Chapter Text
Music: Alec Benjamin – If we have each other
The Slytherin table was unusually loud that day. It might have something to do with the general ruckus. Earlier, thirty minutes before in fact, a 4th year Hufflepuff accidentally hit James Potter with a misspoken spell. So here they were now, still in the Great Hall. Had it happened on any other day, lessons would have been cancelled, but since it was a day off... Well, some would have preferred if it had happened on any other day. They could have missed a day of boring lessons!
Still, it wasn't every day that something like that happened. Of course, the weirdest things always happened to the Marauders, of course!
The spell that hit him had formed a big screen made of mist above the teacher's table (forcing the teacher to sit elsewhere if they wanted to see anything).
Supposedly, the screen would show them the future – that's what few Unspeakables present told them anyway. Two of them were still incanting words under their breath when the screen 'lit up'.
“What do you think we're gonna see, Barty?”
Barty Crouch Jr, who was sitting with his friends at the Slytherin's table despite being a Ravenclaw himself, turned his face toward his friend, Evan Rosier.
He shrugged.
“No idea, but I'm not too keen on watching the Marauders on-screen. I already see them enough in real life.”
Regulus snorted, silently agreeing with him.
“I'm surprised Dumbledore is not here. I would have thought the possibility of seeing the future would have fascinated him,” he said instead.
Evan glanced around and, sure enough, the Headmaster was nowhere to be found.
Barty snickered.
“You were too busy bickering, but an Unspeakable dragged him out of the room earlier. The Unspeakable came back but without Dumbledore.”
“Oh. How did I miss that?”
“No clue.”
A bit farther the Slytherin table, with the 7th years, Rabastan, who himself was a sixth year but had sat down earlier with his older brother, ran a hand through his hair. He really should get a haircut one of those days.
“Dolphus?”
“Hum? Oh, I think it's starting... whatever it is.”
Rabastan gave his brother an incredulous look:
“Did you seriously miss the explanation from the Unspeakables?”
Rodolphus waved him off.
“Shh... don't wanna miss the beginning, would we?”
The younger Lestrange shook his head at his brother's behaviour. Honesty.
// The scene opens in a nice cosy room. Someone is seen pacing nervously. //
They could only see their feet moving around.
The angle changed; they saw the entire room, nice and painted in warm colours. In the middle of the room stood a teenager with their back to them. They were small and skinny with short black hair and dark clothes. It couldn't have been James; the guy was too tall and broader than the tiny figure on the screen.
// A sound is heard outside of the living room, and the teen whirls around to face what they perceive as a threat, his wand at the ready. //
Amidst the gasps of shock, one rang louder. James Potter sat there, frozen, staring at the screen in wonder and astonishment.
“Is that my kid?”
“Who else would it be?” Sirius mumbled under his breath. “Wow, cute kid.”
“That's my kid!” James exclaimed with a beaming smile on his face.
“How are you so sure?” another Gryffindor asked.
“I'm not. I mean, it could be another relative, but he looks a lot like me. And the spell is supposed to show my future.”
“Yeah, but why doesn't it show you then?” Sirius asked.
James shrugged.
“I will probably be shown later. Besides, the Unspeakable weren't too sure it would show me. Their reading of the spell said future, not future me specifically. It could be the future of my line.”
Meanwhile, Marlene, Alice and Lily were gushing about the kid.
“Oh my gosh, he's so cute!”
Lily was smiling too. She still despised Potter (even if they were close enough to be called fr. - ugh – iends, now), but she couldn't blame his son for his father's sins, now, could she? And the teen looked adorable, even if he was a bit too skinny from what she was seeing.
“But why does he look so sad?” a first-year Hufflepuff asked with a high-pitched voice. “And scared,” they added afterwards.
Back at the Slytherin table, Barty had grabbed Evan by the shoulders and was shaking him.
“Evan, Evan, Evan! Look! He's so cute! I wanna hug him!”
A few other Slytherins gave them odd looks, but the trio ignored them all. Regulus felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment (& fondness) and glanced at the guest table. Today was a Saturday, and on Saturdays, family members could visit family members studying at Hogwarts. Regulus and Sirius' parents did not visit often. Walburga never went to those outings at Hogwarts, but Orion sometimes visited his sons (even if Sirius refused to talk to any Black since he ran away the year before). Arcturus was a rare visitor, but he was there today (he had started to visit again after decades of isolation and mourning). He was one of the few, considering how increased security measures were set around the castle to stop Voldemort's followers from entering the place. That in itself was a relief to both Regulus and the Lestrange brothers because it meant that Bellatrix couldn't visit the school since she was a marked and proud Death Eater.
Regulus glanced at his grandfather. The man was staring at the screen in fascination (perhaps it was partly because James' kid had some of the Blacks features... probably from his great-grandmother), but he nodded at Reg when he saw him glance at him. They would talk later.
Satisfied, Regulus redirected his attention to the screen. The others were right. The kid (Could he really call him a “kid”? He couldn't be that much younger than him. Perhaps three years younger or something, it was hard to say) was cute. He had short black hair and the greenest eyes Reg had ever seen. Even greener than Evans. It was a deep emerald that kinda reminded him of Potter's mother, Lady Euphemia Potter.
