he’d gladly go for a night. He didn’t want to intrude for long, but an unfamiliar place filled with familiar magic was better than a giant manor.

'Alright then, cub, let’s wait for the portkey out here. I’m sure Dorea can fix the grass when we leave.' Harry frowned and unfurled himself—there were patches of blackened grass and a heavy blush painted Harry’s face.

Dorea walked over, observing the marks with a cackle. 'Merlin, James would be hysterical with laughter! He used to do the same when he was your age. He used to say The Blacks need more black in their lives!'

With a snort, Alphard came over with a few small boxes. 'Yes, well, his fires were intentional, Dori—Helia also did not grow up supported in his magical endeavours, so leave him to be emotional. Burning things is quite therapeutic, don’t you agree, Luci?'

'Oh rubbish! I burn one bloody book on accident, and suddenly I am a mentally unstable hag!'

'The hag was something you always were to be; the mentally unstable part comes with being a Black.' Dorea cackled again as Marius entered the scene with Draco. 'These are very nice burn rings though; not even Flea could get his this crisp.'

'Helia has always been an unknowing overachiever—I’m surprised he didn’t get into Ravenclaw in first year.'

Harry sniffed at that. 'You should ask the bloody Cryptic Hat about that.'

'No thanks, unlike you, I don’t argue with sentient, century-old garments.' Draco flopped onto the ground. 'I’d much rather argue with Weasley—' Draco suddenly sat up. '—what are we doing for your birthday? Has mother asked you about it without me knowing?'

'How did you go from wanting to argue to asking about birthdays?' Harry is sure he won’t understand his cousin at all. Ever. 'Also, she has not, at least not that I can remember.' He could feel himself still trembling, but he wasn’t straining his muscles as much as before. 'Why?'

'Ah, perhaps we can wait until you are settled in the grotto and Remus can explain? The Portkey should be ready in a moment, with the way Narcissa works.' Marius smiled and pet Harry on the head—his legs felt like jelly and he doesn’t remember standing up. Merlin, his brain was fried. 'We can Fire Call tonight and discuss it if you’re impatient, Draco. But I am sure Harry will need the rest to keep up with the children the day after tomorrow.'

'Alright, but I’ll owl you about what happens here later—knowing them as well as I do, it’s going to be a shitshow.' Harry couldn’t help the small, trembling smile that graced his lips.

'I’ll read every word.' The rare smile, the genuine kind, graced his cousin’s lips; Harry was really like this side of Draco. 'Don’t miss me too much, you ugly ferret.'

'Whatever, you overzealous bat.'

———

It turned out that his great-aunt had indeed put four small mice into the box, two for Ravioli and two for Pastina. Leaving felt wrong, but his great-grandfather was right; Harry wouldn’t last much longer there. The magic was too volatile, and Harry didn’t want to be overwhelmed by it. He was already overwhelmed at the adults doing their jobs. With a shy goodbye, Harry clung to his godfather whilst Uncle Severus held the box. The swirl of the transportation was sickening, but Harry was happy that he hadn’t thrown up when they landed. They had landed at the border of the wards, which sparkled with powerful bursts of magic. He didn’t know where they were, but Harry could feel the cloak twitch in recognition; it’s been here before. Beyond the magical barrier was a reasonably sized cottage that sat nestled amongst a patch of trees that overlooked a small lake. Seeing Sessile Oaks told Harry that they were somewhere in Wales. He could also see yew and birch trees, two other native species, along with some shrubs and other trees. Harry gripped his wand tightly as he gazed around; even if this place was his family's home, he’s not losing his cautiousness. Because even if the magic felt safe, there was a lingering sense for him to remain vigilant. He didn’t know if that was a trauma response, or if it was his magic. The area was spacious and had a quaint orchard behind it—apples, citrus, pears, and figs—and small bushes in the front. Those had huckleberries and wild blackberries on them. Harry knew there had to be a greenhouse somewhere; he couldn’t imagine Uncle Severus would be pleased at needing to travel for his ingredients much. He noticed the lake did not get covered by the wards—did that mean this place was unplottable? Or was it placed under layers of charms?

He let himself be pulled through the glittering wards as they ventured to the front door. A feeling of familiarity washed over him as he felt the magic shift. There was no more ambient magic breezing over him, only the magic he knew to be his godfather and uncles. Small bursts of creature magic popped and crackled as they walked up the small path. He could hear small animals roaming around; birds flew above his head with swoops and light dives, and he could hear running water. There must be a bird fountain somewhere. Moony held his shoulder and helped him walk up the stairs; the front door was a sage green with brass metalwork. The windows were stained glass, depicting animals and flowers. Inside, he couldn’t hear the animals or water anymore. If he weren’t still feeling overwhelmed, Harry might have felt sad at the loss of ambient sound. Right now, his attention was on all the photos he could see in the hall. A lot of them were of his godfather, Uncle Severus, and Uncle Sirius sitting together. More were of his dam and sire—most of them were of them both being photographed without knowing. They were wholesome, timeless—the only things he’s seen of his parents that weren’t fakes. His godmothers sat close in the other pictures along the hall. The hand on his shoulder guided him away from the wall and into a living area flanked by a large island kitchen. A pile of wrapped gifts sat on top.

'You didn’t move them? Severus, you said you had taken them to Hogwarts already!' There was an amused tone to Moony’s voice despite the frown on his lips. 'What are the ones in your office, then?'

'Those are extras from the other professors—some are for Helia, and others are for me to take to the Longbottoms and other families over the summer.' Harry saw there were four with his name on them, and four for Neville. The rest didn’t have names on them that Harry could see; there had to be an additional twelve. 'These are a mixture as well—Horace sent a few yesterday, so I had waited to bring them all together. I seem to have forgotten.'

'I see that, Sev,' Moony said with a snort. 'Move them to our bedroom, and you can floo them over this evening—you can tell Horace in your meeting that he is welcome to meet us at Hogwarts tomorrow.' A sour look crossed Uncle Severus’ face—seems like he’s forgotten about it. 'Now, are you cooking supper, or am I?'

'We both know that your cooking skills are as good as your swimming skills.'

Moony frowned. 'I can’t swim.'

Uncle Severus smirked. 'I know.' He turned to Harry, who wasn’t sure to be upset at the jab or not. Blatant humour doesn’t seem very humorous right now. Bloody hell, he hated how detached he was. 'I’ll have a sue chef anyway, so you can start your investigation if you’d like.'

'No, I am going to help you, and Helia is going to have a nap whilst we cook!'

'I am not feeding him poison that comes from your abysmal cooking, so no, you are not.'

'Helia needs the rest!'

'Helia needs the distraction so that he can get his head in order.'

Harry watched the two men bicker as they walked further into the kitchen. A nap sounded wonderful, but helping seemed just as nice. Cooking was safe when he was on his own, and the Durselys aren’t around to bugger it up. But, having a nap before dinner seemed like the obvious, safest option. Even though he’s never slept here before, Harry knew that nothing bad would happen. However, with calculated steps, Harry walked to the island and took a seat on one of the stools. Moony and Uncle Sev were still bickering, but the funny thing was that they started cooking. Moony had collected all the equipment, and Uncle Sev prepared the ingredients. Soon, Harry was watching Moony stir the pot of simmering water whilst Uncle Sev washed the vegetables. It was so wholesome that he wasn’t sure he should speak or move.

'Helia?' Moony asked without turning around. 'What sort of meat would you like for dinner? I think we have duck, chicken, lamb, or fish.'

If Harry was honest, he wasn’t particularly hungry. It was only 4:30, but he thought an early dinner was better than a later one. He hadn’t had duck in a while, but lamb sounded hearty, so he wouldn’t need to eat a lot to feel full. He looked at the vegetables to see if they’d help him choose. Onions, carrots, peas, swede, potatoes, yams, corn, and mushrooms. A lamb stew was all he could think of having.

'Um, lamb sounds good, if that’s alright?'

'Excellent—Sev, do we have the chunks or the shanks left? It’s been some time since we’ve been back; I can’t recall what we have under stasis.' Moony poured the now boiling water into three mugs. 'Would you like hot chocolate or coffee this time round?' Uncle Severus raised two fingers, so Moony spooned ground coffee into a cup. 'Helia, would you like something hot to drink with your potion?'

Harry sank down at the thought of the herbal potion, but he agreed tea would be nice. So now, as the two adults cooked—Moony minding the pans whilst Uncle Sev cut everything—Harry had his potions and some lemon honey tea. It tasted terrible because of Harry’s oversensitive tastebuds, but it was finished. No more potions until tomorrow night. The tea, however, was nice—it had a large lemon slice, the juice of a whole lemon, and two dips of honey. It was hot too, something Harry was used to sculling because of the need to hide from the Dursleys. Though he’d only ever snuck tea into a flask and drank it in the shed during winter; so he avoided being caught most of the time. It had been when he had first learnt to make a cup of tea that he had been caught. Never again.

The smell of various spices pulled Harry from his thoughts as it wafted into his nose. He could see the stew coming together as more spices were added. It was thickening, and Harry was feeling hungry. He wanted to curse the potion, but he also wanted to be healthy-looking. A few pounds on his frame would stop people staring for the wrong reasons then. He saw a loaf of bread being pulled from the cupboard; it was a dark rye with pumpkin seeds scattered on top. Five big slices sat on a plate in the middle of the table, and the rest of the loaf sat with the bread knife to the side. Three bowls joined the bread, and the two adults joined Harry at the table. It was now five minutes to six. Mumbling a prayer, Harry looked at his smaller portion. It looked salty, and so he knew it was going to taste good. He picked up his fork and stabbed a potato chunk, pulling it out of the bowl. It was a bite-size cube that had soaked up the saltiness of the seasonings. Over the next hour, Harry picked out the solids of the stew; he left the liquid to be soaked up by the bread. Not that he thought he’d eat it all. But he surprised himself by dipping a piece of bread and using it to soak up everything. Moony and Uncle Sev had long since finished, but they were speaking quietly to themselves. Their bowls empty and their thoughts full. It took Harry a further five minutes to eat the one piece of bread. After he’d finished, Moony had taken the dishes and spelled them to clean themselves.

'It’s a little early, but I was thinking we could take a small walk to see the sunset at the lake? I had thought about it as we cooked, and I apologise for not asking sooner.' Moony sat back down and conjured a small map. 'I thought it would be nice to sit outside for a while.'

'That sounds nice; is the lake that close? It looks that way, but a lot of things have been deceiving lately.' People, things, animals—they all had deceived him at some point this summer—he wouldn’t be surprised if a lake did the same thing. 'Can we let Oli and Tina explore?' A concerned look flashed over Moony’s face. 'What?'

'Helia, we let those two out before we started cooking—do you not remember opening the box?' No, no he did not remember that, so Harry shook his head. 'I see. Well, they are currently slithering about outside—don’t fret, for there are no predators around. The only owls we have in this area are ours.'

Despite how utterly confused he was, he let himself be guided to a large rock that sat by the lake. Tina was slithering about in the long grass, while Oli was in the water going for a swim. Moony sat on the ground, using the rock as a backrest, and Uncle Sev sat next to Harry. The sun was painting the sky as it set—purples, reds, yellows, and pinks scattered across the sky. Harry felt the cloak warm as the wind picked up, and Harry’s eyes grew heavy as the sun sank deeper below the horizon. The water glimmered as Venus and Jupiter lit up the darkening sky—despite being planets—they are so bright that they are considered the evening stars. Lyra’s five primary stars show up next, as do Cygnus'—Aquila’s stars also begin twinkling as the sun finally gives way to the moon. The Summer Triangle is now complete—Vega, Deneb, and Altair shine the brightest as they depict the triangle shape. The wind grew colder, and Harry shivered—tiredness settled into his limbs, and his two snake friends slithered up to coil around him.

We must return to the nest before the predators come out to hunt. Tina hissed as she settled in his hair, and Oli was wrapped around his neck. Tiny Master is losing heat quickly!

I know, but we have to wait for the Moon and Mars to stand first. Harry yawned and blinked rapidly—Moony seemed to do the same, and Uncle Sev conjured his patronus to act as light. The spirit guardians will lead us to the nest. Harry felt a hand pull him up, and he was being pulled towards the house.

The walk seemed so much longer now that it was dark, but the patronus was pretty; a pleasant distraction from the ache he was feeling. A large dog patronus joined the doe, and together they gave more than enough light to guide them through the orchard. Harry wanted to learn this spell, if not for light than for the extra companionship. Tina and Oli are amazing, but even they have lives, so something from Harry’s magic would be closer whenever he needed it. He wondered what animal he would get and would it could change as a person grew. Harry thought a doe was very fitting for the Potions Master. Intuitive, graceful, aware of his surroundings, and nurturing in his own way. Moony having a dog wasn’t surprising either—loyal, protective, family oriented, and charming. There aren’t many things Harry would think he represents; he’s an emotional mess, so he’s not sure what animal he’d have as a representative. Perhaps a worm—small, practically defenceless against larger beings, and useless except in the garden. The two glowing animals paused, then they vanished in a glimmering puff of magic. The back door was open, and the three walked in, leaving the chilly air outside.

'Why don’t we all go get dressed for bed and then have tea?' Moony said as he passed the couch. 'I’ll see if I can find some more pictures to show you—if you need any help, Pippin's sister Poppet can help you if we cannot.'

'Or if you do not want it,' Uncle Sev added with a light glance. 'Let us show you your room, and we will let you get sorted. We’ll have tea upstairs in the study—the fire is warmer up there, and I am sure we can call Draco should you wish.'

Poppet was just as eccentric as Pippin is—her ears were a lot shorter than her sister’s, and they had gem-studded hoops in them. She had drawn Harry a bath with lavender salts, and picked out some pajamas for him. Her magic was warm and reminded him of chai—spiced and comforting. Oli and Tina even got a hot bucket bath they soaked in. He didn’t take as long in the tub as last time, and was dressed with his salve done in less than 20 minutes. Harry left Oli and Tina to soak until the water went cold in the bathroom and found Moony looking out his new bedroom window. Unlike Harry, who was dressed in proper pajamas, Moony was dressed in an old oversized shirt and some shorts. He looked quite ridiculous, but Harry knew the man didn’t care—the scars on the man’s legs and upper arms were still pink, and Harry’s own hurt in sympathy. Without disturbing his godfather, Harry looked around the room. Something he hadn’t taken the time to do before his bath. With the lights on, the walls were light green, and the windowpanes were a dark forest green. Metal handles were brass, and his bed was made of dark red wood. The floor was wooden and had a large Persian rug on top, beneath the bed. Above his head, the ceiling had glowing stars in the form of all 88 constellations—Leo, Canis Major, Draconis, and Aquila were the brightest of them all. The Sun, Moon, and Mars were also glowing with charmed paint. Pictures of small children and adults lined the walls—a wardrobe with animals carved into it stood next to the large windows.

'This is the room you’d sleep in whenever James and Regulus were needed at work. You’d race up the stairs with your chubby little legs and shove the door open, all to look out the window.' Moony turned and smiled at Harry. 'Shall we have tea and then look through some more pictures?'

Harry nodded, mentally flipping through the pages of questions he had about everything. 'Okay.'

——

The study Harry was now standing in was cozier than Uncle Lucius’, and the fire’s warmth soaked into each piece of furniture and the walls. He was sitting between his uncle and godfather, wrapped in his uncle’s cloak with a cup of tea in his hands.

'Did I really respond to you calling me reaper?' It wasn’t the question he wanted to start with, but it had plagued his mind all the same.

'Oh, certainly—James thought it was fitting as you were one when bath time rolled around. At one point, no one could leave the bathroom without being drenched.' Moony looked at Uncle Sev with a teasing glare. 'That one was the only person you’d stay calm for because he kept calling you that.'

'Nymphodora was a close second—she used to change her appearance to keep you from wriggling around too much.' Uncle Sev was nursing a cup of black coffee instead of tea, and Harry kind of wanted one. 'Sirius ended up getting the most drenched—he slipped into the tub more than anyone.'

'Did I have any other nicknames?' Harry asked. Reaper and Happy were nice, but he was hoping he had some normal ones.

'Pandora used to call you her little bat because of your fangs—Lily used to call you her green-eyed twin whilst Evan called you his chaos twin.' A frown overtook the calm on Moony’s lips. 'I think, correct me if I am mistaken, Sev, that Barty used to call you inky because you always vanished his ink pots. Marlene and Dorcas would call you gizmo for some reason, and Sirius would call you pronglset.'

'I have fangs!' Harry immediately put his cup down and ran his fingers over his teeth.

'That is what you zero’s in on? Ridiculous—you are a parselmouth, so you have fangs that come out whenever you speak to a serpent.' Uncle Sev pulled Harry’s fingers out of his mouth. 'They were the first teeth you grew and gave James absolute grief when it came to feeding you.'

'Everyone was worried you’d been turned without their knowledge until Effie explained it to us.' Moony smiled as he flittered through the pile of pictures. 'She said most parselmouths have their fangs permanently once they turn fifteen—though I am not sure if she said that’d happen to you.'

'Okay, what about Patronus’? Did everyone have one?' He wanted to know what his parents’ were. 'What were my dam and sires?'

'James’ was originally a stag; however, after you were born, is morphed into a lynx. I don’t know why; it’s something I am still researching, actually.' Moony had a contemplative face, brow furrowed and lips pursed. 'Regulus struggled to cast it, and it wasn’t until you laughed for the first time that he could—his was a panther, if memory serves me correctly.'

'Lily and I share the same, a doe, and Pandora—in all of her flamboyance—had a butterfly.' Uncle Severus picked up a photo that had patronus’ everywhere. 'Marlene had a main Coon, Dorcas could cast a parakeet, whilst Allison showed off with an otter.' A nimble finger pointed to Neville’s mother and her patronus. 'God, she was so insufferable having her otter around—Barty got competitive and practiced it every night until he got his, do you want to guess what he got?'

Harry knew little to nothing about him, but he guessed anyway. 'Um, a badger? To prove he was the ultimate Hufflepuff?'

'Well, yes, and no—Allison had hoped for a badger, and was a little miffed when he got it. Mind you, she was in her mastery era whilst he was in his last year of schooling. It was a little childish.' Uncle Severus have a deadpan look to Moony for that comment. 'Anyway—Evan struggled for the longest time, but like James, he managed a snow leopard once Draco was born.'

'Is it that difficult?' Harry was losing momentum on wanting to try this spell. 'It is because of how pure the magic is?' What he meant to ask was if someone’s affinity affected the outcome of the spell, but thought that to be rude. But the way he asked it was even worse.

'It can, but it also relies on emotion—Evan wasn’t very good at regulating his—'

'None of us were until we grew up.' Uncle Sev interrupted Moony with a knowing look. 'Some took longer than others—if you would like to give it a go, then we may attempt it after your meeting with the children. Tomorrow will be for resting and homework so that you have the rest of the summer to do what you wish, alright?'

'More photos before bed?' It was a childish question, but these pictures were worlds Harry never knew existed.

'Yes, cub, I have quite a few photos for you to look through.' Moony handed Harry a small stack of enchanted scrapbooks. 'These are from our summers together—tomorrow, if you can get through most of your homework drafts, then we can go through the ones from school.'

As Harry looked through the first book, Moony got up to get more tea as he didn’t want to summon any. Uncle Sev was writing in a journal, and that reminded Harry that he’d need to start that before he went to bed. Hedwig flew in through the window that opened itself, and she landed on the arm of the couch. There was a letter in her beak. It wasn’t enclosed in an envelope, but it had the Malfoy seal on it. Cracking it open, Harry was slightly disappointed at how little his cousin wrote. He was even more disappointed in how little his newfound family reacted.

Helia,

I think you’ve broken them. They didn’t argue at all once Cass and our grandmother returned. In fact, they did the opposite of what usually occurs. They worked together to hypothesize what the dust is derived from.

Mother is stunned, but happy that she gets to find dirt on Dumbledore. Aunt Dora said to lie low at school for now until he can be dealt with. Someone as slippery as the headmaster can make justice impossible. Aunt Luci is owling one of the Weasleys to check on Ginevra about the chamber—she also is hypothesizing with Mother on how to get rid of Father. So, I may or may not end up fatherless in the next few years. Oh well.

Even our grandmother is writing to her friends in the Wizengamot circle to find other things to pin on him. She did state that taking him down could take years, which is bollocks, but I am too scared to say that to her face.

Hope you are feeling better, and please stop setting things on fire—why couldn’t you be subpar with the elements?

I’ll owl you more later.

Draco.

P.S. Theo is owling me like an idiot, so expect another owl to barge in soon so he can set up your little date.

His family, who argue over the slightest thing, are working together? Harry couldn’t believe it, mostly because he doesn’t know them all that well. And he doesn’t quite—despite feeling guilty about it—believe the words his cousin wrote. But he’ll wait for more information before he thinks about them particularly. Harry felt a blush creep across his face at the little added note. Whatever their meetup is won’t be a date; he doesn’t think so at least, like, what sort of thirteen-year-olds are dating? delusional ones … alright, so Harry then, wonderful. Hedwig fluttered her feathers as Oli slithered up the couch arm. His body is sprouting, and soon he will be the thickness of Harry’s thigh. Harry looked over to see his uncle staring at him, his chin turned downward so his eyes appeared more hooded. The blush on his face intensified as another owl flew in; this one was a huge black Eagle Owl, its eyes were bright yellow. Hedwig hooted in surprise before pecking the enormous owl for being inconsiderate of her space. Because the new owl was ruffling his feathers arrogantly and putting his wings in her face as he presented another letter. This one had a dark blue seal—a rose emblem stamped into it—and sat on a crisp envelope. Harry calmed them both down by petting them, leaving the letter on his lap for the moment.

'I don’t need to know, but do you know how to respond to an official request?' Moony asked as he came back in with tea. Harry could smell the lemon and mint, and he happily left the owls’ plumage to take the cup. 'I am sure Narcissa will go over the nasty sides of the wizarding world, but for now, Sev and I can help.'

'I don’t know how to respond, not in practice at least—Alex and Cass explained it briefly, as with lots of other things too—so I wouldn’t mind some help next time.' Harry took a sip and sighed silently at the warmth travelling down his throat. 'I think I know who it is too, so I know he won’t care for my messy scrawl.'

'I see, well, don’t let us being here stop you from reading—whoever it is has a magnificent taste in owls,' Moony said as he reached out to stroke the dark-feathered bird. 'I’ll sort out these books so you have the best pictures to look at whenever.' Harry cracked the seal and saw Moony’s gaze shift. 'Sev, don’t you have someone to reply to? I was so sure you had that to seal that deal by midnight.'

With a scrunch of his face as he realised, Uncle Severus stood and grumbled; his strides were long and face pinched. Moony snorted and picked up the books. 'I’ll leave you to read in peace; there is a stack of paper and ink in the drawer. I’ll be downstairs sorting out more photo’s—there’s one that I need to find—it’s a right laugh and you must see it.'

'Okay, goodnight, if we don’t see each other before bed.' Harry unfolded the letter and watched Moony leave. He looked forward to seeing those pictures, but the letter was more exciting right now.

Heir Potter,

I am hoping the ink you reply with is a pleasant shade of blue, or else I am choking you with your shoelaces. But knowing that you are a pathological people pleaser, I know it will be royal.

My father will be away for the entire month, so I am hoping you’d agree to test the poisons. Perhaps in five days’ time? That gives you ample time to recuperate from your time with those children you gushed about. I hope they are doing well, but I would like to kill a healthy you and not an exhausted you. So rest up and learn some things about wizarding life before you floo over. I’ll test your knowledge before I kill you, yeah? I hope you were listening when I explained rituals and celebrations.

Speaking of celebrations, has your aunt tortured you over the guest list? It’s honestly bollocks, because most families these days don’t have the gala anymore. The Blacks and Potters are two of the few families left that do all birthday celebrations. So, expect your aunt to go over everything soon, as it will take time to perfect the planning if she hasn’t spoken with you already. I look forward to seeing you in a tailored suit and robes; if it is how I’d imagine, then I expect a royal purple in your near future. Just don’t go inviting people whose family name is utterly ridiculous—like the Umbridge family—and make sure your aunt explains each family's importance.

If the poison doesn’t work before your birthday, then I’ll kill you on the day of. Go out with a bang, or whatever that Muggle saying is. I look forward to using a knife or two, so I hope you don’t mind some blood.

Until then, don’t forget how our noses touched—it might end up being our lips if you aren’t careful.

Yours faithfully,

Theodorus I. Nottingham the third, heir to the houses of Nottingham, Rowle, Novak, and Volkov.

P.S. If the coroner notices you have a bitten lip, I’d advise your ghost not to kiss and tell.

P.P.S. My Eagle Owl Crna (pronounced sir-nah) won’t leave until you give him a reply, so you have fun with that.

With a fiery face, Harry took his tea and looked for the ink in the drawer. He sighed with relief at the sight of the royal blue label. Sitting at the desk, he grabbed a piece of paper and began writing. Crna and Hedwig fluttered around as he did. His tea was finished, and his chest was filled with anticipation as he wrote.

Heir Nott,

I hope this shade of blue is to your liking, even if I’d much rather write in the shade of your eyes. But it is nothing to fret about.

Your owl, Crna, is lovely and so soft! I look forward to seeing him often if it means I can pet him again. He is much like his owner, arrogant and good looking. I hope that if I do not die from the poison; I get to pet him one last time before you stab me to death. Could you—upon my request—lace the blade with anticoagulant? It is a substance that does not allow my blood to clot, and I will bleed out. I think it would be such a spectacle at my birthday full of strangers I don’t know.

Also, I hope she lets me choose some friends before she invites random people. I need some form of entertainment. I’ll let her know that you’ll be attending before I ask her about anyone else. As for your father not being home, do you have any rare books I can read before you test your poisons? I’d like to take some rare knowledge with me and haunt people with random facts.

It is also a little creepy how you know I’ll be in purple—I sure hope you’re in royal blue; they complement each other and all that. You know? A nice silk shirt would be nice, easy to stain with blood so you have a souvenir. Frame it for me; will you? I’ll visit from time to time to check in if you succeed.

I look forward to seeing you, and perhaps I’ll let you bite my lips perimortem, just for the coroner to see.

With well wishes.

Helia A. Potter — direct heir to the houses of Potter, Black, Perevell, and Nassir.

P.S. How do you eat with such sharp teeth—are you a vampire or something? If so, would biting me make the kill more personal? 

Hoping he’s done it right, Harry sealed the envelope with a random seal—red wax and a wolf-head emblem.

'Here you go, Crna, have a nice flight back—nip Theo in the ear for me, could you?' Harry handed the letter away and watched him fly away. 'Alright, I suppose I need to expose myself in the diary, huh Hedwig?' Hedwig could only coo as Harry packed up. 'Perhaps I’ll draw you and Tina—would you let me sketch you tomorrow, Oli?'

Little Master will depict us in his soul journal? Harry nodded. We would be honoured to have our master scribe us! Little pasta will hiss with excitement.

'Alright, then, let’s go find Tina and get this over with; I’m too tired to do much else.'

Chapter Text

Sleep came easier than ever. Harry was out like a light the moment his head touched the pillow. His journal left untouched, and quill left with no ink. So now he was drawing in his journal as the sun rose. With sleepy eyes, he watched the ink flow over the paper. So far he’s drawn Ladon and the chamber and Ron and Hermione doing the tasks from first year. The chessboard was annoying him because the lines weren’t straight, and so he gave up when Pastina slithered over the fresh ink of his page. With a huff and ink-covered hands, Harry got out of bed. His great-aunt had packed some sticks to burn. These were amber-scented. More drawings can wait until tonight; he’ll draw something else that’s troubling him on the next few pages. Ravioli was coiled around the middle picture. He was hissing about how nice everyone looked. Tina, in all her cuteness, slithered around the room. She was hissing about how gigantic everything was.

Harry sighed as he pressed his forehead to the floor; feeling a rush of emotion, he swallowed harshly, suppressing them, hoping they’d fade. If he let himself feel delusional, it was almost as if he could hear voices speaking to him. Telling him he was doing fine, and that they’d meet again. Sitting up again, he heard soft steps approaching, not voices feeding his delusions—suddenly, he realised he didn’t have the cloak on, his shoulders bare of the ornate fabric. It sat on his bed looking all rumpled. Perhaps that was why he was feeling this way; his emotions going everywhere and his sudden burst of energy. There were no large swirls of magic. Just small bursts. However, with a swift movement, Harry stood and put the cloak on. It was better to stay safe than to be overwhelmed with magic later. He fixed the pictures and moved the journal to the bedside table. Then the door opened, and Moony peered in with moused hair. The whispers told him that the moon would be his protector. Merlin, he was definitely delusional.

'No shoes this time, excellent,' said Moony. Harry blushed at the memory. Why do adults make jokes out of embarrassing moments? He shook his head, the flush intensifying. 'I have some items for you to put out for everyone.' He came in with a large plate of fresh fruit, crackers, yogurt and smoked fish. 'Regulus preferred savoury items, and the girls weren’t fussy. Put that where you want it. Then we’ll go over what’s going to happen today.'

Harry took the hefty plate and put it in the middle. It made Oli move. He swore he saw the pictures of his parents fizzle with magic—like it was thanking him for the offering. The whispers leeched into his head about how delicious sour fruits were. 'Do you think it’s cheating if I ask you to read over my defense essay?' He had an idea, but he’d rather not go on without an opinion. 'I think I know what I’m going to research, but I don’t know.'

'Of course! I am not your professor yet, Helia.' Moony smiled and looked down to see Tina nibbling on his bare feet. Harry snorted and picked her up, letting her slither into his messy hair. Oli slithered past them both and out of the room. 'Now I think Severus ordered some mice after his meeting last night; perhaps they would be tastier than my toes?'

'I’ll grab my homework and bring it with me.' Harry went over to his suitcase and saw there was a Sour Fizzy Pop on top of his homework. He pocketed it and picked out some blue ink and a lot of parchment. Perhaps a spare quill and inkpot would be helpful? 'Do you think I could borrow an encyclopedia?' He didn’t want to unpack all his things if he wasn’t staying long.

'I am sure Severus has countless copies that you may borrow. Come now, we’ll have breakfast and then get that homework done.'

Downstairs smelled like heaven as Harry reached the bottom; he saw two large stacks of waffles and one smaller one, each covered in sour berries and honey. Small chocolate squares sat next to the forks, and Harry snorted as Moony ate all three. Harry took a seat at the table, letting Oli and Tina explore the house; Hedwig was hooting from outside, her body fluffed in excitement. The waffles looked amazing, and he waited for the two adults to sit and eat first. The moment they did, Harry cut himself a small piece, and savoured the taste. It was sweet but had a bite of saltiness. He noticed he still had ink on his hands, and would need to wash them after breakfast. His homework sat beside him as they all ate; Moony and Uncle Severus eating a lot faster than he was. Their four waffles turned into one by the time Harry finished one of his two. By the end of breakfast, Harry was struggling to finish the last bite. But Tina saved his skin as she slithered up and ate the piece in one strike. Syrup dribbled from her small fangs as she hissed in delight.

'I’ll do the dishes—no, Helia, you may not help—and Severus will find that book for you.' Moony collected all the plates, and Harry felt weird. Usually he was already cleaning by now—without breakfast, mind you—while being as quiet as possible. Now he was sitting and doing nothing; he felt lazy, unhelpful, and in the way. 'I think charms and potions may be the quickest to finish; you can go over transfiguration and history after lunch.' A warmth filled Harry’s hands as he placed them on the table—he noticed a cleansing charm washing over the top. A soapy taste entered his mouth as he moved his fingers along the grainy wood. 'Andi is also coming over for lunch to talk about a few things, with no followers this time.'

'Okay,' Harry said as he stood from the table—he went to the sink, flashing his inky hands as proof—and washed the ink off as best he could. Pale blue splotches lined his palms; they’d stay for a few more hours. 'Can I let Oli and Tina outside for a while? I don’t want them exploring places in the house where they aren’t allowed to be.' Harry didn’t want them to end up as potion ingredients by accident. 'Is there a place for me to practice spells for my transfiguration essay after lunch? I don’t want any spells to break things if it fails.' He still needs to get used to using his wand, so he isn’t sure how much intention he needs for spells.

'You may practice anyplace that sits within the wards.' Uncle Severus stood and summoned a book. 'However, you will need to write the spells from this book before you go to practice. This book may not leave the house. I know you will want to do something that is not on this year’s syllabus, so these spells are what you can reach for.' Harry needed to squint to see the title—McLearie’s guide to advanced charms and Transfiguration spells. 'I know Minerva will understand the jump in level; I believe she will even grade you at the level these spells fall under as she does for many advanced students. So, do your best to write like an OWL student, or else you might not achieve your expectations.'

Harry nodded and accepted the book. 'Do you think I can cast any of these successfully?'

'Severus is a sourpuss, so he gets no comment rights—' Moony was kicked in the shin, and he rolled his eyes. 'I believe you can, and he can sulk in the corner as he watches you succeed.' Moony turned with a smile. 'This is one of the books on the fifth year’s syllabus, so expect some difficulty for a little while, alright? It took Sev and Sirius weeks to get most of these down, but I know you’ll do wonderfully.'

'Fifth year? You really think I could cast at that level?' Harry flicked through the book. There were many spells he didn’t know existed! 'Do you think many others will try to do the same thing?'

'Of course! Many wixen over the years have used the summer before Third year to practice. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of your peers did the same.' The dishes were putting themselves away and Moony was grabbing more fruit. Thin slices of apple, orange, pear, and lemon were placed on a plate and put into the fridge. 'Give them a go, and then see where you are more comfortable—there is nothing wrong with aiming high, Helia.'

