Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A soft, boney, finger traced the side of a crib. In it were toys of all sorts. Soft bunnies and cows, an elephant, and even a toy broom. The room was colourful, but the being's demeanour seemed to dampen the atmosphere.

“Your child will be beautiful, Lily of the Valley.” A ghostly-looking man said. His fingers slowly squeezed the front of the crib, splintering the wood. 

“Who are you? Get out of my house!” Lily yelled, her red hair shining and frayed. It flew behind her as if the wind was pushing it back. Her green eyes, which watched the being carefully, shone with magic.

“I am your family's saviour,” He gestured to the woman's stomach. “He will know this too, in time. Listen to me carefully, if you want to save your child's life.”

Harry woke with a start, his wand clenched tightly in his hand. This was the seventh time this week he had had that dream, and it was Tuesday. Every time he fell asleep, the dream replayed over and over again. He knew the woman with fiery red hair and determined eyes was his mother, Lily. Who he didn’t know was the creature that stared at her, lined in a dementor's cloak and wispy hair that looked like the mane of a unicorn. And at Privet Drive, one couldn’t simply go and check the library. 

Harry stood up, his knees sore and battered from yesterday's work. And the day before that. And this whole summer. The pain never left.

Rubbing lightly at his scar, Harry walked over to Hedwig's cage. The snowy owl hadn't been seen in a few days, and Harry had no clue when she would return. He looked at the mirror behind it. Next to it? and stared. His skin was lighter than normal, almost a snowy pale. Which didn’t make sense, regarding how much time he had spent outside this summer. Removing his shirt, he noticed his whole upper body had changed. Gone were the soft chest hairs he had been growing, but now white skin. Harry knew his father had been Tongan-Romanian, which explained his normal darker complexion and black hair. However, now it seems as if his skin matched his mothers completely. Even his hair was different, falling in neater sections than his normally unruly bird's nest.

“You better be up!” He heard from behind the door. Before he could say anything, it  was thrown open. Harry stared at his aunt, her face morphing from rage to shock. Her gaze travelled from his eyes, to what Harry assumed was his nose, to his chest. 

“You.” Harry stared at her unimpressed. 

“Me, what, Aunt Petunia? I was just getting dressed.”

“You bloody freak!” She roared. Normally, Uncle Vernon or his cousin Dudley was the one to raise their voice like this, not his aunt. It was, truthfully, a little frightening. The shouting didn’t stop.

“You look just like them, and you dare to keep living in my home? I could take it while you looked like Potter, but now- we told Dumbledore that this would happen, but he never believed us! Pack your things and leave FREAK!” Aunt Petunia threw the towel she held in her hands at Harry and slammed the door shut.

“Bloody hell.” Harry said to himself, before mentally shrugging. If Petunia was going to let him leave, then he was going to take it. Throwing everything he had ever gotten out of his trunk back in, he stared around his room.

Well, it wasn’t his room. It was always going to be Dudley's second bedroom. Thundering footsteps sounded the said teenagers' entrance.

“Mom said she's finally kicking you out. Going to your boyfriends' house, you poof?” Harry rolled his eyes, but inwardly his heart ached. If only. There were a lot of “if only”s when it came to Cedric. When it came to the whole goblet situation. “Why do you look so weird?” Dudley asked, a quizzical look on his whale of a face.

“Shove off, Dudley. I’m just trying to leave before my teachers come after me. Or the death eaters. Wouldn’t that be a sight? You tied up by your ankles while Lucius Malfoy cursed you.” Harry knew Dudley had no clue who the man was, but the thought offered Harry a sort of comfort. “Anyways, tell Petunia she’ll have to take me, the knight bus doesn’t work during the day.” Dudley looked torn between getting out of Harry’s presence and beating him to a pulp.

“You’ll finally learn to stop messing with us, freak!” Dudley laughed, and went back down, each step shaking the stairwell.

Focusing on his magic, Harry pointed his first two fingers at his trunk. He had gotten better at using his hands to do magic instead of his wand, but it was still hard. He could manage a Lumos and Accio, as well as will himself warmer, but he had only managed to shrink and unshrink his trunk once. Harry pushed his two fingers together until the trunk was the size of his palm, and slipped it into his pocket, along with his money pouch. Giving himself a silent cheer of triumph, he walked down the steps.

“Hurry it up, boy! We’ll be- what the bloody hell.” Vernon's angry yells quickly quieted as Harry descended. Just as Petunia's eyes had looked him over, Vernons did too.

“Just as I said, Vernon.” Petunia hissed, her white bag clutched in her hands. She kissed Vernon and Dudley on their cheeks and glared at Harry. “Come on, boy. We’re getting you out of here.” When he didn’t follow her automatically, Petunia slapped him on the side of the head. 

Now that he thought about it, he was taller than he originally thought. Maybe magical growth spurts made you look more like your maternal side? Harry didn’t have a clue.

The ride to, well, wherever they were going, was done in silence. Sometimes, Aunt Petunia would glance at him and glare before muttering to herself, but that wasn’t often. When Harry looked out of his window, though, he knew exactly where they were going.

“You know the way to the Leaky Cauldron?” Harry asked in his surprise.

“Of course, I do, boy.” She said, looking at him through the rearview. “Brought my idiotic sister here. Like a curse, I tell you.” Harry’s fist clenched. The car suddenly jerked to a stop.

“Get out, now, you freak. You’re no longer our responsibility. Don’t ever come back to my home again.” When Harry stepped out of the car and closed his door, his aunt drove off.

Sighing, Harry went inside the hidden building, making sure no muggles were watching him go in. No more secrecy breaks.

The Leaky Cauldron hadn’t changed a bit, Harry noticed. Same dull curtains, grimy floor, and sticky sickly drunks all over the place. 

“Ah hello, who might you- oh! Mr Potter! What can I help you with?”

“Hullo, Tom. I was wondering, do you have a room here? I’ll need to stay for a few weeks. At least until Hogwarts starts.” Tom nodded.

 “Ah of course, of course.” The old man began adding some numbers on a small pad. Harry looked him over, noticing his hands were wrinkled and toughed over. Oh, and his knuckles were bleeding. “Alright lad, that should be 307 Galleons, 16 Sickles, and 28 Knuts. Harry paled and quickly checked his pockets. 17 Galleons and 2 Knuts.

“Sir, is there an uh, cheaper option? Anywhere?” Harry showed Tom his pouch, and Tom clicked his tongue. 

“Can you cook, Mr Potter? Or clean?” Harry nodded his head.

“Both, sir. My aunt and uncle made sure I could survive on my own.” Tom nodded appreciatively and tossed him a pair of keys.

“Then that's what you’ll do. Every day except Sundays, you’ll work for me. From five am to six pm. That's when we start breakfast and dinner. Lunch is served between one and two. You may be Harry Potter but don’t expect to laze about. You start tomorrow and don’t forget your key. Room 109.” Harry smiled and shook hands with the old man before looking for his room. It took two long hallways and a flight of stairs (that Harry realised he could have taken in the beginning, bugger) before he got there. Once in, he noticed the room wasn’t too bad. It seemed like a luxury to him. A large bed with soft white pillows resting on it. There were grey wood posts on every corner, some having cute hearts with names in them or letters like R+H. In the corner stood a small library with a multitude of books. Some were even stacked on top of the two shelves. There was a small closet, which Harry would likely put to use, and another door that led to the bathroom. All of these nice decorations made Harry’s head spin.

Putting his trunk in the middle of the room, Harry focused on it once more. It took less time, this time, for his trunk to go back to its original size, and Harry quickly pushed it up against his bed. Noticing the bunched-up carpet, Harry vowed to fix it later. First things first, a shower.

The on-suite bathroom was beautiful. Sure, the dormitory bathrooms were great, but he had never had his own  bathroom before. It had sinks that were made of a white marble material which was covered in black and grey spots. The cabinets are the same wood as the bedposts. A large shower and bath are separate from each other. But close enough Harry could switch from one to the other without covering the floor in water. There were a couple of hair and body washes on the wall, and Harry even noticed a conditioner. He had never used one before, but he knew his aunt had a bunch of them.

Rather quickly, Harry was washed and ready to go through the alley. First stop, Gringotts. He may not have a lot of money, but he needed some clothes. It would do him no good walking around in his muggle clothing. However, Harry supposed his muggle jeans and shirt would work for today. 

After saying goodbye to Tom, and assuring him that he knew of his duties, Harry headed out to Gringotts. It took Harry a while to get there, seeing as it was in the middle of Diagon Alley, but he got there alive. Taking in the beautiful marble scenery around him, Harry followed an older man up to the front. He saw that the man was giving him a key, and he was soon led somewhere in the back. He overheard something about ‘I’m in her will’, and decided he shouldn’t eavesdrop anymore.

“Ahem.” Harry looked up at the new bank teller and smiled.

“Oh, uh, hello sir! I’d like to remove some money from my account.” 

“Key.” Harry blushed softly.

“Oh, I don’t have a key. See, the man that brought me here my first year, Hagrid, he had my key and he never gave it to me..” Harry kind of trailed off. The goblin teller glared and bared his teeth, before hopping off his seat.

“Follow me then, and we’ll see if you have an account with us.” Harry followed. quite lamely in his opinion. Some of the other goblins seemed to stare at him, their (beady) eyes following him. Soon, they were in a new office, this one covered in lush cushions and chairs, with a long set of cabinets filled with books and other trinkets.

“Prick your finger.” The goblin handed the boy a short, shiny needle. “And add a few drops of blood into this bowl.” He pushed the mahogany bowl forward. Harry did so and quickly cleaned off the needle with his shirt. The goblin stared at him appraisingly.

“So, Mr... Potter, is it? Harrison Silas Potter. You have both a lord vault and two heir vaults. One from your mother and one from your father. Oh, Mr Potter, you should look at this."

Harrison Silas Potter

Age 14

Mother: Lily Elise Evans

Father: Unlisted

Blood Adoption: James Fleamont Potter

Overseen by: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Housing Assets:

Potter Manor in Limavady, Ireland

Evans Household in Cokeworth, England

Potter-Evans Household in Godric's Hollow, England

Financial Assets:

Potter Lord Vault

103,993,918 Galleons

24,973 Sickles

38,702 Knuts

Potter Grimoire 

Other Materials on Page Two

Potter Heir Vault

1,206,400 Galleons

(16,000 added tri-yearly)

Evans Heir Vault

3,498 Pounds

Two letters, addressed to Heir Harrison Silas Potter

“What is all of this? And I thought my middle name was James. Why do I have so much money? Is James not my dad?” Harry asked all at once, questions rolling off his tongue quicker than he could stop them.

“Well, Heir Potter, it seems that you had no clue you were blood adopted.” The goblin raised his hand to stop Harry from speaking. “Before you ask questions, let me tell you what I know. My name is Grungewhipper. Now, onto your adoption. The young Lord Potter was likely infertile. This happens among the pureblood circles, due to their very specific pool of mates.”

“You mean their inbreeding?” Harry asked. Grungewhipper nodded.

“Not the word I would use for it, but essentially yes. So, your mother likely got artificially inseminated. Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah, one of Aunt Petunia’s friends had that, since her husband couldn’t give her babies.”

“That is the most obvious course of action, and since the name appears as unlisted, either your sperm donor doesn’t know you exist, or he’s dead. Though, it was probably a wizard. Your magical signature is exceptionally strong. Even as a goblin, I can feel it.” Harry nodded, quickly getting the gist of things, and putting away what he needed to think about later. His dad just needed a little help bringing him into the world. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Alright, are you able to give me a new key then? I need to get some money from my vault to go shopping.” Harry stated.

Soon, Harry had a pouch filled with money and anti-theft charms on it and was ready to go shopping. Slipping his key around his neck, (it came with a chain, how cool!) Harry began his shopping spree. Starting with robes.

Some were colourful, soft purples and bright greens, dark navy’s and stunning ivory’s, while most were black or light brown. His trousers were next, from a mix of khaki tan to pitch black dragonhide (slightly expensive, but worth it for quidditch this year, Harry reassured himself). Shirts in every colour of the rainbow and shape to boot. 

Next were his books. He didn’t have his list yet, but he got each and every book he fancied. Two on quidditch, a few more on Charms and Transfiguration, one on Herbology, and even a big old dusty Potion one. Soon, the sun was setting and he needed to get back to his room.

Once Harry was in and had said his hellos to the crowd, he got to work hanging everything up. He had the space for it, so why not? And his books, those had to be close by. Two went by his bed, “Britain's Most Complex Potions” and “Charms to Charm Anyone!” went beside his bed, while the rest went to the plump chair next to the bookshelves. Settling down in bed, as it was already eight, Harry thought he could sleep easy that night.

Thought. He, in fact, slept horribly. It wasn’t the bed or the atmosphere, but the dreams. Quickly alternating from his Mum talking to that horrid figure, to Cedric laying dead in front of him. When he woke, he couldn’t decide which was worth it. Checking the hanging Tempus spell on the wall, Harry noticed it was already 4:30. The skies outside were dark, and the sun was barely starting to rise. Harry quickly got dressed, in tan trousers and a white shirt, and hurried downstairs to meet Tom.

Days blurred together at the Leaky Cauldron. Every morning, awoken by nightmares, working and meeting new people during the day, and then falling asleep with his books. And soon, Harry realised, it was two days before his birthday.

That day had already been rough, but Harry had enjoyed it. The scrubbing of floors, the cleaning of pots and pans, dicing and frying and baking. He’d earn his keep here for a while if he didn’t have to go back to Hogwarts. Harry really wasn’t missing Hogwarts. No letters from his friends and everything he wrote came back unopened, it was as if they didn’t care anymore. He had even tried muggle calling Hermione but to no avail. Harry scrubbed the floor harder at the thought. After last year, how dare they put him through this much hurt!

“Potter, what are you doing here?”

Harry looked up and froze.

Chapter Text

“I asked, Potter, what are you doing here? Or has your place on this filthy floor made you lose brain cells?” Harry flushed. The floor wasn’t filthy; he had been cleaning it for a long time, damn it!

“Now, Severus, don’t be distracting my workers! You can talk after he gets off.” Tom interjected from his place behind the counter. Snape sneered.

“I’ll see you then, Potter.” Harry sent the potion master a murderous glare, before turning around and heading to the kitchen. He’d take his anger out on the onions.

Work was tense, to put it lightly. Every time he went out to serve a customer, something he greatly enjoyed, Snape's eyes would instantly snap to him and follow him until he went back behind the counter. What the hell did he want? What was so detrimental that Snape decided to stay and watch him was worth it? Harry didn’t know and didn’t plan to find out. 