The woman in question was sitting with her husband, Fleamont, at the guest table. She was clutching her chest, staring at the screen in wonder.
“Wait! Wait...” Alice MacDougal started from her place at the Hufflepuff table.
She was visiting her cousin, Eleanor MacDougal, a shy third-year Hufflepuff. Her fiancé, Frank Longbottom, was sitting beside her, having come back from talking with the Marauders.
When most turned to her, she blushed and cleared her throat:
“Is that a lightning scar on his forehead?”
Regulus focused his attention on the screen and frowned. Yes, it was a lightning scar on his forehead.
At the guest table, Arcturus frowned too.
“It looks like a curse scar.”
The entire Great Hall didn't hear him, but those who did turn contemplative. With this shape (a runic form), it was entirely possible. Unless it had been carved into his forehead by an individual (which was a disturbing thought), then there was no way it was a normal scar. Not with that shape. It looked almost... runic.
// Two figures enter the room. They look identical. //
Barty blinked when two redheaded boys (men, really) appeared in the room.
Rosemary Carrow sneered.
“Weasleys.”
Frank frowned from his place.
“They could be Prewetts, though. They look like our twins.”
They sure looked similar to Fabian and Gideon Prewett, both of whom had graduated years ago but were present that day to visit a little cousin they both adored.
They looked a bit awestruck.
“They could be my kids!” they exclaimed in sync before dissolving into bickers. “No, mine!”
“I think the Weasleys – I mean, Arthur and Molly have kids now, don't they?” Remus Lupin asked above the sound of playful banters between the twins.
“They sure do,” Azael Diggory (Amos' younger brother) confirmed. “They moved near our home.”
“They have three kids, right?” Sirius asked, curious.
“Yeah, but she's pregnant again. Twins,” he told them, chin jutted toward the screen.
James tilted his head to the side.
“So you think those twins are the Weasleys' kids?”
“Well, I mean. It makes sense? I guess we can't assume, but well...”
At the Slytherin table, Evan was staring at the twins.
“You know, for Weasleys, they are pretty -”
“Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it,” Rodolphus muttered under his breath, almost like an incantation.
“- pretty hot.”
“Damn it!” the Lestrange Heir swore quietly. “He said it.”
Regulus, too, was staring.
“You know, for Weasleys... they're not wearing hand-me-down.”
Evan considered it.
“Do you think they got their hand on some gold?” he teased his friend.
“Maybe Mr Weasley got promoted?”
Evan shook his head. They both knew that this possibility was very low. They didn't know a lot about Arthur Weasley, but what they knew was that he loved his job and that the Ministry wasn't about to raise the salary of people working in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department. The possibility of that fact changing in the future was extremely low.
// At the twins' appearance, the dark-haired boy looks relieved and stops pacing. He still looks a bit horrified, though.
“Fred! George! I... I messed up. I did something bad,” he says, fingers twitching.
A few people audibly cooed at the boy on the screen - James among them.
“Look at him, he's adorable.”
“What does he mean by 'something bad'?” Peter Pettgrew asked.
“Oh, so their names are Fred and George. Good to know.”
At the Slytherin table, Rabastan and the other Slytherins stared at Barty while the Ravenclaw wailed:
“Why is he so sweet!?”
// The twins stop a few feet away from the boy and blink.
“What do you mean by 'bad'?”
At that, the Potter boy (he was most definitely a Potter, though he had some Black features, but then again, his grandmother was a Black) winces and turns toward the couch. With a hand gesture, the air shimmers and an unconscious figure appears, lying on it. //
Evan leaned forward, but it was in vain; they couldn't distinguish the guy's features. That hair though... Evan glanced to his right before reporting his attention to the screen.
“That... That was wandless magic,” [*] Remus struggled to say.
The others nodded in a daze.
Wandless magic was not common in this part of the world, after all. There were rumours that it was a common thing in Asia, but for them, it was just rumours, seeing as none of them had ever been to Asia.
“Huh... who is he?”
“That's Bartemius Crouch Jr. He was – He was pronounced dead twelve years ago in Azkaban.”
There was a heavy silence for a few seconds before the room exploded in mutters. Everyone was trying to look at Barty while the boy paled, shaking.
Above the mutters, Regulus had no trouble hearing James and Sirius' voices:
“I can't believe a Ravenclaw joined You-Know-Who! They're supposed to be smart!”
[… Only to be reprimanded by James' mother.]
Regulus shook his head. There was no telling that Barty joined the Dark Lord, though that seemed likely because the trio spent their free time with Death Eaters or would-be Death Eaters. It's not like they wanted to join, really. They recently heard some things about Death Eaters who regretted caving into family pressure, but they didn't know how not to join. They were kinda stuck in the middle and being in the middle wasn't a good place right now. Especially not when their parents were trying to drag them toward the Dark Lord.
Regulus and Barty grabbed their friend.
“Barty, we don't know what happened.”
“Don't panic, sweetheart.”
Usually, Evan's flirty nature tended to relax Barty, but this time, the Ravenclaw only managed a weak smile for his friends.