'Okay.' Harry took the book and his homework to settle by the window of the living room. Hedwig was no longer within his sight, so she must be flying on the other side of the house. 'I’ll start with charms and potions, if that is alright?'

'Of course it is, you don’t need to do as we say, Helia. This is your homework—just call out if you need some help.' Moony was washing the cutting board by hand, and left the knife for Uncle Severus to wash. 'I’ll be doing some planning this morning—hopefully—so I’ll be around. Some plates will be left out for you to grab something to eat when you get hungry.' That was a bold assumption, because Harry won’t feel hungry for a while. Not after the breakfast he’s just survived eating.

'Wasn’t Matilda coming over, Remus? I was sure it was on the calendar.' A crash made Harry jump and scramble for a weapon; his wand felt light in his hand as he held it out. Moony was swearing as he vanished a broken plate. Harry’s wand warmed, almost rattling at the sound of danger—he felt disappointed that he didn’t get to cast anything. How ridiculous. Defending himself against a plate of all things, stupid. 'I’ll take that as a no, then. Go and floo to her instead—the little reaper won’t set the house on fire, so you are fine to leave until lunch.' Who said Harry would use fire as his weapon? What if he wanted to flood the place instead? He could cause a tsunami of dishwater if he felt like it! Petunia was outraged that time, got him out of chores for a week—but earned him seven lashings and twelve bruises.

'Bloody hell, how could I have forgotten?' Harry saw his godfather staring at the calendar—something he hadn’t noticed was stuck on the Muggle fridge. It glittered with charms, so it was definitely altered. 'Oh, that’s right, a prick messed with my mind, and I forget things far too bloody easily.' Harry looked down at the ink he’s spilled from the fright, and vanished it with his wand as Moony moved around. The birch wood was warm in his hand, and he felt energised when using it. Classwork won’t be so boring now—Harry hoped he’d remember it all this time. A hoot made him look outside, and he saw Hedwig flying with Crna—did Theo write to him? 'When did Ted say he was coming over? I was sure I saw you write it on the calendar!' But as he went to look closer, Crna exploded in a puff of smoke—that must be a charm to help him fly long distances. But why was he here without a letter?

'I removed it this morning because he’ll come with Andi when she comes over for lunch. He’ll bring the potion he’s been working on to see how that goes.' Uncle Severus conjured more books. Harry stilled at the mention of more potions—he didn’t want any more. One vial at night was more than enough, thank you. 'You go see Mattie, and I will complete the chores around the house.'

Harry heard a kiss being placed on someone’s cheek, but he didn’t lift his head to look. Too focused on the curling of his paper. So instead, he focused on drafting his charms essay. The extra inkpot saved him from needing to ask for another. An introductory paragraph, three body paragraphs, and then a final summary line out appeared on a scrap piece of paper in his subpar writing. His hands were going to ache terribly once he was done, but getting this finished was better than doing nothing. Uncle Severus won’t let him touch anything—whether that be for personal reasons, or he doesn’t think he’d do a decent job. Harry was glad; he didn’t want to find out what sort of punishment the Potions Master and werewolf dished out if he messed something up. These were personal items, and they weren’t at school, so he could only assume nothing good. He wondered if Hermione had found a place to practice? He hoped so, because he wanted someone to talk to about them. Talk about the topics to see if he made the right choices. Ron was a lost cause until the last few days of the summer. It was a wonder how the redhead never got detention for not submitting completed essays, or none at all. Neville would be someone to talk to—he’ll write a letter later to ask if he wants to hang out. Harry will need to order a present for him, a rare plant of some kind, perhaps? He tried hard to remember if he’d given his shy friend a present last year—or at all.

Startled out of his thoughts, Harry noticed two books appear—one for charms, and the other for potions. He was glad he wouldn’t need to ask for reference material. For a moment, Harry looked up to watch both adults leave the room. Uncle Severus opened the back door to let Oli and Tina out before he went up the stairs. The two snakes hissed in thanks, even though the man cannot hear them. Harry snorted as he went back to his essay, finding their politeness humorous. He’ll deal with potions later; first he needed to figure out how he wanted to introduce his three choices. Does he label them one, two, and three? Or does he introduce them one at a time and give some background? Sighing, Harry stuck with a different choice and wrote his introduction.

Magic is us, and we are magic—most do not think they fit into one category, and most will never think to find out where they belong. Spells are created with one infinity in mind—however, over time those spells can be used in countless ways. Some were created with pure, light intentions, made to help and heal; but light does not always mean healing, sometimes the darkest of spells can heal the most extensive injuries. Neutrality also does not mean spells have migrated—it means that the spells stay balanced.

In this essay, I will pull apart three spells from the three affinity categories that I find versatile and worth learning. The Patronus Charm—said to skive off the darkest of creatures (light). Duro—the charm that hardens things to stone (neutral). And Petrificus Totalus—the curse that binds the body so that only the eyes can move (dark)…

Harry wrote for well over two hours, going through three quills before he stopped to check outside. Tina was muttering about there being no rats to hunt, whilst Oli was actively slithering over the hot boulders. With peace of mind, Harry went back to his essay and read it over, annotating it before putting it to the side. He’ll probably edit it harshly later, finding some parts overly cringy and unlike himself. That intro will probably be changed four or five times before he is happy with it. So, instead of fretting over charms, Harry moved onto his potions essay. He hoped to have a decent draft before lunch—whenever lunch was scheduled. Hopefully, Uncle Severus and Moony forget so that he doesn’t need to eat; he hopes they snack at some point so he doesn’t feel guilty. This book on potions was annotated, and he felt like a cheater as he was sure no one else had a book like this. The messy scrawl wasn’t familiar, so he’ll have to ask whose book it was as it didn’t have a name. It was aged, though not quite falling apart yet. He flicked through it until he got to the alphabet section. But he didn’t read on as he planned to—instead, Harry pulled a bit of paper towards him and brainstormed potion ideas. His task was to list ingredients and create his own potion. Then, he needed to explain why it would work. So before he chose his ingredients, Harry needed to choose what type of potion he wanted to create. Did he want to mimic the Pepper-up Potion, or do something like the Living Draught of Death? A potion that didn’t taste like slug slime seemed like a wonderful option. So he needed ingredients that wouldn’t be affected if he added flavouring. He looked through each section and wrote different things he thought could work. Dittany, wormwood, foxglove, Bubotus pus, fairy wings, and snakeskin. All successful on their own or with certain things, but not what Harry was envisioning. So he crossed them out and searched some more, going back over each letter’s section.

1. Calendula Vampiri

2. Cackleberries

3. Ginger

4. Hippogriff saliva

5. Lime-a-ffin talons

6. Marshmallow root

7. Prunella Vulgaris

8. Scottish Stinging Nettle

This small list has all the necessities for healing, and it won’t taste like slime. Hopefully. Ginger, cackleberries, and stinging nettle for anti-inflammatory and calming properties. Calendula vampiri and marshmallow root for soothing the stomach. Hippogriff saliva and lime-a-ffin talons for immune support and virus-fighting properties; and Prunella vulgaris for sealing wounds by speeding up cell generation. Now he had to think of the method for his potion. Would he powder the talons or leave them to dissolve? Is steeping the roots and leaves whole better than slicing them? After another twenty minutes of thinking, Harry believes he’s thought of a possible method. Would it work? Who knows? It was better than nothing. He added notes in brackets to remind future him to rethink everything.

1. Bring the water to a simmer whilst you pluck the petals from the Calendula and Prunella vulgaris. Then, steep the petals until the water turns a light gold color. (Check to see if steeping them makes the water that color.)

2. Clean and slice the marshmallow root into thin strips, and steep them with the petals, stirring every thirty seconds to ensure they don’t stick to the bottom. (Perhaps change to stirring continuously? Read up on the effects of too much movement.) Remove once the water turns a deep amber color. Leave to simmer whilst you prep the next ingredient. (Be specific about what ingredient you use next!)

3. Crush the Lime-a-ffin talons until they resemble a fine powder and sprinkle two spoons into the cauldron. (Check the potency of the talons—then add more or less depending on what strength.) Mix five times clockwise. The potion should turn a burgundy color. (Double check the color result.)

4. Pour in one small vial of Hippogriff saliva and stir once anticlockwise before adding the stinging nettle flowers. (Keep tabs on the availability of the saliva, sustainability would be important.)

5. Leave to simmer for forty minutes until the water turns a dark blue color, then add in crushed ginger and cranberry juice. (Adjust time to ensure it doesn’t thicken.)

6. Stir three more times before decanting into a leak-proof bottle and storing in a dark cupboard. (Check to make sure that the potion will survive in different settings.)

Harry thinks his method is bollocks, but he copied jargon from the methods the book uses. It won’t work, but what did anyone expect? He found ingredients he thinks will work, and he threw them—mentally—into a cauldron. It wasn’t like he could test it! With a sigh, Harry gave up on that task and stood up to go back outside. He could write his reasons for it later. Harry could see Oli still sunbathing, but Tina was hiding somewhere he couldn’t see. With bare feet, he walked through the grass and sat on the rock beside Oli. It was steaming with ambient magic, and his body warmed from the small pulses. He didn’t speak, just tilted his head towards the sun. The cloak fizzled as he leaned back, enjoying the sun’s warmth. Harry thought of his inheritance test, wondering if he could go back over it with someone that wasn’t his blonde uncle. Or a bunch of people who were more worried about his name than who his family members were. Perhaps now that he knew he was safe, he could ask the questions he’s wanted answers to. Getting everyone’s memories in order was more important, though. At least then Harry would know that things were true, and there would be more information at once. A cloud disrupted his sunbathing, and Harry stared up at the sky with displeasure.

'I am kind of disappointed that you aren’t a vampire—though I would be more than happy to lend a fang.' Harry looked over to see a pale woman holding a parasol. Large glasses obscured her pale face. 'My senses rarely lead me astray, perhaps in the future then.' Her teeth were pearly and straight, fangs elongated. 'Remus wants you inside, though I don’t know why he had the vampire come get you.'

'You didn’t have to! I could have easily sent Ted, you idiot!' Moony appeared behind her with a scrunched face. 'I also did not give you permission to enter my home, Matilda. What happened to being polite?'

'Oh hush, Moonbeam, you love it when I surprise you! You also left the floo duct open when you came back!' Her fangs looked even larger when she smiled. 'Now, lunch is ready, little sun, so come on inside and the boring adult stuff can be over with.'

Harry got up, leaving Oli to sunbathe, and headed inside behind the vampire. His aunt was seated at the island with a cup of tea in her hands. Uncle Severus was pouring red liquid into another cup as he walked over. The blood glittered with magic, and Harry wondered where they got it from. A magical creature? A wizard? Harry didn’t think wixen believed in blood transfusions or donations; they were very certain about keeping their blood inside them most of the time. He also didn’t think blood rituals were all that popular. The metallic smell made Harry scrunch his face and Matilda laughed as she took the cup. Moony slid a cup of hot chocolate towards him, keeping a large thermos for himself. His Uncle Ted was nursing a glass of water, and Uncle Severus was drinking black coffee. A small spread of snack foods appeared on the table. As did manila folders full of papers. Harry stole half of a strawberry.

'Are those for the same thing, or are they for different topics?' Harry asked as he swallowed—the taste combined with the chocolate stuck to the roof of his mouth. 'That looks to be too much for one thing, right?' The guilty look his aunt gave him told him otherwise. Well, fuck.

'I am afraid these are all the reports from the neighbourhood.' Harry stared at the stacks, wondering when the statements were taken. And how many of them were filled with lies. 'Some of these are auror reports as well—apparently people have been trying to report the Dursley family for years. So another investigation will start after their trial.'

Trial. A trial meant people were actually doing their jobs. Harry clutched the cup tightly, knuckles going white as he tried to find people’s names. Mrs Fig, Mr Rishard, the family from the corner house, Miss Delayny from next door, Mr Prasad from across the street, even Mrs Polkis gave a statement. Harry could see Mr Milrose’s name too, and bile crept up his throat. A hand found his as he stared at the pile. Another investigation? Merlin, he didn’t believe anyone would have tried saying something before. Was this the same person who was wiping memories from people’s minds?

'This isn’t all of them, is it?' He prayed it was, because if it wasn’t, then that meant more people noticed things. And that was too many eyes for his liking; too many instances where he could have been freed from that prison, and nothing happened. No one knew about the reports until now.

'These are the reports we haven’t gone through yet—I was hoping you’d tell me about them because they refused to meet after having their statements taken over the phone thing.' Refused? Harry blinked and glanced at his aunt, who sighed. 'After they found out you never attended that boot camp place, they didn’t know who to believe. So many gave a statement and then hung up.' Her hand went to his hair and he leaned into the touch. 'I’m not allowing you to read ay of these—I just want to know what they’re like. So I can judge their statements fairly. Asking for your opinion of people has little cause when you are a minor—it also will not go onto the records since we interviewed them without seeing them in person.'

'You’ll be with me, Helia—there are some more tests I’d like to run, if you don’t mind?' Harry looked at his Uncle Ted with furrowed brows. Then he looked at Moony, who speedily swallowed a blue potion. Eyes wide when he was caught. Uncle Severus kicked Moony for not doing it quickly enough. Harry heard the impact of shoe to shin—did Harry need to take that one too? 'Nothing invasive, just a little more extensive than what Poppy performed.'

'Okay—um, who else in that pile do I know? I can read the first few names.' The rest are all blurry, and Harry needed to squint to see. New glasses were definitely on the list of things to get before school.

'These top ones are from the aurors, so you won’t need to see those,' she said, shrinking them and sliding them to the side. The pile was significantly smaller now that they were gone. 'The bottom ones are from your school teachers—Miss Perkins and Mr Axelrod, I believe—as well as the Librarian Miss Santiago—'

'Nothing Miss Perkins says is true; even her teaching is whack,' Harry said, interrupting his aunt. 'She is the most stuck up, narcissistic person ever—she was in the same book club as Petunia, and I am sure she knew about a lot, but never tried saying anything.' Even if she did, none of it would have been in Harry’s favour. He isn’t sure he needs to be surprised that she’s said anything or not. 'Miss Santiago is the best to speak with—her English isn’t the best, so we spoke Spanish together more often than not. She’s the one who taught me all the languages I know, apart from parseltongue.'

'And Mr. Axelrod?' she asked. That folder was like a novel, and Harry rolled his eyes. 'A folder to throw away, then?'

With a scrunch of his face, Harry shrugged. 'He wasn’t terrible, but turned a blind eye to bullying in the classroom and knows how to spin stories—he was a science fiction novelist before becoming a teacher, so he has all this random lore that isn’t real.' But he wasn’t far off of being right about ghosts.

His aunt mouthed the words science fiction before shaking her head. 'I see, and of the others? A brief description will do.'

'Okay,' Harry said with a deep breath. 'Mrs Fig is nice but forgetful—she was the one that babysat me when the Dursleys didn’t want me around.' Which was most of the time. 'I think she tried to report everything once or twice, but she has a mild form of dementia.' Harry wondered what she was doing now. Her son comes over once in a while but leaves little for her to keep going. 'Um, Mr Rishard was the nicest—he’d feed me on weekends when he knew the Dursleys had gone out. Sometimes he’d sneak money into my shoes when he saw them outside. He owns a security camera service, so sometimes he’d come in to inspect the house.' Inspect everywhere but the cupboard—sometimes Harry wished he’d put Harry’s Room on the outside for people to see. Magically seal it so that it cannot be removed.

'Do you think he ever tried reporting it?' Harry didn’t know how to answer that, so he shrugged. It was likely, but if the Aurors were finding misconduct, then he didn’t know. 'Alright, what about Mrs Polkis? What is she like? She waffled on and on, so I am worried she might have spun a web of lies.'

Harry frowned as he felt his hot chocolate go cold. He managed half of the cup, but couldn’t finish it. 'She is a complex person—loves boasting as much as Petunia, can’t smell a lie if it was rancid beside her, and is very particular. I’d say she’s got truth in her words, because she can’t handle being asked questions—she wouldn’t have time to fabricate a lie, so all her words are probably truthful.'

'I see. What of Aldrich Milrose?' Harry’s body went stiff—a burst of panicked magic blew the lightbulbs. 'Oh dear, Helia? Can you hear me?' Harry saw the man’s folder and breathed in deeply, feeling himself tremble. Phantom touches grazed his arms and stomach, and he felt his throat tighten. The folder was one of the largest, and he could see photos sticking out of it. Weren’t they over-the-phone interviews? How did they get any pictures? Bile crept up his throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it. A solid hand squeezed his, but that made him jump—he spun around and backed up into the wall. Wand raised and tears in his eyes—throat closing as people walked towards him. 'Not a nice person, I see—Ted, take him upstairs—I think we have enough to go on. Take a calming draught with you.'

As Harry was carefully dragged up the staircase, a burst of volatile magic shook the house. Angry shouts of words Harry didn’t understand rang in his ears. Tears pooled in his eyes as his uncle led him towards his room—a room that was spinning as he was tugged along. This morning was so nice, and now everyone was getting upset. The floorboards felt grainy under his feet as he walked, stumbled rather, into his room. Light filtered through the windows, but he took no mind of them as he ran and vomited in the bathtub. The phantom touches burning his skin. The man’s deep voice echoed in his head. They got louder and louder as he cried—because that was how the man acted when Harry cried. His body began thrashing as his uncle tried to hold him—thrashing was always the way to escape the old man, so why wasn’t it working on his uncle? Next thing he knew, Harry was cleaned up, in new clothes, and he was sitting on the bed. He watched his uncle enlarge a bag and pull out a few things. His body shook at the loss of his breakfast; he could taste the strawberry and chocolate from before. It lingered in his mouth like a parasite. A small phial came first, and Harry was urged to drink it—calming draught was written in neat writing on the side. Harry didn’t want to be an emotionless puppet for however long that stuff lasted. But as his breathing grew heavier, he choked the light pink potion down, his hands gripping his uncle as the man tipped the vial. Harry gagged and felt something other than calmness wash over him. His mind was still racing, but his chest felt lighter; even if his body continued to shake. The magic in the air stabbed him with little stings, and he shivered as the temperature dropped. His eyes were burning with tears that threatened to fall. The voices from this morning were telling him to calm down, but Mr. Milsrose’s yelling was too loud. The house shuddered under his feet, and Harry wanted the floorboards to swallow him whole.

'Don’t be alarmed, Helia—' That was a terrible choice of words. 'The house is trying to get rid of the excess magic—things will warm back up soon.' Harry didn’t want it to warm up; warm air meant vomit, and he had nothing left to bring up. The cloak tried to regulate his temperature, but failed as icy chills went up his spine. He didn’t look his uncle in the eye—he kept his head down and tried to control his breathing. Harry wasn’t doing a very good job. 'Poppy is a wonderful witch, but she is better trained for battle than long-term healing spells.' And you, dear uncle, are much better with adults—because Harry does not need the man talking right now. 'There are also new spells she hasn’t learnt in her refresher course yet.' Blue bells appeared and Harry lifted his head reluctantly; he reached out to touch them, shivering when it felt like ice. His lungs felt like they were turning to popsicles with each breath. That potion was keeping him from freaking out outwardly, but his body was destroying itself inside. Flashes of the man’s face flickered across his eyes. He felt a bubble of magic threatening to burst if he moved. 'Stop fighting the potion, Helia—it’s just there to help, not hurt.'

'What are you going to do?' he asked with a raspy voice, staying as still as possible. His mouth betrayed his brain by not telling the man to shut up. He wasn’t scared—he felt too numb to be—but being alone with an adult who had allies was dangerous. Even if they were family—especially if they were family. Vernon’s coworkers were like leeches—unwanted aunts and uncles that did more harm than good. Even when they weren’t really family, they still plagued his mind. Right now, the past was the most sickening. 'Will I need to do anything?' Please say no.

'No, all you need to do is stay as still as possible.' It wasn’t like Harry had the mind to move; everything hurt too much. If he moved, he would throw his stomach up, and despite hating to eat, Harry needed his stomach. 'Let the magic enter, and it will leave soon enough.' He said it all with a smile, but Harry wasn’t feeling very cheery. That calming draught made him feel everything and nothing mentally. He was feeling quite a bit physically, icy pain coursing through him—he doesn’t think it was supposed to work like this. 'I won’t take long, alright?'

With a nod of his head, Harry let the magic in—it wasn’t like he had a choice. Harry never did when adults were calling the shots. He sat as still as possible and felt the tug of the spell on his mind as well as his stomach. It poked and prodded at his subconscious, travelling through his synapses and tickling every nerve. The urge to throw up eased a bit before hitting him like a truck. He gagged as the cool feeling slid down and hit his throat, then his chest, stomach, hips, thighs, toes, and arms. It joined the icy stabs in his fingers, but was gentler, more controlled. He felt the effects of the potion lessen as the spell worked its way through his body. Flashes of recent events blurred his vision and brought tears to his eyes. Another flash of white pain struck his mind, and he was staring at Ladon again; her scream to be killed echoing in his head. Tears roll down his face, which was numb to the feeling. Another spell entered his body, and he choked down bile—Poppy never did this many spells at once—Harry wished she was here. Blinking away the tears and swallowing the bile, he heard footsteps, and felt more tears threaten to fall—the warmth they bring was as unwelcome as the ice in his veins. The person’s steps were light, almost like they were floating over the creaking wood. A soft magic washed over him as the vampire, Matilda, walked in. Her dress was ripped, and there was fresh blood running down her leg. Harry didn’t know vampires could bleed like that. But she was smiling, softly and with no fangs. Her eyes were a deep crimson color and pulsed with unleaded magic. He felt like he was being hypnotised as she locked eyes with him. She moved as if she hovered over the floor, slinking her way to the bed and sitting next to him. Her hands were icy, but the magic she pushed into his hands was warm. Uncle Ted’s magic faded as the last spell was completed; it exited his body through his feet. Harry felt his body slump down as his uncle moved around. Summoning a chair, the older man sat and held the diagnostic results. Instead of a scroll, his results were on small sheets of parchment.

'These blocks are battling each other—that is why your magic sense is so powerful right now.' Really? You didn’t exactly explain what you were going to test for, so I don’t know! 'Does that make sense?' Harry fought the will to tell the man to fuck off, because it made no sense. He nodded, and the man smiled—though the smile did not reach his eyes. 'I will pass these findings off to Andi to file—is that alright with you?' Harry nodded, understanding that one. His uncle looked at the small bit of paper with a frown. 'There is something on this I would like you to explain; can you do that?' Harry nodded again, though he wasn’t sure how well he could do so. Not without throwing up the bile that keeps threatening to escape. 'Alright, there is a scar on your arm from something venomous. Could you explain that? From what I understand, there are no venomous snakes in Surrey.'

Harry frowned—didn’t he already explain that he had been bitten by Ladon? 'Um,' he said with a rasp. 'During the time in the Chamber of Secrets, I faced and killed a Basilisk named Ladon. She was being controlled by a figment of young Voldemort's soul.' He shifted, Matilda gripped his hand. The room continued to spin, and this time, Harry pushed the calming draught away from him. He didn’t want to feel whatever that shit-show was again. 'She bit me when I killed her, and then Fawkes—Dumbledore’s phoenix—healed me.' He used his free hand to trace his forearm where the scar was hidden by long sleeves. 'Why? Is the venom still in my body?'

'Well, yes, it is. But, it doesn’t seem to be actively hurting you.' There was a small frown on the man’s lips. 'Phoenix tears are only a temporary solution to most injuries, so I am uncertain how you are still alive.' Oh, well isn’t that nice to hear? He shouldn’t be alive right now, yippee! Not that he wanted to be, but meh. 'But you are, and I am going to find out—'

'He is a Parselmouth, Edwin, you know this, you dolt!' Oh, wonderful, a competent adult. 'Goodness, did you not listen to any of the things Effie told you?' Matilda licked her fangs in distaste before turning to Harry. Her magic pushed away the remanence of the diagnostics, and Harry felt better. 'You cannot die from snake venom—Fawkes shedding a tear did nothing! You would have absorbed the venom completely eventually; since you were healed by phoenix tears, the venom was healed into the wound, leaving the scar.' Her hand travelled gently to tug his hand away from the wound he created. Blood was caked under his nails, and his sleeve was torn. The last bit of calming draught left his limbs numb—he didn’t feel his nails pierce the skin. 'It will scar now, but any other bites from a serpent will heal completely. The sooner you get to Potter Manor, the better.'

'I see, thank you, Matilda,' Uncle Ted said with a strained voice. 'Now, there is a block that I may be able to uproot now, if you wish?' he asked. Harry bit his lip and then asked what it was. There was no way he would accept anything that felt like the draught did. 'The memory block has been breaking steadily—it is sitting at around 47%.' Harry remembered it was only at 25% on his bit of paper. 'Breaking it completely now will allow bits and pieces will come back immediately, whilst the rest may take a few days to appear.' The man pulled out a dark blue potion from the bag—it was the same as what Moony had taken. Matilda grabbed it and held it for Harry to see. 'Remus has taken his, which is likely why he was so upset seeing those folders—it tastes terrible, but I have sweets for afterward. Are you ready?'

Was he ready? No, he wasn’t, because he was still fucking upset and sick—but he wanted his memories back. So with a tiny nod, he grasped the bottle and drank it all. The taste was split between moldy bread—which he doesn’t recommend eating—and sewer water, which he does not recommend drinking accidentally. A click sounded in his brain, and a minor flood of images washed over his eyes. He scrambled back in a panic—only staying still as Matilda held him, tucking him into her side. Images of the twins sneaking food into his bag and getting caught. Memories of Hermione telling him his memories were fuzzy and that he needed help. Ron's need to remind him to close his windows and go to bed. Draco spoke to him politely once or twice. And the last memory that rushed over his mind was the one of Harry asking Dumbledore if he could stay at Hogwarts and getting nothing but an emotionless smile in return. Tears fell and his shoulders shook as more memories flooded his head. Matilda held him as he cried, and his uncle stood, leaving the room. Harry heard soft words being spoken outside, and soon an enormous wolf was licking his face. Whines leaving its throat.

'Gosh, you stink, Moonbeam! Does Severus forget to give you regular baths? Fighting you before didn’t stink this much!' Matilda stood and wiped slobber off her blouse. 'Can you not comfort him calmly! He’s just gotten some memories back and was fucked over by that stupid calming draught—how inconsiderate can you be?'

'Moony! Get off of him, you large oaf! The potion needs to settle before you go jostling him!' Harry heard Andi scolding his godfather, but that only egged the wolf on. Harry felt peace bubble in his stomach with the potion—laughter erupted from his throat. The cloak fizzled with joy, and Harry wrapped it tighter around him. 'Oh, nevermind! Just be careful—we need to get him fed, so get off and sit with him whilst he has something to eat, alright?' The hard stare the woman was giving his godfather was striking, and Moony huffed and sat on the floor. Harry gasped for breath, enjoying the tingling in his limbs as feeling came back to them. 'Look at what you’ve done; his hair is a mess!'

'My hair is always a mess, Aunt Andi—I've never not had it messy,' Harry said, his laughter dying down to a small smile. The flood of memories settled into a soft trickle as he looked around the room. He was glad they weren’t like rips taking his mind out to the sea of his subconscious. 'I won’t have such a rush each time memories come back, will I?'

'You should not, no.' Harry didn’t like the word should in that sentence. 'But my findings have shown that some memories present as nightmares, so I implore you put them into your journal.' Harry bit his lip, dreading having to wake himself up—he hoped they weren’t too bad that he’d want to obliviate himself.

Matilda whispered that he’ll be alright as everyone circled him. Moony sat on the floor, nuzzling Harry’s legs. Uncle Severus was reading through a potions journal and muttering under his breath. And his Uncle Ted was cowering in the corner, looking very contemplative. Aunt Andi stood in front of him, blocking Harry’s view of the man’s apparent breakdown.

'Speaking of journaling, I hope you’ve been putting things in there, young man,' his aunt asked with scepticism. Harry blushed and looked over at the journal that had five pages completed out of three hundred. 'I know you’ve been busy, but I ask that you work on staying consistent.'

'Right, food!' Matilda said, interrupting his aunt’s lecture. 'Let us think of something positive over lunch and leave this depressing stuff for nighttime feels.' Matilda flashed her fangs and ruffled Harry’s hair. 'My idiot of a husband cannot be left alone for too long, so let’s get this show into the kitchen!'

Harry felt jittery as he went over the newly returned memories—some he couldn’t believe he had. How many others have had their memories wiped? Who was doing this, and how the fuck did they accomplish it so effortlessly? The food on the table looked sickening, but he was starving now that he’s thrown up. Uncle Severus combed his hair back with a wide-tooth comb as he placed a bowl of broth in front of him. The salty liquid was light on his stomach, but the bread he ate with it was heavier. Moony had his fat head on Harry’s lap as he ate, and his aunt sat in front of him going over the trial—leaving out triggering details—and what might end up happening. The mention of testifying was panic-inducing, but his aunt was confident that he wouldn’t need to at this stage. If he did, then it would be from a secure place in the court. No need for contact between himself and the Durselys. Before he could ask, his aunt explained Dudley would do the same if need be, as he too had had his memories tampered with. Harry felt intense guilt pool in with the soup at the thought of Dudley going against his parents. But he also wanted him to understand that they weren’t nice people. They did not deserve the respect that he gave them. By the time he finished his soup, the pile of manila folders was gone and the talk of the Dursleys had stopped. Instead, Harry was given the opportunity to ask them anything before his aunt and uncle left for work again. He had lots to ask, but he’s just had a punch to the brain, so he’ll have to think of something that won’t hurt anyone’s feelings. Putting his spoon down, he pats Moony on the head.

'I don’t want another panic-inducing answer, so, um, I think I’ll pass for now.' He did not want a half-arsed excuse on why he felt the opposite of calm with that potion, so turned to Matilda. 'Though I wanted to know—'

'How us vampires walk around in broad daylight without turning into a pile of dust? You’re not the first nor last to ask me that, kiddo.' Her fangs gleam and Moony huffs in displeasure at having Harry’s attention being directed elsewhere. Harry made sure his fingers played with tufts of his fur. 'Vampires are not all that people assume they are—we are creatures of the night, yes, but we are still very much human.' Her eyes crinkle as she smiles. 'We cannot walk freely until we have lived in darkness for a month after turning. If we start out as purely human, of course—born vampires must wait until they are five before they can go into the sunlight.' Harry was glad he had a living source for his essay; she seemed much more relevant than a book. 'Staying in darkness seems silly, but the dark helps the venom flow and bond with the person—the body goes through death and rebirth all within a month before they are strong enough to move. And even after that, they’re likely to burn a little for a few months afterwards.'

'Is it true that born vampires have certain powers?' A memory sparked in Harry’s mind that led to that question. He can remember he’d read it last year. 'I was sure I’d read that somewhere.' Lockhart’s disgusting face makes Harry flinch—that stupid book series, of course, that was where he’d read it. He wondered how the man was doing in the Janice Thickey Ward.

'Ah, Dumb-luck Lockheart! But yes, most born vampires—and a few turned ones—will possess a gift of some kind. Those that are wizards are less likely to gain one, as they already possess magical abilities.' Her eyes flashed for a second. 'Some wixen even lose certain gifts if they are turned—Merlin for one, lost his ability to communicate with spirits when he was turned.'

'Merlin was a vampire!' Harry stared at her in awe. Moony licked his arm, trying to get his attention.

Matilda chuckled at him. 'Of course! He even begged my father to turn Arthur, so that they could be together. Which happened in the end, and they are living in a small castle in the Fiordlands!'

'They’re still alive?' Uncle Severus asked. 'Do you know how much knowledge we could have if they returned? How many problems can be solved with Merlin taking charge?'

'Well, it would be nice, but they are so old now that they’d probably perish if they tried to Portkey back.' She bit her lip with a fang. 'Turned vampires don’t live as long as born ones do—I was surprised to know they were still alive! Arthur turned 594 last month, and Merlin is sitting on 621 this year. If I weren’t an optimist, I’d say they’ll perish in the next few years. A decade if we are lucky.'

'Hmm, alright—'

'So if I were bitten and turned, I’d lose one of my abilities?' Harry asked, interrupting his uncle. Moony chuffed at the man’s sulking frown. 'Can you talk to bats!' Please say yes.

'I cannot, unfortunately, as my gift is emotion based. My cousin can—pisses me off more than you know!' Her smile widened and those pearly teeth glistened in the sun. 'From what I’ve seen, you’d lose one of your minor gifts, as the vampirism wouldn’t be strong enough to take over a gift you’ve strengthened.' Harry nodded, wondering what he’d lose—his parseltongue, or his magic sight. 'Merlin lost his spirit sight because it wasn’t something he cherished enough—for you, I’d say your partial Metamorph ability would go.' Her grin returned and Harry blushed, having forgotten about that one. Also, before you ask, you would have increased strength and agility—however, it won’t be as enhanced as a born vampire. You’d probably—with what I have seen in the coven—you’d be able to lift a compact car if you are desperate enough!' He blinked and stared with wonder. He wasn’t sure he’d ever need to lift a car, of all things. 'If you ever need to be turned, you’re mine—you cutie! Maybe you’ll be able to speak with dragons after you lose your Metamorph ability—I’ve seen some gifts change after their hosts turned.'

'I am sure it will not come to that, Matilda—now Helia, did you have anything else to ask her before she leaves?' Harry shook his head; he didn’t know what else he wanted to know—he’ll read a textbook for answers if he gets a question. Or wait until they meet again. 'Alright then, Mattie, we will see you next week for the full moon.'