As the customers started trickling in a lot slower, Harry got to cleaning the kitchen. Dinner was served forty-five minutes ago and would be out for another hour or so. Tom always did the dinner clean-up so Harry could get a little work done before heading to bed. Sticking his head out, Harry noticed Snape wasn’t in his usual spot.

Chancing it, Harry said night to Tom and damn near bolted up the stairs to his room. However, he soon found out why Snape wasn’t in his spot. He was in front of Harry’s bloody door.

“I figured you would try and hide up here,” Snape sneered. “Now, care to explain what you’re doing here instead of your Aunt and Uncles?”

“Not to you.” Harry snapped. “Just get out of my way, you’re not my professor for another two months.” Snape glared at him.

“I’ll have you know, boy, that Albus is out there looking for you at this very moment. So, unless you want me to take you to him and have you carted back, you better explain.”

Harry felt his blood run cold. He couldn’t go back there. Not while he looked, well, like himself. The look on Petunias' face was enough to hold him back from even thinking that. You look just like them she had yelled. Like who? Maybe Petunia had known his sperm donor, as Grungewhipper had called him. Thinking “dad” felt weird. James was his Dad. Harry cracked his knuckles in his palm.

“Move out the way, I’ll explain.”

With Snape in and waiting in his “library” area, Harry stared at himself in the bathroom. His face, glistening with water, was paler than normal. Or, his new normal. ‘Probably because of Snape’ Harry thought to himself. Harry ran a hand through his curls, pushing back the soft front pieces he used to cover his scar. His forehead wasn’t fully covered, like Lavender Browns' bangs, but it was covered enough that people didn’t immediately recognise him as Harry Potter. The back of his hair, after growing out a little, began to softly curl at the ends, offering differing sections of curls around his head.

“I don’t have all day Potter ” He heard. Steeling himself, Harry pulled the door open and went to the plush brown chair by his stack of books. It seems Snape had conjured a chair to not take Harry’s. ‘Git’ thought Harry.

Snape gave him a look that practically screamed “Get on with it”. Harry stared at him for a few seconds, taking in his hair. It wasn’t greasy today, meaning Snape hadn’t been brewing or had showered.

“Basically, long story short, I woke up looking like my mum, my aunt kicked me out, and I got a job here.” Snape blinked and let out a derisive snort. Harry found himself feeling pilloried by it but forced himself to speak up rather than hide away. “Fine, if you don’t believe me, I have nothing left to say. Get out.”

“You have no proof, boy. I might as well send Dumbledore to you right now.” Snape growled. Harry’s insides burned. This bloody fucking-

“If you want, proof, here!” Harry stomped to his bedside table and pulled out the paper Grungewhipper had given him and slapped it into the professor's chest. Snape read it, and it was like watching a man die. His pupils went through meiosis (a word he learned from Hermione) and his skin turned a pale shade of grey.

“You mean to tell me-” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” Harry interjected. “But there's your damn proof.” It was like the fire under Harry had disappeared, and he was almost tearful. “Don’t tell Dumbledore. Please.” Well shit. Harry turned around as if he was fixing his bedside table, but truthfully he was wiping his eyes.

“You. You have my word, Potter.” Snape placed the paper on the bedside table, opened the door, and left. Billowing robes and all. Harry sat down in his chair and slumped. Bloody hell.

Harry Potter could be his fucking son. Harry Bloody Potter could be Severus Snape’s son. Severus didn’t know what to think.

The paper made him think, and remember things he had promised to forget. Things he had begged Albus to wipe from his mind, only to be told to deal with it. Lily’s smell filled his nose, and suddenly Severus couldn’t breathe. Severus appeared straight into his house at Spinner's End.

The thought of them together, that night, filled his head. Lily’s pale skin against his own, her hair split out on the bed, her breath in his ear as she- NO! Severus used every ounce of training he had ever received to shut those memories out. His occlumency shields were low due to the shock of finding out Harry Potter could be his son. Could be. Probably wasn’t. Severus sat down at his dinner table and summoned a bottle of fire whiskey.

His mind racing, Severus let his questions consume him. Yes, he and Lily had done things, after a bad day, but it was only once. When he had awoken, Lily was gone, with breakfast on the table and a note saying how sorry she was. He had burned the letter and tossed the breakfast.

Just because he had sex doesn’t mean that some obnoxious child was his. Lily could have seen anyone during the break. It could be anyone's child. Well, except Potter's. He snorted in disbelief. Harry Potter wasn’t his son. Hell, Sirius Black was a more likely possibility. Yet Severus had that nagging voice in the back of his head, constantly saying what if. Severus didn’t wanna give in to those rancid thoughts.

That gave him an idea. The goblin magic would be able to tell if Severus was a father! Severus had copied the paper while Potter had his back turned, and had taken the real one to examine closely. Unfolding it, he laid it on his table. A shot of fire whiskey later, Severus spoke the dreaded words.

“I recognize Harry Silas Potter as my son and my heir.” Nothing happened, and Severus laughed. Yes! He wasn’t that blasted boy's father!

The words Severus Tobias Snape slowly sketched their way onto the piece of parchment, and Severus damn near fell to his knees. 

He needed to speak to Albus.

“Harry, what are you doing so early?” Harry blinked. It was a Thursday morning, and he had work.

“I’m here for work, sir.” He said, not impolitely, but he was confused.

“It’s your birthday, Harry! You should go out! I didn’t expect you today.” Harry thought for a second. Was it already his birthday? ‘I guess I was so wrapped up in Snape telling Dumbledore where I was, I forgot.’ He thought to himself. His brooding hadn’t been all that fun for everyone.

“That's alright sir, I want to work. It's fun, I swear.” Tom laughed.

“Quit pulling my leg, son!” Tom's wrinkly hand ruffled Harry’s head, and not thinking anything of it, Harry leaned in. Tom laughed more. “Go, up you get. Back in bed! You can’t come down until at least 8. Then you’ll go out and do something, you hear?” Harry nodded and with a sigh made his way back upstairs.

Not being able to sleep, Harry lit one of the lamps and began reading. The sun was already coming up, and Harry would switch to natural light soon, but in the early night morning, Harry needed a little more. Picking up the book closest to him, Harry began reading about charms.

Time flew reading his book, and Harry even found himself writing down page numbers to review later. Other books to read, facts he liked, page numbers, and the likes were all in the book and the piece of parchment. Looking at the clock on the wall, Harry noticed it was 7:30. Shower time.

Walking into the giant bathroom, Harry went straight to the tub. He had enjoyed relaxing in the warmth, even falling asleep sometimes. Plus, Tom had recommended some great products that both soothed his sore muscles and made him smell pretty damn good. Sinking into the heat, Harry felt himself relax almost instantaneously. He loved magic.

'I can touch you now…'

Harry gasped, his head flinging out of the water. When had he gone under? He needed to breathe! Harry gasped for air, a mixture of oxygen and water filling his lungs. Gripping the side of the bath, he coughed. What the hell? Nightmares in a bathtub? Damn. 

Harry traced the runes on the bathtub as he tried to calm his breathing. Slowly, his gasping breaths turned into soft huffs of air. He stared at the runes on the side of the marble bathtub. He could tell what maybe two of them were, due to studying near Hermione and listening to her talk about them, but the rest, he had no clue. Maybe he could get a book about it while he was out today.

Pulling himself out of the bath, Harry realised how shaky his body really was. Goosebumps littered his skin, and even though he willed himself warmer, it was like his magic wouldn’t comply. He wasn’t used to that. Making himself feel warm was something he had been able to do since childhood. Guess he was getting dressed then.

Pulling on a soft pair of pants, Harry sat down on his bed and stared at the mirror adjacent to it. Every day, he felt he looked a little different, but on the day of his 15th birthday, he looked- well, like he was never James Potter's son. He really needed to talk to the goblins about getting another potion or whatever that made him look like his dad. His pale skin was kind of starting to freak him out a bit. Plus, his almond-shaped eyes had become hooded, and the green had become brighter, not the hazel they once were. His nose, too, had changed shape over the past few weeks, getting slightly larger and filling his face up more. The rest of him, though, was the same as it had always been. The same lithe, skinny, seeker form, with long fingers, that his aunts' friends had gushed over once upon a time. They swore he would become a piano player one day, being “built like that!”

Harry grabbed one of his pillows and groaned into it, his teeth grinding against each other whenever he inhaled. He changed his mind, magic was so bloody confusing. Why couldn’t he just, I don't know, look like his mum? Worst bloody birthday surprise ever.

Going to the front of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry said a speedy goodbye to Tom and walked through the brick wall. He found out in a rather depressing way that he didn’t have to tap the bricks to get through. Like Platform 9 ¾, Harry could just walk right through. It was only taped as a show for incoming witches and wizards and their muggle families. It ruined Harry’s life. 

Feeling the inside pocket of his robe Harry pulled out the piece of paper with everything on it. It had lost its shine, sadly, but Harry figured it was Goblin Magic. Feeling secure in having enough money for his morning, Harry wandered and let the bleakness of the day consume him. Bad choice.

“What's a young boy as you doin’ down here in Knockturn Alley?” The voice was right behind him. Harry whirled around, wanding out as if that would do him any good. The man laughed, the sound sending a chill down Harry’s back. It was hauntingly beautiful, like a dead bride awaiting her cheating husband. 

“Stay back,” Harry said, tightening his grip on his wand. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Darlin’.” His voice, like his laugh, was smooth. He had a Western accent, as the guys from Dudley show’s. “Bless your heart, you’re probably still in school. Now I’ll ask again, whatsa young boy like you doin’ down in this hell hole.”

“I got lost, I guess.” Harry bit out. “I wasn’t paying attention.” And he could get out of here if this man would leave him alone.

“Then let me help you out of here. The name's Blake Cooper. I just moved here for work. I work at Darwin's Read 'n Mead, with my momma's brother-in-law. You a reader?” Harry nodded tersely, his body tensing under Cooper's hand that was placed on his shoulder. If this dude kidnapped him... “I thought so, we’ll stop there real quick. And no, I’m not gonna kidnap you.” Harry froze. Did this man read his mind?

“I’ll explain once we get there, you look around the age. Ooh, what's that in your hands?” Before Harry could jerk back Cooper had taken the parchment out of his hands. “Harrison Silas Potter? Damn, cool name. Like the forest people back in Kentucky.”

“Is that where you're from?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. Here he was, following a stranger, who said he wasn’t gonna kidnap him, to a random book store in Knockturn Alley. Hermione would have his head if she found out. ‘If she even wanted to still be friends,’ Harry thought. ‘What friend ignores your calls for a whole summer?’

“Nah, I was born and raised in Texas. Moved here to help my older brother, Jaxon and uncle, Mark. He’s getting old, and my mom still has to watch my younger brothers.”

“How old are you?” Harry asked. He looked like he was 29, maybe even thirty. His black hair was shaggy, like a mix between Harry’s own hair and an 80’s mullet. He had tattoos on his neck and a scruff on his chin. He looked like he rode a motorcycle.

“Just turned nineteen a week ago. I know, most people think I look older, with my roguishly handsome looks.” He winked at Harry. “I’m the second oldest of my family of five. You got any siblings?”

“No,” Harry responded. “Well, I had two people I thought of as brother and sister, but they've been ignoring me all summer.” 

“Damn shame, that is,” Cooper said briskly. “Who would ignore a nice kid like you? You’re, what, twelve? Thirteen?”

“I turned fifteen today,” Harry grumbled.

“Damn kid, you're skinny as a stick! I’ll make sure to fatten you up, I will.”

“So you can eat me?” Harry asked dryly. Cooper (who Harry was starting to think of as Blake) barked out a laugh, and Harry’s heart ached for his Godfather, Sirius Black. He hadn’t answered any of his letters either.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about us country folk, but I promise we don’t eat people. Come on, we're almost there.” Harry followed Blake, listening to his idle chatter about some of the shops. A run-down apothecary, a cursed broom shop (which Harry, God help him, was interested in), and finally, they had arrived at the bookshop. 

“Honey I’m home!”  Blake yelled as he pulled Harry into the shop. It was beautifully decorated, with soft walnut wood shelves holding a multitude of books, and pine desks filled with many creatures. Books floated overhead, and orbs of light decorated areas that weren’t lit by the candles above.

“What did I tell ya about stormin’ into here and makin’ a ruckus!” Harry heard from above. Looking up, he watched an older Blake float down from the second-story area. It was like you copied Blake, paste-ed him, and then shaved his head and scruff. He had tanner skin that almost glowed, and deep blue eyes that seemed to shimmer. Actually, almost all of him seemed to sparkle.

“Oh shut up Jaxon. This is young Harrison, he came to check out the shop!” Jaxon rolled his eyes.

“Oh really? You didn’t kidnap him off the side of the road? And the kid prefers Harry ya jerk.” Harry took a step back.

“How can you both read my mind? What's going on? Do you work for Voldemort? Oh god, you work for the Dark Lord, what the hell was I thinking?” Harry had his wand out once more and was slowly backing up. He thought he had hit the door, but instead, he hit a solid wall.

“Who the hell is Voldemort?” Blake asked.

“I can promise you Harry I don’t work or even talk to Voldemort. And that's the British version of the Miguel guy in Cuba.” Harry’s brain stopped.

“What?”

“Yeah, Great Britain isn't the only area with a raging psychopathic dark lord. Hell, half the world has one. I mean, Texas just finished a war four years ago! Y’all brits are pretty self-centred.” Jaxon responded.

“No, I just always thought, Voldemort was, well. Never mind that Harry pointed his wand again. “Tell me how you can read my mind.” Jaxon chuckled. It was rich and deep, not unlike Blakes's laughter, which drew you in and then let you drop.

“Alright, kid, I will. But you’re making a scene in my shop. Let's go drink some tea and talk about it. Blake, go get the book.” Harry followed the older man but didn’t put his wand away. They couldn’t be trusted. Harry was, quite frankly, an idiot. Without Ron and Hermione to remind him about the constant threat that is Voldemort, he had honestly forgotten. 

“Here you go, kid.” Blake passed him a tall glass filled with amber liquid. “Good ol’ Texas sweet tea. We have Ma send it every week.” Harry sniffed it, but he wasn’t looking for poisons. Instead, he watched Jaxon’s body language to see if he would tense or let something show on his face. Instead, all he got was an eye roll. Taking a sip, Harry noted the delicious drink had a lemony edge to it.

“Delicious,” Harry said before chugging it down. Why didn’t British people have this everywhere? This sweet, sweet beverage. Blake slammed a book on the table. It was pretty dusty, but Blake waved his wand and it cleaned up.

“Now, Harry, you said you were fifteen, right? Now, are you a firstborn?” Jaxon put his hand in front of Blake's face.

“First off, let me explain some terminology to you real quick. No-Maj is a muggle, first-born is a muggle-born, and, well, that's it actually. We ‘mericans don’t get the blood purity shit as y’all do. At least not in Texas. Continue, Blake.”