“He spent the whole year teaching us under the guise of Alastor Moody. He's the one who put my name in the Goblet of Fire... But I can't even be mad... not completely,” he trails off, walking over to the couch and stopping beside the unconscious figure of Barty Crouch Jr. “His mind is broken,” he said as he sat at the man's side. “He spent almost a year in Azkaban, surrounded by Dementors and then twelve years under the Imperius curse, trapped in his own home, by his own father...”
The screen paused, and the silence taking place was so heavy that Regulus could hear his heartbeat thumping in his chest. There was too much information to proceed.
“The Goblet of Fire? Isn't that the artefact used in the Tri-Wizards Tournament?” Annabeth Wood asked from the Ravenclaw table.
“How did the wards not notice someone under Polyjuice?” A Hufflepuff asked quietly.
“It could have been a glamour.”
“Nah, too risky.”
“What!? He was put in the tournament? But he's a baby!” another student exclaimed. “And I thought there wasn't supposed to be a tournament anymore because of the death toll.”
James Potter stood up suddenly, anger colouring his face:
“YOU!”
He made to get to the terrified and horrified Ravenclaw boy who was sitting with his Slytherin friends, but his mother stopped him before he could do anything.
“James! Sit down.”
“But mom -”
“No. You will sit down and calm yourself. This hasn't happened yet, and if your son can swallow this, then surely, you can do it too.”
That was a low blow. His son seemed to be much more forgiving than he was. James would simply have to get his revenge his way. His mom would never have to know.
Euphemia was angry. Oh, she truly was, but she also understood that this had yet to happen. And she could tell by watching the Crouch kid that he was absolutely horrified with his older self's actions.
Milana Smith (a half-blood from the Smith family) gave Barty a wide-eyed look:
“What would you be in Azkaban for?”
A white-faced Barty shook his head.
“I – I don't know.”
Sure, after hearing all those tales from a few former Slytherins, he thought about joining the Dark Lord – maybe he would find a true family! And yeah, he hated his dad. That bastard certainly never spent much time around him if he could help it but still... Barty was not stupid. He was not! He heard some other Death Eaters who regretted joining in. He heard what they were forced to do... and what the Dark Lord did to them when they displeased him... which was often. Barty knew that the Lestrange brothers were reserved about their future, whereas before, they proudly exclaimed that they would serve their father's Lord.
Then, the rest of the information got to his head and his voice echoed in the room:
“My own father...”
Oh.
Oh, they forgot about that.
Lucas Lanvin, Crouch Sr's right hand in the DMLE, frowned heavily at that and sent a note to the Ministry. Not to Crouch, no, but to other members of the DMLE.
Sure, Crouch (sr) hadn't done anything yet, but he would be watched from now on. There were already suspicions that he had abused his power before.
“He said your mind is broken, Barty,” Milana mumbled, looking down at her lap.
The screen started up again, and they saw the boy pacing again. His breathing was erratic, and he seemed to be panicking while trying to explain things.
“Barty,” he says, gesturing to the unconscious figure, “was all too happy to explain that Voldie was back and that the resurrection ritual got his body back. But of course, that useless coward we call a Minister refused to believe it.”
[Pause]
Everyone froze.
“Back...”
“Does that mean... does that mean he was... gone... for a while?”
That was the question, wasn't it? Nobody could quite imagine what a world without Voldemort (and they said his name! Worse! They used a nickname! A nickname! On the Dark Lord!) would be like, but oh, they wanted to. They longed to find out.
“Wait...” James Potter started, pale-faced. “Why would my kid be the one who knows if You-Know-Who was back? And why didn't that Minister believe him?”
“I mean, if the most feared Dark Lord in our Country's history was back after being 'gone', I wouldn't like to believe it either,” a seventh-year Ravenclaw remarked. “Not without proof AND...” he continued when he saw Potter open his mouth to protest. “Considering the kid called the Minister a 'useless coward, ' I guess that this person didn't want to ask for proof and was all too happy to ignore it.”
“Is Bagnold still the Minister?” Peter asked.
“I don't think so. She's already on the verge of losing her post right now,” another student cut in. “Everyone is very disappointed: she didn't fulfil any of the objectives she had given during her campaign. I'd be very surprised if, at least... fifteen years in the future, she was still Minister. In fact, I'd be shocked if she's re-elected next time.”
The students blinked, turning to face Rabastan Lestrange.
The aforementioned student blinked back.
“What?”
“I don't think they ever heard you speak that much, Stan!” Evan exclaimed.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Never.”
At the Hufflepuff table, a seventh-year whistled after hearing the boy call their minister a “useless coward”.
“Well, look at that. Here is someone who doesn't mince his words. I like it.”
His friends shook their heads.
“Of course, you do, Casey.”
“What happened after that?”
The sound of the twins' voices brought them back to Earth.
// The black-haired teen pushes a streak of hair away from Barty's closed eyes. //
Bary flushed at the gesture. It looked so nice. Only his mom ever did that to him. Sure, Reg, Rabastan and Evan were physically affectionate friends, but they never did that either. It was almost... motherly (and he felt himself blush even more at that thought).
“Fudge called a Dementor in. He must have had one with him the whole time, I guess...”