'Awe, alright, you ugly bat wannabe! Until next time, my little fledgling!' With a poof of smoke, Matilda was gone. He knew what he’ll ask her about when they met again.

'Thank Merlin for that,' Uncle Severus said with a drawn-out sigh. 'Now, how are you going with your potions homework? Can you get anymore done today?' Harry pouted—his mind was a mess and his body felt three tonnes heavier.

'Um, I just need to finish my explanation, why?' Harry tilted his head in confusion.

'Because we all deserve a nap after that mind-fuck, so that can wait until we are back at Hogwarts.'

——

Harry didn’t know how long it had been, but it was now dark outside. He could remember piling into a large transfigured bed in the living room, but doesn’t remember falling asleep. Tina was coiled on top of Moony’s head, leaving an indent in the fur. Ravioli was log-like along the windowsill, looking very ornamental. Harry was curled up in a ball and lying on Moony’s side—his godfather was a wonderful pillow. Uncle Severus was gone; has been for some time as the bed was cold where he had sat before. He wasn’t in the kitchen, but there was a pot on the stove. So he must be doing something for dinner. With a huff, Harry snuggled deeper into Moony’s fur, mentally going over his returned memories. It was surprising—these memories—because he didn’t think anyone would have been worried about him. He was worried about what other memories he’ll get back, though. Would there be things regarding adults doing things around him? Are there things he wasn’t supposed to see locked away? Harry wondered how much was taken from him—had he been told about his family before and someone didn’t like that? Had he been told about his actual parents and then had his memories wiped for fun? He wasn’t looking forward to the nightmares that were going to plague him. Harry hoped Moony’s memories were nicer than his were.

Tiny Master has risen! Tina hissed as she slithered through Moony’s fur. The large bat went through the hearth!

What for? Harry asked sleepily, not moving from his place on Moony. Did he say anything?

The large bat was hissing about the den of magic! Her nose touched his as she hissed—the vibrations tickling his skin. He picked her up and placed her on his chest. Was hissing some unkind words in front of Tiny Master.

Did he say who he was going to see? Harry was sure his uncle would have muttered to himself.

Batty was speaking to spicy humans from the hearth—told Batty he needed to come through! Harry nodded and assumed it would have been Minnie—internally, Minnie was better than Minerva, but Harry didn’t dare say either out loud.

Okay, did you see him put anything into that large basin? Harry was unnerved that there wasn’t a word for pot. I cannot smell anything.

The large bat was moving delicious meat but did not put it into the basin! Harry was a little confused, but nodded. His brain was still mush, and his emotions were everywhere.

Hoot!

Harry looked up and saw Hedwig perched outside with Crna. She was hooting and scratching at the window. Her beak clacked with impatience. So, with heavy limbs, Harry left the warm bed and opened the door. Outside was freezing as the night air blew around him. He patted both owls and let Tine slither up his leg. Crna had a letter this time, but no envelope; the white paper did not have a seal either. Taking it, he unfolded the paper to see a few words written neatly in blue ink.

Helia,

You are a plague that I am keeping, only for the sole purpose of entertainment. However, I am uncertain how you plagued the heart of my dear aunt Matilda! She is not one for Love at First Bite, so you must have done some serious bewitching. She is sharpening her ceremonial knives now—something she only does when she is in kill mode.

You are telling me all about this when we meet, or else I will nick you with my dagger rather than stab you!

Fuck you very much.

Theo.

P.S. Aunt Matilda has claimed you, so don’t go pissing off any vamps, or else she’ll get upset and I’ll have to fix it!

'Helia! It is freezing outside, come back in please.' Harry whipped around at the voice.

'Poppy!'

Chapter Text

Arms wrapped around Harry before he could blink. Poppy’s magic melted into his skin, and he sagged with relief. She smelt like apple pie, and her magical output was a sage color. It was strange to see the magic sticking to her like glue, but he’ll find out how it worked later. Minnie’s was light blue, whilst Uncle Severus’ was pale yellow. Moony’s was hard to see. He could make out a dark blue hue emitting from his fur. Poppy was warm, and Harry let himself relax and accept her affection. After the day he had, he needed it desperately. Not that he disliked napping with his godfather and uncle. Something about Poppy just made him feel gooey. Like salted caramel over a Granny Smith. He opened his eyes again, blinking slowly, and saw Minnie standing with her arms at her sides. Wand holstered and with a slight frown on her lips. She was speaking to Uncle Severus quietly as Harry was being hugged. Moony was still Moony—his wolfishness looked insane because he was nodding along at the conversation. Tina slithered past and up Moony’s back—Oli coiled around Uncle Sev’s leg.

'I am so glad you’re alright, mostly.' The tease in her voice made Harry smile. 'Now I know Ted meant well, but I warned him about doing multiple spells at once!' Her face scrunched with displeasure. 'How are you feeling now?' Her hand came to rest on his forehead. 'You don’t have a fever, but that potion was hard on your system. Not to mention the spells he cast on top of that!'

'I feel fine—but I am not looking forward to having my memories visit me in my sleep.' Harry knows he’s not getting any pleasant dreams. Nightmares will plague him for however long it takes. 'What happened with the calming draught?' he asked. There had to be a reason.

'Ted mentioned that—he is currently with Meriweather trying to find the reason.' She didn’t lose her smile, but it became sullen. It didn’t reach her eyes like before. 'I have two hypotheses—I do not want to be correct for either.' Harry looked at her pleadingly. His lips trembling with the attempt to keep his emotions at bay. 'Hmm, the first is that I think the magic in the house assumed the potion was poison, and your magic reacted and made your body believe it was poison. It is rare, and I hope I am mistaken. The second is you are allergic to something that doesn’t appear in a diagnostic spell. Also rare, but treatable with alternative options.'

'If it’s something else?' Harry asked.

'Then we will work around it, whatever it is.'

'Helia, come here, please,' Minnie asked. 'Edwin was quite upset, so I think he may have left things out.'

Harry walked over to where she was standing by the floo. Tina was sitting in her hat, nosing at the pointed tip. 'He went over the Basilisk—'

'Ladon,' Harry said, interrupting her. 'Her name is—was—Ladon.'

'Yes, my apologies—he spoke of what you’ve informed me, and Severus says that Ladon’s body has been fully recovered, and there are places that only you can open. Was there anything pertaining to the original charter for the school?' Her question left him curious. He didn’t know, but he could find out tomorrow night. 'I am only asking because Albus is trying to alter it, and I want to see what he is trying to change.'

'He’s changing the school code? Why?' Harry can’t believe that guy wants to do things like—nevermind, he totally sees that idiot changing shit for his own benefit. 'Did you get anything on what, exactly?'

'I am unsure. However, I am not about to let him do something idiotic.' Her lips purse and her hands shake. 'The board also must vote, so I hope it does not come to force change.' She fixed her hat, letting Tina slither down her arm. 'If you could look around the chamber, I will make sure he cannot change anything detrimental to our wellbeing.'

'I’ll wander around before curfew tomorrow—um, about that, are they staying the night?' Harry wanted to know so he could sneak out and search then.

'The last few days have been a lot for them—however, they must have as much routine as possible. There are a few who are being tested for familial indicators.' She smiled at Harry and touched his shoulder. 'They are so eager to see you, but they will need to return to St. Alexandra. If they wish to schedule another time to be together, they are more than welcome to come back.'

'Okay,' Harry said, smiling slightly. 'Are you saying that some of them could find their families soon?' That would be amazing! He hoped all of them found their families, but he knew it wasn’t realistic. 'Do you know who?'

'I do not, unfortunately. However, I am sure they will tell you all about it when they arrive tomorrow morning. Which reminds me.' She pulled out an envelope. 'These sheets will be sent out tomorrow, but I thought it silly to owl you. They are forms for a new club initiative that this year’s prefects arranged. Inside is a pamphlet about what each club does, and who runs it. I am sure it will be interesting.'

Harry takes the envelope and cracks the seal. Inside were several pamphlets and one form. It had his name, house, and year written at the top. Below that was a small description of what it was all about and what to do.

Helia A. Potter — Ravenclaw — Third Year

Please select two of the club options—every club lasts for one term, and should you wish to continue, then you will re-select the same thing over Yuletide. One seventh-year prefect will be in charge of each club and will have the help of the fifth-year prefects and one staff member. There is no need to purchase supplies if you are not able—however, if you already possess the items required, then you may bring them with you.

Please select two:

Club Omega: Art — Lead by: Vanshika Singh

Club Delta: Languages and Heritage — Lead by: Penelope Clearwater

Club Alpha: Muggle sports and recreation — Lead by: Gabriella Truman

Club Sigma: Wizarding games — Lead by: Chadwick Bellsweather

Club Kappa: Chess — Lead by: Percy Weasley

Club Beta: Study — Lead by: Velmin Irevna

Club Theta: Performing arts — Lead by: Liberty Hesling

Club Lambda: Debating — Lead by: Vixen Chin

If you dislike the club you have joined, you may change it after the first two meetings. For this, you must speak with the prefect in charge and your head of house. NOTE: You cannot change the club if someone that you dislike is there—our initiative is for school unity. If issues arise, then action will be taken. Please complete this as soon as possible for rostering; the paper will vanish as soon as you tick your two choices.

'When will clubs be?' Harry asked. 'Would they be on the weekends?'

'At this stage, the clubs will run for 90 minutes each, one in the morning and one in the afternoon on Saturdays on odd weekends.' Harry nodded—that made sense. 'As it is new, it could go toad syrup by the end of the first term.'

'It sounds interesting. I mean, these clubs could lead to future jobs—at least that’s how it works in the Muggle world.' Harry could remember the Debate club turned out the most lawyers in Surrey when they did it. 'How will it affect Quidditch?' Because that was totally an important question.

Minnie laughed. 'Games will be scheduled on weekdays, as they always have been. Final games will be played on Sundays.' She pulled out another slip and threw it at Uncle Severus. 'You need to sign this too, Severus, since Helia will be under your care—our little wolf problem can sign it later. Once he’s stopped sulking.' Moony whined at her, and she patted his head. 'I thought you could sign it now that Helia is here.'

Uncle Severus sighed as he conjured a self-inking quill. His flicking wrist moved fluidly as he signed the paper. Surprisingly, Moony barked, and his signature appeared on the paper as well—it then vanished in a sparkle of magic.

'Show off.' Uncle Severus shoved Moon’s head away, but the wolf's tongue hung out as he panted with glee.

'Why don’t you read this over whilst Severus cooks dinner?' Minnie gestured to the club form. 'Heads of houses cannot take part, but I look forward to seeing everyone work together.'

'Why am I cooking? I am sure you have hands, Minerva.' Harry gawked at his uncle, and prayed he got to keep his nuts; because his future looked grim with how Minnie was looking at the man. 'Fine—explain what will happen tomorrow whilst I slave away!'

'Gladly! Pop, did you bring those textbooks with you?' Minnie guided Harry to the island, and sat him down. 'They’ll be read in a day, but I hope they help.'

'Of course I brought them—what do you take me for?' Harry stifled a giggle at the incredulous gasp she let out. 'Honestly, did you bring the things you said you would? I don’t see you pulling them out of your hat!' Poppy was rendered speechless as Minnie lifted her hat, revealing tiny books and a scroll. 'Merlin have mercy, did you really need to store them like that? I cannot believe you did that!'

'Speak quietly or go away unless you want uneven chunks of chicken!' Harry snorted and bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. 'I will use this hatchet to sever your head, Helia, if you do not stop.'

'Okay,' he said breathlessly before turning to Poppy. He sees the books and scrolls sitting on the bench. 'What are those? Do they have anything to do with the electives?'

'Would you like materials for each elective? Most wizarding families have pre-loved textbooks for their children to read before third-year. I am more than happy to let you roam the library—but no restricted section!' Minnie was insistent, but Harry thinks he can, and will, win her over. 'Your subject lists are being written up, but won’t be mailed for another week. But it doesn’t hurt to see what you are fascinated by.'

'Do you think it would make life easier if there were things like career day, and options evenings?' Harry asked. He hadn’t thought about third-year for Muggleborns. He hadn’t thought about his schooling experience apart from the things he never got in first year. Poppy was staring at him with a curious frown, and Minnie had a pinched look; like she didn’t know what to do with that information. They have no clue what he was talking about, lovely. 'Oh, um, so career day is when people from different occupations come and talk about their jobs! They tell the students what their jobs require and what they need to study to get them. Like an Auror—they have certain requirements before they can get the job.'

'I see, and this option evening is part of that?' Poppy asked as she stacked the books neatly. Harry could see books about familial rites, the wheel of the year, and celebrations.

'Exactly—once the career day happens, then the options evening would take place. Obviously it won’t happen at Hogwarts, because Muggles can’t see or access it. So somewhere all second-years can congregate so that each elective professor can tell them what will happen in class.' Harry could remember the ones from school. All the middle-school teachers would come and sell their subject to make it the most appealing. 'I think it would make timetabling easier if people knew what the subject looked like firsthand—not from a pamphlet or word-of-mouth.'

'That is something we will have to take to the board—but it is a wonderful idea!' Minnie conjured a quill and piece of paper. 'Why we never thought of it before, I do not know. I will have Filius go over it when we return tonight.'

'Now, regarding tomorrow! The children will arrive at 7:30 and will need to be leaving no later than 8 pm. We have some activities set up for them to do—a scavenger hunt, puzzles, an art contest, and wand making. Lunch will be at 12, and dinner will be in the Great Hall no later than 7 pm.' Poppy pulled envelopes out of her apron. 'They wrote letters to you, so I hope you enjoy them before you head to bed.'

Sixteen letters sat on the bench with the books, and Harry cocked his head. 'Why are there sixteen?'

'Young Dudley wrote to you—it is part of his therapy campaign he must complete. I do not know what it contains, but Eloise read it before it was sealed.' Minnie pulled everything towards him, and the smell of salty water made him remember his first time at the beach and the last time Dudley wrote him a letter. They were at a beach retreat doing community service for the school, and they needed to write letters to their siblings; all because the day they went was National Sibling Day. Dudley’s class was on the same trip, so he wrote to Harry. All it said was, have fun swimming, before he was shoved off the dock. 'I take it that letters haven’t been so kind in the past. But I assure you the letter would not be sent if it weren’t nice.'

'Can I go read these in my room while you cook?' Harry asked as he scooped the small envelopes up. He did not want to cry in front of everyone again.

'Dinner will be ready in half an hour; would’ve been sooner if we did not have extra people.' Uncle Severus was ambushed by two stray tea towels as Harry climbed the stairs.

Each step was torture as he made his way to his room. But he didn’t want to fear a bloody room! The cupboard under the stairs was worse. More mould, dust, spiders, and rusty things were scarier than the warmth of the larger room. Ravioli was coiled around his pillow as he entered—head raised in greeting. He hissed something about the pictures moving, but Harry couldn’t remember where he had put what. The incense sticks were replaced by candles, and Harry lit them all; he’ll use the light from them to read each letter rather than the main light. He sat with his back resting on the bed and spread the letters across the floor. Harry picked one up randomly, thinking it was stupid to put them in any order. Rosa’s name was written neatly, but the letter inside was a mess—a cute mess.

Harry, 

I miss you lots Miss Eli say play gam twomore

I hav fun here and wan c yu

lev Rosa

It was short but adorable. Her writing was neater than most of his peers at school! He picked up the next one—which was from Juniper.

Hari, 

I like it here and I am thankful that you saved us

I have my own bed and get to eat with everyone

Miss Eli said we will play games twomorowe so I am happy 

love Juniper

Juniper’s writing was something to envy; Harry felt inferior as his handwriting was subpar at best. But he was glad that she was feeling safe. The next letter in the pile was from Marius—his handwriting was nice too. But his letter was brief.

Hare, 

I like here and want too play gam 

sea you later Marius

He smiled as he placed it on the ground—he looked forward to seeing and playing with everyone too. He opened Ravi’s letter and was amazed at how well these guys were using quills. It took Harry forever to write well enough for it to be legible.

Hari! 

Mis Li say I find family soon! 

After we play together she is take me to find them. 

will you find ur family? I hop so! then we all be happy! 

see you tomato Ravi 

Harry’s lips trembled, and he sniffled as he placed the letter down. He picked up Alfred and Alucius’ letters with shaking hands. Tears welled in his eyes. They were both incredibly short, with Alfred’s being much more detailed.

Thank you.

Alucius’ wrote.

Luci is cry when write so not much on page. 

we play lots and eat good and sleep lots so it nice here

Alfred’s was longer, and Harry was glad they were working on their written English. Tears dripped onto the page, blurring the inked words. Auriel, Amani, and Nico’s letters were next—they were the closest letters to him. Each one only a few sentences long, but really fucking cute.

riri

Mani got big bed I got smol 

we play gam 2more? I cited! 

Harry was eager now to see them tomorrow, despite the tears rolling down his face. Amani brought back that sadness though, with his brief letter.

tank u 4 save me! I not live if no u

Harry sniffled. He did not save him—he just did what he could; Dobby and Poppy saved him. With one more sniffle, he placed Amani’s letter with the rest that he’s read with a silent promise to make tomorrow perfect. Nico’s was shorter than theirs, but cute. His handwriting was the worst of them all so far, so much so that Miss Eliose needed to write it for him.

I miss you a lot, and hope to see you smile tomorrow! 

Sanvi, Louis, and Alexa’s were blank save for Miss Eloise writing that they were eager to see him tomorrow. Halley and Demikja’s letters just said thank you in writing, similar to Juniper’s. James’ was the longest so far, with five sentences.

I dont like it here, but Miss Eli said if I am good I get 2 see you lots

it scary here, and lots of peple but I brave for u 

will ou read 2 us? 

I hop so cuz I like ur voice

luv James

Harry could feel a solemn magic swirl around the room, and the whispers returned. They whispered in his ear to let the dog play but not go inside, whatever the fuck that meant. He stacked the fifteen letters together and put them on his nightstand. He sat on the bed with the sixteenth in his hands. Unlike the rest, this one wasn’t named—and it was in a large envelope, and was quite hefty. Before he could open it, Oli slithered over to the pictures and knocked one over. With mild annoyance at the serpent’s silent act, he stood and fixed the one that lay among the others. The flames ripple with magic as he picks the frame up. Blue and purple sparks hit him in the face, and the cloak catches fire. In a state of panic, Harry throws the cloak off and pats his hands over the colored flames. He can feel his skin blistering, and his rings heating to unbearable levels. His fingers tremble as the fire goes out, and his rings glow—the burns on his hands heal within a minute, leaving Harry staring at the healed flesh. He stared at the cloak with confusion. There were no burn marks, no holes, nothing that suggested it was on fire. Harry sat in a heap on the floor, staring at the pictures, candle, cloak, and serpent. His mind was a mess of returning memories and new shit he needed to research. The whispers were arguing with each other now, talking about Harry but not to him.

He could have been seriously hurt, Reggie! I know I’m the reckless one, but you’ve outdone yourself.

Reggie?

Well, I needed him to look at the picture, Jamie! I didn’t think the flames would flare that high.

Jamie?

Merlin, Reg, you should have given him time to look at the bloody thing before he got set on fire—we’re lucky he has his rings at least. I need Aunt Dorea to get him to Potter Manor; there are far too many things he doesn’t know yet!

Harry’s head hurt with all the yelling, and he kind of wanted to yell at them to shut up. Turns out he didn’t need to, as a third voice joined the argument. 

I tried to see my daughter for two seconds, and you almost set my godson on fire! Have the two of you gone mental?

Godson? Was this lily? She sounds much different than Harry originally thought. At least, she sounded different in his nightmares of her being murdered. 

Oh hush, lil, I am sure they were just trying to communicate with Helia! You’ve done worse to Luna, and you know it, you hypocrite. 

That will have to be Pandora. 

Perhaps next time you try, he’ll have read the Potter Grimoire? I’ve spoken with my little moon and she says he’ll go there soon and find it! So stop trying to get into his head and try again next week. 

Harry felt a strand of his mind be pulled and he shook his head like a dog shaking off water. He had no intention of going swimming, so he picked up the picture and put it on his nightstand. Harry left the room before the voices got any more heated. His hope for a better evening was crushed as he was stuck thinking about his parents. The stairs were cold on his feet as he walked back down, the creek of one step alerting everyone that he’s come back. Moony was now human again, nursing a cup of hot chocolate; his face was pinched as he listened to Poppy complaining about Dumbledore. Minnie was sipping from a rum glass, filled with at least one finger of what Harry could only assume was whisky. Uncle Sev was at the stove, watching the pots boil–he was drinking another mug of black coffee. Harry wanted to know if the man added syrups to the dark liquid or not; he’d be a heathen if he drank it straight black! A steaming cup of something appeared on the bench, as Harry sat down. Lemon tea with a basil leaf. He took a sip as everyone continued to do as they were before. 

‘Did you like the letters? Eloise was delighted that they had attempted them at all,’ Minnie said as she placed her glass down. ‘Juniper had a burst of accidental magic that turned all the ink pink after a while, so if any are pink later, she is who you thank.’ 

‘They’re having bursts of accidental magic?’ That had to be a good sign, right? ‘Have any of the others?’ Harry was looking forward to hearing all about it, regardless. 

‘Three others presented magical output in their last check up this morning. Marius turned the healer's cloak orange, and little Alexa turned the bed into a beanbag!’ Poppy looked delighted as she waffled on about how strong their cores will be. ‘Little James was a marvel, though–he vanished the glass from the grindelow tank three departments away! I can’t recall anyone vanishing tempered glass like that.’

‘Helia has,’ Uncle Sev said. ‘I recall him explaining the snake at the zoo incident to a few students last year.’

‘What is a zoo? And what does vanishing glass have to do with it?’ Poppy asked, and Harry was reminded that a lot of Muggle things weren’t common knowledge. 

‘A zoo is a sanctuary designed for conservational and educational purposes. There are some built simply to preserve population growth and sustainability, whilst others are simply for educating the public.’ Harry was slightly confused on how a Magi-Zoologist was a thing, but they didn’t know what a zoo was. ‘I am not sure if the magical world has them, however, they are generally free to access or there is a small fee. That fee feeds the animals and pays the land sanction bills.’ 

‘Oh! How silly of me–Zoology isn’t commonly spoken about in literal practice, and there are no facilities like that here. Magi-Zoologists travel or are partnered with a small sanctuary for research only purposes.’ Poppy cradled her cup of lavender tea as she spoke. ‘What happened to the snake?’ 

‘Oh, right, um, well,’ Harry bit his lip and laughed nervously. ‘I don’t actually know, but the reason it got loose was because Dudley was being rude. He had been hitting the glass and disturbing the python–the repeated banging sent vibrations through the enclosure that was harming him–and so I touched the glass and it vanished.’ He took a sip of his tea. ‘Then Dudley got stuck as the glass returned to the enclosure, trapping him inside.’ Harry would not explain how he was lashed at by Vernon’s belt afterwards. Not that Vernon knew it was him, but for the simple fact that they were humiliated and Harry was there. ‘The snake said something about returning home, but the sign said he was born in captivity, so I don’t know where he ended up.’ 

‘Well, good for him for leaving, I suppose–’ 

‘Enough of the snake, Minerva! Do you not realise how incredible Helia is? Vanishing spells are taught at the end of fourth-year! You teach them, you dolt.’ Poppy placed her cup down and was pacing the small area. ‘This explains so much! Goodness gracious, when I get my hands on those that are altering my memories, I will…’ Poppy’s lips disappeared as Minnie held out her wand. 

‘Let us discuss torture when we are not about to have supper, shall we?’ she asked, with a pointed look. ‘I am sure we can hear more of Helia’s wondrous, if not slightly terrifying spell casting, after we’ve eaten.’ 

With a mouthless hmph, Poppy sat down and Minnie gave her mouth back. Moony looked like he was about to piss himself from trying not to laugh. Uncle Sev just summoned plates and cutlery; thought there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. Minnie and Poppy sat and let Harry, after a pouting plea, serve them and everyone else dinner. Which comprised sweet potato mash, lemon-chili greens, smoked chicken sausage and seared lamb, and a side of toasted bread rolls. Harry served Moony and Uncle Sev too, grabbing their plates and serving utensils before they could. He placed a small chunk of the lamb on a smaller plate for Tina and Oli to munch on–he left the sausage alone, not knowing if snakes could have what was in them. Harry served himself last, taking the new potions Poppy placed in front of him before sitting comfortably. He had one sausage, a tiny offcut of the lamb, and half a scoop of mash sweet potato. 

Hedwig hooted from outside, and Harry could see a rat in her talons–Crna was next to her, with a much more sizable lizard. He could see them both tearing into their meals, and so Harry wasn’t obligated to give them anything yet. Why Theo’s owl was here again, he wasn’t sure–unless the steel-eyed boy could speak with fowl, and was using Crna as a spy. He swallowed a slice of sausage as he thought; the taste wasn’t the same as pork sausages, but he was committed to at least following the dietary rules of his culture. He wasn’t sure if he could go through with everything his religion asked of him, but a friend he knew in primary school said he wouldn’t be doing anything if the gods didn’t accept him as he was. So, he was glad for the small mercies he was granted–he swore he would find what he was comfortable with as time flowed. Maybe he’d do more, or less depending on how he leads the rest of his life. He would not give up the offerings, or morning prayer–if the person he dates makes it a big deal, then they aren’t the person for him. 

With sheer amazement, Harry was scraping his plate for the last of the potato. Dinner was sitting nicely in his stomach, and he stood to collect everyone’s plates. He was going to do the dishes by hand, feeling like a part of him would be restored if he did it without magic. He wondered–as he filled the sink and listened to the ambient conversation behind him–what Petunia and Vernon were faring. His wondering didn’t equal concern, he was just curious about who had to deal with them for the time being. Harry was scrubbing the pot when someone joined him at the sink, a tea towel in their hand. Uncle Severus was drying the knives he washed first as he finished the first pot. The silence that followed was nice–Harry could only assume that meant the other three had gone elsewhere. It wasn’t until he was draining the water that the silence was broken. 

‘Regardless of our whereabouts for the rest of the summer, I want you to come to either myself or Remus if your memories are causing you any problems. Keeping them to yourself if they are damaging your perceptions is the opposite of what we wish to achieve.’ His voice was a lot lighter than it was in class–the deep, fear-inducing tone was gone. 

‘Even if they’re stupendously silly?’ Harry asked. His hands were wrinkling from being submerged in the hot water. 

‘Especially then, Helia.’ The man, his uncle, turned Harry to face him. ‘Memories lead us to things we have lingering at the back of our minds. Important things that were passed over and need revisiting.’ A guilty gleam glided over his eyes. ‘During these next few weeks, will you promise to inform one of us if any of these surfacing memories unnerves you?’ 

‘I can’t promise that I will, but I can promise that I’ll try.’ Harry was not good at speaking about himself, he was much better at looking after others' problems. Not the other way around. ‘Will you and Moony do the same with me? Vent about memories so that we can work them out together?’ 

‘Remus will, I know that much, but I too will promise to try. Is that enough?’ Uncle Sev asked, a gentler expression on his face now. His hands were gripping his shoulders gently, and he leaned forward slightly. 

‘More than enough.’ 

—

Harry and his uncle found everyone in the study, reading over a few textbooks and scrolls. Minnie was sitting at the desk whilst Moony was at the bookshelf reading. Poppy was standing by the window with a letter in her hand, a frown on her face. 

‘Albus is still going to the seminar, is he not, Minerva?’ Uncle Sev asked over Harry, who had asked what was happening. ‘We will keep Helia here if he is not attending anymore.’

‘No, it has nothing to do with Albus–not completely this time,’ Poppy said with a grave face, her hands crushing the pristine letter. ‘Aberdeen was doing some research for me, and he overheard a few people talking about housing Helia at Hogwarts.’ Harry bit his lip with anticipation as she rounded the desk to perch on the corner. ‘He heard they want to do an inspection of this home to see if it is a better fit for the summer.’

‘I know Hogwarts is not a place for a lone child, but it is familiar to him. Why are they trying to take that away?’ 

Moony pushed off from where he was leaning. ‘It’s not that they won’t allow it, Sev. It is something to do with safety–if something were to happen within Hogwarts, then the school could be shut down. We know Helia, but since it is a learning facility, the wardens aren’t sure it is suitable for the summer months.’ 

‘Aberdeen is working with Hollyhock to see what they can do.’ Poppy handed Uncle Sev the letter. ‘Here will be considered the primary housing–but he said there was nothing wrong with overnight stays at Hogwarts. Especially when you and Remus will be there preparing, anyway.’ Her frown deepened. ‘Someone doesn’t like what is happening, and they are trying to break everything up. However, Amelia needs to sign it off and we all know how much she hates people wasting her time with trivial things.’ 

‘If the cauldron isn’t cracked, then there is no point in ordering another,’ Minnie said with distaste. ‘Cornelius is well aware of your whereabouts, and was even pleased to know you were being looked after by multiple people!’ The book she was reading caught fire and Harry stared at the flames. And, for a moment, they turned a terrifying shade of green. ‘Goodness, I haven’t sparked fires since I got my teaching licence! To hell with whoever is sanctioning this inspection–we all know Helia has either place to feel safe.’ 

‘But, we will follow Amelia’s advice–which we will get in the morning–and go from there.’ Poppy took back the letter that now was covered in burn marks. ‘If, by any cursed directive, Helia must remain here–or elsewhere in a dire case–we will respect it and move forward.’

Harry swallowed harshly–couldn’t the gods leave him alone for more than a few minutes? He was feeling like a sacrifice, being led to an untimely death. Whether by his own hand, or someone else's. ‘Do you think I’ll be dragged to St. Alexandra?’ He didn’t want to go–despite being closer to the children, he didn’t want to get used to a new place. ‘You said I wouldn’t need to, that they’d need to alter the wards and stuff!’ 

‘You will not be leaving us,’ Minnie said with her arms crossed. ‘We will handle it, and you will remain here if not at Hogwarts. In the worst case, you will stay with the Malfoys, and or Longbottoms.’ 

The room went quiet, save for the ticking of Poppy’s pocket-watch. Harry was now sitting in a soft chair with Tina worming around in his hair. Oli was lounging on Moony and using Uncle Sev as a tail rest. Minnie had migrated to a different chair that angled towards the window where Poppy was standing. No one was frowning anymore, but they were reading different textbooks on various subjects. Whether it be to pass the time, or help them think, Harry didn’t know. He himself had found a notepad and was going over the clubs he’d need to choose. Any of them seemed nice, but he could only choose two for the term. From September to December, he’d be spending three hours of his Saturdays–save Hogsmeade weekends–with people from each house and year level. So, he needed to choose wisely, or else he may end up taking a leap from the Astronomy Tower to test the wards. He re-read the pamphlets and weighed his options until he was re-reading two of them. 

Club Omega: Arts and Sculpture

Led by Vanshika Singh, supported by Cedric Diggory, with Sybill Trelawny as the supporting professor. 

Students who wish to throw paint at a canvas and call it art will learn so much more in this club. Art is all about creative freedom and expression, and we want people to learn how to do that with magic too! Whether it was to enchant your sculptures to come alive, or to make your paintings talk–we have the space that is ready to be filled with your creativity. Each term there will be a small exhibit at the end to showcase all the hard work and dedication of each club member. Each exhibit will have a theme that will be voted on by the student body that takes part in this venture. We look forward to seeing you and invite you to show us your artistic prowess–whether you value yourself a beginner or a pro! 

Club Delta: Languages and Heritage 

Led by Penelope Clearwater, supported by Chaeyeon (Cho) Chang, with Sinistra Vector as the supporting professor. 

Many people assume everything about you by the way that you speak. We want you to embrace your language, culture, and heritage by speaking and showing it in a safe space. During your time in this club, we will learn how to greet each other, talk about our cultures without feeling the need to hide, and learn new languages together. We will showcase our diverse school with an end-of-term performance that shows everyone how unified we can be, through shared experiences and similarities. As well as the differences that make us unique! If this is you, then we welcome you starting the first Saturday of the term. 

Harry ticked those two boxes and watched the form sparkle with magic. No one looked up from their spots, so Harry used the notepad to draw. He still wasn’t all that good, but drawing was better than arguing or being thrown around playing sports. Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to play wizarding games with anyone from school, so these were simple choices. Nor did he want to play chess with people who enjoyed following the rules. Performing in front of others is what he does every day, so he didn’t want to do it more often than he already does. And he does not want to study with others because they don’t study like he does. He values his crash out time, thank you. 

Tiny Master’s other familiar is outside the clear wards! Tina was hissing in his ear as she slithered down to lie on the couch arm. Our other winged friend is here too, he has another clothed letter! 

Another? Harry didn’t think Theo needed to tell him anything else. Unless he sent Crna to Draco first, and this was a letter from him instead. Curiously he stood, putting his sketch down and made his way to the window. Poppy had unlatched the hinge and the soft breeze pushed the window open. Crna perched on the sill with Hedwig, who was trilling softly and flapping her wings. The letter had the Malfoy seal, so he had been right in his assumption. With a flick of his birch wand, he conjured two mice and levitated them for the owls to snatch. Oli–from his place on Moony–hissed in jealousy, asking if he too could snack on a mouse. Tina just wanted to hunt for hers and asked if Harry could release one onto the floor. With another swish, two more mice landed on the floor and his serpents were off hunting. 

‘Thank you,’ Harry said, patting Crna on the head. ‘I hope Draco wasn’t taking too long writing whatever monstrosity this is.’ He received a hoot of indifference in between nips of the mouse’s flesh. ‘Well, I hope Theo isn’t making you do too much–you deserve rest. Especially with school approaching quickly.’ 