“Well, he kind of answered my question. If you were pureblooded you’d know all about this. Now, the reason my brother can read your mind is that he’s half a vampire. I’m serious.” Harry snorted. “Weird, well, anyways, the reason I can read your mind is because of my magical inheritance. I assume you know about the branches of magic, right?” At Harry’s shocked look, Blake sighed. “Damn British education. Alright, I'll explain. There are six main parts of magic. Abjuration, Alteration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, and Necromancy. Now, every wixen in the world has a specific attunement to one of these parts of magic. Now, the book says that Abjuration ‘Abjuration is the branch of magic which frequently involves giving up citizenship or another right or privilege, is the solemn repudiation, abandonment, or renunciation by or upon oath.’ That's a load of donkey balls right there. See, there are three branches of Abjuration, right, and all three are mind magic. Invocation, Mentalism, and Oneiromancy, all are about super freaky mind magic shit. And, as you can tell, it's what I have an affinity for. I can read anyone's mind almost undetected.” Blake paused and took a sip of tea.

“Now, damn I’ve said now a lot, well anyways, back to affinity shit. You learn what you are on your fifteenth birthday.  That's your magical inheritance. That's the age that your magical core, or soul, stops growing. If you, I don’t know, committed an AK and split your soul, it would have grown back once you hit fifteen. Would have been awfully painful, but it would have. Anyways, back on track. Abjuration, Conjuration, and Necromancy are the easiest to tell if you have an inheritance for it. Obviously, you don’t. The minute I turned fifteen, I was reading people's minds left and right. You haven’t done that, nor have you summoned objects or the dead. Plus, Necromancy is like, illegal. So, yeah. 

It says here that ‘Alteration is the branch of magic that includes spells that are defensive in nature, incantations and wards that block or dispel others. It is customary for anyone trying to protect themselves to apply such magicks, without the need for cumbersome clothing which can impair spell casting’. That's like your dark/light arts, defence against said dark arts, I think duelling, yep it says duelling here, and Apotropaic magic. That's what my momma’s got an affinity for. She is warding off the devil at home. Now, Conjuration is just Charms and Transfiguration. There are some other things too, but you can read about those later. 

The next one is Divination, and by the look on your face, I can skip that one. Alright, cool. Next on the list is Enchantment.." 

Harry listened, second after second, minute after minute. He soaked up every ounce of knowledge that Blake and Jaxon threw his way. He wasn't one for learning, and never liked competing against Hermione (or Dudley for that matter. Been there and done that!) But he was learning, and actually having fun with it. Jaxon had given him a stuffed squirrel to squeeze instead of bouncing his leg, and Harry found he focused much better after that. His brain jotted things to look for later, books to buy, even people to read about. Harry was all things considered, prepared for the school year. This has been the best birthday Harry had had in a while. 

"You're telling me, you spent your fifteenth birthday with the likes of us?" Jaxon asked, eyebrows up into his hairline. "Jeez, kid. Well happy birthday! Want a free book or something?" Harry laughed and shook his head no. 

"Will you tell me about your family?" Harry asked. Jaxon nodded and smiled heartily. 

"Well, I'm the oldest at thirty-two. I was turned into a vampire at twenty-eight by my deceased wife who died shortly after turning me. We weren't able to complete the turning so that's why I'm only half a vampire." 

"How do you complete it besides biting?" Harry asked 

"Sex!" Blake crudely yelled from the other side of the kitchen.

"He ain't wrong. She died after biting me. Apparently, vampires cannot turn someone with an alteration affinity. Anyways, I was stuck as a half-vampire for the rest of my life. Had to have her clan save my life. Blake's the second oldest, as you know, with an affinity for legilimency. We both went to a small-town magic school in Texas called Susan Anne's. He's dating some no-maj in Kentucky. They're pretty hush-hush about it, but our family knows. The middle child of the family, Cole, is a firecracker. No, he literally has an affinity for fire magic, and he just loves putting sparklers around the house. Momma hates it, but he's always been her favourite. Most like our dad, momma always says. Well, he's sixteen and about to be seventeen in November. Jay is number four, and he turned ten about a month ago. His and Blake's birthdays are super close. Jay's a sweetheart and can make you smile just by being around him. A future painter in the making too, I reckon. He's damn good at whatever he does but that kid loves to paint. Now the youngest is Zane, and he's silent. Hasn't made a peep since the day he was born. Even when he broke his leg a few years ago, he didn't even cry. No one knows why. Momma says the devil got a hold of him in another life, but I think the twerps were just watchin' and a-waitin'. Damn good kid tho. He's seven. Nuff said 'bout me, talk 'bout yourself Birdy." Harry shrugged and looked down. 

"Well, my parents died when I was a baby, So I live with my muggle aunt and uncle. My mom was a muggle-born, so it makes sense. I've got a cousin named Dudley, right git he is." Jaxon nodded solemnly.

"You don't deserve that, kid, I promise. Quit thinking what you're thinking. Now I know we don't know each other ver' well, but stop by whenever you need it, alright?" Harry nodded. 

They talked a little more before their uncle-in-law, who told Harry to call him Grandpa Travis, forced them out. It was work or leave, so Harry said his goodbyes and headed out back to Diagon Alley. It was later than he thought, almost two p.m. Plus, Harry still had more books to buy thanks to Blake and Jaxon. 

One day there turned into two, which turned into a week. Harry enjoyed his time with the Cooper brothers. Even after being attacked by dementors one August afternoon, Harry was still elated to be there. Since Harry was doing nothing but cleaning and cooking, Tom had also decided to give Harry an extra day off now. Tom knew Harry could very well pay for his room now, but Harry enjoyed the work. Plus, Blake would sometimes come and visit him. 

Soon, his happiness would come to an end.

“Harry my boy, so wonderful to see you!” Harry froze, the tomato in his hand falling to the cutting board. 

“Hi, Professor,” Harry said, toying with his knife anxiously. ‘Just keep dicing,’ Harry thought to himself. ‘Just like at the Dursleys.'

“You know, Harry, we’ve been looking for you for a while.” Harry kept slicing. “Why did you run away, Harry? You know about the protection for you and your family. They could be getting hunted down by Voldemort.”

“I didn’t run away, professor. Aunt Petunia kicked me out.” 

“Now Harry, why would she do that? She knows about the protection, knows what it entails.” Harry dropped the knife, tomato juice splattering onto the counter.

“Maybe she didn’t like my new look, professor.” Harry turned around and watched as Dumbledore's grandfatherly smile disappeared. 

Chapter Text

“You may be Albus Dumbledore, but my boy is working hard over there! Out you get!” Mrs Mary said, shooing the old man out. Mrs Mary was Tom's wife, and while she wasn’t here but once a week, she had taken a quick liking to Harry. Though he hated the word ‘boy’, the way Mrs Mary said it made his cheeks flush and his heart swell with joy. The old couple had a grandson who was only seventeen when he passed. He was a well-trained duelist, and Voldemort's men had killed him off. Yet another reason for Harry to kill the old snake face. 

"Mary, you must understand-" he heard Dumbledore plead, but Mary's motherly voice drowned him out. She almost reminded him of Mrs. Weasley, but Mrs. Weasley would never stand up to Dumbledore as Mrs. Mary had. Returning to his cooking, Hardy tried to push the negatives from his mind. He still had so much to discover about himself and he couldn't do that with Dumbledore near. The man had cared for him, that much was true, but he wouldn't understand Harry's newfound interests, especially not in Enchantments. Harry's mind thought about the past few days. It had taken a while for Harry to learn what was truly right for him, and he didn't even think enchantments would be his "area of expertise" so to say, but it was. He was damn good at it, to boot. 

“Harry, darling, you alright?” He heard Mr Tom ask. Mrs Mary was still staring down the floo that Dumbledore had left. 

“Yeah, I promise, just a little shaken up, sir,” Harry said. Tom nodded and patted Harry on the head. Much to his dismay, Harry still leaned into it, even after being exposed to the affection for a much longer time now. Still, Harry loved his pseudo-grandparents. He felt a deeper connection with them than he had ever had with the Dursleys. In less than 3 months! It wasn't shocking, per se. He expected it. Still, he could say he loved the Fletchers with his whole heart. They were helpful, considerate, and while Mr Tom was a bit of a stickler for rules and persona’s, Mrs. Mary was open-minded and in a way, familiar. She almost reminded him of a mix of Hermione and Neville. 

Thinking of his friends, Harry realised he hadn’t written to them in a few months. They hadn’t written to him either. Still, he was filled with a little guilt. He could have written Neville more. Actually…

“Mrs. Mary?” Harry asked. The woman had come in a little while ago, while he was still stuck in his head. “I’m gonna go write my friend a letter if that’s alright?” Mary smiled.  

“Of course dear! Just remember to be careful. That old man could still be out there.” Harry nodded but grimaced as he slid the sliced tomatoes into a jar. Putting the jar into a magically-chilled box, Harry contemplated the wizarding standards. Sure, through his readings, he had come to realise this ‘light and dark’ magic idea was a crock of shit, but he did like the idea of rituals. They seemed fun. He would have had a blast finding a deity to worship, to claim as his own. Alas, it was considered ‘dark’ magic. A few of the points were good, mostly the fact that the Unforgivables are horrible and are in no way useful. At least not now, in the 1990s. The Dark used to argue that the killing curse could be used to give sick patients an easy death, but that was before the invention of the Gendal Potion. Harry remembers reading about that potion sometime in third year. Something about slowly stopping the heart, with enough time to get affairs in order or say goodbye to loved ones, then eventually it puts you to sleep and you pass away. Quick and easy.

Rushing up to his room with a piece of parchment (and almost slipping on his way up), Harry sat down to write to his friend Neville. He and Neville weren’t close by any means, but they had a mutual understanding. They were both orphans, both from hard childhoods, and both happy enough to stay out of the limelight. They had gotten close this past year because of Ron and Hermione's actions (which he still wasn’t over, if that matters) but once the Golden Trio had gotten back in shape, Harry and Neville sort of drifted apart. Harry didn’t want to drift apart from the sweet boy. Harry liked their talks, even if it was solely about one thing. Neville could go on and on about plants, and Harry loved to listen to it. Even though sometimes he had no clue what the round boy was saying, Harry listened vehemently, so much so his Herbology grade improved. 

Neville did the same with Harry, listening about Defense against the Dark Arts. Neville was dreadful at that class, especially with Mad-eye Moody as his professor, but hanging out with Harry had brought Neville's grade up, too. Harry should know. He was wrapped in the biggest one-person hug of his life when Neville told him. Thanks to their combined knowledge, Harry passed Herbology with a EE, an exceeded expectations, as did Neville with Defense. Harry loved their impromptu friendship and was sad when they fizzled into nothing.

‘Not this year,’ Harry thought to himself. ‘Me and Neville will be the best of friends.’ So, Harry got started on his letter.

Dear Neville,

I hope this letter finds you well! I’ve missed you! I know school starts in two weeks, but I was wondering if you were free to meet up before the semester starts? Anywhere you wanna go, just give me the address and I’ll be there.

Your friend,

Harry

Satisfied with his final draft, Harry began to tie the letter around Hedwig's ankle, when he decided to look out of the window. A daft-looking barn owl sat staring at him, and Harry sighed. He let the poor bird in, but the bird wouldn’t budge, sticking out its leg with a letter tied to it. With a quick wave of his wand, he cancelled any common spells that might have been on the letter. Not sensing any more harmful ones, he opened it. Reading it, he felt his nose flare in annoyance. Guess he was writing two letters after all. Sorry, Hedwig.

Peels of laughter echoed from behind Dumbledore, and the old man honestly couldn’t take it anymore. Even Severus seemed amused, though the man was quick to zap the smile right off his face. 

“That kid is James Potter’s son!” Sirius Black Wheezed out. While Sirius was a common joy for his old heart, this honestly wasn’t the correct time for it.

“Sirius! You’re an adult! Act like it!” Molly Weasley berated. Still, Sirius shone on, picking the letter up from off the table and reading it for the rest of the order members to hear.

“‘Dear Dumbledore,” Sirius read. “‘I hope this letter finds you amid your blissful state of ignorance and utter disregard for other people's need for solitude. How delightful it is to have the opportunity to address my grievances in writing, as it seems verbal communication has failed to penetrate the thick wall of your obliviousness. I must express my deepest gratitude for the consistent and unwavering commitment you have displayed in ensuring that I never have more than a moment of peace or tranquillity. Your impeccable timing and relentless intrusion into my personal space have truly left an indelible mark on my life. It is truly inspiring to witness such dedication in disturbing the delicate balance of my sanity.’” Sirius howled with laughter again, trying to catch his breath while also trying to avoid Molly’s grabbing hands. 

“‘I must admit, it is truly awe-inspiring how you manage to materialise out of thin air just when I am on the verge of enjoying a moment of solitude. Your ability to detect the precise second I begin to unwind and bask in the silence is nothing short of extraordinary. It's almost as if you have developed a sixth sense for detecting my brief moments of respite, and you swoop in like an obnoxious superhero to save me from the misery of stillness. While I appreciate the utter lack of sentiment in your actions, please cease them at once. If you would like to talk as adults, I will see you September 1st, and not a moment before. Signed, The Boy Who Fucking Lived.’” Sirius laughed more, and as Dumbledore surveyed the room, he noticed Severus had let a smirk rest on his face. Good, the boy could use some happiness, even if it was for Dumbledore's own sake.

“Sirius, how can you condone such actions? Being so aggressive with the Headmaster, and that crass language too! You aren’t raising him correctly, he’ll turn out like-like- I don’t know! Just, not who he could be Sirius! Think of his future!” Black was about to protest, but Severus stood up.

“While I loathe having any semblance of agreeing with Black on my tongue, he is not at fault here. Potter,” He spat. Dumbledore held in a sigh. “Was raised in a muggle household with magic-hating muggles. I know Petunia Evans, now Dursley. She is not to be trifled with. I can, somehow , understand why he would want out of that household. Now,” Severus turned to Albus. “Is that all this meeting is for? I have private news to relay to you, Headmaster.” Albus was going to retort, but there was something in Severus’ eyes that had Albus pausing. He hadn’t seen that look on the boy's face since Lily’s death...

“Ah, I do hope it is important, Severus!” The headmaster winked. “Not about a, what was the word, trifling, yes! Not about a trifling love interest of yours?” Snape seethed but still had that exhorting look in his eye. “Yes, my boy, I do suppose we’re done here. May you all have a great rest of the summer.” He heard a few grumbles of ‘we have full-time jobs’ and ‘you’re lucky you're a teacher.’ from some of the younger members of the Order of The Phoenix, but he simply chuckled and watched them leave. Soon, it was just the two of them in there. Albus leaned forwards, half-moon glasses resting on his nose. Severus looked around, slowly, as if he was looking for something Albus’ own eyes couldn’t see, before waving his wand. Albus knew the feel of a silencing barrier when he felt one.