Gasps echoed when they heard of that terrible creature. Barty was pale. He already knew what he was about to hear, but... then... how was his future self alive? If he had been kissed... he should be in a worse state than his future self looked like right now? He did seem unconscious, sure, but not quite a shell of himself. So, how was this possible?
// The teen suddenly stands up and starts pacing again, more nervous than before.
“What was I supposed to do? Just stand there like everyone else and watch the Dementor kiss him, doing nothing at all?” he explodes, looking disgusted and distressed at the idea. “I've been almost kissed by a Dementor. I know exactly what it feels like. He may be a Death Eater, but... he's still a person. I wouldn't wish it for anyone,” he blurts out rapidly, shivering as if a Dementor were near him.
The screen paused, and the people in the room once again exploded.
“When was he almost kissed? Why!?”
James was white-faced, an expression that was mirrored by everyone else, even the few who previously couldn't care less about James Potter's future.
There was a kid there! And they wouldn't wish anyone to be kissed by a Dementor and now... Now, the kid in question was telling them that he had almost been kissed? When? Where!? Why?
“Why would my son be near Dementors?” James muttered. “Are they rogue again?”
“He... saved me?” Barty whispered, incredulous.
His friends, classmates and housemates weren't in a much better state. The kid was a Gryffindor - a Potter at that- and was clearly feeling bad (sort of) for saving a Death Eater, so why did he? Sure, he explained, but still... that doesn't... that wasn't... Oh, why was this Potter child so complicated!? Couldn't he be more like his father? It would be so much easier to dislike him on principle.
Regulus and Evan were also preoccupied with something else: Barty's future self was a Death Eater (it took a long time to digest that information). Sweet, sweet summer child, Barty would become a Death Eater (if they didn't change the future that is). If someone like Barty were a Death Eater in the future, what would that mean for them? Did they follow in the family business (did Regulus follow his mother's instructions/orders?)?
// The twins pale.
“Wait. When were you almost kissed? You never told us anything about that.”
The boy looks sheepish.
“Harry!”
Oh, so his name was Harry. James looked so happy to finally find out his kid's name. Sirius was too; he was sick of calling him 'kid' or 'Jame's pup' in his mind (his animagus form having briefly taken over).
“Sorry. I mean, it was at the end of my third year - I mean, last year. When Hermione and I helped Sirius escape.”
Sirius blinked. Escape? Escape from what?
“You never told us.”
“Well, that's not the sort of thing that just comes up at dinner, is it?” the boy asks sarcastically.
Sirius wiped off an imaginary tear from his left eye.
“James. James! I love him.”
James managed a weak smile for his best friend, but internally, he was growing very concerned for the well-being of a child who wasn't even born yet.
“Alright... you saved this guy from the Dementor. What did you do?”
“Well, obviously he conjured a Patronus,” Laëtitia Lecœur said.
“Are you kidding me? He's too young. Most Wixen don't know how to conjure one, and a lot of students in the Aurors Academy still have trouble producing one.” Maximilian Smith argued from the Hufflepuff table.
“I sent my Patronus to the Dementor.”
Smith closed his mouth.
“NO WAY!” someone yelled in incredulity.
“Wait, so he can perform a Patronus!?” another student cried out.
“That's what he just said, idiot.”
“But – But...”
“But he's a baby!”
James tilted his head to the side while Padfoot whooped in joy.
“I wonder what his Patronus is like.”
“Hum.”
“And I... I stupefied everyone in the room before they could react and....and...”
“Holy shit,” James swore quietly. “This is awesome.”
“No!” Lily argued. “This is not awesome, Potter. He's gonna be in so much trouble.”
While she was kinda proud of the kid to have strong morals (even if he did save a Death Eater) if he was caught... he would be in so much trouble.
“Only if he gets caught.”
“He managed to stun everyone? I wonder who was there.”
“When you say 'everyone' you mean...?”
Harry winces and fidgets.
“Fudge... McGonagall... Pomfrey... Dumbledore and Sirius. But Sirius was in his animagus form, so...
Mutterings exploded in the room. How in Merlin's name did a kid manage to stupefy five Wixen before any of them could react and dodge, or disarm him? It was crazy, right? Unless... unless he stupefied them all at the same time, but that required an insane amount of power, especially considering that both Dumbledore and McGonagall were reputed to be very strong (or 'just' strong in McGonagall's case).
Meanwhile, Marlene McKinnon had latched onto something else:
“Are you an animagus, Siri?”
Sirius was sweating bullets when he answered:
“I – I mean this is the future, so... NO! In the future, maybe.”
Arcturus shook his head. His grandson was a terrible liar when he was taken off guard. Still, an animagus at seventeen (perhaps even before) certainly was impressive. He'll let him keep his secret for now. Being an animagus during wartime may very well save him, and while he was disappointed with Sirius for renouncing his family, he was also very cross with Walburga and Orion, but mainly Walburga, since she was the one who seemed to make every decision.
“Damn Potter, your son must be powerful,” Rodolphus whistled, impressed.
James blinked, shocked.
Of course, Potter would never expect a Slytherin to compliment him. It's not like Rodolphus complimented him! He complimented his son!
“Wait, Fudge is the future Minister! Damn, we're all doomed,” Marlene said, shaking her head in dismay.