Crna and Hedwig grabbed their mouse carcass' and flew off–most likely to finish their feast in peace. Turning, Harry walked back to the chair and sat down; he noticed his sketch was gone, but thought nothing of it. As he unsealed the envelope, another owl appeared and Moony stood to take the letter. It didn’t stick around, and so Harry couldn’t get a good look–though he saw an amulet amongst the plumage. With slight surprise, Harry found there were two bits of paper; one was white and the other was yellowing with sun-bleaching. Draco’s writing was neat and diabolically loopy, and Theo’s was small but much easier to read. Both were sizable, but he thought to read his cousins first. In case it held something important–Theo’s letter most likely held more ways that he could kill Harry, so he’ll leave that one for when he gets ready for bed. 

Helia,

I just thought I would give you an update on life with these black headless chickens. 

I cannot believe how well they are working together! It is like they are slightly more put together versions of themselves–it is rather creepy, if I am honest. But I think they are making progress! Mother has told me over dessert that a tiered plan is being made up to get more dirt on Dumbledore. I can understand why they don’t want to do it all at once, and I hope you can see the vision too. Mother has not allowed me to hear their plans, so I cannot tell you anything other than it will take a few years. Apparently catching him doing multiple things over the course of a few years will get him longer in Azkaban? 

I don’t know how they figure that, but I am hoping the balding oaf doesn’t die before the plan comes to a natural end! If he dies, then you will need to necromance him back so that he can serve his due sentences. Helia, I swear to Merlin and Mother Magic, if he dies early, I will sacrifice my father to you in order for the oaf to suffer! He’s made Mother cry, and I will not stand for it. Those mud–muggleborns have learnt nothing during his time as headmaster, I’ve found, so I implore you to work on your necromancy skills. Mother, let it slip that uncle Jamie could raise the dead, so I expect you to as well! 

From that, I will keep you posted. Before I forget, Mother has asked me to tell you she is looking forward to planning your birthday. I don’t remember if I told you what will happen, but know that it will be marvellous once my mother finishes planning. The guest list is one of the most important, so expect her to find you soon to discuss who you wish to invite. My honest advice? Invite immediate friends and family that you know well, and then branch out to important families from school–like Alex and Cass. Your birthday is your time to celebrate, but also a time to make connections. Stupid I know, but it will help you in the long run, believe me. Also, make it known who you do not want there–my mother does not know how to stop herself when planning is concerned. My gala had over five hundred guests until I had to tell her to stop. 

I hope your venture with those children goes well, and I expect an owl back at some point to know I am not writing to a ghost. 

Yours in blood, 

Draco. 

Merlin those loops were hurting his eyes, but he was glad that his relatives were doing well. He hoped his birthday didn’t have more than one hundred, but if it will make his aunt happy, then he could invite people she likes to speak with. Harry needed to re-read the part where he was a necromancer's son, but he supposed he’ll learn more about himself when great-aunt Dorea takes him to Potter manor. For now, he will need to let that knowledge settle in his mind–along with all the new memories he was getting back. He put Draco’s letter down, and picked Theo’s one up, admiring the greeting that lined the top of the parchment. 

Evening my dearest victim, 

Crna has been leaving me lonely as of late, and I am sure he is doing it to annoy me. He says he is visiting one of my acquaintances, however he is not good at subtlety. So I know he is seeing your precious snowy owl. Regardless, you are the reason for my loneliness, therefore I will revoke your request to use that anti-coagulant stuff! You shall bleed out however fast I see fit, you owl stealer. 

I have written to you, to request something. You needn’t agree, but I have every hope that you will. My request is that you stay with me to help translate a new scripture that I have obtained. If it helps, it is based on the notion of murder–hopefully knowing that will bring forth some appeal; if not, then I have another rare text that is sure to entice you into making a sound decision. If you are amicable, then after your retreat to your ancestral home, and those five grace days–you will remain with me for three; if that is not what you wish, then one shall suffice–if your will is as strong as I have seen it be. 

I also, if you may let me, would like it if you would allow me to squander a text on Latin-American rituals. I have one for almost every culture, but the texts from my father’s study do not cover Latin-America. I shall pay whatever price you set if it will help me finish my collection. 

On another note, I dislike having my fowl nip me in the ear! I will decrease the number of stab wounds if you keep telling them to nip at me. 

I hope you are well, and are mentally preparing for your hoard of children tomorrow. 

With the hope you say yes, 

Theo. 

‘Two letters, my aren’t you popular?’ Moony asked, startling Harry into dropping the letter. ‘Sorry, Happy, but you were so engrossed in those letters I just had to say something.’ 

‘No, you didn’t you dumb wolf–you could have easily waited until he’d put them down! You’re just a nosy wolf trying to catch a scent you aren’t privy to.’ Uncle Severus had another steaming cup in his hands. But this one smelt like lavender, and sparkled with some sort of spell. ‘It is nearing your curfew, you little demon, so it may be best if you prepare yourself for bed. If you must respond to those letters, then do so before bed.’ Harry nodded and stood. ‘We will be up for a while longer, so if you need anything, do not fear asking.’ 

‘Okay, goodnight,’ Harry said as he grabbed the letters. ‘I don’t know what you’d do with my shitty drawing, but I hear paper makes great fire starters.’ 

Before anyone could say anything, he left and went to his room. The picture was still on his bedside table, as were all the letters. Dudleys was on top, and he left it there; he’ll read it in the morning, he had letters to respond to at the moment. And, he wasn’t ready to read whatever that guy had to write. He hopped into the shower, setting the temperature to cold as he always did. Harry was thinking of Theo’s request, and wondered if he’d be allowed to go. The idea of being able to translate a text was exciting! He’d soak up the knowledge before Theo did, and would be able to tell Theo what it means. His hair dripped cold droplets onto his neck as he dried himself, and then he saw he salve by the faucet. Fuck. He dragged timid fingers over the largest scars that he could reach–the feeling of the raised flesh was sickening, but they didn’t hurt nearly as much as they used to. Harry had almost forgotten about them, only noticing when he leans a certain way. With a sigh, he dressed, foregoing the salve and exiting the bathroom. He found some ink and paper and sat to write his letters–the first being to Draco. 

Evening you pale arsed ferret, 

I am alive, unfortunately, and am getting my lost memories back. Some of which I wish I didn’t get back, but I cannot control what the liquid does to my brain. Also, I may or may not be allowed calming draughts? We haven’t figured it out yet, so that’s fun. 

Anyway, thank you for the update and I look forward to seeing Aunt Cissa again soon to sort all that out. I am glad that they are working together—even if it is all for the downfall of an ugly old man. 

Keep me updated and I shall do the same. 

Your green-eyed cousin, 

Helia. 

That was enough, now he needs to do Theo’s before he passes out. He set Draco’s letter to the side and began writing Theo’s, a flush to his cheeks as he remembered what the steel-eyed boy had written him. 

To my grim reaper, 

I should hope I can win back my request if I behave myself. And, your handsome owl did not need to go through with that! He did that with his own free will. 

I will ask if I may stay–I am sure they will let me, if I beg–so you need not entice me with rare texts. But I will read them at my leisure if you are offering. I look forward to translating whatever text you have obtained, and will enjoy your company in doing so. If you have an abundance of quills, then I will gladly offer my hands–I have not yet learnt how to have them write what I say yet. Since you requested it, I shall ensure that I can remain in your care for those three days–we can test a range of poison then without running out of time! 

Once I am in Potter Manor, I will see if there are any texts within its walls–if not, then I will ask my great-aunt for help in acquiring the text for you from my vault. I would like to see this collection, if I may, too. Perhaps we can negotiate a payment once I have found the text you are looking for. I shall keep you updated on my hunt. 

Thank you for your request, and I will let you know in the morning if I am able. Hopefully, these kids do not kill me before we meet again. 

With my agreeance in writing, 

Helia. 

With those letters sealed, and Hedwig flying into the night sky, Harry drew one last thing in his journal before he got into bed. A panther with antlers coming from its head.

Chapter Text

Despite the tiredness in his bones, Harry got up at a similar time as he always did. Before sunrise. This morning it was 5:40 am when he woke up, so he drew some more in his journal–adding Lockhart, Myrtle, and a mandrake. He left the cloak on the bed as he set up the pictures again; it was 6:20 am when he finished his prayer and packed everything away. He left the candles and incense to burn as he showered–his body clock demanded he get into the frigid water. His skin was on fire as he felt the house's magic poke him as if it were asking why he was awake. With ample time, Harry washed his hair–deep conditioning with a new product he found on the sink. It smelt like lemons and mint, and it left the curls on his head were well defined and smooth. His body wash was still the sour fruit scent he’s always used. It was running out, but he can survive another few days before needing more. Tina slithered in through the crack in the door, hissing about how the large ball of light was rising and then wanting to join him in the bath. Oli was somewhere, but Harry didn’t know where–not that he needed to, as his little serpent was his own person and had a mind of his own. He’ll come around when it is time to eat. It was 6:35 am when he finished spelling his shoes to tie themselves, dressed in a pair of soft black trousers and a silk navy shirt. His rings remained on his fingers, only ever coming off when he needed to wash his hands or dishes. They sent magic up his arms as he traced the wall with his fingers. Familiarity settled in his stomach, and the house shuttered as he leaned into the magic. Harry forewent the cloak this morning, having it draped over his arm instead. He wanted to test a theory after what happened yesterday morning. Since he prayed without it draped over his shoulders. Already he’s noticed that the surrounding magic is much calmer. He could see it floating around door handles, and in portraits. The books on the shelf were glowing in soft wafts of magic. Nothing like Malfoy manor, where everything was yelling at him. Perhaps that was because it was ancestral, with many generations of wixen and artefacts living within its walls. This place was mellow, like a soft yellow color that no one could be mad at. 

He crept down the stairs and saw Moony was cooking and Uncle Sev was reading The Profit, a cup of coffee on the table. A chair pulled itself out and Moony spun around with a smile on his face. Harry still felt like he was freeloading by not doing any of the chores–even if most are done with magic now. It was only to get worse when they got to Hogwarts. 

‘Morning, Helia–are you ready for today?’ Moony asked, ‘Eloise owled this morning mentioning that the kids were awfully eager to see you.’ 

‘I am, I think.’ There was a slight flush to his cheeks as he sat. He could smell everything cooking, and for once his stomach wasn’t bringing up bile. He did feel a little light-headed, but he racked it up to be nervousness. ‘I hope they like being around me now that they aren’t scared for their lives.’ 

‘Fear often cements a child to a person, however I think they have a genuine interest in you as a person, Helia.’ Uncle Sev put the paper down and Harry saw the headline. Trouble in the Ministry: Child Services under investigation by Tammy Pillberry. ‘If fear drove them to latch onto you, then they wouldn’t have any interest now that they are safe.’ 

That made sense, and he felt warm knowing the kids liked him for more than a protector. Not that he managed that very well. He looked to see breakfast being levitated to the table: Chicken sausage, beans, eggs, hash browns, toast, and fried tomatoes with a side of fruit. His plate was covered in a small serving of each, and he cut up two pieces of hash brown for Tina and Oli to try. They all ate quietly and Harry saw Hedwig looming over the trees before diving. She must feel quite energetic this morning to be hunting–usually she hunts at night over the summer as it was cooler. He couldn’t see Crna, so he could only assume the owl was sulking with his sulky master. The scraping of forks pulled Harry back to the table, and he noticed that his plate was all done. Though, he didn’t ask for more. He collected the plates after begging to do the dishes, rings pulled off in a small dish, and washed them all in near boiling water. Once he was done, and the dishes were dried, he turned and waited for any instructions. 

‘If you are waiting to be dismissed, you are sorely mistaken, Helia–you do not need permission to do anything within this house apart from the lab.’ Uncle Sev was putting a cloak on as he spoke. Harry was reminded about how much he wanted to learn how to billow his robes, too. ‘My lab holds poisons I am studying, so it is off limits for when you are here. But that is the only limitation, alright?’ 

Despite a sparking curiosity, he nodded without asking what they were. Harry bit his lip, still waiting for someone to tell him if they were leaving or not. ‘When do we leave?’ He could see it was 7:10 am–the kids would be at Hogwarts in 20 minutes. 

‘Right now,’ Moony said with a smile. He had this dark brown cloak on, but Harry could see his cardigan hiding underneath it. ‘So go grab anything you’d like to bring, and we will head through the Floo.’ 

Harry went and grabbed his wands, holstering one to each of his forearms. He decided he wouldn’t need anything else if there was to be an investigation–Hogwarts was safe, but now that he knew he was safe here too, he wasn’t so mad if he wasn’t to go back until schooltime. It wasn’t until 7:45 am, that the kids all congregated in the hall. All piled on top of Harry, who was very thankful for the bone strengthening potion. As he thinks his ribs would have cracked under the weight. Harry saw how healthy the kids looked now that their magic stayed in them. Smiley and full of giggles they were. Ravi was currently–as Harry was still under the pile of children–telling him about how he and a few others were going to get tested. Juniper, Halley, and Demikja were going with Ravi too; the others were still in the process of being healed and would get tested later on in the month. It was exciting, and Harry could see how relieved each kid was. All bar one was talking about how eager they were about the prospects of finding their family. James had been the first to tackle Harry, and so was crushed against his chest–his magic was like a warm bath, and it soaked into Harry’s bones. With some effort, Harry moved his arms to wrap them around James’ back. Both boys’ glasses were askew, but he could see a small smile make it onto the smaller boy’s face. 

‘I am so happy you are here right now, James,’ Harry said and the smaller boy melted into him. ‘You are so brave for staying there, and I know we are going to have a lot of fun today.’ 

‘I hope so, I miss you a lot–when will we get to be with each other again?’ 

Harry thought for a moment–there were a lot of things he wanted done too. ‘Perhaps in two weeks? There are a lot of things I need to get done, so I don’t want to neglect our time together while being busy.’ Harry wanted to know as much about his family as he could before the summer ended. And he was going to be with Theo for three-ish days, so that only left a handful to get things done. ‘Once I am finished, we have the rest of the summer to have some fun, okay?’ 

‘Okay–Miss Eli said I can start finding my family once my magic calms down.’ The boy looked scared for a moment, tilting his neck to see Harry better. Harry didn’t think the boy’s magic was anything but calm–it was a warmth he craved, and hugged James closer. ‘Is it scary when you find some of your family?’ 

‘It was, but now I cannot think of anything better to do–when you find them, I know you are going to have the best time.’ 

‘What if they don’t want me?’ James said with a quivering lip. Harry could understand that fear, and he knew it was a possibility. ‘What if I get left behind?’ 

‘You will have a family that loves you, no matter who they are, okay?’ Harry smiled as the other kids all joined in reassuring James that everything will be fine. ‘See? They have faith, so you should too. We can hang out a lot after you find your family.’ 

‘Okay.’ 

‘How about we hop off poor Mister Potter, and get some of this energy out?’ Miss Eloise was in another sundress, only this one was a pale purple color. Her leg was still pin straight, and he wondered if it was painful after a day of walking. ‘We want to spend our time wisely, do we not? I will be back no earlier than 7:30, so have fun!’ 

A chorus of agreement rang through the hall, and Harry couldn’t be happier. His magic was dancing on his skin as he was pulled to stand. The wands he had in his holsters fizzled with the possibility of casting spells. The kids were arguing on what to do first, but Rosa–being the youngest–got to choose their first game. So now they were in groups searching for small treasures that would lead them to a giant one. Harry was with James, Louis, Demikja, Sanvi, and Alfred. Moony was grouped with Alexa, Rosa, Amani, Ravi, and Juniper whilst Uncle Sev had Auriel, Alucius, Marius, Nico, and Halley. So far, Poppy had done a wonderful job at hiding everything, because his group only had six out of a possible 50 treasures. From passing Moony, Harry saw they had twelve small trinkets. In the end, Uncle Sev’s group had won, having collected 22 small objects–their prize was that they got to choose the next game and had a small sweet each. 

The next game–voted on by the victors–was another scavenger hunt, but this time they needed to find a house ghost and certain portraits around the school. Harry had Alexa, Auriel, Halley, Rosa, and Louis this time. And the others were split up between Moony and Uncle Sev. This hunt was from Minnie, who gave them a sheet of who they needed to find. The fastest group got to choose the next game and what they had for dessert tonight. Alexa was talking to every portrait she could see, most of which were not on their list. Their list is composed of six portraits, three scenery paintings, and two ghosts. Harry summoned a pencil and wrote where he thought each thing was before they ventured off. 

The valley of Flowers–7th floor, east of Gryffindor Tower. 

Lady Charrington—2nd floor, west wing, next to St. Beechworth. 

Malady Dogwin—2nd flight of stairs, underneath Sir Barnaby. 

The village of Abraxians—Top left of the sixth floor corridor at entrance. 

Lady Bagdan the Third—7th floor, west wing entrance. 

Sir Bellswirth the Lumpy—3rd floor corridor, by the trap door room. 

The table of Kings—1st floor, next to the Herbology corridor. 

Elderich Diggory—Underneath Sir Helmsly by the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. 

Valentine Bloodhurst—in the dungeons next to the Slytherin common room entrance. 

Nearly Headless Nick—Most likely looming around the dungeons to find the Bloody Baron. 

The Bloody Baron—Most likely hiding in Uncle Sev’s office. 

They ran to The table of Kings first, then to Malady Dogwin, then Lady Charrington, and up to Sir Bellswirth. Harry says running, but really it was more like a fast-paced walk. Halley had complimented each portrait and was marveled at how well each was painted. Louis pulled funny faces at the gargoyles, and Rosa skipped and touched each painting she could reach. Auriel was speaking to each one, trying to get updates on the other groups, and Alexa was dancing around with the paper. They got to the seventh floor and found The Valley of Flowers, and Lady Bagdan before Harry heard hissing. A serpent statue was calling him closer, and so he had the children walk behind him. The serpent was made of stone, and had eyes of opal. It told him to place his hand on the wall and mutter what floor he wanted. If that was cheating, he didn’t really care. Because he knew these kids were going to be tired, so it was best to get this done fast. His own body was feeling the strain despite having a better breakfast than he usually would at school. He wanted the sixth floor and felt a magic pool in his fingers–the stone dissolved and a staircase appeared. The serpent told him to do this again with the wall next to his desired painting; before he could thank them, the serpent had returned to solid stone. 

‘The wall is gone! How did you do that?’ Alexa asked as she examined the hole. ‘Can we do that one day?’ 

‘I don’t know, but let's find the other paintings and then I think it will be food time.’ Harry had to cover his ears as the five children screamed with joy. 

Now he had all five kids talking about what they wanted to eat as they wound down the stairs. Alexa wanted a sandwich, Louis wanted to eat an entire apple with peanut butter, and Auriel wanted crackers–Rosa and Halley decided they’d wait to see what was there. The sixth floor was damper than he remembers, but he found The Village of Abraxians, so now they were headed down another set of stairs to the dungeons. Valentine Bloodhurst bared her fangs with glee as Harry asked if she knew where Nick was. 

‘That cutie headless-wannabe is in the common room with the baron. I like your fangs, cutie–little James Potter had the same tiny fangs at your age!’ Harry’s eyes widened, and he ran his tongue over his teeth. Sure enough, two elongated teeth were there. ‘But he flaunted his far more often. You should take notes, my dearest, and smile more!’ 

‘Thank you, I will,’ Harry said as he led the kids to the common room, blushing the entire time. He was curbing their questions on why he had pointy teeth with the promise of extra coloring time. ‘We need to find our ghost friends and run to the office!’ After Nick talked their ears off with nonsense, they made their way out of the dungeons and toward the headmaster's office. Turns out that Moony’s group had the same plan, but they had been inside Gryffindor Tower. Which was miles closer than they had been. And yet, both teams got to the same location simultaneously. ‘How many do you need to find?’ 

‘We have two more after this one!’ 

‘We have to go up the moving stairs to find them!’ 

‘Yeah, and then we come back down to have lunch.’ 

‘I got to touch the paintings–but the ghost wouldn’t stay still!’

‘Mister Moon said we can ride a slide!’ 

Harry smiled as everyone answered the question with an answer of their own. Moony just smiled and told him they only had one more thing to find, not two. He also said that there was no slide, but he was just rolling with it. Harry smiled as they went off and pouted when they saw Uncle Sev’s team sitting and waiting patiently. That man was evil–he knew where everything was! Not that Harry didn’t, but he had to have cheated–like Harry did–to have won again. The ten kids were talking about their little adventure and Harry was drinking juice after wobbling over to the bench. As it stands, Harry’s little reaction to the calming drought is looking more like an allergy thing, as Poppy stated when she came to him with the juice. She had a textbook floating behind her that was about rare allergies. 

‘I am not sure what it is exactly, but we have alternatives that are suitable. One ingredient in the other potion deprives the body of blood sugar, so I am not entirely surprised you needed some juice. I did not think it would remain in your system for this long though, so that is something to watch.’ Her eyes went stern. Perhaps that was why he felt light-headed this morning, great. At least it wasn’t nerves.  ‘Do not overdo it today, young man–the school year has not started and I already have had you in my infirmary already!’ 

‘That time wasn’t my fault! And I also didn’t want that calming drought, but needed it apparently.’ He sipped his juice and watched James–who had been in Uncle Sev’s group–play with Louis. ‘What time are we sitting for lunch?’ 

‘As soon as Remus comes back with the others, then we’ll sit for lunch. Afterwards we have wand making! Minerva is setting that up in her classroom at the moment.’ Poppy summoned more glasses that filled themselves with juice. 

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and four small children scrambled in, looking gleeful. Moony looked fond, holding Sanvi in his arms. Soon lunch was on the table and all fifteen children were digging in. Moony was helping Louis and Rosa plate their food, and Uncle Sev was watching Alexa deconstruct her peanut butter sandwich and put chips inside. The stern man’s face held a gleam of fondness that Harry knew Moony was going to tease him over later. Harry had taken fruit slices and half a sandwich for himself, and was helping Juniper reach the pineapple. She was improving her coordination as her other eye adjusted to being healthy. The food, which was brought out by eager elves, was demolished and Harry felt queasy after accepting fruit from each kid. He looked at his watch as lunch ended, and saw it was already 2:30 pm–they had only five hours left to be with each other. A part of him dreaded them leaving, but another part was grateful that they had somewhere to be. Soon, most–if not all–of them would be in homes with their family, or new families once they are adopted. 

With full stomachs, the energised walk to the Transfiguration classroom was nice as they all trailed together in a tight group. The floors were clean, and he wondered how Filch and Mrs. Norris were doing now that there were no children–bar them–around. The door was ajar and Moony pushed it open to reveal several small stations. Floating paint pots drifted around the room and Rosa tried to catch one, only to have all the paint splatter to the floor. With a snort, Harry vanished the mess and frowned–he didn’t know how to conjure paint. He’s never conjured a liquid before, so he was glad when Moony filled the pot with more of the crimson stuff. Uncle Severus sighed; he looked to be mentally calculating how much mess fifteen kids were going to make. He should be glad that this isn’t the muggle world, where things are cleaned and fixed by hand.  

‘Now, there are some non-magical woods that I had Hagrid collect for me. There are also paintbrushes, carving tools, paint, water bowls, and inks.’ Minnie smiled, even if it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I, unfortunately, cannot stay as I have an emergency meeting with the Minister about goodness knows what. So I will hopefully see you all at supper.’ 

Everyone said goodbye and picked a station to work at–after Harry explained Minnie said minister and not minestrone. Louis was sad knowing that there was no pasta but perked up at the promise of having it for dinner. Harry had Alfred sitting next to him, asking what everything was in English, while James sat across from him asking what stick he should use. All the kids had chosen sticks that were about the length of their forearms. Alexa, Auriel, Amani, Alfred, and Alucius had pine sticks that had been shaved of bark. The sticks were pale and grainy–chosen because they smelt nice. Louis, Rosa, Halley, Demikja, and Sanvi were waving their unfinished Pecan branches with enthusiasm. Juniper, Ravi, Nico, and Marius had white oak branches that were quite thick and fun to wave, apparently. James was still undecided, with two different branches in front of him. A cedar branch–which was barkless–and an evergreen branch sat waiting to be picked. Harry suggested he hold one at a time, and wave it to see if he liked the weight. Because they still needed to decorate them. James bit his lip as he cradled each branch carefully, as if dropping it would splinter it to pieces. And, after five minutes of contemplation, James chose the evergreen because it was light and had green in the name. Which was his favourite color. Now everyone was in the process of painting, inking, and carving–with Moony’s help–their wands. Uncle Sev had taken to roaming around and helping–begrudgingly–where he was needed. Harry had taken a black walnut branch for himself, and he was currently shaving the sides to make it a square base. He then carved runes into the sides, doing his best not to let his magic seep into the cuts. He didn’t want to make anything explode–he’d read, briefly, that if he does something wrong, then it will splinter and fly everywhere. 

In the end, there was more paint on the tables and kids than on the wands. But that was the whole point–fun. Now everyone was waving their wand and casting meaningless spells that didn’t exist. Though Harry was standing behind Rosa and telling her to cast Lumos–though he did it for her as her pronunciation needed some work. Soon a small ball of light was dancing around her wand and her squeals of delight filtered around the room. Uncle Sev was showing some others the levitation charm, and Moony cast the patronus charm. Harry desperately wanted to master that spell–he wanted to know what he’d get, and if it matched either of his parents. His watch buzzed as an alarm went off, signalling that it was 4:50 pm. 

‘It seems lovely outside, why don’t we have a snack in the sun?’ Moony asked, as he spelled the room clean. ‘I have a feeling that Hagrid has let Fang out to find some gnomes.’ 

‘Is fluffy still in the Forbidden Forest?’ Harry looked with hopeful eyes as Uncle Sev pursed his lips before nodding. ‘Do you think Hagrid would let me go see them after dinner?’ 

‘I think he’d like to spend some time with you, so I have no doubt he’d agree. Come now, let us take our wands and go for a walk to find a sunny spot.’ Moony picked Sanvi up and led the fourteen others out the door. Harry followed, both hands being held by Louis and James. Uncle Severus was stuck leading Rosa down the hall; her tiny arm stretched as far as it could go to hold his hand. 

Hagrid–by some half-giant intuition–met them outside with Fang chasing a butterfly. All the children were staring up at him; Rosa even had her head tilted in confusion. They all asked why he was so tall, and Alexa–in her cuteness–wanted to know if his height made picking fruit easier. With a guttural laugh, Hagrid said picking things high up was a lot easier, but going low was difficult. Fang was now leading them to a poplar tree that had low-lying branches for Uncle Sev to sit on. A picnic blanket was placed on the ground and everyone was given an ice-lolly. Harry was speaking with Hagrid about seeing Fluffy and the half-giant was delighted that he wanted to see him. So, with a promise to be back shortly, Harry followed Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest, wand out. Just in case. 

‘I am so glad that yur alright, Lia! Pop said ye took the brunt of that swine's force,’ Hagrid said as he led Harry deeper. The ground was damp, and Harry needed to squint to see everything. ‘I ‘ope that those things get what’s common’ for ‘em! But I am glad that ye ended up with Remus and old Severus, that’s where I wanted ye to end up in the beginning.’ Beginning? Harry didn’t want to spend too much time on that, he wanted to see Fluffy and then get back. He’d dwell on that later, because this was new to him, so he’ll dig deeper later. ‘Now, mind yur step, Fluffy’s been diggin’ the place up, ye see. Trying to find truffles under the soil.’ 

Harry, stupidly, cast Lumos once they were ten metres into the forest to see all the small holes on the ground. Then, as it moved, he saw a paw retract; he then heard a small whine come from above. Fluffy was as large, if not larger, than Harry remembered. This time Fluffy had their tongues out, panting with excitement. A dramatic shift from their last encounter. No music needed either. Three heads took their turn to lick him, and he stiffened–as much as the smaller, two heads less k9 was alright being so close at Malfoy manor, he still wasn’t quite used to the proximity. He waited for their onslaught of saliva to end before he wiped his face with his sleeve. Now that he wasn’t trapped in a room off the ground, Fluffy looked good–he had a lot of lean muscle on his bones, and looked well exercised. He raised his hand, and the head in the middle rested their forehead against his palm. 

‘No more possessed professors or small kids anymore, huh?’ Harry was smiling despite the memories of Quirrel flashing behind his glasses. ‘And, you have all this space to run around! No more cramped classrooms for you.’ 

‘Yer a wonderful lad, ye are Helia. I’m lookin’ foreward te seeing ye in Care, right?’ Harry nodded as Hagrid led them in another direction, leaving Fluffy to dig his holes. ‘I was going te wait for class, but I wasn’t sure about ye being there–this time, they ain’t dying, and I’m sure they’d love to meet ye.’ Harry wanted to be confused so that he could be pleasantly surprised. But as they walked through the overgrown forest, he could hear whinnies coming from his left. ‘Now, I’ll be showing his mam in class and not him–but I wanted ye to meet this lil colt before his mammy hides him away!’ 

In the small clearing, Harry was standing in front of a small colt–his body shimmered as Harry cast more luminous spheres. They were more difficult to control, but the cloak warmed with encouragement and he let his magic seep out. Harry knelt down to stay as small as possible. His wand went back into his arm holster and he fixed his glasses. He could see the mare twitching with nerves, so he sat on the damp ground, crossing his legs, and placing his hands on his knees. The moment his hands landed on his knees, the colt stumbled over to him with gangly legs. It crashed into Harry’s lap, and huffed in frustration before its mother whinnied for it to get back up. He watched for what seemed like forever, but was only mere moments, before it stood and clambered around the small clearing. The mother got to her feet and made her way over too–she nudged Harry’s bewildered face and bowed shallowly. Hagrid, for all his outgoingness, whispered for Harry to hold his hand out and touch her. With trembling hands, he slowly put one hand out and felt the space lighting up with magic. It pulsed under his skin, and his scar burst with pain–but instead of saying anything, Harry let it throb and stab at his skull. It’s no wonder that something as pure as a unicorn would unnerve a scar created by a spell that led to death. The foal stumbled back to him and ended up licking the salty sweat from his face. Within a blink of his eyes, Harry watched a beam of light shoot out and then Hagrid was the only one else around. 

‘How did ye feel? When she wandered to my hut, she wouldn’t let me go near. I’m so chuffed ye got to touch her!’ Harry sat with his hand held out still, blinking in the hopes to catch another glimpse of the two horned animals. ‘Now I’d love te keep you for a little longer, but I think ye kiddies would beat me with their little hands. Come on, back to the light with you.’ 

Harry stood, letting the spheres disappear, and used his glittering hand to lead him back to the light. 

——

Dinner was intense, food ended up everywhere and Harry tried so hard not to have to explain his potion to everyone. In the end, Moony took the time to tell them that Harry needs this so he can play with you a lot more. Which was true, he needed the potion if he wanted to get better. And stay better. He already feels more alive than he ever has, even if he wasn’t eating as much as he knows he should. But he ate more than he ever had in the Great Hall before: half a seared chicken breast, a small scoop of lemon-mint beans and corn, a spoon of fresh onion and tomato salad, and one crispy roast potato. Alucius, Alfred, and Marius had dug right in, with at least twice the amount that Harry had. Even Halley dug into her salmon–the girl had wanted to know what fish tasted like, and Dobby was very keen on showing her the best tasting. Juniper, Demikja, and Nico had stolen most of the mac ‘n’ cheese, leaving the elves the job to make more. Rosa–with the help of Poppy–had a piece of steak cut up and fries; she did not like the cucumbers Poppy tried to make her eat, and refused all veg after that. Auriel, to Harry’s surprise, loved cucumbers, and took the whole bowl of sliced ones for herself–her meat of choice was two chicken drumsticks that Moony removed the meat from for her. Amani, Alexa, and Sanvi had unseasoned lamb skewers with mashed potatoes, and a tiny side of carrot rings. Ravi had cubed lamb bits with rice and mixed veg that Uncle Sev had made for him–Harry was a little envious as he had not seen the rice before he chose what he’d eat. Louis was with Minnie eating off of her plate of blanched spinach and cheesy potatoes–he felt bad for the animals that died and so he didn’t want any meat tonight. But he had promised to try some other time. Now James was the cutest; he–with some coxing from Harry–had taken a bit from each food group. He had even asked Harry to help him separate his food by color and texture. So Harry had asked Minnie if there was a spell that could raise bits of the porcelain plate. And, to James’ delight, Harry had cast the right spell after his third try. 

Dessert was another story, and Harry was sure Moony was enjoying this more than anyone. The winning group from the tasks had chosen chocolate-themed desserts with whipped cream and fresh fruits. Harry has never seen as much chocolate before in his life–and he could only assume the kids never had either. Ravi, Juniper, Nico, Alexa, and Marius had a lava cake with orange slices. Juniper was a little miffed that the lava didn’t erupt like Miss Eli said they did with real volcanos. Alexa was just having fun watching the fudgy stuff leak from hers and onto the oranges. Louis, Rosa, Amani, Demikja, and Sanvi were demolishing a bowl of chocolate mud cake with fresh cream and berries. It looked rich and Harry had to swallow harshly before looking away; that would sink to the bottom of his stomach and push everything else up. He helped Alfred and Alucius plate their chocolate and raspberry tart slices, and dolloped whipped cream on top. James had thought about having the same until he decided he didn’t want a tart. Instead, James had a bowl of chocolate ice cream with brownie bits and blackberries–Auriel and Halley wanted the same once James had his bowl. Minnie, Poppy, and Uncle Sev had a black forest cheese cake sort of thing consisting of dark chocolate filling, dressed in raspberry coulis and cookie crumbs. Moony had a hot brownie with cream and oranges–it didn’t last long, and James laughed at Moony’s cream stache he received from the milkshake he had as well. Harry opted for something more salty than sweet, so he had a sea salt caramel chocolate cookie sandwich. When he took a bite, he noticed the ice cream in the middle was vanilla bean. No one spoke as they all devoured their treat, and by the time 7:30 hit, they were all finished and had chocolate covered mouths. 