“My, my, Severus. Borderline dark magic. This must be important then.” Severus’ eyes narrowed but said nothing as he pulled a piece of parchment out of his flowy black robes. Unfolding it, Albus scanned slowly, eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Severus, how did you-” Albus took a breath to steady himself. If he was just a bit older this news may have given him a heart attack. Alas, he wasn’t that old yet.

“It doesn’t matter how I acquired them, all that matters is that wretched boy is my child. And I’m damn sure he looks just like Lily, too.” Albus stared, dumbfounded.

“Listen-” Severus held his hand up, effectively cutting off the old man’s response.

“I know you knew Lily had a child with someone else, I know it was you who did the changing spell, but something must be done. I have no clue what Potter knows, or if he even knows I’m his- his- sperm donor yet, but that brat will find out. And when he does I do NOT wish to be a part of it!” Magic swirled around them, angry, demanding, and Severus watched as Albus aged about fifty years in fifty seconds.

“I need to know what happened. I have a plan, per se, but it requires your cooperation with-”

Harry sat at an Ice Cream shop in Berlin, Germany waiting for Neville. The shop, Cuore di Vetro, was pleasantly cool, but it did nothing to calm Harry’s nerves. What if Neville didn’t show? What if he made a fool of himself in front of Neville's grandmother? Harry had brushed up on basic etiquette with Blake the day before, but what if he forgot it? Harry heard the floo go off, and his head snapped around. There stood Neville, Flushed form Floo Travel and brushing soot off his china blue robes. Or maybe they were baby blue? Harry didn’t know the difference, only what he had learned through his aunt.

“Harry!” Neville said, jogging over to him. Soon, Harry was wrapped in a big hug. “Merlin, I’m so glad you invited me! I’ve missed our chats like crazy.” Guilt hit Harry like a truck. The boy was about to start talking again when an older woman stepped up to them. Neville paused, and turned to look at the woman. ‘His grandmother,’ Harry realised.

“Grandma, this is my friend, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my grandmother, Augusta Longbottom.” The boy wrung his hands nervously, and Harry realised the woman was eyeing him. Not with disdain, but not with curiosity either.

“Matron Longbottom,” Harry led, hand already out to shake her hand. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have heard good things about you.” The woman looked amused.

“Oh, have you now? Like what, pray tell?” Harry swallowed, but stood his ground.

“Oh, mostly about how you are the only person alive able to stand up to Albus Dumbledore.” Matron Longbottom's eyes’ narrowed. “My lady, it is a compliment, I promise. I too have stood up to him, though I just wish I could have done mine in person.” Longbottom nodded, before turning to her grandson.

“I will be shopping for your supplies while we are here. I will be back within two hours to retrieve you. Have fun.” She turned to Harry. “Heir Potter, please do try and keep my grandson out of trouble. It was a pleasure.” The aged woman turned and left the floo-area, turning heads as she went.

“Even at 60, she turns heads wherever she goes. S-so, let's go get ice cream, yeah?” Harry nodded and followed after the boy. He seemed to know his way around here. Once they got their frozen delicacy of choice (because that's the only proper word to describe such amazing art in front of Harry) the pair sat down at some private table. Neville had gotten a delicious looking strawberry gelato, topped with curled chocolate strips, some white chocolate sauce drizzled over it all, and frozen drops of lemon juice. Harry himself had a simple orange sherbert, topped with a real orange slice and thin cuts of raspberry, as well as raspberry sauce to bring it all together. After his first bite, Harry was hooked. He would have liked to say the two of them ate with decorum and grace, but the two teenage boys wolfed down the icecream like a dying man in need of water. Once they both had about a quarter of ice cream left, they started chatting.

“So, Neville, tell me about your summer? And I mean everything. There's only about a week left until Hogwarts anyways, so I want all of the juicy details.” He waggled his eyebrows making Neville laugh. Neville was much more confident when it was just the two of them, and Harry enjoyed it so very much.

“Well, the start of my summer wasn’t the best. I misfired on my wand- er, my dads wand, and it shattered, completely. Gran was pretty upset, but I was honestly a bit happy about it. A chance at my own wand, yeah? Which reminds me, I got my own wand!” He pulled out the wand, and a beautiful, dark ebony laid in his hand, the wood carved elegantly with swirls and vines. Even the little leaves had an extreme amount of detail. “Olivander said that this was a true herbalist wand, and it meant I was good with plants and stuff.” The boy got a little embarrassed, but at Harry’s encouraging look, continued on about his wand.

“It may look stunning on the outside, but if only you could see what it can do! You’ll have to come to the manor soon, Harry! Or, I guess I could show you it at Hogwarts, but they might have different plants then us...” Neville began to talk inwards, and Harry smiled.

“That's great, Nev, but what does it do?” Neville blushed.

“Well, like Olivander said, I’m more attuned with nature now because of the wand, but that's not just it! It’s like, I don’t know if this makes sense, but my wand just does what I think! If a plant needs sunlight, but I can’t figure out how to move it without upsetting the roots, my wand will just woosh and the plant will turn. It’s oh Harry, it's bloody amazing!” The more Neville gushed, the more Harry smiled, and the more Harry thought. Did Neville, perhaps, have a magic specialisation like him?

“Uh oh, you’ve got your thinking face on. Wazzit?” Neville asked. Harry shrugged.

“Well, this summer I did a lot of learning. Mostly our upcoming classes and a lot of potion review, but I also started reading about magic specialisation. Er, I guess your magical inheritance. And not like potions or charms-” Neville cut him off with a slight laugh.

“Yes, Harry I know what those are. I may not act it all the time but I am a pureblood. Anyways, We're not sure if I will have a specialisation. I’m barely a wizard as is.” Harry was hurting for his friend, but he needed the boy to snap out of it.

“Neville Longbottom! You were just gushing about how with your damn mind you made devil's snare wrap around a parasite plant and smother it out. Of course you’re a wizard! The best one I have ever seen. One day you’ll be greater than Dumbledore, I can feel it.” Neville teared up a bit, eyes glancing between Harry and his empty ice cream bowl, but eventually nodded. With a steady breath, Neville looked back up at Harry, fully meeting his eyes this time. 

“So, why do you bring it up?” Neville asked.

“Well, I figured out my magical inheritance pretty quickly, and with all you’ve described to me, it had me thinking! Maybe you’re an Evoker! Wouldn’t that be cool? Two friends with enchantment specialties?” Harry's eyes sparkled, but Neville seemed to be stumped.

“Really? Me? It's such an unknown branch I figured you would have that specialty.” Harry waved his hand around.

“Nah, I’m an illusionist myself, which is actually really fun. You, though? An Evoker through and through. You fit perfectly with the description they have.”

“Well, if you say so, but still!” Neville whined. “If I really am an Evoker, I need to figure out how to use my magic. And if I can use all elements or just a specialised one. Do you know?” He asked.

“Nah,” Harry replied, using his spoon to get the last drop of melted sherbert out of his bowl. “But, we’ll be at Hogwarts soon, which means plenty of time to research.”

“Harry, it’s our owl years.”

“Oh bugger, you're right.” They laughed, and the two boys keep catching up about their summers. On Harry’s part, he told his friend all about the lack of letters from everyone, and how his school work was going. Neville informed him that, he had stilled received letters from the two wayward buddies of Harry’s, and that he was sorry that Harry hadn’t gotten any letters yet. 

“Meh. it’ll be alright. I’m with you right now, anyways. You’re a really good friend, Neville.' The blond boy flushed, but smiled nonetheless as the two kept talking about their summer. Apparently, a niffler had gotten into the greenhouse at Nevilews mansion, and instead of ripping up the flowerbeds and dosing down in sparkly Kosite (a plant which, according to Neville, was so sparkly even he didn’t mess with it in fear of the sparkly poison affecting him) as nifflers are known to do, he had instead fell asleep in a bed of carnations. When Neville had come in that morning, it was like the plants had moved to make room for the little guy. So, Neville kept him and named him Carny, a name for the flowers he fell asleep in. Plus, he could call the niffler Barmy Carny, and something in that name made the two boys laugh like school girls. 

Once conversation had died down slightly, and the two boys were onto their second serving of ice cream (they had decided to try each other this time, and Neville didn’t have the heart to tell Harry he had already tried every flavour here) Harry had decided to breach a rather sensitive topic.

“Hey, Nev, how common is it for purebloods to be, well, to be,” His neck flushed in embarrassment. “To be infertile?” Neville flushed too, and the pair just stared at each other before laughing away the awkwardness.

“Well, to be honest, it's rather common. My mum was left with only a few eggs when she got pregnant with me, so Gran says. That's why the family wasn’t that surprised when they thought I would be a squib. It happens. Why do you ask?

“Well, according to Gringotts, James Potter isn’t my father. I have no clue who is, but I received an owl saying that my, well my sperm donor was notified of my existence. Or, rather, realised I existed.”

“Wow, mate. I’m sorry to hear that. That's a bummer. This might seem like a twat thing to say, but are you the Potter Heir?” Harry nodded

“Yeah, it was an official, goblin-made, blood adoption. But, apparently the person that bonded me to James, Imean my dad, has to recast the spell. I don’t really understand the time limit, but it's different for everyone apparently. My magic was strong enough to help hold up the spell but now, well. Yeah.” Neville nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

“I guess that explains your pale skin,” Neville said. “I had just thought you had been inside all summer. Plus, your hair is a little longer than normal. You look a bit more muscular too..” Neville murmured the last part, but Harry just laughed.

The rest of their time together was wonderful, even in light of Harry’s new predicament. Soon, far too soon for Harry’s liking, Matron Longbottom came to retrieve Neville. 

“Grandmother, can Harry come back to Longbottom Manor with us until school?” His grandmother seemed a bit shocked as she glanced at Harry.

“Yes, if Heir Potter wishes it.” Harry flushed.

“I would love too, but I don’t wanna impose. I still need to stop by Gringotts, and get my stuff.” Neville's grandmother waved her hand carelessly.

“It’s fine, young man. That will give our house elves enough time to get a room ready for you. Where would we be flooing to?” 

“Do you know if we can floo straight to Gringotts?” The matron nodded, and led the two boys to the floo room. Neville was the first one to go through, and Harry followed soon after, with a lot less grace then Neville had. Said prat just laughed at Harry when he all but rolled into Gringotts. Matron Longbottom came in next, her silver hair reflecting in the green flames. The Longbottoms offered to stay behind, so Harry went up to the teller himself. Even though he had done this a few times now, their beady eyes still stared through him.

“Hello, sir. Uh, can I speak to Grungewhipper? If he’s here that is.” The teller sneered but hopped down the stool. 

“Follow me.” The goblin rasped out. Harry was led to a beautiful, ornate room, stacked high with gems and books alike. Harry stared, marvelled by the pretty colours. Everything just seemed to sparkle. 

“Heir Potter,” He heard a few minutes later. “I apologise about the wait, a few younglings needed training.” Harry waved his hand dismissively.

“No, it’s alright. I was just here for my results. About who my sperm donor is.” He trailed off, in an awkward state of wanting to talk, and wanting to get it over with. Grungewhipper, thank the Gods, just nodded. He pulled out a file-type box, and began shifting through the papers in it. He pulled out a paper and passed it face down to Harry. Taking a gulp of air, Harry reminded himself that, no matter what, James Potter was still his dad. James had wanted him as his son, and that means more than anything else could.

“Bloody fucking hell.”

Longbottom Manor was beautiful, truly, and Harry loved the gardens there. He and Neville spent most of their days with their hands in the dirt. Harry learned quickly that magic infused dirt got everywhere . And I mean everywhere- no matter how much he showered, it was still in his bed, his hair, his clothes. It was like glitter. Instead of craft herpes it was earth herpes. 

However, both young boys knew that Harry was only feigning ignorance to what they both knew.

Neville was there, waiting patiently for Harry to finish up the goblin meeting. Seeing his dear friend stumble out of the doors, paler than was the new normal, and sweating profusely, Neville knew the news had been difficult to bear.

“Harry,” Neville tentatively reached out. “You alright?” 

“Snape,” Harry gasped out, voice sounding dry even though the two boys had talked no less than twenty minutes ago. “Snape's my bloody sperm donor.”

The boys stood there, Harry’s fingernails digging into Neville’s shoulders slightly (not that he minded of course) and with Neville’s hands securely wrapped around his friends wrists. They didn’t speak, didn’t dare utter a word. The news was as revolting as it was shocking. Most of all, that meant Snape knew. Their grudge holding, insecure, asshole of a professor knew he was Harry Potter's biological father.

“Let's go home, Harry.” The two boys were whisked away to Longbottom Manor.

None of them spoke of it. Not Augusta, not Neville, and certainly not Harry. He didn’t think he could cope if he spoke it aloud once more. Saying it, even out loud, would make it even more true, and Harry didn’t want to believe it. So, the two boys spent their afternoons outside. Studying, working, or even just wandering around, Harry and Neville didn’t care. Harry hadn’t received any news from his two wayward friends or Dumbledore either, so life was peaceful. Soon, the day to depart Hogwarts was upon them.

Augusta had gotten used to having lively boys in her house, and was just a tiny bit sad they wouldn’t be back until the Yule vacation. After having Harry in her house for almost two weeks, she saw how close her grandson was getting to the Potter Heir, and had told him yesterday that he was welcome back anytime. They had already made plans for Christmas (or Yule as the matron was trying to get Harry to call it) break, and she had offered her home up for the next summer. The boy, eyes wide and shining, had hugged her and thanked her more than anyone else ever had. It warmed her heart.

“Now you listen here, Heir Potter. Stay by my Neville's side. He’s changed because of you, more confident in himself and putting effort into his schoolwork now. I don’t know how you did it, but don’t you dare change up on him.” Harry smiled, hugged the woman once more, and followed after Neville as he boarded the train. Per Harry’s request, they were there a little earlier than he normally was, and the two boys were able to find a compartment just for them. 

“Here, Harry.” Neville said, waving his wand. Harry wouldn’t say he felt the magic that the boy casted, but he certainly felt the compartment feel different. He raised a questioning eyebrow, not really knowing what to ask.

“A Notice-Me-Not charm. I figured you wouldn’t want to deal with Ron and Hermione. Unless you do, I can take it down.” He hurried to assure.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Harry said after he finished laughing. “I really don’t want to deal with them either.”

And so, the rest of the ride was peaceful

Chapter Text

And so, the rest of the ride was peaceful.

However, the entrance into the great hall was not. Harry had fun in the carriage, he and Neville were joined by Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas.