They truly were.
Then I... I altered their memories. I'm sorry!” he exclaims, freaking out. “I didn't... I just... I didn't know what to do, and Dumbles was just watching the whole thing happen without even trying to interfere.”
Evan choked on his saliva.
“Dumbles?” he repeated, both incredulous and amused.
“He did what!?” Barty whisper-yelled in shock.
Regulus sat frozen in his seat. James' kid (and jealousy carved a place in his heart for whoever the mother was) was a bit of a troublemaker, but on a whole other level. While James was a prankster and a bully, his kid seemed to have some sort of Saviour Complex and felt the need to help/save people, no matter who they were. Which landed him in trouble.
Oh, dear.
// The twins blink. One of them takes a few steps and slumps into a chair. The other just stands there. //
“... Are you sure you did the spell right?”
“Yes. Because when they came back to themselves, they didn't find anything strange. Fudge left, sure that Crouch Jr's body had been taken away and Dumbledore... well... Dumbledore was being himself, I guess.”
“He saved your life,” Evan whispered to Barty.
They both looked shell-shocked, which Regulus could understand since he felt the same way.
A boy from a Light family just saved a Death Eater. They were witnessing a very mild breakdown; the boy was probably conflicted between what his ingrained upbringing was telling him to do and what his moral compass was screaming at him.
Barty didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, eyes focused on the small boy on the screen.
“He did...” he finally told his friends, staring in wonder at the screen.
Rodolphus, too, was watching the screen intently. He had caught on to the animosity that the kid seemed to feel toward the headmaster, which was... strange... Especially when you thought about who his father was. James Potter had always been loud in his loyalty and admiration for the old man, even if Lord and Lady Potter were much more neutral. Oh, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter would never join the Dark Lord, but they also didn't seem inclined to rever Albus Dumbledore.
// Finally, one of the twins sighs and goes to Harry, embracing him:
“You did well. I know that the others probably wouldn't agree, but... You did good, Harry.”
Marlène grinned and gave the Marauders a smirk:
“Heard that? He did well by saving Crouch. I'd say they are more mature than you, guys.”
James bristled, but Sirius was too enamoured with McKinnon to say anything.
The angle changed again, focusing on the duo, and Sirius frowned.
“He's shaking.”
Not his whole body, though, just his hands. Was he still too nervous to control his body or -
// The twin hugging him frowns and looks at Harry.
“Sit down. I think I still have the neuralgia cream that Higgs sent me the other day,” he says before hurrying out of the room.
Neuralgia cream? Rodolphus' eyes widened. The neuralgia cream (a name imported from the Muggle world) was for nerve pain alleviation. It was mostly used to counter the pain from the Cruciatus curse. .. When would the boy have been under an Unforgivable?
He glanced at Crouch Jr. Bartemius may have been a Death Eater in the future, but Rodolphus just didn't see him torture someone, especially not a kid.
Charles Higgs tilted his head to the side when he heard his name. Sure, it (probably) wasn't him the twins were talking about, but it could be his kid or a cousin? Or even some Muggle-born or half-blood with the same name. Higgs wasn't that uncommon in the Muggle world. He shouldn't assume that it was his kid, even if he was engaged (and in love) with Gabriel, a fellow Slytherin student.
“What are we supposed to do with him?” the other twin asks. “We can't let him go. He'll go back to Voldie, his Lord Darkness will kill him. But he can't stay here or -”
“Or he'll kill us,” Harry finishes, looking exhausted. “I don't know, I... Actually... There might be someone willing to help,” he mutters, slowly standing up, wincing. “I need to contact Antonin.”
“Antonin?” Rabastan repeated slowly. “Like Antonin Dolohov? He graduated last year, yes?”
“It could be someone else. Antonin doesn't hold exclusivity over that name,” his older brother noted with amusement.
Rabastan almost pouted.
“I know, but...”
“Yes. I think this is our Antonin, too.”
Antonin was one of the rare non-marked Death Eaters since the Department of Mysteries refused to share their Unspeakables. Seeing as Antonin had been recruited in the Department in question, he couldn't take the Mark, or he would probably be kicked out of the program (you had to be entirely devoted to the DOM). Nobody truly knew of Antonin's political inclinations (or magical views) as he had always been subtle and discreet about it. Sure, he spent all of his free time at Hogwarts with 'Baby Death Eaters' as some called them, but Antonin never expressed himself on the subject. He also never called Muggle-borns 'mudbloods'.
It was possible, Rodolphus thought, glancing around the room, that one of the Unspeakables present was their good friend Antonin. They wouldn't know: Unspeakables weren't to reveal themselves when they were working. Or at any other time anyway.
“Okay, I'm gonna go get the veritaserum whilst you do that.”
“When did you get truth serum? I thought it was highly regulated.” Harry asks.
“It is, but never doubt our ability to get what we want. As it is, we didn't buy it, we made it.”
“They made it!?”
“Yes, Prongs, that's what he said,” Remus said in a fake disinterested tone.
“They made it!” Rodolphus almost shrieked. “Do you know how hard it is to make!?”
Rabastan grimaced at the volume.