Miss Eloise came in with an enormous smile on her face at the sight of sleepy children. Her dress was replaced with robes, and she had a briefcase in one hand. Minnie got up and greeted her, and the children started whining about having to leave. Harry could feel James’ hands grip his shirt, and his heart hurt. He didn’t want any of them to leave, but they needed routine–needed to get used to being around many people. They couldn’t find their families from within these stone walls, no matter how much Harry would try for them. Rosa, clung to Uncle Severus and cried, saying she didn’t want to leave anymore; Louis did the same with Poppy, his little fists gripping her dress. James didn’t cry, but he buried his head into Harry’s side as he whispered for him not to be taken away. 

‘Remember, we have the rest of summer to see each other–and I loved getting your letters!’ Harry was carding his hand through James’ hair. ‘Getting those was the best part of my day! So I look forward to getting more of them–finding out what you’ve been learning at St. Alexandra. I know a day isn’t much, but we will have so many more days like this again.’ He could tell the others were listening in, and he meant it. ‘I want you to be able to owl me, telling me you’ve done more magic and found people that will love you just as much as I do. Okay?’ 

‘You won’t forget us when school starts?’ Alucius asked as he fiddled with his hands. ‘We’ll be able to owl you then, too?’ 

‘Of course! And I will make sure that I read every word and respond well.’ Harry can imagine his hands cramping after homework and studying. ‘I have some friends that would love to hear about your days too! So make lots of memories for me, okay?’ 

‘Okay!’ everyone shouted–even James who was still attached to Harry’s side. 

‘Well, you all look like the wind could blow you over!’ Eloise said with a small smile, ‘Lets get back and into bed, shall we? You all know what’s happening tomorrow, don’t you?’ 

‘We get to make a big fire!’ Alexa screamed with excitement. 

‘That’s right, so we best get a long night's sleep–what do you say before we leave?’ 

‘Thank you, we love you!’ The kids were screaming and Moony snorted as Rosa looked up to Uncle Severus as she said it. 

‘I’ll see you all soon, okay? I have some things to sort out first–maybe in another two weeks, if things go well?’ Harry was relieved when they all agreed, and James liked the idea of it being so soon. ‘Now be kind to each other for Miss Eli and I am sure you will have a wonderful day tomorrow!’ 

The hall was quiet save for the stack of papers Poppy was sorting through. Eloise had given Minnie the case before they all left–it was full of healer documents that detailed injuries and such. Harry wasn’t allowed to look through those, but Minnie had allowed him to see what their birthdays were. Apparently, there was a spell that could tell them how old someone was; it was a safety thing because some potions couldn’t be taken by those under a certain age. He now had dates to put on the calendar, thirteen dates to make sure presents were bought by. They didn’t have their full names on them, just their first names and the birthdate–Poppy said it wasn’t a detailed spell, it was just to see how old the child was. Nothing like an inheritance test that could only be done by the goblins. Thirteen days and fifteen names were spread across one piece of parchment, and Harry was glad that the kids knew their exact ages now. 

Alucius—February 7th, 1983 

Alfred—February 7th, 1983 

Marius—January 1st, 1984 

Demikja—January 3rd, 1984 

Juniper—August 9th, 1984 

Ravi—May 1st, 1985 

Nico—May 3rd, 1986 

Amani—February 14th, 1986 

Auriel—February 14th, 1986 

James—August 7th, 1986 

Halley—June 17th, 1987 

Alexa—January 30th, 1988 

Sanvi—August 30th, 1987 

Louis—March 22nd, 1989 

Rosa—April 17th, 1989 

The next set of birthdays were James, Junipers, and Sanvi’s–all three in August. James was turning seven, Juniper was turning nine, and Sanvi was turning six. Harry will need to look for birthday presents on top of everything else he needs to do. Though, some of the things he’s planning to do can wait a while–he wanted them to have the best presents! He wasn’t sure if they had ever gotten one before, so they needed to be perfect. Alucius and Alfred were going to join him at school next year–then in his fifth year Marius, Demikja, and Juniper will join them too. Ravi will be the only one to join in his sixth year, and Nico, Amani, Auriel, and James will join in his NEWT year. The others will come in the years after he’d graduated–Halley and Sanvi in 1998, Alexa in 1999, and Louis and Rosa in the year 2000. Harry hoped he lived long enough to see the youngest ones step onto the train; he’ll make it his mission to see them all get on that train. Even if he died the next day, he would be there on September 1st. 

‘Now, if you would like to head to the chamber for a little while, I'll send for you at a reasonable time.’ Minnie was collecting the papers and shrunk the briefcase and pocketed it. ‘If you’d like to stay in Ravenclaw tower, then that is perfectly fine as well. Remus, Severus, any kickbacks?’ 

‘None.’ 

That was four hours ago now, and Minnie hasn’t sent for him yet. He’s been in the chamber since 8:00, and it was now midnight. So far in his search for the school charter, he’s found a lot of little trinkets that told him interesting stories. Salazar has yet to appear, but Harry assumed that even the dead needed a curfew. The books that have been preserved in his study were heavy, and he struggled to levitate them around in order to clean the place up. The loose papers were a little annoying, but he got them nice and neat in one place. All categorised by subject and project. With a big stretch, Harry dusted his pants and decided it was a good time to head back up. The magic in the chamber was making him sleepy with its warmth, despite the chamber itself being frigid and damp. His wand–the yew and dogwood–warmed as he made his way out into the larger part of the chamber. There were still so many alcoves to explore, each one guarded by a serpent statue. He held his wand out, spelling spheres into the air as he made his way out. A blue light flashed and a cat patronus walked towards him–it sat before telling him he was to come up now, and choose where he wanted to sleep. With a snort, he said he was on his way, and the cat strutted down the stone path before vanishing in a puff of wispy magic. The books–no matter how interesting–they were going to remain here until he could translate them. They were in his ancestors' personal study, so they were important, and no doubt valuable now. His mind wandered to the locket patent, and he wracked his brain for where he put it. Perhaps he could try to make one himself one day; he didn’t think of himself as any form of talented, but it was worth trying to achieve at least once. The Baron was floating around and he bid the ghost goodnight as he left the Slytherin common room. 

Moony met him in the hall, a tired smile on his face. They left through Minnie’s Floo and arrived back to the house to the smell of tea. Uncle Severus was sitting at the island with more coffee, and Harry went over to see if he could be bothered to finish his Potions essay before he collapsed into bed. Tina and Oli were coiling around his legs as he walked, telling him about their day all alone. They had caught four rats each, and found they liked to chase small birds through the bushes. Their weight was nice, and for once he wanted a hot shower to ease the tension that has built in his muscles. But first, he needed to find his homework, as it wasn’t where he had left it. He looked everywhere around the table–he checked to see if he had put it between his charms essay by accident, but it wasn’t there. With a pout he scratched his head with his free hand–the other had his charms essay in it. Tina was now in his hair, complementing the lemony smell. Oli was around his waist like a huge belt. 

‘If you are looking for your Potions essay, it is in my lab awaiting trial of your potion.’ Harry blinked at his uncle, tilting his head in confusion. His lab? Why was it there? ‘I was intrigued by your selection, and thought to test it out for myself. I have made three variations going off of your notes and we will have to see which holds up the best in a month's time.’ 

‘You made my shitty potion idea?’ Harry asked. ‘Why? Apart from being intrigued, of course.’ 

‘Because there is nothing like it on the market, and if it works–which I am certain it will–you may patent it under my guidance if you so wish.’ Patent? The Potions Master thinks his shitty idea could work? Really, that was so hard to believe! ‘I have, without your permission, conferred with an old associate to check it over once the month is up to check my theory. So, with your permission, I would like it if you sat with us to explain your reasoning later on.’ 

Harry was beyond tired now, but he had enough energy to remain confused. ‘You really think it could help someone?’ Nothing Harry created ever ended up being successful–his model volcano (that Dudley ruined), his market day project, nor his science fair research–nothing went his way. 

‘I think you are more than capable, and I would like to work with you to perfect the brewing of it yourself.’ His uncle's dark eyes met his own. ‘I have a lot to apologise for and I am not good at them, so I hope we can move forward.’ Harry bit his lip–he couldn’t erase two years of torment, but he could make a new start for the rest of his life. So he nodded and his uncle let out a sigh of relief. ‘Alright, to bed with you, we can go over everything tomorrow–Dorea old whilst you were in the chamber, and she is coming to take you to Potter manor tomorrow afternoon. So you’d best get some sleep.’ 

‘Okay, goodnight,’ Harry said and walked upstairs and straight for the shower. 

Under the steaming water, Harry could hear the spirits talking to each other again. They were arguing about when they wanted to see him again, and who would go this time. By the time he finished dressing and applying–with difficulty–the salve, he was too tired to keep listening. Dudley’s letter remained unopened, and Harry swore he’d read it tomorrow after breakfast. For now he cozied up in bed and fell asleep to kisses on his forehead. The pain in his scare finally went away.

Chapter Text

Hands gripped his shirt, and a knee pinned him to the ground–laughter rings in his ears as he struggled to break free. Four pairs of eyes glower at him as he looks up, their blurriness amplifying the terror Harry feels. His body was bruised, and he could feel his skin tear as he was pulled up and crushed against a tree. Harry was losing energy from fighting the two sets of hands–the other two had shovels within their grips, looking ready to either dig his grave or whack him over the head. 

‘Pissy Potter, talks so big but he can’t escape! How pathetic–and to think he was related to our boy Dud!’ His ears rang as the laughter intensified. ‘You’ll be nice and cozy under the wet soil, because you’re nothing but a lowly worm.’ 

‘I think that’s enough, Greg–look at him! He’s pissed himself and he’s dirtier than your quad bike!’ Harry, through tear-filled eyes, sees Piers drop the shovel. ‘You said we were just scaring him! Not that we’d actually bury the poor guy! I’ve had enough, Dudley, if you have any decent bones in you, you get them to stop! This isn’t teasing anymore, this is emotional torture!’ 

Harry could hear his shoulder pop from the force the two boys were applying, and that was when everyone but Greg pulled away. He could feel a wetness in his pants, and the tears flowed heavily as he choked on his sobs. The shovels were thrown to the side and hands gripped Greg's shoulders as they tried pulling him back. But this boy–at nine-years-old–was built like a tank. Mostly muscle covered in a generous amount of fat. Harry cried harder as the pressure on his shoulder increased, he could feel blood rolling down his back from the bark digging into his skin. After forever and a day, the hands pressing his body to the tree let go and Harry slumped to the floor. An argument began the moment Harry felt his butt land in the dirt. 

‘He’s almost three years younger than you, you fat rat! You’re practically three times the size!’ Piers was yelling in Greg's face whilst the others hooked the shovels to their bikes. ‘You’ve hurt his shoulder and now we need to explain how he got it! I promised my mum that I’d help look after him.’ 

‘Yeah, Greg, we were supposed to tease him to give us them books on magic! Not pin him to the ground and beat the ever living shite out of him!’ Wilson–the boy from the corner house–was spindly and near tears as he pushed past Greg and towards Harry. He knelt down and gestured for Hunter to come over. ‘Help me get him on the bike! We need to wheel him to your mum’s.’ 

‘She’s at work, though!’ Hunter said nervously. ‘But Abigail’s home! She’ll know what to do.’ 

The argument lessened as Harry was taken to Rayburn street, two blocks from Pivot Drive. His whole body hurt, and he was desperately trying not to cry more. His mind went blank as he limped into the Manchester house, its cream walls hurting his eyes. Abigail was whispering her anger as she patched Harry up–she relocated his shoulder with a sickening crack. Hunter, Piers, and Wilson were taking the verbal lashing whilst Greg and Dudley were forced into doing the household chores. It was a punishment the teen girl gave them for being so stupid. It was honestly funny that a fifteen-year-old had more sense for consequences than most adults did. 

‘Now, I don’t want you doing any heavy lifting for a while–if the Dursleys make you do anything, then come back here. Okay?’ Harry wouldn’t be allowed out, but he nodded anyway. Her gaze went to Dudley, who was sweeping the floor terribly. ‘From that appalling show, I know you’ve never done a chore in your life, Dudley Vincent! Put your back into it, or else I will ring you up by your ear and make you explain yourself to the bobby’s!’ 

With the mention of the police, both boys cleaned with vigor. Hunter and Wilson were to make tea–both boys were not getting their new bikes for another year now. Piers will have to confess to his mum, with Abigail by his side. 

‘They won’t believe you, you know?’ Harry said. ‘They never do.’ 

‘I’ll make them believe me! I won’t forget what my idiot brother and his friends did. And your cousin needs proper consequences.’ Her voice sounded like it was under water, and tears sprung to Harry’s eyes. 

She forgot, and so did Harry. His chest was heavy as he sobbed into his pillow as the memory replayed over in his head. A hand was rubbing his back and phantom pain riddled his body. He could hear Tina questioning why the salt water was rolling down in dew drops. Oli was hissing about biting someone for making Harry upset. The magic curled around him like a swaddle, and Harry curled into a ball to chase the warmth. A wet snout nosed at Harry's cheek, and a long tongue lapped at his tears. Fluffy fur from Moony’s tail tickled his nose as the gigantic wolf curled around him. The candles had long since burned out as Harry looked blindly across the room. There were no more whispered arguments now that the flames were dead. Severus’ hand moved to his hair and Harry calmed down enough to catch his breath. For the longest time, and as the sun peaked in through the curtains, the three of them remained silent. Save for Harry’s sniffles. Tina and Oli were on the windowsill, watching the sun rise–they hissed about the enormous ball of light being the color of an egg yolk. He felt–as he became more aware of his surroundings–the cloak being placed onto his back and the soothing magic seeped into his skin. A golden light pounced from the pictures as Harry’s breathing evened out. The lynx was back and sitting with its head resting on the bed. With little thought behind his eyes, Harry reached out despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to touch the animal. But to his surprise, his hands glided over the shining fur and he could hear the lynx purring. Moony whined and reached over Harry’s back to licked at the lynx. But his snout went right through. 

‘This is what I saw at Alica’s house,’ Harry whispered. ‘Golden, but I couldn’t touch that one.’ 

‘That was because you had little magic left, Helia. Remus, stop trying to lick him, he’s permeable to you, you dumb wolf!’ Sev had Moony by the scruff and yanked him away from the lynx. ‘It is almost time for breakfast, so shift and go prepare it whilst Helia gets more rest!’ 

‘I don’t need more rest–I kind of don’t want to go back to sleep at all for a while.’ He didn’t want to risk seeing any fresh memories again. Not if they were as bad as that one had been. His shoulder ached even though nothing was wrong with it. ‘Can I help with breakfast?’ 

‘No, you may help with lunch though, for when your aunt arrives.’ 

‘Isn’t she my great-aunt?’ Harry asked. She was married to his grandfather's half brother, so, huh? 

‘But she is young enough to be your aunt–she’s only in her fifties, Helia.’ Sev’s hand left his hair as he stood. ‘She is the youngest of the lot of them–she had just turned 21 when James was born. I will remind her to have you see the Potter tapestry.’ 

‘Okay.’ Harry sat up, and felt his heir-rings warm, pulling him to touch the lynx again. ‘Do you think this is a message?’ 

‘This is considered a guardian spirit–a family member visiting in times of need. Though, you shouldn’t be able to touch it, however nothing is as it seems with you.’ Sev raised an amused brow as the Lynx growled at him. ‘Not that it is a terrible thing, just another peculiar thing to live with. Now, clean up and we will have breakfast–I am sure Remus has made a mess already, so smile and eat it, anyway.’ 

The shower was cold again; he needed to get rid of the heat inside his chest from the magic. He loved it, he did, but he didn’t want to feel it this way all the time. The lynx didn’t stick around to wait while he showered, and that was fine with him–he wasn’t actively in distress now, so there was no need for him anyway. He dressed in a blue silk shirt and grey trousers, feeling that today was a mellow day. Tina slithered up his leg as he grabbed shoes, and Oli slid along the floor beside him. They hissed about wanting to eat the ball of light, but Harry said that the sun was too far away to hunt. Grovelling, both serpents declared they will one day catch the sun. Snorting, Harry walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. There was smoke coming from the pans and Uncle Severus was looking more and more exasperated by the second. He was yelling about how easy cooking eggs were and that Moony had done enough yesterday. 

‘It had to have been a fluke! You’ve burnt water, Remus, water!’ 

‘You told me to make breakfast, so I am! It’s not my fault the water said nothing as it burned.’ There was a slight scuffle as both men cleaned the pans. ‘You could have easily come down and done breakfast yourself, but you sent me instead, so it is your own fault!’ 

‘Can I make breakfast?’ Harry asked, and both adults sighed. ‘I know a thing or two on how to not burn water, if that helps.’ 

‘The cheek of you!’ Moony lamented with a sigh, but ultimately he handed the now clean pan over. ‘We’re supposed to be looking after you, not the other way around.’ 

‘I’d like to repair my relationship with food that isn’t charcoal, Moony, if that’s alright.’ Harry grabbed the pan and went to work. He ushered both men away and made Oli stand guard. ‘Now go fluff around for ten minutes while I get something edible cooked. Any preferences? No? Wonderful.’ 

‘Cheeky,’ Moony said as he went to collect whatever it was he needed from upstairs. 

Breakfast was nice, not being burnt or anything. Harry had made pancakes, cooked hash browns and eggs, cut fruit, and toasted some bread. He had one pancake for himself, half a hash brown and one green apple. Moony had five pancakes, three hash browns, three eggs, and four slices of melon. Severus had three pancakes, one hash brown and two poached eggs with black coffee. Coffee that Harry put some vanilla syrup into, and got no complaints. So either the man didn’t care for it, or he cared a lot but said nothing. Harry had given Tina the other half of his hash brown and Oli had a pancake of his own. Moony has insisted on doing the dishes whilst Harry was with Sev in the lab. Which was considerably similar to the classroom at Hogwarts, minus all the student tables. 

It had stone walls that weren’t damp, with high ceilings and wooden floors that didn’t creak. A cauldron sat to the side, and there were three things in the middle of the table by the large window. A black box, a glass box, and a small pedestal. His potion idea had been brought to life and were now being tested to see how they held up. He could see copious amounts of vials everywhere, as well as ingredient cupboards along the far wall. They were filled to the brim with jars and wads of leafy items. He walked in further and crouched to see the bottles better–to think Severus took any interest in his nonsense. And yet, here they sit, bottled and being tested. 

‘Would you like to make your creation yourself? I have written the method out for all three based on your notes. So there are a few variants you can try yourself, if you wish?’ Harry stood and turned to face the man. A small frown on his lips. ‘Before you asked if we are wasting anything, how do you think potions were perfected before?’ 

‘Okay, what type of cauldron did you use? I don’t think copper would be very good, it would heat too fast…’ Harry was rambling as they collected everything they needed. By the time he was done thinking out loud, he had settled on using a galvanised steel cauldron. ‘It would keep heat well, without the fear of hot patches. And it’s thick, so it won’t lose heat so quickly if we leave it to steep.’ 

‘We have a few hours before Dorea arrives, so we have ample time to test some other things as well–’ 

Harry glared at the Potions Master playfully. ‘You just want to see if my passing grade was because of the written section, don’t you?’ 

‘I am not above checking your progress, Helia. Let us see how well you can perform with a fourth-year potion, shall we?’ Harry saw three cauldrons float over, and he swallowed his anticipation. With a nod, he set to work, wondering what potion he’d end up needing to attempt. 

‘Let us begin, then.’ 

Three hours, and three attempts at the Skel-o-grow potion later, Harry had one finished potion and another bubbling away on stasis. Harry was undoubtedly curious about where his potions professor had gotten an arm bone–but he was content not knowing, lest he end up having his own stolen in his sleep. His potion that he created was this glittering burgundy color, and more watery than he expected. When asked what he thought about it, or more importantly, why he got the results he had, he couldn’t answer right away. He went over the ingredients book and went to the Hippogriff saliva section. And in tiny writing he needed to squint to see, he saw that potions with this ingredient will not thicken and remain quite watery upon completion. Harry had then asked if the watery consistency would affect the other ingredients. Which earned him a raised brow and was told that the thinner the potion, the easier it was to swallow quickly. If it had thickened, then it would have evaded the laws of magic. Harry didn’t think magic had laws, because people could turn into animals, and animals could be turned into objects. Water can be conjured, as could a bird–so if there were any laws regarding magical possibilities, Harry hasn’t come across any yet. Severus just shook his head and told him to freeze the bottle, saying that multiple variants of preservation would help Harry’s thesis. Something he hadn’t planned on writing, but the man had looked at him expectantly when he mentioned it. 

‘You’d do well to accept praise for your achievements, Helia. If this works as well as I assume it will, then this could benefit many who cannot swallow thick potions, or are allergic to certain ingredients,’ Sev had said as they were bottling his potion. 

A waft of magic coming from the door made Harry shiver as he put the equipment away. He turned to see Moony opening the door, head poking in with a smile. ‘Dorea is here, boys, so you’d best pack up and clean up before she scrubs you with the toilet brush.’ 

‘Does she know what that is?’ Harry asked as they walked out the room. ‘I would have thought the elves cleaned up for them.’ 

‘They do, but I took Muggle Studies when I was at school–mother hated it, but I got all O’s in that class so she couldn’t argue.’ With a heavy blush, Harry greeted his aunt. ‘Pop some fresh clothes on and we’ll head off. We’ll have lunch at the manor, and then I am taking you into Diagon for some pre-school shopping. As much as I enjoy learning with everyone else, there is nothing wrong with dipping into a subject early–you never know, you might find that you don’t like a subject as much as you’d thought.’ 

That sounded nice, Harry thought as he ran up the stairs; he changed into a dark purple button up and blue-black trousers, changing his shoes to black ones as his other pair were brown. He grabbed his list of books to look for Theo, his wands, cloak, and a small satchel filled with quills and ink. His notebook was downstairs, so he’ll grab that before he leaves. Tina and Oli were on the kitchen table hissing about how pretty the dove woman was. Their tongues out to scent her magic. 

‘I am more than happy for you to bring them, Helia. The manor would appreciate another set of serpents within its walls.’ Her smile was soft, but not sad like last time. She pulled something out of her pocket. ‘I also have this for you, it was finished last night. We can put it on when we get to the ward boundary lines.’ The pendant was glimmering and Harry nodded dumbly, looking forward to having it around his neck. ‘Lovely, I’ll return him to you later on tonight.’ 

With a hug from Moony and a more awkward hug from Sev, Harry trailed behind his aunt with Tina in his hair. Oli was around Aunt Dorea’s shoulders; he hissed about how nice she smelled, like those bulb fruits (pears) and swirled thick cow’s milk (whipped cream). Her hand was soft as he grasped it, holding his breath as they apparated once outside of the wards. They landed in a meadow, and Harry had this sudden realisation as they began walking towards a large willow. 

‘My inheritance test said that Potter Manor was in El Salvador, so where are we?’ There was no way they could have apparated that far. ‘Unless that is just a cover up?’ 

‘I knew you were a wonderful child, but that is an astounding theory.’ Her eyes crinkled as she turned to face him. ‘And you are absolutely right! Some time ago, Marisol declared she wanted her home to be protected in case anything were to happen because of conflict. So, instead of having the Manor unplottable, she placed charms on it so that it seemed like it was in El Salvador.’ 

‘Was it because of the conflicts there? Like, no one would want to invade it because of the location?’ Harry asked as they made it to the willow, its tendril-like leaves tickling his neck. ‘Were there that many people that wanted to hurt her?’ 

‘Not hurt, not exactly, they feared her values and ways of leading that they didn’t know what to think of her. And that was dangerous.’ The leaves, like little serpents, pulled back like curtains and Harry saw a door. ‘Potter Manor is actually in Winchester, Hampshire. Now brace yourself, it can get a little windy.’ 

Harry held his breath as they went through the door. Pale blue walls and a gust of wind greeted him as they walked through–windows that scaled towards the ceiling let a blinding light inside. There were no portraits or artefacts, so he could only assume this was just a means of getting to the main house. Having one of the entrances as a willow was amazing. He wondered what other places his family owned were structured like this one. The sun dimmed as they entered an additional part of the manor–at least that was what he thought before they were in a small room with no furniture. Instead, there were tools everywhere, and old brooms; quidditch gear was scattered over shelves, and cauldrons lined the floors. His aunt led him outside, and he gawked at the marvel that was the manor. It stood three stories high with stone architecture, and red clay tiles. The door was red with a gold handle–the window panes were painted a dark green. Flowers and vines grew up the pillars and walls, covering everything with scattered color. There were animals everywhere: bunnies, deer, waterfowl, squirrels, birds, snakes, and various insects. Rose bushes of every color lined a small path that led to the door. Magic soaked his clothes as he walked towards the door, his hand clutching his aunts tightly. 

‘This, Helia, is Potter Manor.’ 

Inside was as grand as the outside–high ceilings, neutral colors, sparsely decorated–but no less beautiful–walls and rooms, and an abundance of pure ambient magic. There were flowers everywhere of all types and colors, and he could see bellbirds flying in through the open windows. His aunt led him to a smaller, but no less spacious, room filled to the brim with books. Harry could smell that they were aged, older than this house perhaps; he looked forward to seeing which ones he was allowed to read. He needed to find one or two for Theo–ones that he can duplicate easily without mistakes. His fingers dragged over the spines of one shelf, taking in the whispers of magic each one offered. The spines–though aged–were well looked after, with little bits of wear and tear that came with consistent use. If they were well-loved, then that meant they were useful. Does that mean Harry was useful if he was littered with scars from repeatedly being put through shit? Though he wasn’t overly intelligent, he supposed he was well-used all the same. His aunt waited for him to finish, and he flushed heavily from being watched. She gestured to one shelf and he could see books on Latin-America. 

‘I can duplicate one or two, but only that. These are the least valuable, but I hope they suffice.’ Her voice held a smoulder of humour and Harry froze with his finger on the spines. ‘You speak without knowing sometimes, it’s quite cute–Regulus used to do it all the time when he was so engrossed in a task. James was similar but only did it in Spanglish when frustrated.’ She summoned two books and spelled them to duplicate. ‘I do hope Theodorus appreciates this, and he is more than welcome to read some of these texts here at some point.’ 

‘You don’t have to! I’m sure he’ll understand if I can’t bring him one. I haven’t even asked if I can go next week!’ Harry said as he approached the glowing books. Smaller duplicates glowing as words melted onto the page. ‘I am helping him translate something–if I can go–so I am sure he’ll get over it.’ 

‘Nonsense! I am glad these books are going to get some use–Charlus only used them to take up space for a more cozy vibe. James would sit on the floor to read them, but some of the spells went right over his head.’ Her hands found Harry’s cheeks. ‘This boy seems special, so I am glad they will get some use.’ Harry’s face went hot and his aunt cast some cooling charms. ‘Now, onto a more pressing matter while those duplicate! I have three different chains for the pendant if you would like to change it up for distinct looks.’ The box appeared and hovered close by. ‘Have you noticed the magic yet?’ 

Harry’s eyes widened. He hadn’t put the cloak on–it hung from his satchel; he meant to put it on before they left, but he was so comfortable he forgot. As he stood in this room, he felt no onslaught of magic. Harry felt nothing but comfort–so much so that he hadn’t noticed the shift in magic until he stopped to feel it. It was spicy, like chai, and so mellow that it almost felt bittersweet. Like it was standing still so Harry could get used to it–like it thought of Harry as a scared animal that needed a home. The rings on his fingers heat as he comes to the realisation of how safe he felt. There were no jabs of feral, loud, magic that had happened in Malfoy manor. Instead, it cradled him as he let it seep into his skin–its tendrils wrapping around him like arms. A flash of a memory glittered behind his glasses, and suddenly he was in a room with a crib. A smaller, infant version of him was surrounded by the same magic. But rather than being in his dams arms like the memory–he was practically alone. A hot tear rolled down his cheek as his legs took him out of the room. Flashes of this exact hallway bounced around in his head as he walked. He could feel and hear his aunt following, but he moved with purpose. Turning a corner, and five doors down, Harry stopped at a purple door that was covered in pale blue stars and white animals. Helia Alexander was painted in silver paint surrounded by a moon, sun, and all the other planets. There was a magical lock on the door, similar to the ones at Malfoy manor. With a hesitant touch, he grasped the door handle and opened it. Inside were pale blue walls with nature scenes painted, stars covered the ceiling, and a crib was underneath the window. Toys of every shape and size littered shelves, as did books of every reading level. His tears kept rolling and Tina slithered down to lick them. 

‘Little Master has returned home, but he cries, why?’ A small, timid voice called out. ‘This was supposed to be a wondrous day for Layla, but Little Master is sad! Did Kreacher say something mean? He is a terrible elf for saying horrible things!’ 

‘Oh Layla, he hasn’t gone to Grimmauld yet, my lovely. Helia has some memories that are coming back–why don’t you settle down? I know he would appreciate a cup of lemon tea.’ Harry didn’t turn around to see the new elf, nor acknowledge his aunt. ‘Helia needs some time before we go to that dim place. I am also sure Kreacher can behave himself when we visit.’ 

‘Lemon tea with honey, Little Master?’ Harry’s lips wobbled as he nodded, still not wanting to take his eyes off the row of stuffed animals–there were some missing. Because in his memory, his dam was pointing to this exact shelf–one that had Padfoot and Moony still there. A panther toy was missing too, but he never had one with him; not that he could remember right now, he hoped the Dursleys had done nothing to it if he had it before. ‘Littler Master can take the small toys if he likes–Master Jamie would want him to have them!’ 

That was all the permission he needed when he took the lynx, doe, and panda from the shelf. He ended up on the floor, sobbing into the stuffed toys. The magic covered him like a blanket. His aunt, in her brilliance, sat beside him and pulled him into her arms. He cried and let the magic take over–he didn’t want to feel anything right now, but he felt the small tendrils petting him like his parents were there. Because two different magics appeared as he cried. Blinking between sobs, he saw the golden lynx laying in front of him, and a silver panther by its side. They didn’t move, but their magic flowed and held onto him tightly. One hot, and one cold, but together were the perfect warmth. His aunt hummed and his head went blank as his muscles relaxed. 

‘Little Master is needing the grimoire to take with him! This place is too heavy for his little mind, and will come back when he feels better.’ Layla had an enormous book in her hands, the tea was floating above her head. She was the smallest elf he’s ever seen–her ears were tiny but laced with earrings made of gold, and her little dress was dark purple with a crest on it. ‘Layla is bringing anything else Little Master needs later! Layla always knows what he needs, but Layla couldn’t find him before.’ 

‘Thank you Layla–will you pop over to tell Narcissa that we may head over to talk instead of shopping. I’d like to get this Ball guest list underway as soon as possible.’ The two glowing spirits perked up at the mention. ‘Now that everyone’s memories are being returned steadily, I’d like all essential jobs completed as soon as possible so we can rest for the rest of the summer.’ 

‘Layla will be right back!’ the little elf said, and she popped away. She popped back in a few minutes later; Harry was halfway finished with his tea, grateful that there were no more memories flashing over his eyes. ‘Missy Cissa said she will have a small lunch set up outside! Little Dragon is worried for Little Master, but Layla said you were okay.’ 

‘I am okay, just a little overwhelmed, thank you, Layla.’ The elf preened under the praise and Harry managed a small smile. He looked up at his aunt, who was already looking down at him. ‘I’ve ruined your day, haven’t I?’ 

‘Absolutely not–the potion is working faster than expected.’ Her eyes were kind, and her smile was soft. ‘Ted said you’d get most of your memories back in the form of dreams–Remus said you’d had a rough night, so the potion is working fast considering you had another lapse just now.’ She flicked her wand, and the grimoire–as well as the two duplicated books–shrunk down and vanished. ‘I am sure it will be nice for Draco to talk about everything that transpired yesterday in person. He was miffed he couldn’t be a part of the conversation, but Narcissa could never keep much from him–his pout rivals just about every pureblooded child I’ve met.’ 

With a wet laugh, he held the toys closer and held one hand out for the spirits. These guys don’t talk, but their comforting magic speaks louder than any words could. With one last squeeze, Harry was walking out of his nursery with all the stuffed toys in his satchel. He’ll need to ask where his blanket, Padfoot, and Moony went when he returned to Hogwarts. He needed all his toys to be together again. Before they left though, his aunt pulled the pendant out of the box, and Harry let her put it on him. With a frown, he felt the magic dull as the chain settled on his skin. This would be nice for Malfoy Manor, and other loud places, but he didn’t feel comfortable wearing it here. The magic was locked away too much–Harry felt like a piece of him was being locked up again. So he took it off, and handed it back, saying he’d put it back on when they got to his cousins. Her smile as they walked to the Floo was blinding, and she said his magical feel was astounding. Because his uncle Sirius couldn’t even feel things on this level, so she was proud that he was telling her how he felt. He took one last breath before Tina and Oli wrapped around him tightly; their bodies a welcome weight as they passed through the Floo. Layla’s goodbye felt sickening as the green flames swallowed them whole. 