“Seamus is being a bit of a prat, you don’t mind if I join you guys, right?” None of the group minded, but Harry couldn’t contain his questions.

“What is he being a prat about? Aren’t you two, like, you know?” He flushed down his neck.

“You can say dating Harry,” Dean laughed. “And we are. It’s you he’s being a prat about.” Harry stared, for a minute, before looking at Neville, who just shrugged his shoulders.

“Me?” He asked. “Why me? I haven’t done anything flirty or overly friendly. Have I?” Dean stared, dumbfounded.

“Have you two not read the Prophet?”

“No, the two of us have really spent our summers in solitude, and even when we were together, my gran doesn’t get the Prophet,” Neville explained.

“Blimey Harry, that explains a lot! Here, look at this.” The boy passed a newspaper to Harry, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Boy-Who-Lived-To-Lie?

In a stunning turn of events, Harry Potter, the famed Boy Who Lived and the symbol of hope for the Wizarding World, has been accused of fabricating the return of the notorious dark wizard, You-Know-Who. The revelation has sent shockwaves throughout the magical community, raising doubts about the credibility of the Chosen One.

The controversy surrounding Harry Potter began to unfold during a recent interview with The Daily Prophet. When pressed about the alleged return of Voldemort, Potter hesitated and appeared evasive, failing to provide concrete evidence to substantiate his claim. This prompted scepticism from both journalists and the wizarding population at large. The speculation gained momentum when several prominent members of the wizarding community, including Ministry officials and renowned Hogwarts Board Members, voiced their doubts about Potter's assertions. Some argued that his account lacked veracity, pointing to the absence of any substantial proof or eyewitness testimonies.

Moreover, an independent investigation conducted by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement found no credible evidence supporting the resurgence of Voldemort. Aurors scoured various locations associated with dark magic and Death Eaters, but their efforts yielded no significant findings. The lack of corroborating evidence cast a shadow of doubt over Potter's statements. Critics have accused Potter of seeking attention and manipulating the truth to retain his heroic image. Detractors argue that his motive may stem from a desire to maintain his relevance in the wizarding world, particularly after the defeat of Voldemort and the subsequent decline of Death Eater activities.

Potter's supporters, on the other hand, have rallied behind him, asserting that the accusations are unfounded and aimed at tarnishing his reputation. Dumbledore argues that the young wizard has always been honest and that he deserves the community's trust and support.

The ongoing controversy has had significant implications for the Wizarding World. It has caused a division among citizens, with many questioning the credibility of their once-beloved hero. Furthermore, it has disrupted the delicate balance that had been established since the downfall of Voldemort, leaving the community uncertain about the future. The Ministry of Magic has yet to release an official statement on the matter, but sources within the Ministry suggest that a thorough investigation is underway to determine the truth behind Potter's claims. The Wizengamot, the highest judicial body in the wizarding world, is expected to convene to discuss the situation and evaluate the available evidence.

As the wizarding community waits for answers, the controversy surrounding Harry Potter has opened a deep rift in the hearts of many who once regarded him as a beacon of hope. Whether Potter's reputation can withstand this scandal remains to be seen, but the fallout from these accusations will undoubtedly have far-reaching consequences for the Wizarding World as it grapples with the truth behind the Boy Who Lived.

Harry read the article in a high-pitched voice, tutting randomly and giving exaggerated sighs after every paragraph. “That Potter boy,” He said, voice still high. “I should have known he was trouble.” His friends laughed around him, Neville wheezing and almost doubling over. Harry assured everyone there that he wasn’t actively saying Voldemort had returned, and most things the Prophet was saying he had said, he hadn’t actually spoken on.

“But, has he returned?” Harry nodded grim lines on his face.

“He has, yes. But what good would it do to shout it on the rooftops if no one believes me? They’ll figure it out, eventually. This article does upset me a bit.” Harry sighed.

“Shout it… from the rooftops?” Neville questioned. Harry and Dean snorted.

“Muggle thing.” Harry and Dean said with a shared look.

“So muggles shout things from rooftops?” Luna questioned. So, the rest of the ride was spent explaining a lot of muggle sayings, and Harry deflecting Dean's questions about his paleness.

Sitting down in the great hall, Harry was sandwiched between Neville and Dean. Ron and Hermione sat in front of them but hadn’t had a chance to say anything due to the sorting. Gryffindor had gained most of the students, and by the shining badges on Ron and Hermione's robes, Harry knew that they had their work cut out for them this year. Though Harry wouldn’t admit it to anyone, except probably Neville, Harry was going to enjoy making tonight just a bit harder on them.

“So, Harry, care to tell us where you’ve been?” Ron spoke up after Dumbledore had released them to enjoy the feast.

“Care to tell me why you haven’t written to me all summer?” Harry shot back. Neville scooped some potatoes on his plate, and Harry smiled at the boy. 

“Oh Harry,” Hermione began. “We wanted to, really we tried, but Dumbledore told us you would be safer without us writing to you. And, well, you didn’t write to us much either.” Harry took a bite of his potatoes, not having a response for her. They were good, but not as good as the ones Neville had grown himself. They were slightly sweet, and not as smooth as the ones he was used to.

“Well, that's that, then. Dumbledore told you not to, so you didn’t. You didn’t write to me, so I didn’t write to you. Crazy turn of events that is.” Sarcasm laced his words, and he watched as Ron got slightly red in the face. He watched Hermione put a hand on the red-heads arm. Both looked like they wanted to say something, but both refrained. 

“So, Neville,” Harry asked. “What are you most looking forward to this year?” He shrugged.

“Mostly herbology, but we’ve gone over most of the plants last week. I am super excited about the Uklade plant though, I heard they’re super hard to come by.” Harry nodded.

“Isn’t that the one that produces a honey-like substance if stroked correctly? And they grow in large clusters, so how is it hard to get your hands on them?”

“They do, but they’re mostly male flowers protecting a single female. See, the male flowers are a dark blue, but the female equivalent of that is a purple-to-yellow sort of fade. They blend in easily with so many flowers growing, and only the females produce honey. It’s rare, but only really used in a few potions I think.”

“The Elixir of Wealth right? And I think it’s used in the Draught of Might as well.” Harry said, eating some of the pork he had on his plate.

“Wow Neville, you know a lot about plants,” Hermione said. Neville looked down at his plate, not wanting to look at the bushy-haired girl. 

“I-I guess, yeah.” He stuttered. 

“So you’d rather stay with Neville than your two best mates?” Ron voiced, anger evident on his face.

“Yes, when my two best ‘mates’ won’t talk to me. The feast is almost over, don’t you have prefect duties to do?” Harry rolled his eyes. Eventually, Ron and Hermione got up and headed over to the first years, introducing themselves.

“Do you wanna head to the common room?” Dean asked. “The password is Mighty, so we can get in a little early.” Harry nodded, and he, Dean, and Neville headed up to the Gryffindor dormitory, ignoring Ron and Hermione when they tried to stop them. No one noticed the multiple pairs of eyes following them.

“That did not happen!” Dean howled with laughter. They sat on Harry's bed, laughing about stories from their summers. 

“It did, I swear!” Neville laughed. Harry’s head hung in embarrassment, but he held a big smile on his face. “Then, not listening to me, he touched the plant again and both of us were covered in stinky sap!” They all laughed, Dean, falling off the bed in the process, which only made them laugh harder. It was peaceful until it wasn’t.

“We have one argument and now you’re all buddy-buddy with Potter, huh?” Seamus snarled. The laughter fell quickly as Dean got back on the bed. 

“Just because you didn’t hear him out doesn’t mean I didn’t, Shay. Get over yourself.”

“My mum almost didn’t let me come back to Hogwarts because of you!” Seamus said, turning his anger to Harry.

“Why, because some stupid writer of the Prophet said I’m a liar? Oh man up Seamus. I didn’t say it. In fact, for most of the summer, I was too busy working to even go get my Hogwarts clothing. If it weren't for Neville I wouldn’t have. Bugger off.” Harry turned back to his conversation trying to ignore the angry Irish boy, as well as a now angry Ronald Weasley.

“So we can’t write to you and now you’ve replaced us? What a good friend you are.” Ron spat. Harry’s anger began to rise.

“So you can turn your back on me again? Just like the second year? Or fourth? No, Ron. I’m upset. You haven’t even apologised.”

“What's there to apologise for? We told you Dumbledore didn’t let us write? You could have just come to-” His voice cut off with a gurgle. “You could have stayed with us! Not Neville.” Anger flared up in Harry again.

“I’ll have you know, Neville is a great friend and I would gladly stay with him for another summer. At least when he’s being a prat he apologises!” Neville was, in fact, not a prat, but the sentiment still stood.

“Fine then, you arse! Be a git, I could care less. Have fun with your new friends!” He and Seamus stomped off into the bathroom.

“Good thing we’re already ready for bed, eh?” Neville tried to joke, but it fell flat. “I guess we should all be in bed before they come in and yell at us some more. Goodnight guys.” He got off the bed and headed over to his own four-poster. 

“Night, Nev. You too, Dean.” Dean just sighed and clasped Harry’s shoulder before heading to the bathroom.

“I’m going to try and calm him down first, and maybe explain what you told me in the carriage. Night, Harry.” Harry nodded and closed the curtains around his bed, laying down with a sigh. He didn’t want to be angry, but their avoidant answers and anger directed at him made him so. He was grateful for Neville, and wouldn’t stop being his friend for any reason, but he wanted his best mate back. Ron didn’t get him the way Neville did, but he understood him in a way others didn’t. He missed him, he did, but he wasn’t gonna be all buddy-buddy with a giant prat. 

Laying down, exhausted from the trip to Hogwarts and his own emotions, he fell asleep quickly.

“Kill the spare!” Green light flashed, covering everything.

“It’s your fault I died, Harry! If you could have taken the cup before I did! How could you do this to me?” The images whined.

“Why would we want to be friends again after you chose Longbottom over us? Avada Ke-”

Harry awoke, a scream caught in the back of his throat. Sweat covered his skin, dripping from his hair to his shoulders. He hadn’t had that dream in a while, and it seemed like the newest bouts of anger and sadness had only added to his nightmare.

“Uhm, Harry.” He heard. His body tensed until he realised who was talking to him.

“Neville, hey. You alright?” He asked, eyes lowered.

“I, uh, came to ask you that. I heard you get up.” Harry gave him a puzzled look.

“Why are you up? What time is it?” Neville blushed but shrugged.

“It’s about five in the morning, last time I checked. And, uh, probably the same reason as you. Nightmares.” Harry just nodded. “Would you wanna join me? I’m just reviewing some transfiguration before tomorrow.” Harry followed the teen to his bed, and they both sat there, silently looking over a set of books. It was a little while before either of them spoke.

“Can I ask what it was about?” Harry said suddenly. Neville looked a little shocked but just gave a sad smile.

“I doubt it compares to your nightmares. Mine are just, silly, I guess.” Harry shook his head.

“No, you’re my friend, I wanna hear about yours whether they’re about world domination or you stubbing your toe.” That got a small laugh out of the blonde. 

“Well, as you know, I grew up in a wizarding family. A lot of esteemed magical families. And, well, I was meant to be a squib, so they say. I don’t know what they mean by that, but even as a child, I believed it. Even as a child, I was an official heir, due to my parents. I’m not,” He took a shuddering breath. “I’m not good at anything but herbology. I always feel so, so stupid compared to the rest of you. Especially you, I know we’re friends but you radiate so much power, I can’t compare. You just never had to use it so I never felt it like I did last night, but Harry you’re so strong it is unbelievable. I just don’t know how I can keep up.”

“Neville..” Harry was at a loss for words. He had always considered himself and Neville on an equal level because Neville was just as strong as he was. “I know that's how you feel and I can’t change that immediately, but I want you to know you’re my friend, a great friend of mine actually, and you are just as strong as me, if not stronger. You understand the theory much better than I ever could, and I love having you here. We work well together and I don’t wanna stop that. If you feel like this even more, please don’t hesitate to tell me. We’ll work through this together, yeah?” Neville smiled, tears lining his eyes.

“Yeah, okay.” The rest of the early morning was spent sharing whispers while they read. Soon they were joined by a grumpy, early-riser Dean who couldn’t believe they were studying already.

“It’s the first day,” Dean grouched. “Can’t you wait until at least lunch?” 

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’.” Harry quoted, and Dean laughed

“You’ve seen that movie?” Harry grinned

“Yep, my cousin Dudley was watching it and I picked up that quote. Always wanted to use it.” Neville made a confused noise, and the two boys shared a look before bursting into laughter.

“Neville, let me tell you about this great American film called ‘The Shawshank Redemption’.”

The first day of class was going to be bloody awful, Harry realised. Divination with Ravenclaws, Double Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, a free period, lunch, double Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins, then another Divination, this time with Hufflepuffs. Sure, his evening would be free and he could spend some time with Neville, but two Loonybin classes, and two Defense with the Slytherins? Yeah, he was not looking into it.

“Welcome to Intermediate Transfiguration,” McGonagall spoke. “This year will be one of your hardest years yet. The owl years. Therefore, any nonsense will have you removed from my class for a week, putting you behind your classmates unless you choose to self-study. Now, let us begin with some theory.” Harry opened his Guide to Intermediate Transfiguration book and began reading. He toyed with the red and gold cover for a bit before fully focusing on the section McGonagall was reading.

Intermediate Transfiguration (Year Five) is one of the hardest branches of Magic to learn, due to the O.W.Ls that take place at the end of every school year. Transfiguration, a complex and intricate branch of magic within the wizarding world, is the art of changing the form and appearance of objects or creatures. Taught at schools all around, transfiguration requires immense skill, focus, and an understanding of the underlying principles that govern the transformation process.

The theory of transfiguration revolves around the concept of altering the fundamental nature of an object or living being, manipulating its essence to bring about a physical change. It draws upon the laws of magic, the principles of matter and energy, and the understanding of the interconnectedness of all things in the magical universe.

The first key principle of transfiguration is the law of similarity, which states that the transformation of an object into another form is facilitated by identifying and accentuating the similarities between the two objects. This is why transfiguration spells often require a clear mental image of the desired outcome and a deep understanding of the target object's properties. For example, turning a teacup into a mouse would involve recognizing the shared characteristics of their shapes, textures, and even internal structures.

The second fundamental principle is the law of conservation of mass and energy. This principle states that the total mass and energy of a closed system remain constant before and after a transfiguration takes place. In other words, the mass and energy of the original object must be accounted for in the transformed state. Skilled transfigures carefully manipulate the matter and energy within an object to achieve the desired form without violating this law.

Furthermore, transfiguration requires the wizard or witch to possess a deep understanding of the object's inherent properties, its composition, and the essence that defines it. This knowledge allows them to tap into the magical potential within the object and manipulate it accordingly. For example, transfiguring a stone into a living bird requires a thorough understanding of avian anatomy, physiology, and behaviour to ensure a successful transformation.