“Yes. I think I remember hearing you bemoaning that you wouldn't get to learn how to make veritaserum until this year.”
Which was true. Veritaserum was not on Hogwarts' curriculum since it was a very difficult and very regulated potion. Still, Slughorn had decided to teach his seventh-year students how to brew the truth serum. As a (at the time) sixth-year, Rodolphus had been ecstatic to find out that he would learn how to make that Potion. Of course, when he found out that he would have to wait another year, he was less than happy, but it was in the past, and Rodolphus would learn how to brew this next month.
// While George (1) goes to grab the veritaserum, Fred comes back with a small bottle.
“What's that?”
“Your son must have short-term memory,” another Gryffindor noted, amused.
Remus shook his head.
“Not necessarily. He may not have known what the neuralgia cream was for.”
After all, a lot of students didn't know what it was for. Remus was pretty sure it was an anti-pain paste, but the name indicated that it helped the nerves.
“Neuralgia cream. It helps soothe the side effects of the Cruciatus curse,” Fred explains.
James went very white-faced at that. He was far from being the only one.
“Wh – What?”
“How could that have happened? They're at Hogwarts, right?” Sirius asked, just as pale as his friend.
While they didn't recognise the room, they could all somehow tell that the scene took place at Hogwarts.
“He couldn't have possibly been cursed at Hogwarts. The wards wouldn't allow it,” Remus said.
Rodolphus snorted from his place at the Slytherin's table.
“The wards were supposed to warn the staff if someone was under Polyjuice and things like that. Clearly, someone hasn't been holding up the wards in the future.”
And clearly, that someone was Dumbledore, seeing as the kids mentioned him before. The old man was still alive and still the headmaster in the future. Great.
“Damn, poor McGo. She's never going to be headmistress at this rate,” Evan joked to his friends.
Barty and Regulus snickered quietly, but they were all still pale at the thought of a child being subjected to the Cruciatus curse.
It wasn't until they saw the boy – Harry, slump into the redhead boy that they truly saw him relax.
“It would be better to see a healer, but Dumbles won't let us out right now. Our best chance is to wait this summer,” Fred whispered, eyes burning.
James frowned.
Why would Professor Dumbledore refuse his students to seek help from a healer? Sure the headmaster didn't like inviting outside people into the castle, but it was comprehensible because they were in the middle of the war. Still, if a kid (his kid!) had been under the effect of an Unforgivable (What in Merlin's name!?), then surely the kid should see professionals, right? James liked Mrs Pomfrey, but even he knew that she was not qualified to deal with that kind of injury.
The scene blurred, and it became clear again, they were still in the same room, but somehow, everyone knew it was a day later.
“Did Dolohov get back to you?” George asks, pausing in his Transfiguration essay.
“Oh, so it was our Antonin,” Rabastan noted while at the Gryffindor table, the Marauders were wondering how the hell his kid and two Weasleys knew Antonin Dolohov (a certified genius from a known dark family from Russia).
// Harry nods from the couch where he is sitting beside a sleeping Barty.
“Yeah. He'll meet us at the craft shop in Aultbea.”
Evan raised a brow. Aultbea was a Muggle coastal fishing village in the Highlands. The only reason he even knew of that place was that his great-grandaunt (on his mom's side) had a cottage there.
“Right. Now we just need to figure out how to smuggle a 'dead' Death Eater out of Hogwarts.”
“What? They are at Hogwarts!?” a student exclaimed.
“I thought it was obvious,” another replied.
“I don't recognise the room.”
The other student shrugged.
“I mean, there are probably a lot of locked rooms or unknown places we have not discovered yet.”
“And you think they did?”
“I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.”
The three teenagers exchange a complicit grin.
“Should be easy enough.”
At that, the Marauders exchanged a look and snickered, happy to see a hint of mischievousness in the eyes of one of the heirs of the Marauders (surely James was not the only one to have kids, right?).
“They'd make a good second generation of Marauders,” Sirius told James.
He had no idea that years in the future, Harry felt very conflicted towards the Marauders. The twins, too. [On one hand, the twins spent years revering the quartet and Harry... well... It was his father and his father's friends. On the other hand, they were bullies – there was no denying that fact. And let's not even talk about Pettigrew.]
The screen blurred again.
// It cuts to Grimmauld Place where the twins are staring incredulously at the Order members. //
Arcturus, Sirius and Regulus froze, blinking. What the Hell were they doing in that place? Arcturus knew that Walburga and Orion would never invite Dumbledore or his people to this place. Although... considering it was at least fifteen (or more) years in the future, it was probably Sirius. That foolish boy was too close to the headmaster and idolised the Defeater of Grindelwald.
One of them opens his mouth, still looking incredulous:
“You're kidding us, right? He just survived a deadly tournament and witnessed a schoolmate being killed in front of him. His blood was unwillingly used in a ritual that brought a supposedly dead Dark Lord back-, was tortured and had to duel said dark lord and now... now you want to cut him off from all magical contact for the duration of the summer?” Fred asks, looking at them like they were stupid. “Tell me you're joking.”
Sirius blinked at the onslaught of information, trying to make sense of it all.
That didn't make any sense. There was so much to unpack here.