The other side was colder, more hostile than the warm environment he’d just come from. He asked his aunt to put the pendant on as the magic screamed at him, each magical item sharing their displeasure at his appearance. Those screams practically disappeared and his head wasn’t pounding from the magical pressure anymore. He hoped his uncle Lucius wasn’t around; he didn’t want to hear the Dark Mark speaking to him right now, if ever. With bulging eyes, Harry was mentally slapping himself–he didn’t know if it was that he was so comfortable with the man now, or that Severus’ Dark Mark only spoke when they were in Malfoy Manor. As much as he didn’t want to, he wanted to hear it again; see what else it has to say. The walk to the garden outside was quite peaceful. The pendant was warm against his skin, and he relished in the warmth it gave him; the cloak felt good too, but it wasn’t his, and if he can get his brain to work, perhaps the owner could get it back one day. Outside Harry needed to squint with how bright it was–the pale tiles weren’t helping stop the sun from blinding him further. He could see white peacocks flouncing around, and he warned Tina and Oli not to eat them. They said–with great offense–that they would try to even nibble on something so bland looking. A table came into view beneath a large tree, his aunt was standing with Draco by her side, a small smile gracing her lips. 

‘Well, don’t you look terrible–have a nice cry you, sobby bat?’ Draco asked and winced when he was smacked on the shoulder. 

With a snort, Harry nodded. ‘I actually did, and I am looking forward to these memories going to the back of my mind onces recovered. How about you?’ 

‘Mine weren’t as altered as yours, but Mother’s was muddled to bits! I don’t really care for Father’s though, he can scare himself to death for following a noseless idiot.’ Draco wasn’t smacked for the last comment, instead his hair was smoothed back. ‘Feel up to eating some fruit and small savouries? You’ll need something to snack on when I tell you all about yesterday!’ 

‘I could go for some strawberries, I suppose,’ Harry said as he waited for the two women to sit. He turned to his aunt Narcissa who had a small notepad. ‘How many people do you think is reasonable to invite?’ Harry wouldn’t know the first thing about Birthday parties–he’s never had one before, not a proper one at least. He grabbed a scone and cut it up for Tina and Oli to enjoy with some whipped cream. 

‘I’d like it if your friends were first on the list–alphabetically listed, if possible. We can discuss some others that I think would be nice for you to get acquainted with–family friends of James and Regulus that were around when you were small. And perhaps a few that could be lovely for when you are older, few, but some that would make life easier.’ Her red-lacquered lips pulled into a soft smile as he nodded whilst feeding the two ravenous serpents. ‘The amount may be overwhelming, but I promise to keep it as small as you are comfortable with. I went overboard with Draco’s last month, but I am trying to amend that.’ 

‘Okay, may I write them down while Draco spews about his day?’ Draco squawked at him as he grabbed the notepad and quill. ‘I am capable of multi-tasking, Dray, I’ve done it with you once or twice now.’ He smirked as he wrote the Abbot family first, his handwriting much better with this sturdier quill. ‘Get talking before I tune you out completely.’ 

So, for the next fifteen minutes, Draco waffled on about yesterday’s events whilst Harry wrote his friends' last names. After Abbot, Harry had written Avery–not for friendship, but for Draco–and then moved on to the letter B. Bones, Boot, and Bulstrode were inked onto the page as Draco spoke. Then Crabbe and Creevy were placed underneath them. By the time Draco was done, Harry had a few more names on his list. Davis (for Draco), Finch-Fletchly (even if he feared Harry, he still wanted to invite him), Granger, Greengrass (for Draco), Goyle (for Draco), Jordan, Longbottom, Lovegood, McMillan (for Susan's little crush), Patil, Parkinson (for Draco), Warrington (to keep Avery company), Weasley, and Zabini (for Draco) were the others he’d named. He handed his aunt the list and her smile widened, and her eyes twinkling. If that means he’s done well, he won’t complain. 

‘Excellent! We can go over others, or I may comprise a list of safe options for you to choose from later. For now, this is a wonderful assortment of people, and I am glad that you feel comfortable inviting them.’ His aunt's eyes crinkle a little as she puts the notebook away. ‘Now, for the sake of getting it right–are there any colors you do not want present during decorating. The thirteenth ball is important, and colors really do matter.’ 

Harry remembered that being explained to him before they left for France. The colors needed to represent him, and the magic he holds in his core. With his lip in his mouth he thought for a moment–he didn’t want too many, but he wanted over two. Three or four colors seemed right, but they couldn’t clash. Maybe purple, green, red and blue? He wasn’t overly fond of yellow, but purple was opposite it on the color wheel, so it seemed like a safe option. With his choice somewhat made, he cut up another scone for Tina and Oli. 

‘Um, I’m not sure, maybe red, or purple? I do not know what would look nice, but any of those colors would work. I think.’ Both aunt’s laugh at him, not with malice, but with genuine happiness. Draco looked amused but mouthed that he’d had green and blue for his birthday. Shrugging, Harry picked up a strawberry. ‘If I need to choose, I think red or purple would be nice, and maybe a light gold for accents? I didn’t get very far with learning about all this.’ 

‘Red, purple, and gold is a lovely choice. I’ll make sure Severus and Remus know about the plans. They’ll be able to help you understand everything before we get together to decide.’ Aunt Narcissa was eating a large salad with chicken pieces as she spoke. 

‘I am sure Theodorus can help you as well, wouldn’t you agree, Draco?’ Aunt Dorea asked and Harry blushed. ‘Perhaps he can offer ideas as a swap for the Latin-American books?’ 

‘I suppose,’ Harry said with a flushed face–it was the same shade as a glazed strawberry. ‘Um, do you really think the, ah, plan will take as long as you say?’ He didn’t want them focusing on Theo, and knowing their thoughts on the plan was a much better topic. 

‘I am afraid that if we want him in the right place, then it will take at least another two years, if not three. By then, you’ll have learnt more about yourself and magic.’ His aunt looked at Aunt Narcissa expectantly. ‘Everyone has been given a part to play, and so I am confident that we will get him.’ 

The conversation drifted off as they ate–Harry was eating more fruit than anything, but he was eating so he didn’t care. He could hear birds fluttering around, and he wondered if the dog was still around. Harry wanted to go looking for it, but would wait until he was given any other instructions. Lunch was over within thirty minutes and both aunts agreed Harry could explore outside with Draco if he wished. And he did, very much–if it kept him away from the screaming objects inside, then by all means he was happy. Tina and Oli slithered into the taller grass, hissing about finding rats to hunt. Aunt Dorea said he had another hour before they were to head back to Moony and Sev. They’d go over some of the grimoire in the comfort of his room, rather than here. Potter Manor was a little much as Layla said, so he was hopeful he’d be well enough to go back some day soon. So now Harry was racing Draco on a broom, chasing after a snitch. The first to five catches would choose the task the loser had to endure. For now Harry was in the lead with three, only needing two more to win. Draco had two, needing three. The snitch was bronze rather than gold, having been the winning one his sire had caught in his last year of schooling. With that information, Harry was fueled to win this minor challenge. The small thing was darting around, looping around and turning sharply–but Harry wasn’t worried, because it was a little slower than last year's snitch. It was a few years older, so that was expected, but that made his job a lot easier. It darted down into the trees and Harry followed with vigor. He could hear Draco swear and follow right behind. Harry dodged each tree like they were rogue bludgers, and was slowly catching up to the snitch. With his hand outstretched, Harry was closing in on the bronze orb. His fingertip grazed the fluttering thing, and he leaned forward to catch it. The warmth he felt with it in his hands took away the pain he felt as he crashed into a large hedge. His body slammed into the denseness and fell to the ground. Leaves felt into his face as he lay on the ground, sticks poking him in the back and legs. 

He sat up, rubbing his hip and looked around for the broom–he’d be murdered if he’s broken it. A whine caught him off guard as he looked for the sleek bit of wood and bristles. Harry turned and saw the black dog again, this time looking much better than before. 

‘Hey boy, did you catch my awesome wipe out? It was totally planned, I tell you–I was looking for a nice landing strip in these trees, but thought this was better than an oak.’ Harry folded his legs and beckoned the dog closure. He pulled out his wand–the birch–and summoned a bowl and food. ‘You look so much better! I’m glad you’ve gotten food since I last saw you.’ The dog ate while lying down, its large k9 teeth hooking the meat into its mouth. ‘I’m sure Draco will be pissy that I lost his broom, but I’m sure I can buy him another as a late birthday present, the ferrety git.’ The dog snorted as it ate and Harry poked out his tongue. Harry conjured a bowl of water too and wondered if he could charm them to refill without him being around. ‘I’ll need to see if there is a refill charm so that you can get food easily–I don’t know where you live, but I hope you get looked after soon.’ The dog lapped at the water before settling on Harry’s lap. He pet its ears and held the snitch loosely. ‘If I could take you, I would! But I’m in between homes right now, and might end up somewhere else entirely soon. So I’ll just have to keep coming back to see you. Though soon, I’ll be at someone’s manor for a few days.’ 

The dog cocked its head as if to ask where he’ll be. Harry pet his head with a small laugh–above him he could hear Draco whining about not finding Harry. ‘Draco’s friend Theo has some books at his manor that he needs help with. So I’ll be there for three days–I think it will be in Nottingham, because his name is Nott. But I do not know, I’ll have to ask him tonight.’ It really had just occurred to him he had no clue where the boy lived, oh well. He heard Draco getting closer, so he needed to find the broom. ‘Give me a second, boy, I need to find my ferret cousins' broom.’ 

Stood by the hedge, Harry held his hand out and summoned the broom. With a shudder the broom unlodged itself from the hedge and into his hand. The dog barked happily and spun in a circle. Pleased with himself, Harry pet the dog on the head and hopped onto the broom. 

‘I will come and see you before I go to Theo’s, to make sure that you still have food. I’ll hopefully know a spell that can refill your food and water before then, too.’ With one last pat, he kicked off and got a howl instead of a goodbye. Draco found him two minutes later and was now getting all the leaves and twigs from his hair. 

‘You are such a reckless idiot! You could have hit those oak trees!’ Draco was flushed like he'd run a marathon. ‘Mother would kill me if I didn’t find you alive–Theo would have mastered necromancy to kill me too! You ugly bat, I swear you scare me each time we go flying. We are going to sit by the lake for the last twenty minutes before you leave, that at least is a safe activity!’ 

With a small snort, Harry flew slowly behind his cousin towards a small lake. The dog must get his water from here, perhaps he could leave a few bowls around here too. It was peaceful here, and Harry sat on a nice big rock as he watched his cousin skip pebbles. Birds were flying and he could see water fowl floating atop the lake. The wind was cooling, and he closed his eyes to bask in the sun. All before a shadow passed over his body. With a few blinks, he saw Crna curve before landing beside him. An envelope-less letter in his talons. With blatant curiosity, he took the letter and conjured a rat for the eagle owl to hunt. Opening the letter while Draco was still occupied, he saw that there were only a few sentences. 

Little кажан,

I don’t know whether to be scared or amazed that my Head of House has given me permission to have you for a few days. My thoughts were that you were going to answer, not have a Potions Master threaten to turn me into a lab rat (hopefully I used that colloquialism correctly). However, I am pleased that you may be with me regardless of the serious threats. 

My place of residence is in Akkerman Lodge, Nottingham. 

I look forward to seeing you in three days' time, and I hope your memories come back peacefully. 

Yours, 

Theo. 

‘Akkerman Lodge? I knew it was in Nottingham!’ Harry watched Crna catch the rat and fly off with it. And in the distance he could hear the dog howling with delight. Or at least it sounded like a happy howl. 

‘What are you on about now?’ Draco asked before smirking. ‘Ah, I see–you know he’s going to test his poison collection on you, right?’ 

Pouting, Harry sniffed. ‘And here I thought I was special–I am looking forward to seeing how they all taste, hopefully like fruit or at least licorice.’ 

‘You’re impossible, Helia, and he’ll kill you if you let him.’ Draco’s eyes crinkled like Aunt Narcissa’s, it was nice to see. ‘Let’s go before they assume I’ve killed you.’ 

‘Bold of you to assume you’d be able to kill me, with your flamboyant spell casting that rarely hit its marker with how off your stance is–’ 

Draco tackled him, and they ended up in the water. Harry was laughing as mud caked his cousin's face and hair. Until he wasn’t–his chest now hurt from terror rather than his laughter. He clammed up and thrashed around trying to break free. Panic set in when Draco laughed, seemingly thinking Harry was playing around. His vision swam the more he struggled, and could feel his pendant warm as it sucked up the excess magic. He was breathing heavily and for the longest time he thought he’d hurt himself and Draco from the panic. But his cousin seemed to understand that he wasn’t playing around. But Harry wasn’t listening to anything that was being said as his vision clouded over. Images of this morning’s nightmare was all he could focus on. Greg’s voice wormed its way into his ears, and the phantom pain turned real as Harry kept thrashing. Hands placed themselves onto his torso and pulled him into a hug. Light filtered into his eyes as the memory faded–the feeling of the tree and bruises remained though, taking over from the comforting magic that tried to replace it. He choked on his own spit as he tried not to throw up. Hushed voices overtook Greg’s, and he swallowed harshly. 

‘We cannot leave you anywhere without competent company, can we, Helia?’ someone whispered into his ears. If he wasn’t so scared right now, he would have laughed. ‘Draco is inside, but we won’t be joining him for the evening. If you’d like to see him in the morning, we can arrange that. But I would rather you settle down for a day or two before going anywhere else.’ 

Harry nodded, he didn’t want to go anywhere right now. He didn’t think he’d react like that–didn’t think he’d feel scared over play-fighting with his cousin. But he did, and he was sure he would for the foreseeable future. Did he want to be afraid of his relatives? Of course not! But with all these memories coming back, he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive the school year. 

‘We will reevaluate your departure to Nottingham–our primary concern is the type of memories as well as the frequency. But I am sure if we remain in a calm environment for now, you may go wherever you please, okay?’ Whoever was talking was sending vibrations down his spine. He nodded, accepting the ultimatum. Harry still wants to go; thinks that he can handle it if he tries hard enough. ‘Looks like we’ll be filling a journal faster than expected, huh?’ 

Harry snorted, finding the thought of a book filled with his fucked up memories funny. With a crack, he felt himself be whisked away by apparition. Moony came into view as Harry looked up, a tired look cast over his scarred face. He looked back down and saw his journal on the table, and sighed. So much for peace–first his nightmare, then his cry in Potter Manor, then his panic attack. Emotions were stupid, memories were stupid, and he didn’t know what he was going to do if any about Mr. Milrose came back–the memory charm could keep those from coming back, he didn’t need them. Just the ones that were meaningful and would help him, not tear him apart before he could even feel 100% healthy. 

‘Have a nap and then we can go over the memory in depth–like we should have this morning.’ 

Harry didn’t respond, just huddled closer and drifted off with Tina and Oli coiling around him. Glowing spirits–a lynx, panther, butterfly, and doe–hover around him like a shield. Then the lights in his head went out. 

Chapter Text

For the last two days, Harry had done little homework and more self-care, as his Aunt Andi suggested. He drew more in his journal on the first day than he had in primary and in his spare time combined. Greg, Hunter, Wilson, and Peirs’ faces were on one page, and the tree he was shoved against was on the other. The quidditch pitch was added too, with a broom in the middle. He baked with Aunt Dorea, with Uncle Marius teaching him about exotic texts. Aunt Lucretia hadn’t been able to come see them—she was too busy keeping the others from bombarding Harry’s safe zone, as she put it. Aunt Dorea and Uncle Marius had played some muggle card games with him before they left, leaving him in a good mood. Until he had had another night mare that night, one of a lake the Dursley’s liked to go over the summer; he was shoved out of the boat and told to swim to shore. Which led him to remembering when he was with Draco at the lake that afternoon; he hadn’t, until Harry had woken up screaming and choking on air from a short nap, recalled that he had swallowed some of the water. He wouldn’t go near the lake to watch the sunset, even when Moony said they’d stay clear of the water's edge. The spirits had visited him again early in the morning, with the butterfly flitting around his head. 

By the afternoon on the second day, he’d drawn the lake, a ferret on a broom, the hedge and dog bowls, and Potter Manor with Layla standing outside. The lines were all shaky and he hated them, but Aunt Andi said that putting his ideas down will help them stay there. If only for a little while. Sev, in the morning of the second day, had worked with him on what ingredients he may be allergic to, and what ideas they could come up with regarding these allergies. It brought him some relief to know he’d be able to take a calming drought and not feel the way he did before. Draco had worked with him to brew a few more potions and Harry could feel his shoulders relax. By the night of the second day, he had convinced his blonde cousin to try a few Muggle board games Moony had brought; monopoly was great, but Uno was the breaking point with Harry winning by changing the color without anyone noticing. That night he dreamt of a meadow he knew sat behind the primary school—it was where he met a snake for the first time. It was also the first time he’d spoken to one, and he was happy to get this memory back; it was the nicest one so far. 

Now he was eating breakfast and writing to Theo that he’d grab the texts Aunt Dorea had given Moony before he headed over. Draco had mentioned he would need warm clothes, as Akkerman Lodge was always freezing. But Harry wasn’t worried, he was used to the cold from spending so much time locked outside during winter. Dudley's letter sat on the table beside him as he ate his last bite of food. It was open, but he’d only read the first few lines that said he was sorry about everything. The bulk of the letter, that he read after he’d washed the dishes, was detailing his feelings about his parents being deranged criminals. Harry watched from the window as Oli and Tina were outside, claiming that they needed as much warmth as possible if they were to brave the cold with Harry. He didn’t have the heart to tell them they weren’t going. As much as he trusted Draco now, he wasn’t risking the curious serpents to not get caught in a bear trap. He climbed the stairs and read the remaining bit of the letter. 

…I know I am not a very good person, but I hope that one day we can move forward. Mum got visitation rights the other day because of everything she told the bobby’s, Aurors, whatever they are. She’s still getting locked up though, but not for as long as her lawyer thought. I might even be able to live with her once she's on perole, like an agreement in which she needs to stay good or I get taken away. 

I’m scared, Harry, about where I’m going to go for now; I hope that wherever you are is nice, peaceful, and everything that isn’t like that house. Dad can go smash his head with his drill kits, because he’s the one that did almost everything. Mum also said there was a man that was coming over and messing with our heads—not just ours but all my friends, and their families. Miss Eloise said those Auror people were giving them all treatment, so I'm hoping you're getting it too. 

I don’t want to stand in court, but I know I’ll have to before school starts—I’m going to a school for squibs, by the way, to learn about the magical world but getting a Muggle education. I sit my GCSE’s this year, and I hope that I can pass at least a few of them. English and Geo, hopefully, maybe P.E if I stop being a fat fuck. 

Good luck with your elective classes, and I hope to hear from you at some point before the summer ends, if you want. 

Vincent (because mum wanted me to be named that but dad didn’t like it.) 

It hit Harry with how much older Du-Vincent is, he would have been over two-years-old when Harry was thrown into his life. He’ll need to owl him back at some point, tell him some stuff about his classes, friends or whatever. His hope was that being away from that house would be good for the older boy. No threats, no punishment, just time to be himself and work on him. Harry knelt down at the altar and lit a candle—he prayed, briefly, for Vincent to pass his exams with the hard work he knew the boy could do. 

‘Praying that you don’t die from poison, Helia?’ Draco asked as he ventured into the room. ‘Here I thought your terrible flirting said otherwise.’ 

‘At least I’m flirting whilst you're flouncing around like a wet noodle—Daphne isn’t going to wait, you know!’ Harry snarked back, but flushed from admitting he was flirting. Fuck. ‘Why are you here?’ 

‘Uncle Sev said I can help him in the lab—we’ll be testing different ingredients to make sure you don’t die if you need anything. And, Aunt Dorea said she was meeting me here to take me somewhere, whilst you are away.’ Draco flopped onto Harry’s bed. ‘Mother has Father sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future, and is speaking with McGonagall about having Uncle Marius taking on the foundation thing. But don’t worry about finding another funding person, Mother is making Father pay for everything with his wine fund!’ 

‘Wine fund?’ Harry got up and shoved his cousin to make room for himself. ‘Your Father needs a wine fund?’ Pretentious Ponce. 

‘Every year, around my Mothers birthday, he goes and bids on wine at vineyards all over the world. New Zealand is one of Mothers most favourite places for wine and meats, so that is always his first and last stop.’ Draco was fiddling with a letter. ‘It's the only thing that lets me know that he loves her, and isn’t just keeping her around for the prestige.’

‘Well, I am sure your Mother is just keeping him around because all the other men are uglier, and they won’t bend over backwards for her like your pointy Father does.’ Harry snorted when Draco agreed, the blonde's head bobbing up and down. ‘Your Father is an ugly triangle that no one likes, but keeps around because he’s got money and influence.’ 

‘Ugly triangle?’ Draco was sitting up now, brow furrowed deeply. ‘What in Merlin's Name do you mean by that?’ 

‘Triangles are the worst shape ever!’ Harry exclaimed. He conjured a notebook and scissors. ‘Circles and ovals are a happy, safe shape because they don’t have pointed edges.’ He cut out a circle and oval shape. ‘They’re pleasing to the eye, which is why I think most jewels are shaped that way.’ He cut out a square and rectangle. ‘Squares and rectangles are iffy unless being used for tile work in, or on, houses—do you see many people using triangles for housing?’ Draco pouted and shook his head. ‘I didn’t think so, and four-sided shapes are smooth despite having points, they are mostly equilateral.’ Harry cut out a diamond shape. ‘Diamonds, or rhombus’ are good too despite everything, they are versatile, and everyone likes them for decor and stuff.’ 

‘So why do you hate triangles?’ Draco was holding up the bits of cut paper. ‘I still don’t get it.’ 

‘Do you know the different triangles, Draco?’ Harry asked. Draco shook his head. ‘There are six different types of triangle, and it is so easy to draw one when you want to draw the other. You need maths to be able to draw them properly!’ Harry summoned a ruler and pen, drawing and labelling each triangle on the paper. ‘There are triangles categorised by angle: Acute—each angle is 90 degrees, Obtuse—one angle is over 90 degrees, and the right-angle—one angle is 90 degrees.’ Draco’s brow furrowed more as he nodded. ‘The other three are categorised by side length: Equilateral—all side even, Isosceles—two equal sides, and Squaline—no equal sides.’ 

‘So you think triangles are ugly because of how many types there are?’ 

‘Sort of, like—if someone asked you to draw a triangle, which would you pick?’ Harry asked as he pointed to them. ‘And, if you didn’t have a ruler or anything, your triangle could look like any of them, making it an ugly shape!’ 

‘So my Father is an ugly triangle because he is like all pureblood wizards but acts all pointy?’ Harry nodded, and put everything away, looking less exasperated. ‘Okay, so what shape is my mother? What about me!’ 

‘Aunt Narcissa is a diamond, sharp edges but everyone loves her. You are more of an oval—nice to look at but you have little structure at the moment.’ Harry heard footsteps and he stood from his bed. ‘Everyone is a shape, it just depends on what they are like as people.’ He grabbed his satchel, and greeted Moony at the door. 

‘Why are we discussing shapes? I didn’t think you had a love for them, geometry was something Regulus had liked when Lily took him into the Muggle world one year.’ Moony was holding a small box. ‘You can’t enter a Lord's home without something to give them. So Dorea put the books inside with her address in case Theodorus has any questions.’ 

‘Also, if you ever get to greet him by first name—do not call him that, he will shut down and not talk to you for a month.’ Draco’s face was scrunched like he’s learnt from experience. 

‘Wonderful advice, thank you, Draco. Now, you know where you are going, Helia?’ Moony asked. 

Harry nodded, and took the box. ‘Yes, and I am leaving Tina and Oli here, so you’ll have some serpent company.’ 

‘You have everything you need? Clothes, towels, toiletries, and all that?’ Harry pouted at his godfather for thinking he wasn’t prepared. Moony grinned at him. ‘I’m just making sure, you can easily Floo back if you forget something. Please take your journal too, for my peace of mind.’ 

‘I have everything, I also have the books Poppy brought over too. They’re about etiquette in different cultures, and there are three—possiblely placed by mistake—about healing which I’ll be reading when I’m not helping translate.’ Harry was quite excited to see how different magical cultures act and how they differ from the Muggle world. He was also excited to read up on healing spells. ‘I have four days worth of potions, and enough salve to drown a stoat. Can I head off now?’ He was excited to see those books. 

Draco came up to him as Moony nodded and went back down stairs. ‘Theo likes to bite, so you best get good at healing charms if you don’t want to be questioned.’ Harry went red and spluttered that he wasn’t intending to get that close! ‘Oh please, Helia, thirty years ago thirteen-year-olds were married! And it’s not like anyone would judge you for going for it—well I will, because Theo is the last person I’d pick that you’d fancy.’

‘You think I was invited over to snog? Also, I’m still twelve! None of what you’ve just said has made me feel better.’ Harry walked briskly down the hall towards the stairs. 

‘So you don’t deny fancying him? Excellent! And as your cousin, I am going to say this now—you are practically thirteen, and most wixen begin experimenting at this age. Especially if their families move with the times for the rituals—why wait until seventeen to perform them?’ Draco caught up and went down the stairs next to Harry. ‘Most wixen won’t have penetrative fun until their fourth or fifth year, so I don’t know what you’re worried about.’ 

‘You are ridiculous! And I am leaving before you start talking about the cauldron and the broom sticks!’ Harry went over to the Floo and grabbed the powder. ‘Akkerman Lodge, Nottingham!’ Harry ran into the green flames, escaping his cousin's raging laughter. He was spat out in a dungeon-like room, its walls covered in game trophies and weapons. His rushing meant he’d not told his serpents he was leaving without them, damn. 

‘Prim is taking Heir Potter to Theodorus, follow please!’ Prim was much more lively now that she was within her own wards. ‘Prim is taking Heir Potter's things too.’ 

Harry handed his satchel over despite wanting to keep it on him. He followed Prim through dark hallways that held no paintings or pedestals towards a much more homely room. This one felt like the study in Potter manor, and looked similar with the fact that bookcases towered over them along the walls. Theo was sitting in a chair, hunched over a large book with a magnifying glass. Prim popped away leaving Harry alone with her master, who has not yet stood to greet him yet. But then she came back, Harry’s satchel floating above her, with a tray of tea and sweets. The small pile reminded Harry of the sweets he’d brought, and needed to eat before they lost their flavour. It was only then that Theo raised his head to greet Harry. 

‘I see you didn’t bother heeding Draco’s warning, I was sure you needed a cloak like uncle Throrfin.’ Theo stood and rounded the table. ‘I have the books in another room, we'll go there later—for now I’d like to know why Draco said he almost murdered you?’ 

‘Oh, that,’ Harry said as he sat down by Theo’s request. ‘Did he inform you about how my memories have been altered?’ Theo nodded with a frown—well, more of a frown than he had before. ‘Well I took a potion that is restoring them—mostly at night, and well, our play-fighting ended up reminding me of one of them. Not a fun time, but I haven’t reacted as badly for the last two days. I just don’t want to go near lakes for a while.’ 

‘I see, he also mentioned that you went to Potter Manor the other day, how did that go?’ Theo was refilling his cup as Harry waffled on about what he saw and felt in the manor. The boy didn’t interrupt, but he did nod along and Harry liked that he was being heard. ‘So this potion is working faster than anticipated? Do you think your body is processing it faster because you’re in heal-mode?’ Harry nodded, and Theo got up and came back with a book on healing potions. ‘What color was it? It wasn’t red was it?’ 

‘No, it was a blue color, sparkly I think. It didn’t see it properly when I took it, but my godfather’s was blue.’ Harry couldn’t remember if theirs was the same or not. ‘I also cannot have a regular calming draught either, so I think my body was working over time to get it out of my system, would that be pertinent to the other?’ 

‘Possibly, but it could also be that it was a prolonged block and your magic knew the potion needed to work faster so that you can be more present.’ Harry watched Theo flick through pages, one foot resting on the other knee. ‘Blue, you said?’ Harry nodded. ‘The Remember-All Potion is notorious for going haywire when working around multiple other healing potions. Since you take one during dinner, I gather its fighting to break the block as fast as possible so that it doesn’t interfere with your healing.’ Theo kept flicking through the book as Harry finished his tea—with a burst of bravery, Harry picked up a sour gummy bear that was grumbling at the lollipop beside it. Usually he'd wait for someoen to say he could have one. Not today.  ‘Brewing it is highly complicated, and can only be finished the night of a full moon because of the mooncalf blood. However it is the strongest and most reliable potion for those whose memories were tampered with.’ 

‘I see, thank you for that—taking the potion was sort of an in-the-moment thing. Does it say anything about the memories coming back in the form of dreams?’ Harry bit the head off of the gummy bear and Theo’s nostrils flared as he stared at him. 

‘You are supposed to get them all back through dreams, yes, or in rare occasions, you may get them back when in certain places. Like with Potter Manor, the magic was the trigger and you remembered it in a movie-like sequence.’ Theo closed the book and snagged a peppermint imp. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if most of your memories came back if you went to the Muggle world for a day. Going there could help them come back faster, and you can come to terms with them easier.’ 

‘Hmm,’ Harry hummed as he took another sour bear—this time he ate it butt first. ‘I just hope none come back when I’m in classes. I’m already plastered as the weird kid no one likes, so I don’t need to give anyone more teasing material.’ Draco will probably let slip about his memories anyway, but Harry would still like some dignity. ‘Where did your father go, anyway?’ 

‘Father dearest is off on a hunting trip with some old friends—Lord Malfoy was supposed to attend, but Lady Narcissa said no. Father tried to refute her decision, but she is the only person he’s scared of.’ There was a rare smile on Theo’s lips, and Harry liked the way it looked. ‘So he’s only off with Warrington, Avery, Mulciber, Traves, and Crouch Sr. The other Lords from his circle go with him over Yuletide.’ That means Theo is alone during the Yule hols—Harry didn’t like that. ‘That means that I don’t have to see his ugly mug for longer than necessary. It’s quite peaceful with just Prim and I.’ 

‘Is Prim your only elf? Or are there others?’ Harry had taken all the sour bears—he stuck his tongue out to like the citric acid from his lips. ‘She’s awfully cute, and her nails are painted!’ He picked up a chocolate sauce covered strawberry and bit into it. ‘Is that Parkinson's doing? Or Zabini’s?’ A thumb wiped the excess sauce from Harry’s lips and he blanked for a moment as Theo liked his thumb clean with a smirk. Dumb brain short circuiting! The rest of his strawberry ended up in Theo’s mouth, too as the older boy took it from his frozen hand.

‘Both of them take turns—no elf will have bare nails at either manor—there are two other elves, but they reside at Rowle manor with uncle Thorfin,’ Theo said, licking his lips with a smirk. Bloody strawberry thief. ‘On another note, did you bring any homework with you? The lodge is warded so none will know if you cast any spells.’ 

‘I brought my transfiguration, history and astronomy one—but I mostly brought books with me to read at night. My aunt said reading can help me ease into sleep after journaling.’ Harry was flushed as Theo nodded, summoning his own stack of homework. ‘I’ve completed my drafts for charms, herbology, and potions, and I need to find a place to do my history research on. I’ve started Transfig, but not astronomy.’ That one needed him to find three constellations, draw them, and research their mythological backgrounds. ‘What ones have you done?’ 

‘I’ve completed potions, herbology, and charms, but I have yet to begin the others. Which spells did you choose for Defence and Transfiguration?’ Theo asked as he sorted through his papers—Harry grabbed his things and sat closer so that they could compare. His amulet warmed against his skin as Theo’s magic tickled his neck. The tendrils of magic were cool; they felt nice against his skin, like little kisses that their owners lips can’t accomplish. Yet. Not that Harry was anticipating a kiss, no way… 

‘For defence I chose the patronus charm, duro, and petrificus totalis,’ Harry said with a small flush, hoping he wasn’t so obvious. ‘In terms of Transfiguration, I was thinking of doing some older year-level spells that I find difficult. Perhaps the switching spell and vera verto, or—’ Harry paused because of the intense look Theo was giving him. ‘What are looking at? Was it something I said?’ 

‘You don’t find any of the third-year spells difficult?’ Theo’s nose touched his like it did in the forest. His breath warm, and eyes sparking with curiosity. 

Harry pouted, but held firm, even pushing against his nose and tiling his head a little. ‘Well, I haven’t tried them all, but I was told to be ambitious, so I’m aiming for fourth-year spells,’ he said softly, letting his breath puff against Theo’s cheek. ‘And if I can’t do those then I’ll jump back down to third-year ones.’ A hand came up and squished his cheeks. Their noses no longer touched; instead their legs were interlocked as they sat facing each other. 

‘Teach me some, yeah? We’ll get these done and do astronomy tonight.’ Theo’s hand tightened for a moment, and Harry wanted to bite it. ‘The translating can wait until after lunch—no need to have your sugar crash happen while translating a word, okay?’ The hand remained until Harry nodded. Harry’s jaw ached from the squeezing, and so before the hand left his pivotal range, he bit it. ‘Ow! What the fuck was that for?’ The blood in his mouth was warm, salty, and slightly sweet as he found some more sugar on the corner of his lips. 

With a slightly bloody grin, he tilted his head. ‘If you didn’t want to get bit, then I’d advise you not to squeeze my face like that.’ Harry had a growing grin on his face as Theo examined his bloody hand. A row of teeth marks embedded into the flesh, two puncture holes bleeding steadily. ‘Especially not once I'm fifteen, because apparently I might end up with permanent fangs.’ Harry needed to swallow harshly when Theo’s gaze turned fiery—not in a murderous sense, but in one that Harry couldn’t decipher. ‘What?’ 