Another crucial aspect of transfiguration is the incantation or spell that accompanies the transformation. These incantations act as a channel for the wizard's intent and focus, helping to guide and shape the magical energy required for the transfiguration. The correct pronunciation, wand movements, and precise timing are all vital to the success of the transfiguration process.

It is important to note that transfiguration, particularly complex transformations, can be mentally and physically demanding. It requires intense concentration, discipline, and a clear understanding of one's magical abilities. The transformation process can be affected by external factors such as distractions, fatigue, or emotional state, making it necessary for transfigures to maintain a calm and focused mindset.

Transfiguration, while awe-inspiring and powerful, is not without its limitations. The complexity of the object being transfigured, its innate magical properties, and the skill of the caster all influence the success of the transformation. Living beings, for instance, are particularly challenging to transfigure due to their inherent complexities and the risk of irreversible damage to their essence or identity.

Overall, transfiguration is a discipline that combines the understanding of magical laws, the properties of objects, and the power of intent. It is a testament to the vast potential of magic and the intricate web that connects all things in the wizarding world. Through diligent study, practice, and deep respect for the principles that govern transfiguration, wizards and witches can harness this branch of magic to reshape and manipulate the world around them.

‘Well, isn’t this interesting’, Harry thought to himself. He quickly jotted down the notes in a messy scrawl before paying more attention to his professor. Neville sat beside him, intently staring at the paper while writing detailed notes. He had never really noticed before, but Neville had really neat handwriting. Unlike his messy mixture of cursive and print, Neville's cursive was almost like calligraphy. 

“Mr. Potter, care to tell me why you’re staring at Mr. Longbottoms notes? Is there something you don’t understand?” Harry sighed and nodded.

“Yes, there is, Professor. How can Neville write the same notes as I did, but his look insanely better? I just simply don’t get it.” Neville flushed as Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike laughed. He shot Harry a dirty look, but Harry just grinned.

“Well Mr. Potter, I will advise you to ask Mr. Longbottom that question outside of class, yes? Now, back to chapter seven..” Harry and Neville shared a fist bump underneath their wooden table.

“No, I’m serious though, teach me how to write like that Nev.” 

“I thought your Godfather was Sirius?” Harry could barely contain his laughter.

“Harry please slow down, wait up, please!” Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance, finally stopping so his bushy-haired friend could catch up.

“Yes, Hermione?” He asked. The girl bent over and grabbed her knees, gasping for air.

“You’re,” She gulped some air. “You’re so fast.” Harry rolled his eyes again before sneezing. He wiped his nose and looked down at the girl.

“Is that all you need? I’ll be going then.” He went to turn around but Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Harry, please. What did we, no, I do wrong? It’s only been a day and I already miss you so much. I get Ron is a massive jerk, but please, Harry. How can I be your friend again?” The girl looked close to tears.

Harry awkwardly patted her hand and tried to ignore her soft sniffles. Honestly, he had no clue what he wanted them to do to be his ‘friends’ again, as they said. In Harry’s mind, he still thought of the two as friends. Just friends he was mad at.

“‘Mione, look,” She looked up at him, eyes big and filled with hope. “We’re still friends. I’m not just gonna up and abandoned you after four years, especially not with what we three have gone through, but I’m mad. I’m so angry you guys didn’t write to me but still wrote to Neville. You knew Neville wasn’t given orders from Dumbledore to not write to me, so why didn’t you give him a letter to send to me? To at least inform me why my two best friends weren’t writing?” He sighed.

“I,” She started to say, eyes still wide. This time when he looked at her chocolate-brown eyes, they had a look of self-reflection. “I hadn’t thought of that. Oh God, I am such an idiot! It was right there all along!”  Harry covered her hand, which still held his wrist, with his hand.

“I don’t know what you can do for me to forgive you, but I won’t tell you until Ron apologises.”

“Then Harry, I’m sorry.” He heard from behind him. He turned around, and there stood a despondent Ronald Weasley. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that, especially since you took me back with no hard feelings after my pitiful excuse for friendship last year. You’re my best mate, Harry. Sure, I’m a bit jealous you and Neville and Dean seem so close, but I’m supposed to be your friend. For that, I’m sorry.” Harry gave him a soft smile.

“That was pretty Slytherin of you guys to corner me like that.” Hermione turned a bit pink, but Harry just laughed. “I’m still mad, but if you two are serious about staying my friend, then I’ll forgive you guys eventually. But you can’t be a git to Neville, Ron. I enjoy us being friends. Same with Dean, no matter what Seamus says or does.” Ron nodded. “Then let's head to Defense. By the way, who's the teacher? I wasn’t paying attention at the ceremony.”

“Some Ministry dog, Dolores Umbridge I think?”

Chapter Text

“Hello, dear students!” A woman clad in pink said to the class. No one responded, and the women tutted. “That simply won’t do. When I say hello, you will respond with Hello Professor Umbridge. Let's try that again. Hello dear students!”

“Hello, Professor Umbridge.” The class chorused.

“Wonderful, now class let's put those wands away and take our books out. You won’t be needing your wands this year.”

“But Professor! How will we practise defence magic? We have O.W.L’s this year!” Hermione blurted out. Umbridge raised an eyebrow.

“What is your name, girl?”

“Hermione Granger, ma’am, but that doesn’t-”

“Ms. Granger, was it? You didn’t raise your hand. I know some of your teachers may have been lacking, for lack of a better word, but you must know at least to raise your hand?” Harry watched as Hermione bristled. He raised his hand, but another student had too. She pointed at him first. 

“Your name?” She asked. 

“Zabini, professor. Blaise Zabini. So we’re not going to be practising the spells?” He asked. 

"Practising them?" Umbridge asked. "Why, I can't imagine when you need to use spells in this classroom, Mr. Zabini. Surely, you aren't proposing that you will be attacked in this classroom?"

“Of course not professor,” the boy, Blaise, looked like he wanted to ask more, but the woman turned to look at Harry. 

“And you are, sir?” She asked sweetly.

“Harry Potter, ma’am.” He said politely. No point upsetting a teacher that may or may not try and kill him this year. 

“Ah, Mr. Potter, what is your question?” 

“Bouncing off of Zabini's question, is this to be a theory-only class?” He asked. “No practical?” The pink woman nodded.

“Yes, you are correct Mr. Potter. I see in your eyes you have another question, please ask it.” 

“Well, why aren’t we doing practical things? We have to be prepared for the real world.” She tutted.

“Prepared for what? There is nothing happening, and if any violence should happen, the ministry has a plethora of competent Aurors that you can call for help. Like I said to Mr. Zabini, you surely aren’t going to be attacked during my class.” Harry looked the woman in her eyes, and she seemed to have a glint in them he was used to seeing. A ministry dog indeed.

“Why, to become an Auror of course. Or like me, I would love to be a world-renowned duelist. How am I able to practise and perfect spells? Practice is just etiquette for perfection.” Umbridge nodded, a small but real smirk on her face. Harry had seen that look in his cousin's eyes a multitude of times, especially when it looked like Harry was going to give in to his weekly beatings.  He noticed Ron and Hermione gave him a shared look, and when the pink woman turned around, he mouthed ‘Common room’.

“Well, Mr. Potter, it seems you have a great idea for your future in mind. Have you duelled before?” Harry nodded.

“Of course, Professor. Me and Draco Malfoy have duelled, as well as me and Cho Chang and Cedric DIggory. May he rest in peace.” The pink woman (she looked rather like a toad now that he thought about it) turned to face him, smiling sharply.

“Yes, what a misfortune. A horrible accident, that competition was.” Harry nodded.

“Yes, what a horrible accident. I do hope I can match his skill level under your tutelage.” The class was deathly quiet, and Neville bumped his knee against his own.

“I assure you, you all will. Now, please open your Ministry Approved Defense Guide and turn to page four.” The class followed. A few minutes later, Neville tapped his hand and leaned over to whisper to him.

“What the bloody hell was that Harry?” Harry hid a quiet snort.

“She wants a rise out of me, I know she does. I could see it in her eyes. The same look Dudley gets when he wants to cause problems with me. Trust me, I know how to deflect her ways.”

“Boys, is there something wrong?” Harry shook his head at the teacher.

“No, but my friend here, Neville Longbottom, well he and I have something we would like to run by you after class. If that is alright with you, Professor?” She nodded. 

“That’s alright, but please keep the talking to a minimum, boys.” Harry nodded and quickly wrote on a tiny piece of parchment and passed it to Neville.

duelling club, I’ll lead

The rest of the class was quiet, all of them softly whispering spells to themselves and practising wand movements with their fingers. The room was filled with scratching quills, only ever stopped briefly if Umbridge needed to expand on a topic. Soon the class was over, and Harry and Neville stayed behind. Dean gave them a worried look, but Harry just gave the boy a thumbs-up and a toothy grin. This would be like dealing with a female Dudley.

“Now boys, come up here, tea?” She asked. Neville declined, but Harry got a cup. He drank it before starting to talk.

“I know you said you didn’t want us practising our spells and the like, but Neville here had a fantastic idea. A duelling club led by you, Professor! Select students of course, but under your teaching, a lot of us could help have a, how do I say this. A foot in the door at the Ministry.” Neville nodded rapidly.

“Yes, professor. See, I would love to be an Auror, but being the only heir makes my family think I should be in politics. That just isn’t my thing. But, if you were able to help a few of us out with our spells, we, well I, could convince my family I am much more suited for the Ministry in a more active manner.” Umbridge nodded but settled the boys with a look.

“Those are very good reasons, however, I will have to run it by the Headmaster. Now, Mr. Potter,” She turned her head to look solely at him. “Why did you say select students?” Harry steadied himself and forced himself to think of haughty things. Mostly his cousin.

“Why, some people just shouldn’t cast spells to begin with Professor. I am sorry to say this, but even some of my friends just wave their wands around freely! I can’t condone that, Professor Umbridge.” She nodded that glint in her eyes.

“Very well. Mr. Longbottom, you may go. I would like to ask Mr. Potter some private questions.” Neville nodded, feigning confidence as he walked out of the classroom. Harry knew his friend was going to go curl up and giggle to himself about sounding so confident and professional. Umbridge poured him some more tea.

“You are very different from what the Prophet says, Mr. Potter.” Harry gave her a puzzled look.

“The Prophet?” Harry asked. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen any of the articles, I spent most of my summer in the muggle world with my aunt and uncle. They don’t quite like that I’m a wizard, so I try to stay as segregated from the magical world as I can during the summer. Can I ask what they're saying about me?” She tutted.

“They’re saying you said the Dark Lord returned, Mr. Potter. Is that true?” Harry shook his head quickly.

“No ma’am, of course not! When I saw Cedric pass, even a Medi-Wizard confirmed, I was just in shock. I just saw my parents die again like I do when I see dementors. I still have nightmares about it, ma’am.” He faked a shiver. “Who is telling the Prophet I’m saying such filth?”

“I do not know who, regretfully, but I am glad to hear you aren’t ‘up in arms’ so to say, against the Ministry.” Harry shook his head, looking down.

“No ma’am. Like Neville, I probably have to go into politics once I reach adulthood. Why would I go against a group of people who could benefit me, and I, them? It’s absurd.” Umbridge nodded.

“I’m glad you agree, Mr. Potter. Now, I think you should go join your friends at Dinner. Have a good night, Mr. Potter.” Harry nodded and said his goodbyes before leaving the classroom. Once he was certain he was far enough away, he leaned against a wall. 

‘What have I gotten myself into now?’

“So Harry, what the hell was that?” Neville said as Harry walked through the portrait. Neville had gone ahead of him after dinner to save him a spot in the common room. Mostly so Harry can explain himself, the other part because the common room had a pretty comfy class.

Neville watched, amused, as his friend groaned and threw himself on the couch. Harry’s feet landed in Neville's lap, and Neville shoved the boy off him with a laugh. Harry made a sound of protest, but eventually got back up on the couch. Hermione and Ron stared at him a bit worryingly. Harry sighed and waved them over. The pair sat down, but Harry decided to focus his attention on Neville.

“So, basically,” Harry started to explain. “Dolores Umbridge now fully believes you and I plan to be dogs of the Ministry.” Neville's mouth opened, and the boy just stared at Harry for a minute.

“Why?” Neville finally asked. So, Harry began to explain what he and the Pink Toad™ had talked about, filling in Ron and Hermione as well. 

“So then I told her, what would I have against a group of people who could benefit me? And she bought that! I was bloody sweating by the end of it!”

“That’s a bit, uh, Slytherin, mate,” Ron remarked into the shocked silence. Hardy just shrugged. He knew from Ron’s tone that he hadn’t meant it in an accusing way. The redhead was simply shocked. Harry was quite smitten with making people feel that way, he thought. 

“Well, I hope it works out, Harry. Thank you for sharing. Ronald, let’s go to the library and look for some duelling books.” Ron looked like he wanted to protest, but Harry noticed the sharp look Hermione had sent the boy, and his protests went silent. They all said some awkward, quick goodbyes, and Harry laid down. He was, in all honesty, exhausted. He raised his hand above him, staring at his fingers. He had chosen not to think about it all summer, pushing it from his mind and focusing on learning and working.

“Nev?” Harry spoke quietly. Neville made a sound of notice but was staring at a book he had somehow gotten.

“Do I look like myself?” Harry felt Neville tense, his legs resting on top of Neville's thighs. Neville sighed and turned to look at Harry.

“No, Harry, you don’t. I know that's probably not what you want to hear, but I feel like every day you look more and more like S- your sperm donor, and for that, I’m sorry.” Harry let his hand fall onto his eyes, smacking his nose hard enough it hurt. Neville took a deep breath, and Harry watched in between his fingers as his friend talked.

“You may not look like the good ol’ Harry Potter, but you still look like Harry. My friend Harry, the Harry that fought a fucking dragon, the Harry that just manipulated a bloody ministry employee! No matter who you look like, you’re still my friend. Plus, it’s only because I actually knew you that I could point out the differences. Most other people, even professors, couldn’t tell. At least not Umbridge. Then again she barely knows you. Dean!” He suddenly said. “Dean has known you for like five years now, and he didn’t notice besides pointing out you look a little pale. I promise you, you’re still Harry Potter.” Harry smiled. 

“Thank you, Nev. Truly. It seems like you always know exactly what to say.”  Neville smiled and patted Harry’s knee. Harry watched as his friend returned to his book, and decided to stare at his hands for a minute. His fingers weren’t long, but they were still different. His knuckles had seemed to shift downwards a bit, and his index finger seemed to have elongated a bit. Everything else seemed to be the same. Seemed to be. Harry couldn’t remember once in his life that he had actually sat down and stared at himself, his hands, and his body in general. He had always been skinny, even while at Hogwarts, so he never found joy in staring at his muscles the way Ron and Dean once had. Still, he figured he should start doing that now.