Why was You-Know-Who after Harry? Why would he be after him? Why use him in a ritual, torture him and duel him? You-Know-Who didn't make it a habit to duel people unless he considered them a real threat to him and his power.
“Too – Too much information, I can't focus. What am I supposed to focus on? The ritual that brought back You-Know-Who (how did he even die in the first place!?)!? The fact that he saw someone die at Hogwarts? Or that he was tortured?” Barty asked, freaking out a little bit.
Evanna Carrow (the nicest Carrow currently at school) heard them and turned to face them:
“I'd say the fact that he duelled You-Know-Who is pretty interesting and worrying too, considering he only duels people he considers powerful or a threat. The fact that he did survive that duel is... very impressive, especially considering his age.”
She was right. Her declaration brought a new wave of murmurs in the room, some commenting incredulously that the kid was... well... a kid.
“Why would he need the kid's blood, though? If I understand correctly, the reason he was put in the tournament was so that You-Know-Who could use his blood in the ritual, right? Ibrahim Shafiq asked from his place at the Ravenclaw table.
Evan blinked.
“How did you even come to this conclusion? I mean, I agree, but... how?”
The other boy smirked.
“Well, I wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw by accident.”
Meanwhile, Lily was frowning at the screen.
“I hope they don't intend to really cut him off from all contact for an entire summer. That would be disastrous.”
Marlene was focused on something else, though.
“Why would he be cut off? He's James' kid, surely they live in the magical world.”
But she was biting her lips as if she suspected something bad had happened.
After all, they had yet to see James.
“Where am I?” James wondered out loud, glancing around at the few people on the screen that he was pretty sure he recognised from the Order of the Phoenix (while the anti-You-Know-Who group wasn't overly famous, it was a known vigilante group here in Wizarding Britain). James had seen some members of the organisation, but some looked on the younger side of things. They were probably babies right now – they may not have even been born yet.
(A/N: Remus and Sirius were not in the room when the twins had that conversation with the order at the beginning of July.)
He wanted to join. He wanted to fight dark wizards, too.
// Instead, one of them is brave enough to nod while Dumbledore replies that it's for the best.
The other twin snorts, no humour found in his gaze:
“Unbelievable.”
And with that, they storm out of the kitchen. A red-haired woman tries to stop them, but George ignores her while Fred dodges, mumbling a passing “Don't touch me,” which makes the woman flinch.
“Was that Arthur and Molly Weasley?” Pandora Lestrange asked softly (1) from her seat at the Ravenclaw table, just behind Regulus, Barty and Evan, her close friends.
She was a sixth-year too while her boyfriend, Xenophilius Lovegood, graduated two years before.
For a Lestrange, Pandora was well-liked and had no trouble befriending students from all houses, which her cousin Rabastan secretly envied her for.
The screen blurred, and when it cleared, they were faced with a younger Harry (most definitely Potter) and younger Weasley twins. The three of them were in a room with two beds. The room was... tidy... but chaotic. The desk was filled with vials of potions, and the walls were plastered with pieces of parchment filled to the brim with undecipherable writings. The room looked like an organised mess.
The Potter boy was sitting on a bed, shirtless, while one of the twins was applying a (magical) disinfectant on his face.
Rabastan frowned; the first thing he saw when the new scene appeared was that Potter's torso was covered in bruises. The boy was turned slightly so only the left side of his face was visible. Considering the fact that the redhead was applying a healing cream on the right side of his face, Rabastan knew what he would see if the boy were to turn toward him.
Euphemia gasped at the sight of her alleged grandson (there was no way he wasn't James' child; he looked just like James, only smaller, skinnier and with a slightly more androgynous appearance), covered in purple bruises. She turned slightly to the side to bury her face into her husband's chest. Fleamont's face hardened, and he wrapped an arm around her as if to protect her from the rest of the world.
Arcturus was startled to see a few scars here and there on his back. He kept quiet, but internally, he was frowning. It reminded him way too much of how he suspected Walburga to treat her children. While he himself had always been strict and distant, he had never raised his hand (or his wand) against his children.
// The other twin is sitting on the other bed.
“We would have come sooner if we had known,” he says.
Harry hums under his breath, grimacing at the stink from the cream.
“How did you know I was in trouble?”
At that, George mutters angrily:
“I wouldn't call 'being beaten by my muggle relatives' being in 'trouble'.”
Marlene frowned harder.
“Muggles? You don't have Muggle relatives, though.” She asked her friend.
James shook his head, his attention focused on the screen in front of him.
What the f...
“Nah. It's probably on his mom's side,” he said slowly, though he was busy staring at the wounds on his boy.
He was frowning. Sirius wondered what he was thinking about. He glanced at Evans. Was he wondering if Evans was the mother? It would be funny considering James told him last month that he would stop pursuing the Head girl.
At the Slytherin table, both Barty and Evan winced, glancing at a sulky Regulus.
“They are good friends,” Alice remarked.
Those who heard her nodded in agreement.
“You weren't responding to our letters.”
“Yeah, a... hum... a House-elf named Dobby stole my mail. I mean, he didn't really steal it since he gave it back, but he... um... He intercepted it. He's the one who did the magic I got a warning for,” Harry mumbles.
“What?”