‘Nothing, really—just thinking of the possibilities for when that time comes.’ Harry had a pouty frown on his face and cocked his head confusedly. That whole notion going over his head. ‘Aunt Matilda was bummed you weren’t a vampire, but she is adamant to call dibs if healing potions can’t save you one day. But I think she’ll live if you keep your fangs.’ 

‘Like when we test your poisons? Is she going to come flying through the floo to bite me?’ That would be embarrassing, but he kept thinking of how each one could taste. 

‘I did say you were going to be here to do some testing, yes, so you may end up being hidden in a dark room for a month or so. However I don’t plan on killing you outright now, I’ll be testing to see what you react to more, and then formulate another for your birthday present.’ Theo was grinning now, his transfiguration essay papers in his hands. ‘I’d like to test the healing time for when the coroner wizard examines your body, if you’re up to trialling it after dinner? I may not have fangs, but I’ve been told I’m a biter.’ 

Coroner—a heavy flush covers Harry’s face and neck, and his stomach flips with winged keys fluttering inside. He’d forgotten about that flirty letter’s contents, and now he has to face the consequences. His confidence fell, but Theo didn’t need to know that. ‘So lunch from before was the first, then lunch today is the second, so then will dinner be considered our third date?’ Harry looked Theo in his eyes and saw them darkening. ‘Because I’ve been told that snogging on the first is bad luck.’ Harry had no idea where that came from, he thinks Katie had said something like that in the common room once. ‘I’d also like something sweet before your salty arse assaults my mouth, thanks.’ 

‘That was a given, Potter, but I’ll ensure Prim blocks the floo so you can’t escape if it isn’t sweet enough.’ Theo put a finger under Harry’s chin to raise his head a little more. ‘I’ll be sure to make it worthwhile, though.’  

Harry managed to roll his eyes, a smile playing on his lips now. ‘Do I get to choose dessert, at least? I am giving you my first kiss after all.’Theo’s eyes widen with interest, and Harry rolls his eyes with a small smile on his lips. ‘You thought I’d snogged someone before? That’s funny, I was trying to stay alive my first two years of school, so perhaps keep dreaming.’ 

‘Oh, I will, Potter—let's get this done so we can have lunch before Prim scolds the both of us.’ Harry nodded, and accepted Theo’s hand in pulling him up, even if he was a little confused. The seat was very soft, and he practically sank into it when he had sat down. ‘Maybe we can try some poisons while we’re at it, yeah?’ 

‘Only if they’re ones you haven’t used on others before—I thought I was going to be special!’ Theo snorted and led him down the hall; Harry assumed their work would have been done there, but Theo was leading him somewhere else. ‘Why couldn’t we have done homework there?’ 

‘And have a sore back from leaning over? I’d rather you have a sore back once we’re fifth-year’s from something else.’ Harry didn’t speak for the two minutes it took them to get to a larger, sunnier study—one filled with a globe and giant map. He was too stunned, and flushed to speak. ‘This one also has books that are more age-appropriate for us to look through,’ Theo said as he switched the topic. ‘And it has a bigger, higher desk that we can sit at. My transfiguration is shit, so if I attempted a table, it would have collapsed if we breathed too hard.’ 

‘Is that map of the wizarding world? Also, I hope these books are enough to satisfy you. My Aunt—well, technically she’s my great-aunt—Dorea put in her info if you had any questions.’ Harry continued to ramble, telling Theo about what the books entailed—he’d read them the day before when his aunt said reading was therapeutic. He thumbed over the box and pulled it out, handing it over whilst grabbing a small bag of sweets. ‘...I had these sweets from France, but I can’t eat them all, so I have them here too…’ He went back to rambling as Theo took the bag and ate a few of them—his face twisting as the sourness hit him. But Harry didn’t notice as he kept talking about the spells the books held, and how interesting they were. Until lips found his and he melted. 

He could tell his face was flush with how hot it was, and he melted more as gentle hands grabbed his waist. So much for waiting till after dinner, Harry thought as he let Theo do what he wanted. The magic in the air went from cold, to pleasantly warm, to hot like a raging forest fire. But Harry couldn’t seem to let up, didn’t have it in him to pull away. Memories of Miss Santiago telling Harry that the first kiss with the right person will feel like you’re melting, meaning that they’re the right person for him. Harry wasn’t sure how much of that was true, but he was melting; his lips were bitten and his lungs were burning as Theo pulled away. With slow blinks, Theo’s face—also flushed—wasn’t blurry anymore. Harry licked his lips and could taste the citric acid from the sweets Theo had. Light streamed in from outside, and Harry could see sparks of magic come from all over the room. His pendant was pleasantly warm below his throat. 

‘In all honesty, I was going to wait until your birthday ball, you know, crash it and sweep you off your feet into a bloody pile?’ Harry let himself be pulled to curl into a chair that faced Theo’s. ‘But then I wasn’t sure if you liked boys or not, and I am nothing if not a gentleman—even if I did this now without permission.’ The flush on the boy's pale skin deepened. ‘But then when I brought up the coroner before, your blush told me everything I needed to know.’ 

‘A little warning next time would be nice—I might just hex you accidentally if you come at me like that again.’ Harry did have his hand on his wand, but he let it go once his brain registered the lips on his. ‘I am not a fan of being frightened, and I know it will happen more often now that my memories are being restored. So I’d appreciate—though, you’d benefit more from it—to have a warning before you do something so close to my face.’ 

‘You’d let me kiss you again?’ Theo asked, a brow raised. 

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘How else will the bites end up on my neck for the coroner to see? Maybe stab me first then kiss it better?’ A toothy smile made Harry’s insides burn with anticipation. ‘I will hex you if you gush about this to the ferret, or Zabini—Parkinson is fine, because no one believes her gossip anyways.’ 

With a snort, Theo picks the books Harry brought up and pops them on the shelves with the others. There was a few books missing from the shelf, and Harry wondered which one that was. He could see an Inuit volume, a multitude of European texts, a set of Asian spellbooks, Australasian texts, and a small hoard of Pasifik Island books. There are none from India or the African contenant, so Harry thinks finding a few might be a nice birthday present idea. He’d have to find out when Theo’s birthday was first. With his lip in his teeth, Harry turned away and got to writing the outline for his last few essays. Well, all but History of Magic’s, since he still has no idea which to research. 

‘What were you thinking of doing for History?’ Harry asked as he tapped his fingers on the table. ‘Do you think Count Dracula’s castle is mystical enough?’ 

‘We kissed and now you’ve gone back to your homework? What the hell,’ Theo said with a frown. Though he looked over at his own homework with a calculated glare. 

‘Oh, I’ve put it to the back of my brain to freak out about later! You did say it would likely happen after dinner, and we haven’t had lunch yet, so I’m working up to it again.’ Harry doodled Tina as he waited for Theo to answer his question. Instead of a verbal one, Harry had a journal placed in front of him by slender fingers. Vladimir Theodorus Dragula III. 

‘Technically he’s my great-uncle since he was one hundred before his brother had any children—this is his journal about his home, so it’s all factual.’ Theo looked at him with a slight curve to his lips. ‘Bran Castle is one of the many estates that I'll inherit when my dear father passes, since he’s taken over ownership after my mother died.’ Harry frowned at how casual he sounded about his parents dying—he didn’t think people deserved to be thought of that way, even if they weren’t the nicest people. ‘Perhaps you can put off that essay and come with me as my plus one to the coven event that happens after your birthday?’ 

‘Coven event? Are you a vampire?’ Harry was skimming the pages, marvelling at the hand drawn images of the castle—blood graced each page like dribbles of wine. 

‘No, I didn’t get the gift of born vampirism—mother, when she was alive said I could end up triggering it through a life or death situation, though. But I am not hopeful—you’re more likely to become a vampire than I am, I much prefer staying out of harm's way.’ Harry wanted to comment that Theo would most likely cause the chaos and then get away scott free. The bastard. Theo peered out of the window whilst Harry finished his drawing, his steel-grey eyes shining in the light, like two luminous spheres. ‘My cousins on my mother’s side did—they said it was because of my fathers useless blood that I wasn’t blessed with fangs. I got the gift of animal telepathy without the fangs and bloodthirst. Though I've only managed owls so far. Aunt Matilda, my mothers oldest sister, still makes me go to these stupid things, but I get to carve the runes for them, so it isn’t all bad.’ 

‘Was she really that miffed that I wasn’t a vampire? How did she even know about me?’ Harry knew Moony knew her, but other than that, what made her assume vampirism? 

‘I don’t know, but whatever your godfather told her, made her mad, and that rarely happens. So I don't know whether to stab you for giving me potential clean up duty, or what.’ Theo scrunched his face. ‘Why do you have fangs anyway? And what happens after you turn fifteen?’ 

‘Since I’m a parcelmouth, apparently I get fangs when I speak to serpents—they can become permanent after my fifteenth, or they remain how they are now.’ Harry was coming to terms that he was stupid for not bringing Tina or Oli, because he now needed to summon a random snake to prove his point. With a flick of his wand, Harry cast the same spell that gave him so much grief. Before him now, was a small Amazonian Pitviper—it’s bright green made them look like they glow. ‘Greetings, I apologise for taking you from your home—but I needed to prove a point.’ 

‘Greetings, little speaker.’ It hissed, coiled up comfortably. ‘Fear not, for this nest is better than my other one–I am no longer wet and sore, may I reside here?’ 

Harry frowned when he noticed the pressure sores on the snake's abdomen. They were oozing a pale mucus, obviously trying to heal. ‘I shall ask the hatchling who resides here, if not then I have a nest that you may slither around freely.’ His aunt did say Potter Manor could do with some serpents. ‘How does that sound?’ 

Before he could continue talking to the little snake, a gentle hand turned Harry’s head by the chin. A thumb comes up and traces over his elongated teeth. 

‘Little speakers mate is odd! Why does he examine your fangs?’ The snake slithered closer, laying on top of their homework. ‘Does this mate not approve of your lineage? Shall I bite him for you?’ 

‘Fascinating,’ Theo whispered before pulling away. ‘Did anyone tell you that your eyes glow faintly too?’ 

‘I do not need him bitten, no, he was just being curious,’ Harry answered the snake first, then he turned to Theo. ‘Are they still green when they glow?’ He blinks a couple times and Theo gets really close, their noses touching again. ‘Still glowing?’ 

‘They’re more of a grey-green when you speak—not muted, but there are silver flecks in your eyes.’ Harry pulled back and picked the snake up. ‘Are you going to send him home now? Or do I have the pleasure of housing an animal I cannot speak with?’ 

‘I was thinking of helping him heal, and then taking him to Potter Manor. My aunt said the place could use some more serpents.’ He examined the sores, and felt his fingers tingle. ‘In my bag there is a book on healing spells, could you grab it for me?’ Theo nodded and went through Harry’s satchel, pulling out the other books he’d brought to read at night time. His journal spilled out, landing openly on the floor. He thanked Theo once he had the right book. ‘Alright, let's see how my healing spells are.’ 

He worked through lunch, letting Prim feed him little bits of fruit and a shredded chicken sandwich. The snake, which Harry has named Mojito, was healing but the spells Harry cast were meant for humans, not creatures. So instead of closing up like in the book, they were cinching very slowly, so Harry was recasting the spell every ten minutes. Theo was looking through the other books Harry had brought, but every-so-often his eyes would dart to his journal on the floor. By the time the wounds healed into small scale-shaped scares, Theo had finished one book, and Harry had managed to eat an entire sandwich. Something he’s not been able to do, ever. They were now outside practicing their spells for transfiguration, and for Harry things were going great. But for Theo? Not so much, though he managed to cast one fourth-year spell after Harry demonstrated it. And so, with their practising done, they went inside—leaving Mojito to hunt the mice–and wrote down their observations. Harry had noticed he either put too much or too little power into his spells. His rings would heat up and he would try to guide it into the spell, but that didn’t always happen. Most of his spells worked on the third or fourth try if he can’t get it on the first. The species switching spell had given him the most grief, taking well over seven attempts to look right. His jack rabbit turned into a three-eared and four eyed hare the first time. Now, as the sun was setting at 5:30, Harry was starting to feel the cold creeping into his bones. He, stupidly, didn’t heed his cousin's warning, and forewent a coat of any kind. So now he was freezing whilst trying to finish his conclusion on Bran Castle. 

His toes were going numb in his shoes, and he tried to discreetly apply a warming charm. But instead of a warming charm, Harry had wordlessly cast inscendio, and now his shoe was on fire. With slight panic, Harry shucked his shoe off and doused it in water. A flush covered his cheeks as Theo shook his head with a small laugh. 

‘I think homework can wait until after dinner, if you are really fussed with it. I thought we could go into the antichamber to see the books before Prim dragged us to dinner,’ Theo said, standing. 

Harry nodded in agreement and went shoeless to the antichamber. His socks weren’t doing him any favors as the cold of the wooden floors seeped in. With a flick of Theo’s wand, a pair of slippers appeared, as did a green sweater. As to not be rude, Harry put them both on–the slippers had warming charms in them, and the sweater smelt like pine. He followed along, fixing his glasses, and was soon marvelled at the magicless room. Antechamber’s were interesting, in the fact that no magic existed in the room. Harry felt a hollowness swallowing him as he entered the room, like he was back with Alica–trapped with no way out. He stopped, not letting himself go any further as his breathing picked up. Theo, oblivious to Harry’s strife, was babbling about the text and how excited he was to find out what it entails. Prim couldn’t even stand it when she popped into the doorway to tell them that dinner would be at seven. Her eyes met Harry’s and she wrung her hands nervously, calling out to Theo. Shaking his head, Harry pushed on, his intrigue overpowering his terror. He was going to get over it, and he wasn’t going to give Alica the satisfaction of prolonging his torment. With shaky hands, he placed them on the table and stared at the enormous book open on the middle pages. A blank book sat beside it along with pottles of ink and large Eagle Owl quills. The warming charms dimmed to nothing and the only warmth Harry was getting was from the sweater. 

‘It’s not ideal, and I’m sorry if it feels hollowing, but this book was so reactive we had to put it in here so it didn’t get damaged.’ Theo looked over at him, noticing the shaking hands. ‘If you’re not feeling great, we can leave and just go over other things–’ 

‘No,’ Harry said with effort, feeling like he was out of breath. ‘You asked me here to help you, and I will. It’s just that having this feeling reminds me …’ He paused, swallowing as he looked at the words on the page. Chapter 33: When life ends, it begins anew. It was in Hindi. ‘Did Draco ever mention an Alica when he spoke with you?’ 

‘Alica? No, did she do something? Did she hurt you?’ Theo rounded the table, trying to pull him out of the room. But Harry shook his head—he was here now, and he was determined to do what he wanted. ‘Wait, was this the whole stolen magic thing? Helia, what the fuck! If your magic was sapped you shouldn’t be in here!’ 

‘But you asked me for help and so I’m helping!’ Harry was feeling a bloom of frustration as tears prickled his eyes. ‘I’m never going to heal if I don’t get over it—I need exposure, exposure in a way I know isn’t going to hurt me.’ His lips trembled and Theo wiped away Harry’s tears after removing his glasses. The boy was now a blurry mess in front of him. ‘The Wizengamot is just like this, magicless, and I will not let anyone down by being afraid to step foot in it over something a crazy bitch did when I was twelve!’ 

Arms wrapped around him as he sobbed. He nosed at Theo’s throat as his shoulders shook—tears dampening the boy's shirt. The ugly face of an old, ragged Alica Zamme plagued the lining of his eyelids as the tears rolled from his tear ducts. Her voice overtaking Theo’s small humm, her maniacal laugh making him hate the sound. They rocked for a while, and Harry slowly felt better, calmer, and ready to at least look through the book before he overwhelmed himself again. But Theo had other plans; picking Harry up and placing him on the table was one of them, and the other was kissing his tears away. One, two, three, and then five kisses later Harry felt much calmer and prodded around for his glasses. But he couldn’t find them, but he didn’t need to as Theo slid them on. Gone was the blurry blob of boy, and in came a slightly more clear vision of a handsome young man. With a deep breath he thanked him, placing a kiss on Theo’s cheek. 

‘Better? Do you want to keep looking for a moment before we get back to magical salvation?’ Theo was trying to be humorous, and it was working as Harry giggled and kissed his cheek again. ‘What language is it in?’ 

‘Hindi, which is good for me because speaking it is almost as natural as breathing.’ Parseltongue was just as nice to speak. ‘I can guarantee that many who could translate this would ask for a pretty penny—luckily I have no sense for payment, not with money anyways.’ 

‘Would kisses, and rare books suffice?’ Theo asked with a raised brow. 

‘I don’t know,’ Harry sighed dramatically, ‘Can I test those poisons tonight and then slave away tomorrow? I bet I can get at least the first fifteen chapters done tomorrow morning if I try.’ Theo narrows his eyes and Harry grins, feeling better now that he was being actively distracted. ‘I could even have the whole book done by the third day–so if you could owl Zabini about his book on the Maya that would be wonderful. And perhaps you’d let me sneak a peek at your copy of Pre-colonial rituals of the Aztecs?’ 

‘I have a copy of that italian prats book, so no need—if that is considered payment, consider it paid. As for the poisons, we can test two tonight and the rest over the next few days.’ Harry’s pout did nothing to wave Theo’s resolve—not even a kiss worked! ‘We can look over the chapters and then you have time to get used to not being in this room before we settle for dinner, how does that sound?’ Harry smiled and hooked his legs around Theo’s waist. ‘Perhaps a little pre-murder practice couldn’t hurt either.’ 

Staying in the antichamber was hell, but the peace and warmth he felt when leaving it was worth the freezing temperature. Harry hypothesised that the book was just not used to the change in location. Because the first page was dedicated to maintenance of the book for whoever owns it. The top bit in large font mentioned magical instability periods as the location changed. So his hope was that the book had calmed down enough for it to be placed in a low-leveled but still magically active room. Theo said they can try in the morning, for now they were putting their things away in his room. Dinner would be had on the terrace under warming charms, the view from there was extraordinary. Tall trees surrounded the manor, leading into a small forest. The place was a real lodge, but it wasn’t accessible to Muggles, nor most wixen. To everyone else they saw a Historical site protected by the government. To Harry it was mesmerising, a wonderful place to live. Dinner was nice, lovely even, after he’d taken his potion—he’d managed to eat a chicken breast, three small roast potatoes, two small spoonfuls of salad, and a handful of mixed nuts. Dessert was a little harder to stomach, but he managed, and was—for once in his life—pleasently full. He’d had a bowl of salted caramel mousse with berries and mint. Theo, with a flush, had devoured a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream with vanilla wafers. Made from ingredients that come from this very house. It looked nice, but Harry preferred his mint—if in things like chocolate—to taste more minty than sweet. But he did try a spoonful for the sake of pleasing Theo. By the smile on his face, Harry could safely assume he did. Their night ended with them stargazing, astrology homework on their laps. Except, Theo had two small spoons on the table beside him. 

Harry was fidgeting with anticipation, and Mojito, who was now coiled around his neck, was hissing about how fruity it smelled. He was heavy, having come back stating his hunt was successful. Harry could see it shining in the light of the moon–one was a dark red, cherry in color, and the other was a blue-toned black, like an oil spill. His heart was pumping and he couldn’t wait to see what each spoonful would do. A small bottle joined the spoons once Theo had finished his second paragraph whilst Harry was drawing—having finished his draft—the constellations he could see. Though they were hard to find, since his glasses were shit and he no longer took the potion for his eyes. He’ll need to ask for a new prescription later, before school starts because he wanted to be able to see the board this year. The scratching of their quills was calming, and no new memories surfaced as they worked. 

‘These poisons work best when the person is cold,’ Theo said suddenly, his homework placed onto the table. ‘So you’re going to have to brave the night air for a moment.’ 

‘Would this poison be given to someone who was lost or stranded? Like in the Muggle world, wanderers—mostly homeless individuals—are killed every year by people who don’t want them on their property. They die from being fed poisonous berries in the form of comforting food.’ Harry could remember the news outlets going wild over that national statistic. The Dursleys agreed that killing them was the best way—but Harry thought they weren’t smart enough for something like that. They couldn’t tell the difference between a grape and nightshade berries. ‘I suppose it’s ingenious, but you’d need to mask it well—in a drink like tea or something if it was herbal or fruity.’ 

‘The point of this was to get people to leave the winter gala early—it’s not a poison that kills, it makes the person uncomfortable as if there are knots being tied in their stomachs.’ Oh, so Harry won’t feel much different than what he usually felt. ‘This second one was put into the wine that made the person feel like they were swallowing glass—Draco hated the idea of this one, so I haven’t tried it on anyone else.’ That sounded like strep throat, something Harry’s had quite a few times. 

‘One at a time, or both at once?’ Harry asked, putting his notebook down. He was halfway drawing Leo when the spoons levitated themselves. 

‘I’ll mix them both into tea, and then you’ll take a sip of each.’ The spoons were dropped into two steaming cups, Prim was watching anxiously. ‘Prim hates when I test poisons, but all my friends have done it at least once. My favourite time was with Greg and Vince—I put pufferfish poison into an egg roll and they were purple within five minutes.’ 

This murderousness was intriguing, and Harry wondered if this was all just a sham. Like, how convincing does one have to be for their friends to take poison willingly? Harry was just a sadist who had no sense of self-preservation. With still hands, he accepts the first cup and takes a sip. He could feel a grinding in his stomach, but it wasn’t painful—it reminded him of his first week at Hogwarts after having consistent meals. Even if they were tiny. So he drank more, pulling away from Theo’s frantic hands. Terror. That was how Harry’d describe Theo’s expression. Pure terror. But then, as Harry finished the cup and sat there with an emotionless face, something flashed in his eyes. Anger. Not at Harry, not that he thinks so at least, but it was hot like sauna stones. Steaming around the edges. 

‘I recall saying a sip, Potter, not the whole thing!’ Theo went on a rambling ramble, telling Harry all the things he could do to whoever conditioned you to think feeling like that was normal. But the joke was on him, since the Dursley’s were going to prison, and the others will never be seen again. ‘...I swear the Aurors need to find them so that I can feed them poison that will do more than twist their stomach in knots!’ 

‘Can I try the other poison now? Harry asked, the ache in his stomach lessening as Prim gave him the antidote. ‘It’d give me an excuse to try the exotic tea selection I know you have.’ It also would take Harry back to when he was small, swallowing ice cubes that the Dursleys never knew about. ‘It’s nearing 11, and I know you are a punctual kind of person who sleeps at exactly 11:30.’ 

‘If I … Pardon?’ Harry giggled as he took the cup from the table with a levitation charm. It was easier, and faster than getting up to take it. He was already sipping it—each one feeling like burnt bacon bits sliding down his throat. ‘You are insane.’ 

‘You’re the one that tests poisons on his friends—something I feel honoured to be a part of,’ Harry said with a rasp. He didn’t finish this cup, feeling his throat swelling a little. 

‘Honestly Potter, these ones are not as mild as the ones I’ve given everyone else. Blaise had one where he shat himself into dehydration, sure, and Draco—god that one was funny—he turned pink and chortled like a turkey for an hour.’ Theo took the cup and replaced it with the antidote; it tasted like raspberries and Harry could feel his throat opening back up. ‘Pansy gave up after I gave her one that made her hiccup for the day. I didn’t really think you would accept, I thought it was all just flirting behind parchment.’ 

‘I’ve never flirted with anyone before, so I was actually quite interested! The books I was looking forward to more, but the poisons were intriguing.’ Harry watched Prim pop away and then come back again with tea and fruit. He was eating like a fruit bat, honestly, with how much he’s consumed recently. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me die, because then you’d have no healthy competition in school! The only one you’ll for sure beat me in, is Ancient Runes because I don’t think I could name them all off the top of my head. And perhaps Arithmancy—’ 

Lips found his bitten ones for a brief moment before Theo told him to shut up and drink his tea. With a flush he did, sipping quietly as they both listened to the wildlife, and watched the stars. 

——

Harry didn’t know what was in that tea Prim made, but not only was it delicious, it also let him sleep through the night. Because he couldn’t remember falling asleep, nor drawing a terrible rendition of the antechamber. He woke up in a small bed that was underneath a window of a room Harry didn’t remember going into. Harry was in pajamas—ones with little stars on the bottoms and a plain long sleeve—and his back felt pleasantly numb from the salve. He had brought his mat and some candles, as well as two pictures and prayed as the sun rose. It was nearing 7 when he finished dressing and drafting his transfiguration essay. He only had his Potions to summarise, and then he could rewrite them all into final copies. His wand warmed in his holster as Mojito slithered in, belly full with a rodent of some kind. He wondered how well Tina and Oli would take their new nest mate before he took the green serpent to Potter Manor. 

Your mate’s nest is full of juicy rats, will your nest feature the same, Little Speaker? 

Harry snorted as the serpent slowly slithering up his leg as he was putting his shoes on. He didn’t respond verbally, just nodded as he tried to tie his shoes without magic. But he failed and knotted the laces. So he gave up and charmed them, all before a knock rasped against the door. 

‘I see I’m not the only punctual one, then, you hypocrite!’ Theo was dressed in all grey—dark grey pants, light green-grey shirt, and grey socks. ‘Father has been joined by a few more of his colleagues, so he’s returning home for a moment to collect more of his bows. So we will have a rushed breakfast in the first study we were in yesterday.’ 

‘Does he know I’m here?’ Harry couldn’t remember if the man knew or not. ‘I can always hide and eat in the garden or something.’ Or he could just hide and not eat, because he still felt full from dinner and dessert. Not to mention the tea and poisons. ‘I could hide in the antechamber and get started if you’d like. Get used to there being no magic if I’m running on caffeine.’ 

‘I suppose—he knows you’re here, but hiding may be for the best. If there were a way to have it outside the antechamber would be great, but Prim can’t find anything that could help.’ Harry pursed his lips as Theo dragged him along the corridor—a place he doesn’t recognise—and down a small flight of stairs. ‘If the book did say it would calm down, then we can bring it out once Father has left—you won’t be in there for more than 20 minutes if we are lucky.’ 

Theo, as Harry scribbled in the new book, was a liar. His watch read 8:20, and so he’s been in here for well over 45 minutes. But the extra time, and a few tears shed, was enough for Harry to push through in translating. This first chapter was titled: Chapter 1 — A Mothers Poison in the Shape of Children’s Tears. Which wasn’t about a mother or children, it was about the ways you could use the Mother of Cairo flower that was shaped like a teardrop. This chapter was filled with recipes and instructions on where to find and prepare the plant. He’d managed to translate all 10 pages by the time Theo arrived, his hands red from being washed vigorously. His face was pinched and he looked like he wanted to hex something—perhaps instead of poison testing, they could duel instead? That sounded like a fun time; Harry going against a pureblooded wizard in his own home. In the end, another 15 minutes later, Harry had one chapter out of 50 translated. It only took him an hour, so if he worked for another 24 straight hours, he’ll be halfway finished! Theo, much to Harry’s disappointment, was not a fan of that idea. He promised to tie Harry to the bed and read that other text in front of him, wordlessly. Which sounded terrible, because he wanted to read it, and get the translating done! He can’t do that tied to the bed. 

They had a small snack of tea and savouries before they attempted to move the book. It wasn’t overly heavy, but it was reacting to being outside the room. It fizzled and popped with stray bursts of sentient magic. It warmed Harry’s hands as he walked it out into the study—the one with the desk they could share. Theo was organising the room whilst Harry was going over the second chapter: With Which the Willow Meets its End. It detailed the ways to kill people using dried plants—not as teas or edible things—but as scent pockets or colognes. Each root had a specific scent when distilled in alcohol of different strneght. After Theo and Harry were finished another hour had passed, bringing them to 10:00. There they spoke about how they thought the year would go—which was interrupted by Mojito requesting that they investigate a large thing that was settled in the treeline. With a frown, Theo followed the snake, wand beared as they stalked outside and towards the treeline. There, in his fluffy glory, was the dog from Malfoy Manor!

‘Potter, your dog followed you here!’ 

What the fuck.

Chapter Text

Harry couldn’t believe it! The dog had found him and now Theo was rambling on about how idiots shouldn’t feed strays. But the deep sadness in the poor things' eyes—Harry couldn’t help himself. He told Theo, in the softest voice he could, that he knew what it was like to starve and that he was sorry the dog was here now. That led them to taking the books outside and settling under a large tree. The dog's head in Harry's lap, and Harry leaning into Theo’s chest. Heat and magic pooled in his stomach at the proximity, but he liked it compared to the cold and magicless void he’d feel without it. Harry, instead of writing, had gone through five quills before he got one to write what he said; the charm wasn’t terribly difficult—by Harry’s standards—it was just awfully fickle. Theo offered to steal one of his father’s ones, but Harry was stubborn and wanted to master the spell. So now he was reading the third chapter: A Sirens Cry. It detailed how different species defended their homes and families; the fascination this author had is astounding, as it was the largest chapter so far. By the time he’d read chapter four: Death Beheads Itself—chapter five: Rainwater into Acid—chapter six: Tears of a Banshee—and chapter seven: A Mammal's Flesh and Blood, it was 12:30. The dog was fast asleep, and Theo was listening intently whilst trying not to fall asleep himself. Warm puffs of breath tickled Harry’s neck and his voice wavered as he spoke. Small pops of magic sounded in his other ear as his hands heated with magic that had nowhere to go. 

Harry thought speaking was much better than writing—he’s saved hours of work, quills, and spilled ink by doing it this way. The magic of the book only spurred him on, like it was saying the best was yet to come. His pendant was almost hot to the touch as the magic crackled around them like a bonfire. Decades worth of charms and spells was like meeting an old friend again. So, through bites of carrot sticks and hummus—forced onto him and Theo by Prim—Harry continued. Chapter eight: An Enemy's Eyes—chapter nine: Witnessing Terror—chapter 10: Unleashing Terror; followed by chapter eleven: Terror Among Many. By the time he ate three carrots, two apples, and an orange, he’d read four more chapters. The new book was slowly being filled and he’ll read more than once he knows Theo will not have a crooked neck from his sleeping position. Harry tilted his head up to see, but instead of a sleeping face, he saw those piercing steel-grey eyes. 

‘Why’d you stop? I was enjoying this person’s way of torture and demise for those that wronged him.’ 

‘Her, I think—I’ve never heard a man speak so tenderly about saving the children and punishing the adults.’ The page that was dedicated to the care of this book was another indicator. ‘It’s fascinating learning about this, like she’s done everything she’s said. It would have taken decades and a multitude of conflicts to achieve even a miniscule amount of these things.’ There were still so many more to go—she had to have taken experiences from others, from all over the world. It may have been written in Hindi, but there was so much diversity; it was written for anyone who’d listen. ‘What made you get it?’ 

‘It was a gift actually, from one of my Father’s many friends who deals in trading.’ Theo dragged a finger over the edge of the paper. ‘The guy was going to lock it in the archives, but my father is a morbid man who loves learning about murder in all types.’ 

‘Are you sure he didn’t get it for you, because you are a morbid person who enjoys learning about murder?’ Harry asked, the dog raised its head and huffed like he was helping emphasise his point. A bite to the neck made him shiver and giggle. Hands gripped his waist so he couldn’t escape; the solidness of Theo’s torso was a nice backrest, so Harry leaned back further. ‘That’s cute though, and a historical marvel! Think of the antidotes you could create from reading through this! People who have been cursed with these spells could finally be healed once they’ve been given the permission of redemption.’ 

‘I don’t think they’re supposed to survive these, Potter,’ Theo said with a raised brow, circling his arms around Harry’s middle. ‘But its cute that you think that.’ He looked at his watch and sighed. ‘How about we duel a bit? My arse is asleep, and I’m sure your little dog could use a run around.’ 

And so, from 2:00 till 5:00, Harry was being pushed through his paces duelling Theo—who was a total cheater! Harry dodged like he was running from Dudley’s little gang, but this time he was casting his own spells. Defending himself. The heir rings were warm with joy as he cast spell after spell. Basic jinxes and curses escalated into more sinister hexes as they warmed up. The Black family ring felt like it was egging him on with small bursts of magic crawling up his fingers. Harry was casting shields left and right, then throwing curses of his own; the Potter ring was fueling each shield like it was made to create them. He conjured a shoe and then solidified it into a projectile weapon, a weapon Theo barely missed. Duro was a wonderful spell that Harry enjoyed casting. Glacius was too—he’d created a small ice patch that Theo didn’t see coming. But with vigor and murderous delight, Theo got up and blocked Harry’s knock back jinx and hit him with Expelliarmus. But what his murderous friend didn’t know was that Harry had his other wand too. Shadowed by his false victory, Harry hit Theo with the Jelly legs, and down he went; the feeling of his Dogwood and Yew wand was burning in all the right ways. For that whole time with the Birch, he’d felt exhilarated, but with his duel wood wand, he felt alive. The dog, in all its enormous size, howled with glee as he ran around their makeshift dueling strip. He tackled Theo, who was trying to get to a sitting position, and licked his face while Harry panted for breath. Prim, who had been monitoring them, had sugar cubes and iced tea for them. The cold drink was perfect as Harry lent against the tree, sipping as Theo played with the dog. His legs no longer jelly because Harry felt bad. The glare he had been sent did nothing but promise bruised lips though, so he may have taken his time with the counter jinx.  