“Harry, it’s getting pretty late. Let's head to bed.”

“Alright.” Harry followed his friend up to the dorms.

Harry did not want to walk into that potions lab. Actually, he would honestly prefer to skip that class all year.  He knew, deep down, that he couldn’t ignore this forever. Not just Snape being his sperm donor, but also having to see the man. It was easy during meals, he could just simply not look up at the teacher's table. That was fine with him. But having to deal with him during class? It wasn’t something he had accurately prepared himself for. 

“Harry, you have to go in eventually. Class starts in two minutes.” Neville said from behind him. Harry just groaned in response, and after mustering up as much courage as he could, pushed the door open. No one paid them any mind except for Hermione who waved them over. The pair sat down next to her and Ron, Neville sitting in between Harry and Hermione. Snape was standing by his desk, eyes roaming the classroom. Suddenly, their eyes met, and Harry watched as the potion Professors pupils got smaller. Harry was angry, rightfully so in his opinion. He knew the greasy man knew. He didn’t necessarily want the man to up and decide he wanted to be a father, especially to a boy he hated, but he hated being ignored even more.

“Silence!” Snape said, the class quickly quieted. “You are to be making the Brew of Perception with your partner. Instructions and ingredients are on the board. You have an hour, begin.” A few students began shuffling over to the ingredient closet, but Harry grabbed Neville's arm to stop him from going.

“I’ll get the ingredients, can you start the beginning of the potion?” Neville nodded. Harry dodged people as he walked into the closet, grabbing some of the ingredients they would need. However, the closest was out of Gunderball Wings. Uh oh.

“Malfoy, go tell Snape that we're out of Gunderball wings.” He said to the blonde next to him.

“Why? Too incompetent to do it yourself, Potter? Besides, I’ve already got mine.” Harry grumbled under his breath, but quickly went and sat down the ingredients he did have at his and Neville's workbench. 

“Professor, we are out of Gunderball wings.” He said. The professor looked livid for whatever reason, and Harry truly didn’t want to fight the man. He just wanted to make his potion and get the fuck out of there. The man reached into a drawer compartment and grabbed a small box.

“Here, Potter. Take the rest of these and get out of my sight.” Harry glared and had half a mind to say ‘Not a Potter!’ but he would rather have no one else know who his bloody sperm donor was. Still, he had access to the Potter Vaults, so he was technically a Potter.

Potions was mostly a smooth ride after that. Whenever Snape came to berate Neville, Harry just looked up at the teacher. He always seemed to falter, and after about twenty minutes of trying to bother the two, Snape gave up. It was unlike him, and Harry wanted to keep an eye on him. However, he and Nev had a potion that required their full attention.

“Harry, you need to slice the wings more evenly.”

“Nev, don’t forget; drop them in one by one.”

The boys worked quietly for the most part, offering reminders to one another every so often. They worked well, the two of them. Even though they only had two weeks to truly get accustomed to the idea of sticking solely with each other, it was working out great. Neville was Harry’s eyes just as Harry was Neville’s ears. When they finished, about 10 minutes left in class, their potion was sage green. Close enough to pass, but not exactly.

“Let’s head to the library after this, Harry. I wanna figure out what went wrong. I mean, it's good enough, but I need to pass high on my Owls.” Neville stated after Harry had turned in their potion. Snape had just sneered at the two of them before marking the potion with a large red ‘A’. Harry felt they deserved an EE, but knew better than to fight with Snape at the moment. Nothing would go well.

Harry and Neville made their way to the library, the silence surrounding them. Harry watched as his friend looked around nervously.

“What's wrong, Nev?” Harry asked as they neared closer. Neville looked around a bit more before pulling out his wand and casting a quick privacy spell.

“How are you, Harry? You seemed a little off all class.” 

Harry eyed his friend but did nothing but shrug as they continued their walk. Was he alright? Harry didn't know himself. It was odd to see someone who could have been a father to him. Harry shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts. Snape was NOT father material. Harry wanted to confide in his friend, and he did. Still, Harry remained silent, even after they had settled in the library with their books. If he did confide in Neville, where would he begin? ‘Yeah I want a father a lot but I’d rather die than accept Snape as one, but still, it would be nice’. Yeah, that didn’t make sense.

“Hey Harry, have you written to Tom and Mary yet?” Neville asked about thirty minutes after he and Harry had started reading. They had a small essay due for Transfiguration and Potions that could easily be done the night before those classes, but the boys didn’t want their work to pile up.

“Oh crap, no I haven’t! Damn, now I feel bad. I got so wrapped up in the whole mess this year that I completely forgot. Thank you for reminding me, Nev.” Neville just smiled at Harry before they both returned to their work. Fifteen methods for extracting Pigsun eyes. Oh boy.

“Tom! Harry’s written to us!” Tom put down the dishes he was washing and went to where his wife sat comfortably on their couch. Tom leaned over his wife, and read the letter. The boy may not have been their actual grandson, but he may as well have been. Mary, his beautiful wife, lit up everytime she had a chance to talk about their boy. With him gone, the Leaky Cauldron had turned back to its gloomy set up. Harry never talked much to their customers, but he still seemed to have a peaceful aura that drew everyone to him.

Dear Tom and Mary,

Hey! I hope you guys are doing well. How's the good ol’ LC? I hope it isn’t too stressful. How’s your back, Tom? I sent a balm I bought a few days before Hogwarts that might be able to relieve some of the pain. It might be able to work on your hands too, Mary, but I don’t know how it would work on arthritis. 

Hogwarts start this year has been, well, annoying to say the least. You know my two friends I told you about, Ron and Hermione? They decided to apologise for not writing to me. Apparently it was because Dumbledore told them not too. He hasn’t called me into his office yet, thankfully. I don’t know if I could hold my tongue. I think I picked up some of Mary’s verbal lashing while staying there.

We have a new Defence professor this year. Her name is Dolores Umbridge. I don’t like her very much. She’s very classist. She called on more Purebloods during class, even though most of the muggleborn and half-blood students had their hands up too. She also doesn’t let us cast, can you believe it?! She says that ‘Surely, you aren't proposing that you will be attacked in this classroom?’ It's rubbish! Thankfully, Neville and I mostly me though came up with a plan. I had to play the haughty, better than everyone act, but I think it would be worth it. We told her that we need a good duelling club. She wants to meet up with me on a later date to discuss it, so I hope it goes well. I hate not using my wand.

Besides Defence, most of my classes have been alright. Transfiguration is super interesting, but hard as ever. Oh! Me and Nev, he says hi by the way, were partners in Potions today! We made a great ‘Brew of Perception’ but Snape only gave us an A. It’s not like we were expecting an O, but at least an EE! It was pretty close to perfect. No one except Malfoy made an O on that potion, not even Hermione.

I really hope you guys are doing well, and I can’t wait to hear from you guys! I’ll come and visit during christmas yule break!

With all my love and joy,

Harry

Mary laughed softly while she wiped a few stray tears from her eyes. This boy was such a joy, such a blessing. She had begged Mother Magic for something like this to happen to the old couple, and She had finally granted their wish.

“Oh Tom, he is such a good boy.” Mary held onto her husband's arms as he hugged her from behind the couch.

“He really is. Well, we should get started on that letter back, yeah? Then we should try out that balm he sent. Little Bugger, hope he didn’t spend too much.”

“Nev,” Harry whined as his friend dragged him to breakfast. It was Saturday, damnit! He should be sleeping in! However, Neville had discovered some pretty high-level books for their, uh, extracurriculars, so to speak. One on a wide branch of Enchantment magic, the other purely for Evokers. Neville still didn’t want to get his hopes up, but after doing the recommended exercises from Harry’s book, he had felt an actual pull to the Evocation magic.

“Harry come on, you promised we’d get some private studying done today. Let's hurry up and eat. Do you have that map of yours?” Harry yawned but nodded. 

The two ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Harry was desperate to start expanding his Enchantment magic. Through all of his training and mental preparation, Harry had felt the largest pull to Illusion magic. He hadn’t been able to cast any spells with it, but he wasn’t worried. He still had a long way to go. He just needed to learn and study and practice. The big three. He knew he wasn’t alone in this, either. Neville had come a long way in such a short amount of time, and studying with him had become his favourite pastime. He wasn’t overly charismatic like Hermione, and while they slacked off sometimes, it wasn’t as bad as it was when he would study with Ron. If you can even call what they did studying. They mostly made paper aeroplanes out of parchment paper and threw them at each other. Ron called it his “favourite muggle invention”. 

“You ready, Nev?” Harry asked once he had finished his toast. He still wasn’t used to eating as much. Harry had learned back in the first year that, if he gorged, it just ended terribly. Neville never asked about his eating habits. Harry liked that about Neville.

“Yep, all set. Come on, let's get going!” Harry watched Neville lead the way for a bit, before speaking up.

“So, you know where we’re going then?” Neville paused, ears tinting pink.

“No, maybe you should lead the way.” Harry just laughed, hands in his pockets as he and his friend chatted mindlessly until they reached the quiet empty classroom.

Neville reached into his bag, pulling out two small books. He tapped each book thrice, and they quickly grew to their normal size.

“Where'd you learn that spell, Nev?” Harry asked. It wasn’t a normal sizing charm, Harry knew that for sure. The pattern, even if it was just three little taps, was too precise to be anything normal.

“Ah, well, remember when we were reading in the library after potions? Well, I found a super cool locking slash sizing spell. Here, I’ll try and show you. Cinci Reducio .” The book didn’t move. “Now, you tap the code, and say Completive .”

Neville once more tapped the book in the strange triangle shape and spoke the words. Harry was astounded. His friend was so talented, and had the gall to say he wasn’t? Hogwash!

“Nev, you are so incredibly smart. I hope you know I’ll be picking that brain of yours whenever I wanna learn something.” Neville flushed under Harry’s praise, and soon the two boys began studying their books, sharing ideas and questions along the way.

Chapter Text

“Harry, there's a letter for you.” Hermione pointed out one morning at breakfast.

“I know.”

“Aren’t you gonna take the letter? This owl is giving me the creeps.” Ron chimed in. Neville wasn’t at breakfast yet, but if he was, Harry knew his redheaded semi-friend would have been getting a large glare right about now. Neville was not one to hold a grudge, but the boy had made it clear that he wasn’t good with Ron until Harry was. Harry was thankful for that. 

"Nope, not taking the letter,” Harry said, stuffing a small sausage link into his mouth.

“And why not?” Hermione questioned. 

“It's from Dumbledore. No way in Merlin's bloody arse is I speaking to him.”

“You can’t deny a request from the Headmaster, Harry,” Hermione spoke softly. Harry didn’t want to be mad at his friend, especially when they were just starting to be good again, but something about the way she said it just pissed Harry off.

“Yes I bloody well can.” Harry took the letter out of the owl's mouth and pointed his wand at it. Quickly, the letter was burnt away. Before anyone could notice, Harry was up and out of the great hall. 

“Oh, Harry, where are you going?” Harry heard on his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He turned his head and saw Neville, a surprised look on his face.

“Back to the tower. Just go eat, Nev, I’ll talk to you later.” Harry turned his head and made his way back up to their dormitory. Neville stared after him.

A small bang resounded in the great hall. No one paid much attention to it, as the crowded room was already filled with loud chattering children. The few people by Ron and Hermione heard it loud and clear, however. 

“Alright, what did you say that pissed him off?” Neville asked calmly. His face was clearly annoyed though. 

“Nothing, Neville. We just told him he needed to open the letter.” 

“What letter, Hermione? All I see is an owl at the table.” A relatively creepy owl, Neville thought to himself. 

“There was a letter from Dumbledore,” Ron spoke up. “We told Harry to take it because the owl’s bloody creepy, and he just lit the thing on fire. I thought it was fine.” Ron shrugged. 

“That’s the problem Ron!” Hands slammed on the table. Hermione took a breath before sitting back down. “It’s not okay for him to disrespect the headmaster like that, even if he’s still mad.” The bushy haired girl huffed in annoyance. 

“Hermione, you sound downright bonkers.” Neville sent Ron an odd look. “What? I’m right, aren’t I? How can she expect Harry to forgive and forget at the drop of a hat? He’s hurting, and us trying to push the person who hurt him most onto him is just gonna make it worse.” 

“That’s very…mature, Ron, thank you.” Neville said. He was, simply put, at a loss for words. Who would have thought Ron of all people would have said something so.. Hermione-like. The boy flushed.

“Well, I’ve just been thinking, I was an arse to Harry almost all of fourth year, add that on top of not writing him at all, and being a massive prick, I’m lucky he even cares to have me around.” Ron took a deep breath. “He’s my best mate, whether he likes it or not. I might as well try and see things from his point of view. Now, sir Neville. The food’s gonna disappear soon.” Ron dug into a sausage. 

Neville took a seat next to Hermione. ‘Probably Harry’s seat,’ Neville thought to himself. The girl was oddly quiet, and she looked a little angry. He wondered if it was something Ron had said, or simply from her own decisions. Oh well. Harry would know, and he’d find out through him. Having friends was quite wonderful.

“Harry, my dear boy! That was quite a show in the great hall yesterday! May I ask why you burned my letter?” 

“Can I ask why you kept my friends from me all summer?” Hardy deadpanned. The old man in front of him sighed. 

“Harry I hope you know I didn’t do it out of malice-“

“I know that, sir. You aren’t that type of person. But it still bloody hurts. There were many spells that could have been cast on their letters to make them untraceable and undetectable. Me and Neville researched them. Oh, you could have told me before I went on holiday to not expect letters! That would have been great!” Dumbledore looked like he was about to interrupt, but Harry just kept pushing. 

“Do you know what it was like, thinking every day that something had happened to your friends? That when you did receive some measly letters, that someone had kidnapped them and forced them to write? I was scared. And then, when I finally decide to make a change, you send none other than Snape after me! Then show up to where I work! I had to convince Tom and Mary to let me do my shopping alone!” Harry sniffled, wiping his dripping nose. He wouldn’t cry, damnit!

“Harry…” Dumbledore started. Harry sat in his chair, hands clenching by his knees. He heard Dumbledore get up, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the old man. 

“Harry, it seems I have harmed you in the exact manner I wished to protect you from. Please, allow me to apologise. I am so very sorry.” Harry’s head snapped to his right. There Dumbledore was, all one hundred and fifty plus years of age, kneeling before Harry. 

“Professor…” 

“You are but a boy, Harry. A boy under my guidance. I should not have treated you as if you were something to be disregarded. And for that, I am so sorry.” Silent tears rolled down Harry’s cheek. He had not been apologised to like this, not ever. Especially not by an adult. 