“Why would a house-elf do that?”
“Maybe he was ordered to?”
“How come they didn't know that a House-elf did magic? House-elf magic registered differently than Wixen magic.”
// On the screen, one of the twins is seen questioning Harry about all of that, and Harry replies that the elf warned him not to go back to Hogwarts because of a new danger. The redheads turn contemplative, saying that they thought maybe someone at Hogwarts ordered their elf to scare him. Unless... //
“I mean... unless his master was careless enough to let the elf find loopholes in his orders...” Fred tells him.
“You have to be very clear in your orders when you talk to a House-elf,” George adds to Harry's benefit.
“He clearly wasn't raised in the Magical world.” Benjamin Fritz whispered to his friends at the Ravenclaw table.
“I think I gleaned that from the 'muggle relatives' thing,” Beatriz Summer muttered in reply.
“But why? He's clearly a Potter. He should have grown in the Magical world, right?”
“I think we're all avoiding the most logical reason.”
The silence that followed confirmed to Beatriz that her friends were all thinking the same thing.
James Potter was dead in that future (the Potters weren't the kind of family that would abandon a child, so that was really the only possibility, right?) But... even if that was the case... the child should have still grown to his closest relatives. Considering the fact that he was a magic user, there was no way he would have been sent to the Muggle world, so how?
That didn't make any sense.
“Wait... How... How did you get me here? It's your house, right?”
“Yeah, the Burrow. Well, we technically can't answer that.”
“What?”
“What does that mean?”
“They probably broke the rules or something. Maybe they did something illegal!” Rabastan whispered to his brother.
Rodolphus snorted.
“They're Weasleys. They'd never do that.”
As if to prove him wrong, the screen unpaused itself.
// Harry raises a brow at them, and Fred shifts before giving the boy a mischievous grin:
“Apparating under the age of seventeen is illegal, but... well... we knew we had to get you out of here, and our mother refused to listen to us, so... We had to do something.”
“Oh...”
“I mean, they did it to save someone's life. It's not illegal to use magic in life or death (or something like that) situations,” a fifth-year Hufflepuff student said when they noticed a couple of teachers looking on in disapproval.
// Harry sniffles, giving Fred a small smile before turning his face towards George:
“Thanks, guys,” he whispers softly.
Gasps echoed in the room when the boy turned his head, and they saw that the right side of his face was swollen and bruised. There was a bit of dried blood, too, but Fred was wiping it off.
Fleamont's jaw was clenched, just like his son's. Alice MacDougal was beside herself, and her friends weren't doing much better – Lily and Marlene looked even angrier, and on the other side of the room, Regulus looked sadly at the screen.
“Okay, if Mom asks, you arrived very early this morning, and we came to get you at the bus stop down the street.”
Harry giggles (wincing in pain) and nods.
“Aw ~ he's so cute when he smiles.”
“I think it's the first time that we've seen him laugh. It's so pure, it's adorable.”
Rabastan thought so too, though he didn't say anything. But it was.... adorable, he meant to say.
What? It was okay!
On the other hand, Arcturus froze. That smile... Was he just dreaming or...
He turned his face toward the Slytherin table where one of his grandsons was currently sitting with his friends.
Uh... Well, he'll see about that later (he was sure he did not imagine things).
// George stands up and grabs a red sweatshirt from his closet, which he throws at the smaller boy. Harry catches it and nods in thanks before putting it up, effectively covering the bruises and scars.
Pandora Lestrange cooed loudly at that, though the sound was muffled by the loud noises coming from the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. The sweatshirt looked so big on the kid. It was absolutely adorable (though it also showed how skinny he was, too. Even if they had seen it when he was shirtless – they had been too focused on his injuries to really process how tiny he was).
A few scoffed at the obvious Muggle clothing, but they couldn't deny that the kid looked adorable in the too-big jumper.
“Damn, can't use our wands during summer,” he mutters before clearing his throat. “I'll go ask Dad if he doesn't mind shrinking your -”
“Don't,” Harry cuts him off sheepishly. “I like it like that.”
“Uh? But you're swimming in it.”
Harry shrugs.
Arcturus twitched but didn't say anything. Even Regulus sometimes shrugged despite his (awful) mother's reprimands.
“I don't mind. I prefer when it's a size larger.”
“I thought you hated that with your clothes.”
“I mean, yeah, but they are my cousin's hand-me-downs. Those are your clothes. It's safe. It's fine,” he explains simply while pulling on the bottom of his sweatshirt.
“Merlin, this is too cute!”
“Why is he so sweet?” Barty whispered to himself while staring at the screen with big, round eyes.
Evan hid a laugh behind his hand.
Too cute.
// Fred muffles a squeal behind his hand and beckons the shorter boy over. //
“I understand, mate,” a Ravenclaw whispered.
They saw Harry climb into one of the beds and curl up under the cover while Fred lied down on top of it. George did the same on the other side of the bed, leaving an empty bed on the other side of the room. It was a tight fit, but they made it work. Somehow.
Of course, some of the more conservative had something to say about the fact that those three were sleeping in the same bed, but... Well, at least the twins decided not to sleep under the cover, like the younger teen. That was... a bit more appropriate.
To be continued...