‘Young master has never offered to duel before—mistress was the only one he’d practice with.’ Prim wasn’t overly talkative, but Harry appreciated every bit she gave him. ‘Master wouldn’t let Young Theodorus have a wand until a week before school started. Prim took little master to Master Rowle for his wand—cypress and pine with one of his mothers fangs.’ Harry looked at the wand Prim was holding, the wood grain was smooth with no notches, and polished. ‘Prim had been given the fang by Mistress before she passed, and Prim kept it until Master Rowle needed it.’ 

‘You’ve done a wonderful job looking after him, Prim, you should be proud of yourself.’ Harry could see tears welling in her enormous eyes, and so he conjured—now that he had the spell down well enough—a handkerchief to wipe her eyes. She looked terrified at first, but accepted Harry’s small dabs at her face. ‘I know he appreciated your company too, you do well to keep him happy.’ 

‘Thank you—Prim was once a Black-owned elf, but then Kreacher didn’t like that. So Prim was given to Mistress Violetta to keep.’ Kreacher—Layla said the same name—Harry wondered who he was. He can’t remember if he was told about that elf or not. ‘Prim had helped Mistress Walburga raised young masters until they went to school, then she was thrown away—’ 

‘I think you were placed where you needed to be, Prim. Theo adores you, and you adore him. My sire—even with how little I know about him—would have adored you too, but Theo is yours now. Forever.’ Harry wanted to question her about how they grew up—his family—but seeing her heartbreak, he decided not to. ‘Would you like some help with dinner? I can wash the veggies if you’d like? Leave these two to play around some more.’ 

A smile painted the elf’s face. ‘Prim would love some company!’ 

Dinner tonight was light: leafy salads, cold cuts of lamb and chicken, steamed potatoes and yams, and a side of poached eggs. They ate outside on the small patio; the wind was cooling Theo’s warm skin, and the sweat was dissolving Harry’s resolve. Cooking had been a distraction, and he loved working with Prim. She had the best stories that Theo will stab him for later. Her words were delicate but not weary, she was full of energy as she sliced the meats and did the dishes. Harry’s job was to wash and cut the vegetables, and poach the eggs whilst he listened. He learnt that Theo’s favourite color was blue and had a stuffed bat the same color—he also loves pasta and had bitten someone for trying to take his plate once. Harry can’t keep a straight face now that he’s sitting in front of the guy, who was hungrily munching on Romain lettuce. The dog was happily gnawing on the lamb bone and eating a few poached eggs and potatoes. Harry still had no idea how he found him, but he was glad it made Theo happy. Mojito was coiled around his neck, talking about the smelly fur ball from the safety of Harry's upper body. The night ended with another dessert, this time it was dark chocolate cake with mousse and fruit coulis. 

‘Anymore poison tonight, or have I had my share?’ To be honest, Harry was looking forward to another round of poison, but the sheepish look on Theo’s face told him otherwise. 

‘I was thinking we could go over our subjects for this year, and what clubs we chose—I will not survive if I have to put up with Granger on my own!’ Theo looked terrified for a moment before shoving Harry to the floor. Harry deserved it for laughing, and was surprised when no rogue memories came flooding in. ‘You are such a prat!’ 

‘Alright, shall we stay out here, or go inside? It’s pretty warm out, so …’ Harry was looking between Theo and the dog, who was sitting with his head resting on the dinner table. 

With a roll of his eyes, Theo let the dog go inside while Prim cleaned up out here. Harry followed closely behind, finding his skin felt drier as the air remained warm but dry. He willed himself not to scratch, not wanting to get blood anywhere. But he didn’t win, his arms were red and puffy by the time they climbed the stairs to the study that sat between Theo’s and his borrowed room. It was cozy, with sage green walls, gold decor, and bookshelves everywhere. A half circle of chairs wrapped around the fireplace and Harry took a seat, still itching—until the dog came over and licked the raw patches. Harry did not know why he got itchy at random times, but was weirdly grateful for the dog’s saliva. Theo had his club form and quill; a frustrated face etched into his skin. Harry was petting the dog as Theo whined about having to choose a club, and how pointless he thought they were. On one hand, he had to deal with all year levels at once, and on the other he had to deal with people on the weekend. Therefore, clubs were a waste of his personal time. Even if they’d only be on odd weeks, meaning they’d only have eight weeks of club weekends, so Harry didn’t know what he was complaining about. Harry suggested Theo do Debate, since Draco mentioned the guy loved to argue—Zabini would probably be there too, so there was that as well. He also suggested either chess or study, thinking the boy didn’t really seem like a wizarding game kind of guy. 

‘What did you pick?’ Theo asked as he ticked club Lambda. 

‘I chose Art and Languages—I thought they’d be relaxed compared to the others.’ Harry didn’t want the stress of other people's study styles, nor did he feel that chess was his thing. ‘You could always do languages too? I kind of want to see how many languages I can learn so that I can piss people off.’ 

‘Menace!’ Theo said as he picked club Delta with a grin. ‘Now, what about electives? I chose Arithmancy and Runes, so what about you?’ 

‘All of them, if I am honest. Professor Flitwick said he can timetable me in for as many as possible, see how I go, and then either do the rest via self study or drop them.’ Harry was eager to do all of them, even if it didn’t seem realistic. ‘I have no self-preservation, so I’m going to be busy, but it’s better than being bored I suppose.’ 

‘You’re mental, Potter, absolutely mental—how do you add classes?’ Theo was a hypocrite, a cute one, but still a hypocrite. ‘Do I just owl McGonagall?’ 

Harry nodded as he petted the dog's head and the conversation drifted off. Both boys basked in the silence as the fire crackled until Harry got restless. Mojito was coiled by the fire as Harry stood to go get the book—he wanted to translate a few more chapters before tomorrow, so that they’d have time to duel again. When he got back, Theo was asleep with the dog laying by his feet. With a small smile, Harry got comfy by the fire and cast a muffling charm. For the next four hours, he’d translated the next 12 chapters. 

Chapter twelve: Silent Killers of Men

Chapter thirteen: Pickled Pieces 

Chapter fourteen: Arc Angels Revenge

Chapter fifteen: The Eyes of the Tyrants 

Chapter sixteen: A Strike of Crime

Chapter seventeen: Seven Sins Services

Chapter eighteen: Sahara Desert Dreams 

Chapter nineteen: Illusions of Salvation

Chapter twenty: A Bone for a Cure

Chapter twenty-one: Heliotrope and Devil’s Fruit

Chapter twenty-two: Pentagram Studies 

Chapter twenty-three: Sacrificial Kin

The titles in English were a little off, but no translation was perfect. He was certain he would get this done by the time he was to head home. It was just after midnight when Prim came in with tea. She said he shouldn’t stay up this late, to drink the tea, and then shower for bed. Not wanting to argue with her, Harry drank the tea—lemon mint—while admiring Theo from afar. He couldn’t believe he’d been kissed by one of the most handsome people he knew. Everyone in his year had oggled the Slytherin boy from afar—even Hermione had been caught staring, much to Ron’s displeasure. No one caught Harry staring, because he had a brain and could read in the library and stare that way. With a book as his shield. From scratching himself, he knew this wasn’t a dream—he also didn’t have dreams that lasted this long, they almost always turned into a nightmare. Or start as one. Prim said she’d wake Theo soon, so he left for his room, but not before giving the boy a kiss on the cheek, and took a shower. The dog was snoring away, and Mojito was coiling by the fire. His soap was running out, and he was surprised when he saw there was a full bottle on the counter. He didn’t use it, but felt giddy inside at the sentiment and he dressed in a matching set of pretzel themed pajamas after salving himself up—with Prim's insistent help—and grabbed his journal. He drew the dog, Mojito by the fire, the dinner table, and Theo sitting with his mint ice cream. They weren’t perfect, and he doubted they ever would be, but they calmed his mind—syphoned the excess events from the day. The edges were shaky and there was little to no shading. But you could tell what they were, and that was all that mattered. He put the book down and hoped tomorrow was just as fun as today had been. 

——

His last day with Theo was the best he’s ever had. Harry woke up to the dog laying with him on the bed, snoring softly with Mojito coiled on his head. To his surprise, he hadn’t dreamt last night; in fact he slept so soundly that he couldn’t remember falling asleep. His journal was on the pillow next to him, and a note that said Theo was fire calling his father so don’t wait up. Obviously he didn’t. The dog yawned, shuffled closer with Mojito still on his head, and licked his face gently. In a fit of giggles, his chest bloomed with magic as he fell to the ground. All his rings warmed with recognition, and so they must have met the dogs' owners before. He couldn’t even be mad as the dog kept licking him; its grey-blue eyes reminding him of Padfoot. Harry said nothing, just basked in the warmth the magic brought him. The dog had even laid still whilst he prayed as the sun rose—front legs crossed and head bowed like it was praying too. Mojito was coiled around the pictures and candles, complimenting the photos he had brought with him. 

Breakfast was a spread of toasted foods, fruit, and porridge. Harry had taken the honey-drizzled porridge and stole most of the strawberries. Theo had taken most of the breakfast sausage—because Harry couldn’t eat it—and the contaminated eggs with toast. The dog had looked at him with stunned silence as he spoke about Hinduism, and what aspects he was focusing on as he learned more. He was speaking about how his aunt had found his dam’s prayer mat, and the dog whined. So they got ready for the day, thinking the dog needed to get some exercise. 

Harry was in a worn cotton button up and faded jeans he’d found in his room whilst packing. He forewent his polished shoes and popped on a pair of beat up trainers Moony had. Downstairs Theo was reading the chapters he didn’t get to hear last night, and looked to be mentally picturing how they went. The dog, who was sticking closely to Harry’s side, was sitting and waiting to be let out. Theo, with a grumble, shook the book in front of Harry’s face, complaining that he’d missed 12 entire chapters. 

‘You were dead to the world! And Draco mentioned you were cranky before tea and a biscuit, so I wasn’t risking it,’ Harry had enough self-preservation to not poke the bear. ‘Shall we head outside for some more chapters and then duel again? I don’t think we need to do much more for homework, do we?’ 

‘No, we don’t, I think we can finish them whenever,’ Theo said, grabbing Harry’s hand and leading them in the opposite direction to the open area. ‘We’ll head to the greenhouse first, there are some plants I’m growing for Longbottom’s birthday—I stole seeds from Uncle Tav, so that Gryffindor better appreciate them.’ 

Dueling and translating waited a good two hours as Harry had helped Theo keep the plants alive. Apparently just watering them wasn’t enough, much to Theo’s horror. Herbology wasn’t his strong suit it seemed, and he—with the reddest face—admitted that he’d only gotten an ‘A’ in the subject. Harry hadn’t missed the scowl the boy had given as he laughed, and he caught the trowel effortlessly as it was hurdled across the room. The dog howled and tapped its front paws on the greenhouse floor at the catch. So for the entire time they were in the humid area, Harry had a human leech attached to his back, watching how he cared for each plant differently. Without so much a peep from the plants. The warmth of the boy had Harry a little fuddled as he was the son of a vampire but was as hot as he assumed a werewolf cub would be. Their venture around the greenhouse ended as Theo declared Longbottom can fix them if they’re wilted. The boys ended up sitting in a tree with both books levitating above them. Harry was avidly reading while Theo was carving something with wood. At first the bit of wood was just a small branch, and by the time he finished chapter twenty-four: Poison Parties, it was looking more like a whistle. And, with enormous eyes, Harry watched the whistle turn into a flute-like thing. Theo had claimed he liked to watch his uncle carve the wands in his workshop, and took to playing with scraps that were too damaged to be functional. Harry had finished Chapter twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, and thirty as the sun rose higher in the sky. It was now lunchtime, and Theo suggested a mini duel before Prim dragged them to the table. Of course Harry couldn’t deny it, but he hadn’t expected being on the ground with Theo hovering over him by the end. His muscles were killing him, but like everything else, he’d survive. 

The dog had—with effort—tried to get Theo to move, but the steel-eyed boy refused. His hands were by Harry’s ears, and one knee was in between Harry’s legs. Heat and magic pooled dangerously low in his stomach as he stared up at Theo; he’s never felt like this before, and was going to have to brave the library for answers. Because he was definitely not going to be asking a human being for help. 

‘Well, it seems the master of defence can be beaten!’ Theo had said with a sweaty grin. Sweat dripped down his nose and landed in the corner of Harry’s lip; it tasted like mango, but he thinks his mind is playing with him. ‘It only took three spells in a language you didn’t know to take you out.’ 

Harry was listening, but was still lost in those pools of molten silver. They didn’t swirl; they were solid aside from one or two specks of a darker blue. They were pretty, and he wondered if he got them from his mother or not. If he did, then Theo’s mother was one beautiful woman; if not, then the rest of him must have been all his mother. Because Harry wouldn’t believe anyone if they told him Theo looked everything like his father. This boy was too warm against the harshness that he’d heard about Lord Nottingham. Lips found his own, and the dog barked and put its muzzle in the way. Harry pouted and Theo scowled. 

‘Um, excuse me sir, I am trying to snog the life out of the boy under me and you’re ruining that!’ 

Harry had giggled the entire time, watching the dog whine whilst Theo argued with it. In the end, the dog ran off and into the trees and Theo went back to snogging the life out of the boy under him. The kiss started off slowly, at a pace where both boys could still breathe well enough, but then it picked up as the summer breeze blew. Harry had put his hands on Theo’s cheeks and pulled him impossibly closer; he could feel his lips bruising with the force. If Harry had felt a little disappointed by the end, he didn’t show it on his face. He hadn’t thought that snogging was this tame, kisses and nothing more—he expected at least one wandering hand based on the common room chatter that was now plaguing his mind. But, Theo pulled away grinning, so Harry thought nothing more of it; he licked his lips and could taste the sour snake the boy had eaten before their duel. The mango taste made more sense now. He was pulled to his feet and got another chaste kiss before being led back to the tree where Prim had floating trays of sweets and savouries. 

‘Has your aunt gone over the ball preparations yet?’ Theo asked, taking a bite from a red apple. ‘Draco hated his, it was held the day after the train brought us back to Kings Cross. I hope she’s not made it the night before we leave for the station.’ 

‘She has done little with me, however I got to pick the first few families I wanted to invite.’ Harry had slices of orange on his tray, along with some sour grapes. ‘If I’m honest, the ones I added were more for Draco than myself. I don’t think I have many friends, so I wanted Draco to have some company, regardless.’ 

‘Was I on that list?’ Theo asked, taking a piece of cheese and throwing it for the dog. 

‘I was hoping to ask you before I put you on the list—you didn’t seem very enthused when we went over them at Malfoy Manor, so I didn’t want to assume you’d like an invitation to randomly appear.’ Harry was actually terrified to put the name Nottingham onto the list, simply because of Theo’s dad. ‘Your dad also scares me, even if we haven’t met formally yet.’ 

‘And you never will, hopefully, but I appreciate the thought.’ Theo crabbed more cheese cubes and threw them out for the dog. ‘If you’d like me there, then I will attend, even if I never received an invitation. Father wouldn’t have gone anyway—he’d have thrown the invitation away before I could’ve seen it too.’ 

‘I will add just you onto the list then; I have no one else that I’d like to invite, so I’ll leave most of the guest list to her.’ 

Sitting in relative silence, eating fruits, sweets, and meatless savouries was a calm way to enter the afternoon. Because Harry went right into translating the rest of the book as Theo was carving larger blocks of wood. Harry sat with his back to Theo’s front, and his lap was collecting wood shaving as the boy carved away, his arms snaking around Harry’s middle. The smell of pine and cedar drafted into his nose as he read, and by the time he finished chapter fifty, they’d missed dinner and were being scolded by Prim. Who—although gentle about it—was now shovel-feeding them cold cuts of chicken and lamb at 10:00 and not 7:00. The dog even looked guilty as he ate lamb shanks and beef trimming. Her pout was to kill over, as Harry insisted he do the dishes as an apology while she made dessert. His reasoning was because she hadn’t interrupted them, and he was happy to do it knowing he had no more translating to do. Harry’s voice was also raw from speaking for so long, so he was glad to do something with his hands and not his voice. It was going to be a time where Theo wasn’t around, but as Harry filled the sink, the leech attached itself to him and didn’t let go until Prim came to wipe the counter. Theo’s arms were loose around Harry’s waist, but he leaned heavily on him—the dog wasn’t too happy about this either, trying to get in the middle of them. But Harry felt the added weight was calming, therapeutic even, like a weighted blanket he didn’t ask for but got, anyway. 

That night had ended with Harry’s head in Theo’s lap, listening to the older boy reading the book on healing spells out loud. Harry hadn’t asked, within the time he was here, about the other book Theo had mentioned. He didn’t feel like it was something he needed to see, or read. Harry was content with being read to, as he had done enough reading himself to last him the week. The dog was curled by the fire, with Mojito coiled on his head—Harry didn’t know where the dog originally came from, but he was glad he found his way here. Theo had, reluctantly, agreed to house the dog for a few days, as he too wasn’t sure how he got here. But Harry secretly knew the boy was glad to have some company that wasn’t Prim. The dog had spun around like it understood it had a stable home for at least a few days, and neither boy questioned it. 

The next morning had been lazy, as both boys woke up in the same position they had been resting in. Harry’s head on Theo’s lap, and Theo reclined in a comfortable position on the couch. The dog was running around, chasing a mouse that had found its way in, with Mojito hot on its haunches. Breakfast had been a peaceful time too, as they ate outside after Harry had prayed with the sunrise. Harry had porridge again, with some dark chocolate chips and mixed berries. Theo had a plate of last night's leftovers heated with some toast. Both had tea in their cups that they sipped while talking quietly about how the rest of the summer was going to go. Harry was looking forward to school, but was eager for the time he’d get with his newfound family. Theo had agreed, but was going to be with his mother’s family for the rest of the summer to keep away from his father. The boy wasn’t sour about it; he was actually quite happy to be with them. 

‘Maybe I’ll get some weird illness that triggers the vampirism,’ Theo had said as Harry washed the dishes again. His own hands dry each dish with care. ‘Then I’d be able to bite you properly as I wouldn’t need to stay in the dark for more than a day or two—which is insane compared to the five years my cousins had to endure.’ 

Harry was frowning a little, thinking of what illness could be so severe it triggered his inheritance. ‘I’m a little surprised you’ve not found a poison that’s triggered it before.’ A smile finds its way to his face. ‘Maybe you should try one of Seamus’ potions, perhaps those will trigger the vampirism! They’re close enough to poison, considering they end up burnt and fowl.’ 

‘I’d rather eat a skunk's anal glands than whatever Finnigan scrapes from the bottom of his cauldron!’ Theo had a scrunched face and Harry chucked the soapy sponge at him. 

That had certainly earned them both a scolding from Prim, because their impromptu soap battle ended in Harry being on the counter snogging her precious Young Master. His clothes drenched, but his chest was full of warmth. 

‘Young Master's throwing soap everywhere! Prim is not happy!’ she had said with a pout, and then snapped her fingers to clean everything. Within minutes, the place was soapless, and the boys were dry. ‘Young Master Potter has a letter, so he best get off the counter to read it.’ 

The letter had been from Moony, saying that Aunt Narcissa would wait for him at home because he and Severus were at Hogwarts. His aunt was going to be going over some stuff for the ball so that everything could be ordered. It had ended with Moony saying he hoped Harry had a good time with Theo and would see him later. Theo, with a toothy grin, had commented that he’d had the best time—the poisoning was a little iffy, but everything else was great. Harry had left a little later than he’d promised—totally not because he was getting to know Theo and his lips better—but he’d left with the biggest smile and a promise to owl regularly. His aunt had greeted him, raising a brow at Mojito on his shoulder, and asked him how everything went. 

‘Amazingly!’ Harry had said as he led her up the stairs to put his things away. ‘The book was so good, I almost wanted to steal it and block the floo! And this is Mojito—Theo wanted to know why I had fangs when speaking to snakes, so I conjured this little guy.’ Tina and Oli were greeting their new nest mate as his aunt spoke.  

‘That’s lovely, now how about you change—you could do with a shower, as I am not so sure a certain werewolf would appreciate knowing his cub has been doing extracurricular activities whilst being studious.’ Harry was then left with a fiery face and two other serpents yelling at him for leaving them behind now that they were acquainted with Mojito. 

That was almost a week ago now, as it was now the 23 of July and the preparations for the birthday ball were completed. The colors were finalised—purple, gold, and black—, as were the decorations, bonfire, and birthday ritual planning, and the venue. Harry had been given many options for where, but there was one place he wanted it to be. He knew he wanted it there the moment he was told his parents had there’s there too. Black Castle was grand, and he could envision his dam and sire blowing out their candles under the clear sky. The decor was simple: some streamers, lights, table toppers, and lanterns. Harry wanted nothing too in his face, much to his family's disappointment. During this time of planning, he had met several elves that worked at Black Castle and he was delighted that they were being looked after. His grandmother had looked at him funny when he voiced his opinion on elf welfare—he didn’t want them free but he wanted them looked after so they could live long, meaningful lives. Their creation was to help, and they weren’t given a purpose other than that; Harry had gotten a letter from Theo the night after he’d left about how elves lived off of magic, and would die if they were fully free. He then wondered how Dobby was alive; he’d need to ask the elf when he saw him next. 

The ritual was fun to plan; he’d decided on a bonfire, where everyone got to write letters to loved ones before throwing them in. He also had a lantern station, where everyone could write aspirations for the year and then send them up. Lighting candles was how he wanted to end his night, with them lighting the venue like stars in the sky—then they’d be blown out whilst thinking of a wish. The food was difficult to plan unlike the rituals, but Harry wanted everyone that would be in attendance happy. So he asked if there could be separate tables: one for meat, another for veggies, one for dairy products, and the last one for allergen free foods. His aunts were discussing the layout as Uncle Marius was talking to him about the cake he wanted. The women had this big board that hovered above his head, and he took no mind as he drew his cake idea. 

‘I don’t want it huge, or anything, but sizable for the event.’ Harry had said, his design held out for his uncle to see. ‘I was thinking of just a three tiered cake with some color—I don’t mind otherwise.’ 

‘What about flavor? Anything you’d like for just this cake? The sheet cakes can be whatever you’d like too.’ Uncle Marius, for all his book smarts, was an incredible baker. He’d be overseeing the food for the night, saying it was a delight to be involved. 

‘Um, I like salted caramel, so maybe something like that?’ Harry wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t really decide. ‘I also like sour things, so maybe a vanilla cake with something fruity in the middle?’ It was weird to think about himself and what he wanted, so he wasn’t sure at all. As long as everyone was happy, then he was satisfied. 

‘I’ll make sure you love it!’ 

The invitations had been sent out this morning too, and Harry was nervous at watching them all fly off with owls to their destinations. In the end, there would—if everyone in each family attended—be around 300 families and possibly well over 400 guests. Not the number he hoped for, but his Aunt Narcissa was delighted at having them all written out and sent away. Most were to people he’s never heard of, but his parents had known them, so he thought it would be nice to know them too. Harry had the Weasleys' invitation with him, as he was going to be dropped off there whilst the adults went to Black Castle to decorate. He was thinking he should have delivered Theo’s and Neville’s personally too, but Aunt Dorea had already sent theirs by the time Harry had finished breakfast. Neville had sent Harry an invitation for a much smaller birthday lunch the day before, and his aunt sent off the RSVP with he invitation. Mrs Weasley had owled while he was eating, and he asked if he could go, knowing he’d be on his own for the whole day, anyway. Moony had offered to take him through the floo, as he knew the proper address. Severus had taken Draco somewhere before breakfast, so there was no reason to stay. So he was packing some things into his bag to take with him—no serpents as Mr Weasley wasn’t overly fond of them—and changed into some jeans and a random button up. He was glad his grandmother wasn’t here at the moment, for the fear of being told to change. 

‘I’ll come and get you later on in the evening, okay?’ Moony asked as he reached the bottom step. ‘Severus is stuck in Diagon, and so I have some paperwork to finish for him at Hogwarts.’ 

‘That’s fine, you take your time,’ Harry said as they walked the short way to the floo. ‘I’m sure I can bunk with Ron anyway, if it gets late. Their couch is comfy too, so I’m not fussed.’ 

‘Alright, do you have your potion in case that happens?’ Harry nodded, he still had one from when he was at Theo’s. ‘Then let's go, I am sure those redheads would love some company.’ 

We are taking our new nest mate around the hunting grounds, and will bring back a feast for you! Tina was slithering around in a circle with Mo and Oli waiting at the door. We will guard the nest while you are gone!

The Burrow’s living room was just how he remembered it as he stepped through the floo: colorful, mismatched, and full of love and magic. He held the invitation with care as he walked to the kitchen, finding Mrs Weasley humming a soft tune. She was washing dishes and Ginny was sitting and scribbling in a journal. Well, she was up until she saw Harry. She was out of her seat and hugging him tightly, but with a gentleness that Harry leaned in to. Her voice was small as she told him that Lord Malfoy was paying for her Mind Healing sessions, something his aunt never mentioned. He was happy for her and was glad the triangle man was taking care of those Harry cherished. Percy was in the corner reading about wizarding law, and Harry could see it was the second book of a series. He looked quite content, reading while his mother cooked; it was a total difference to the chaos that was outside. Fred and George were flying around while Ron tried to hit them with small pebbles fired from a slingshot. It wasn’t until another redhead walked in and spotted Harry that Mrs Weasley knew he was there. 

‘Oh Harry! My goodness, you should have said something,’ Mrs Weasley said as she dried her hands off on her apron. She held her hands out and cupped his face gently, and—as if a switch was flipped—Harry melted in her hold. Warm, toasty magic curled around him like an embrace. ‘It’s so lovely to see you looking so well.’ Her voice was soft, and her eyes were warm. ‘Minerva owled and I couldn’t believe it, at first, until she came to talk with us. I was very much prepared to do questionable things to this wayward witch, stealing magic. What has the world come to?’ 

‘But dad talked her out of it, which was a bummer—’ 

‘Yeah! Mum was always good at yelling someone into compliance—’ 

‘And when that didn’t work, she’d hex them to bits!’ 

Harry knew those voices well and accepted the tight—but still gentle—squeeze from the twins. They smelt like cinnamon and sugar syrup. Their arms wrapped around him and he practically snuggled into them. With one eye open and the other squished in Fred's shoulder, he could see two more Weasley brothers. He can only assume they’re Bill and Charlie, because they certainly weren’t Ron. They stood to the side by the Floo talking to Moony, who was gesturing wildly but speaking slowly. Both brothers frowned and looked towards him, and then nodded like they were agreeing to something. He hoped Moony didn’t ask them to do anything stupid, because he knew that most of this family would dive headfirst and then ask the important questions. Their postures straightened, but their faces remained soft. Moony waved to him as he left through the floo, and Harry yelled out a goodbye from his Weasley sandwich. 

‘Our little brother is so tall now! I’m almost jealous,’ said Fred, who was now patting Harry’s head. They were a good 180cm, so there’s nothing to envy. ‘Ronnie will be so jealous of you! He’s been sulking about you not owling before, but then Minnie came and told us mostly everything. She said that owling you wasn’t the best idea—’

‘And that we needed to wait for you to feel better before we dazzled you with our Weasley Charm!’ finished George, who was fiddling with Harry’s curls. ‘He’s been sulking because our dear little sister from the Muggle world is ignoring him!’ 

‘Oh yeah, Harry, you should have been here for his meltdown!’ Ginny said as she threw her journal onto the couch. ‘He has no sense for girls, and thought quidditch was the best course of action to get Hermione to go out with him.’ 

Harry was a little confused. ‘Ron knows Hermione doesn’t care for quidditch, perhaps a book on the history, but not the actual sport.’ He looked up at George, who was looking down because he was still a string bean. ‘He said nothing about what she likes, did he?’ Typical. 

‘Ron is our special little man, and like all special little men he thought of himself first whilst confessing.’ Harry looked at Fred who was staring at the window. Ron was throwing pebbles at the shed. ‘So he’s sour because she rejected him and then won’t reply to any of his other owls; Earlington is dying from flying to London and back for nothing.’ 

‘Earlington?’ Harry asked. ‘I didn’t know that was your owl's name.’ It seemed he didn’t know the Weasleys had that sort of taste for names. He would have thought it was something funny like Spanner or something. ‘I’ve never seen him come to Hogwarts before.’ 

‘Oh, that’s because he’s new!’ Mrs Weasley came over, a tray of tea in her hands. ‘Arthur got a raise and was given an owl with it. I don’t know how, but someone said something and now he’s switched departments.’ Her eyes crinkled with glee. ‘Well, he still consults for the Cursed Muggle Items Department, but he’s been moved to work with the Historians!’ 

‘Really? That’s amazing; I didn’t know he liked history, but it seems like a fun job.’ Harry was pulled to sit or rather, sink into the couch. Mrs Weasley grinned as she passed around tea; Bill and Charlie sat opposite him with enormous cups of coffee. 

‘When we were at school, Arthur always had the best grades for History and Muggle Studies; He has a mastery in Magical and Muggle Histories, but when looking for work he couldn’t find a spot.’ Ginny was throwing licorice pencils at Fred as she spoke, so she needed to dodge them. ‘But he was owled last week about a new position, so he’s at the Ministry getting acquainted with everyone.’ 

‘Dad said he’d take me to Diagon to look at some new shoes for school when he gets home,’ Ginny said, ‘There are these new styles that light up with your house color! And they’re only 10 sickles!’ 

‘We’re all getting some new gear too, mostly school robes and stuff.’ George held out a catalogue in front of Harry with wiggly eyebrows. Different quilt patterns and fabrics were circled. ‘Mum’s getting more fabric and stuff, so expect an improved sweater for winter!’ 

‘No, I’m not, you silly boys, I am quite happy with what I have now!’ Mrs Weasley was flushed as she handed Harry some cookies---mint chocolate chip. ‘Besides, we can finally pay to have the wards strengthened, so unnecessary things can wait. Now, let me get lunch put on, and you all can go back outside to play.’ 

‘Dad’s secretly paid for that already, and he’s not gone to the ministry, he’s gone to get robes for their marriage renewal,’ Bill said quietly as Mrs Weasley left. ‘He’s also going to pay for a couples trip to the Fiordlands, just the two of them while you are at school. This new job offered the “time off” if he went around collecting rare books for research.’ 

‘Yeah, and he’s going to get mum’s ring redone, right, Bill?’ Ginny asked as she finished her tea. ‘Dad said something about the stone being polished?’ 

‘Oh, yes, he said that; Vandar said he was going to be collecting a Prewett gem to replace the glass.’ Bill looked over towards the kitchen, and while Mrs Wealsey was turned away from them, he conjured an illusion. A small set of rubies appeared. ‘Aunt Muriel said he could take them, after he wrote to her about the—’

‘She’s just being stingy, her attitude towards dad is ridiculous! It took her all this time—’ Charlie's mouth went missing as Bill held out his wand. 

‘But dad is happier now, and mum will be just as such. So we will not say anything, will we, Charlus?’ Bill asked as he held his wand to his brother's mouth. 

‘Well, anyway, what did you have in your hand, Harry?’ Ginny asked as she leant over to take the invitation. Her eyes went over each word and she gawked at him. ‘Holy—You’re having a ball! Finally, Merlin I was hoping you'd sneak us some cake, not be invited!’ She grinned viciously and cleared her throat. 

‘Just as a note, I did not write this, I was too busy planning the cake. And if I’m honest, I didn’t know formal invitations were supposed to be worded this way.’ Harry had five Weasley's laughing at him as he flushed. 

To the members of House Weasley, 

We formally invite you to celebrate Helia Alexander’s 13th sun cycle at Black Castle at 7:30 pm on the night of the 31st, July. 

Catering for all dietary needs has been arranged, and nanny elves have been hired for peace of mind should your child/ren need care. 

A bonfire to end the night shall be lit after the cake cutting, and shall remain lit until midnight. Further instruction on the festivities will be provided at the door of the castle. We kindly ask that no wands are to be held during this occasion, and any that are caught outside of their holster will be taken and locked away for the rest of the night. 

The cake cutting will commence at 9:00 pm, and dinner will be served at 9:15 pm. Any gifts will be placed in the foyer and opened privately over the days proceeding this event. Any cursed, or seemingly harmful gifts upon your arrival will be destroyed and you will not be allowed entry. 

The dress code for this night is formal, and we will not be allowing anything more that three inches above the knee, nor any more skin that is deemed appropriate. You will be told to change should you arrive under-dressed. 

Please tick the members of the family who are going to be in attendance, and send this letter back before midnight on the 24th, July. We look forward to having you celebrate with us. Any enquiries, please owl Lord Severus Prince or Lady Narcissa Malfoy. 

Milicent E. 

Aurthur O. 

William A. 

Charlus M. 

Percival T. 

Frederick G. 

Georgian F. 

Ronald B. 

Ginevra M. 

‘Well, isn’t that poncy!’ Fred drawled with a laugh. 

‘Do we need to dress in certain colors?’ Ginny asked as she found her breath from laughing so hard. ‘I hope you know I’m not wearing a puffy dress.’ 

‘I wouldn’t ask that of you!’ Harry insisted, his face still flush. ‘The color theme is purple, gold and black, but I really don’t mind what color you wear. Aunt Dorea said there was no real etiquette regarding it.’ 

‘Wonderful, patchwork dress it is!’ Her smile was genuine, and she ran up the stairs, most likely to find it. 

‘Dad already knew about it, Remus let it slip the other day, so we’re taking her to get a new dress. Luna’s going with her so she can’t say no.’ Charlie had a lopsided smile, a scar pulled at the left side of his face. Fred and George look mildly hurt that they weren’t told. ‘Ron is going to suffer being poked, and those dung beetles are going to suffer too!’ 

‘No--’