“There is something I wish to talk to you about, besides this.” 

“What is it, professor?” Harry asked. He hadn’t done anything, had he? 

“Harry, how is your life at the Dursleys?” Harry blinked. 

“Uhm, what?” The old man seemed to age thirty years right in front of him. 

“If you would be a kind soul and help an old man up off the floor, I’ll begin explaining.”

“Er, right, sir.” Harry helped the old man up, pulling him up with all his might. Dumbledore was heavier than he looked. 

“It’s what the robes are for, to hide the belly.” Dumbledore winked. Silence lapsed around them, Harry paying attention to his teacup.

“When we were first notified of your disappearance, the first thing Professor Snape and I did was go over to your aunt's house and look around. My boy, some of the things we found were horrible.” Dumbledore opened a drawer from somewhere within the middle of his desk. He pulled out three, slightly crushed, Tom soldiers. Harry remembered them. Dudley had hurt his foot when he had stepped on them, so they were thrown out. Harry had gotten them from the trash. The next object was a small blanket. One he had had when he was in the cupboard. 

“Harry, why did they keep you in the cupboard? Why did you not inform me?” Dumbledore asked, almost pleading. Harry could have laughed. So, he did. The sound seemed to startle Dumbledore. 

“I did ask. Both second and first year. I begged you to let me stay at Hogwarts so I never had to go back there. You told me,” Harry took a shuddering breath. “You told me that I couldn’t possibly do that to them, to my family. They have never been my family, sir.” He wiped his eyes.

“Harry, do you love your aunt and uncle?” 

“No.” Harry answered without hesitation. He didn’t love them. Never had a chance too, not in this life, 

“Then there is nothing I can do. I suppose I could try and keep you there on the pretence of the blood-wards, but if you truly don’t love them, they wouldn’t be there.” Dumbledore's hands rubbed over his face. “I have let you down in so many ways, my boy. It seems I’ve let you down more times than I could possibly count.” 

Harry was quiet. He didn’t know what to say. Nothing felt right. Even thank you felt off.

“However, I do appreciate that letter you sent me. It was very snarky. Really brings out the Gryffindor in you, my boy.” Dumbeldore remarked. Harry let out a wet laugh. God, he had only done it to piss the old man off.

“Do you really mean that, sir?” Harry asked. Dumbledore chuckled a little, the twinkle returning to his bright blue eyes. 

“I do! It reminds me of Sirius, in a way. Did you know, he wrote a very similar message to me when he had moved in with the Potters? His Hogwarts letter was sent to the Black House instead of the Potter Manor, and he was, pardon my language, quite pissed.” Harry laughed, loud and full. Talking about his godfather always made him feel better. However, it seemed like Dumbledore needed to talk to him about something else.

“Harry, I think there's something else we should talk about.”

“I agree, professor.”

“Nev?”

“Yeah Harry?”

“You’re doing it again.” Harry sighed.

“Doing what?” Neville stared at his friend. “Oh, the muttering, right, yeah, sorry.” Neville went back to looking at his book. Harry knew his friend was anxious about something, but he had no clue what he was worried about- oh .

“Charms exam?” Harry asked. They had been in Hogwarts for little over a month now, so tests were coming from all different directions. 

“Yeah, mate, it's just…” His friend ground and rubbed his hand across his face. “I can't seem to remember anything. I'm worried I'll mess it up.”

“I doubt you’ll mess this up. You’ve come a long way in charms, Nev! Hell, you’re right behind me and Hermione. Top three means something.” Harry patted Neville's hand sympathetically. 

“But what if I forget everything during the exam? I just freeze up when Professor Flitwick starts asking questions.”

“You say that like I don’t do the same thing in Professor McGonagall's class. Everyone does it. Something Ron said in second year has stuck with me since. Studying is a bit like fighting a troll. Sometimes, it's safer to focus on different parts of the troll, but as long as it's defeated, it doesn’t matter how you get it done.” Harry smiled at Neville, who seemed to be at a loss for words.

“That actually makes sense. I mean I have personally never fought a troll,” Neville said with a pointed look at Harry. “But it makes sense. Focus on different parts.”

“Yep!” Harry said with a smirk. “Now, which parts are you most worried about?”

The boys spent the next hour studying together, going over all of the fifth year charm material. They had only learned a few spells, ten at most, but a majority of the spells were house work spells. Those spells, while easy to cast,were hard to remember the purpose of. For example, Oburo Avorpus was used for cleaning window glass, but was too rough to use on regular cups and fine-china. Oburo Evarpus however, was perfect for quickly cleaning cups and silverware, but wouldn’t do anything on a dirty window. No matter how much power you put into Evarpus, the window glass would never shatter or clean. Harry thought the concept was interesting. How can two spells, by the same creator, be so similar yet so vastly different? Something they had learned in transfiguration this year was that spell-makers tended to stick to one type of magic or spell. If you created fire, all of your spell-creations would have something to do with fire. Yet, these were the only two cleaning spells by Majan Douglas. Professor Flitwick had pointed out he had invented more duelling spells than household charms. 

Purgatorium was the hardest spell for Neville to get down. While a lesser known version of Scourgify , this spell was much more efficient. Of course, all spells could be used in duels, but this was  a cleaning charm meant mostly for duels. It targeted the person's hair and clothes, scrubbing at it to get all of the hair off both. Basically rendering your duelling partner in a large case of unease as an object scrubbed up your robes to your hair. Only the caster could call it off, unless the object doing the scrubbing was destroyed. But who would Bombarda their own clothes?

“Alright Harry! I think I’ve got this all down.” His friend said with a triumphant smile. “Now, let's head to the room and get some studying done for Enchantment! I wanna show you what I figured out last night!” Harry packed up his books and followed Neville out. While they walked to their secret study room, Neville was bursting with excitement. Harry wondered what had gotten him so happy. He honestly couldn’t wait to figure it out. 

“Okay, sit. Sit!” Neville said, practically pushing him down. Harry sat on one of the soft cushions the two had transfigured there. Harry watched, eyes unblinking, as Neville pulled out a planter of soil. Oh boy! It was like Neville saw the look on his face, because his friend just laughed. Setting the plant down, Neville put his hands near the dirt. Slowly, a small vine began growing out of the dirt. After a few minutes it was about a foot long and as thick as two quill tips. Neville was sweating.

“Neville this is awesome!” Harry whooped, shaking his friend in excitement. “Like seriously mate! How’d you figure that out?” Neville just shrugged.

“I don’t know. Seriously, it just kind of happened!” He said at Harry’s look. “I was just up studying last night because I couldn’t sleep, and was mindlessly stroking the leaves of my little tulip plant I have growing. Then suddenly, this thin little vine wrapped around my finger! I don’t know how long I can hold the plant though, as it doesn’t come from seeds, just the remnants of what's in the dirt already.”

“Like what's been decomposed?” Neville nodded.

“Yep. I don’t know how long the vine lasted last night. When I finally went to bed it was still curled around my tulip, but when I woke up it was just dirt.” Harry nodded, pulling out their ‘Super Secret Parchment Paper’ and began taking notes.

“You’re awesome Neville, you know that right? I feel like a proud father bird.” Neville snorted and pushed his friend's shoulder. The two boys grinned at each other.

“So what about you Harry? Have you figured out the thing you were working on? That you still haven't told me about.” Neville pouted. Harry grinned.

“Close your eyes and I’ll show you.” Neville did so.

Harry took a deep breath, feeling his magic flowing inside his body. One trick the two boys had learned in their books about Enchantment magic was to let the magic flow through your whole body, not just in your core. Anyone and everyone could do this, but few wizards had ever tried. Dumbledore was one of them, Harry had asked him about it when he was up in the office. Focus, Harry reminded himself. Strands of magic slowly flew out of Harry's body, little thin strings that seemed to come out of his pores. Harry moved besideNeville. 

“Alright, open.” Neville opened his eyes, there in front of him stood Harry Potter. Except it wasn’t. Something in the way the light hit his friend's hair was too bright. But he wanted to believe this was Harry Potter. The boy flickered and strands of magic flew back into Harry’s body. Neville looked to his side in surprise. There his friend was, huffing and puffing with his hands on his knees, grinning like he had won the lottery.

“Harry, bloody hell.” Neville aggressively started shaking his friends shoulders. “How the hell did you hide that from me! A full body illusion! Harry, that's wonderful!” 

“It takes a lot out of me.” Harry admitted. “It’s a useful skill to have. That illusion doesn’t last half as long as my regular ones do.”

“Why’s that?” Neville asked.

“Because those have befuddlement charms on them, as well as compelling charms. I can only get them to stay up for six seconds at most.”

“You’re able to put charms on your illusions?” Neville questioned. “I thought Rynolds book said that was impossible.”

“I did too. You know how Flitwick said that layering spells was more powerful than regular spells, but also more draining.” Neville nodded. “Well, Rynolds had said he was unsuccessful with layering a spell on top of his illusion. A, spell. So, I tried two. It was much more successful than trying to just do a simple befuddlement charm. I think compelling charms work well with illusionists. I mean, you’re meant to believe illusions.” Harry started writing down things on his piece of parchment.

Neville stared at his friend, wonder in his eyes. Harry was amazing. No matter how many limitations put on him, Harry always seemed to think of a way to jump over them. Sometimes, Neville wanted to feel like Harry was bragging, rubbing his prowess in his face, but Neville knew that Harry wasn’t like that. They share in each other's accomplishments and bonded over their sorrows. And, honestly? That felt more like friendship than anything else in this world ever had.

“Harry, can we get you to come down?” Hermione knocked on the boys dormitory door. “It’s important.”

“Coming!” Harry let his small illusion fade out. It was a small little vine that Neville’s vine had deemed its best friend. Fitting. It was also an easy way to continuously hold out their powers. If Neville kept the vine thinner, he could leave it for about three hours. Same with Harry’s illusion, except his required a little more thought process to make it sentient, so to speak. He couldn’t actually make his vine a living creature, but with some practice, Harry had figured out how to make his vine, which he had so kindly named Axiome, the second name for a poisonous vine native to south america, sentient enough to move around without needing to be attached to Harry. Fhozite, Nevilles vine, and the first name to their poisonous plant, loved a playmate. They would twist around each other and even burrow into dirt like worms. So, if anyone ever noticed Harry and Neville holding pinkies underneath their desks, well, at least the two boys knew the real reasons. 

“You bringing Fho?” Harry asked, cancelling his illusion of Axiome. Neville shook his head, and let his magic relax. Fhozite slowly turned into a pile of dirt, which Neville just placed in his tulip pot. He had only had that plant there to revive it for professor Sprout, but after realising it was the perfect place to get soil from, he had asked the herbology professor if he could keep it. She said yes, of course, and now Neville had a constant supply of soil for Fhozite.

The two boys made their way down to the common room. It was quiet. Not the quiet of no one being there, but the quiet of choosing not to speak. No eyes were on him though. The eyes were on a little girl sitting on the couch, Ron and Hermione beside her.

“What happened, Hermione?” Harry asked, crouching beside Ron. Neville stayed back, not wanting to overcrowd the girl.

“The dog happened.” Ron answered. Hermione stared at the red head, confused, but Harry’s eye hardened. Umbridge.

“I just wanted to practise casting, that's all!” The girl wailed. She couldn’t be older than twelve or thirteen. She cradled her hand. Hermione gently pried it away from the girl and held it for Harry to see. Carved words were resting on her hands.

“Essence of dittany.” Harry said. Neville rushed back up the stairs, his footsteps loud in the silence. “We're gonna fix this right up, okay?” The girl sniffled but nodded. Neville placed a small bowl and some bandages beside Harry, and the boy got to work.

“Wouldn't the essence of murtlap work better?” Hermione questioned. 

“Sure, if you wanted it to heal faster, but my biggest point is scarring. I don’t want this pretty girl to end up hating Hogwarts because of one crappy teacher that will be gone in a year.” The little girl flushed.

“You mean she’ll be gone one day?” Harry nodded.

“Of course, all the DADA teachers leave after a year. They say it's a curse on the position.” The girl let out a wet giggle. “On the off chance she decides to stay, I’ll get rid of her, just for you. There you are.” The little girl admired her wrapped hand, staring at it in shock.

“I can’t even feel it! Thank you, Harry!” The little girl lunged at Harry, who,  in his crouched position, fell to the floor. The room laughed, more light hearted then they had been since Harry walked down, and Harry laughed with them.

“I’m Rebecca, by the way! Rebecca Toosney.”

“I’m-”

“Harry Potter, I know! I’m a huge fan!” Rebecca blushed and twiddled with the hem of her skirt. Harry chuckled and gave her a pat on her head. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Rebecca. Stay out of trouble okay? And if you need anything, go ahead and come find me.” The girl nodded happily, and left the common room. That was when Harry noticed the yellow and black robes the girl wore. “Hufflepuff?” He questioned.

“Yeah, she knew us by name and begged for help. Apparently, Hannah is sick and in the hospital wing, and Ernie wouldn’t do anything to help her. I’m bringing him to the headmaster, don’t worry Harry.” Harry and Neville sat down on the couch with the pair, and began discussing classes.

“Man, that Charm test was so hard. Even after I had studied all day.”

“That’s because someone exhausted himself right before the test.”

“Bugger off, Neville.” Harry said with a laugh. 

“Well at least you were able to take it on time. Can you believe they doubled up Arthimacy and Charms!”

“Yes, we all bow to your academic wonders.” Hermione hit Ron with a couch cushion. 

The night was relatively easy after that, and the group of four had fun. Soon, Dean came and joined them, Seamus following after with butterbeers.

“We’re good, right Harry?” Seamus said, handing him a bottle.

“We’re good.” Harry took a gigantic swig of his bottle.

“Harry, drink slowly.” Neville remarked.

“Can't Harry handle his alcohol?” Dean teased." Sure, butterbeer had a small alcohol percentage, just two percent, but one bottle of butterbeer was enough for Harry to get a little loose.

“Nope, not at all. When he stayed at my place we went out and got butterbeers in celebration with Gran, and two bottles in, he was already a slurring mess.” 

“Neville! You have betrayed me!” Harry said, mimicking a sword going through his heart as he collapsed onto the back of the couch. The group laughed as Neville pushed Harry off of him. As everyone fell into their own conversations, Harry questioned Neville.

“Why do you call her grandmother at home but call her gran here?” Neville just shrugged.

“Gran is super old school. She deserves respect and I treat her as such. It's just, I sound like such a stuck up, saying ‘Grandmother’.” Harry snickered.

“Dearest Grandmother, I hope you have been well today. Have you acquired an adamant amount of nutrients yet?” Harry joked. Neville snorted next to him, butterbeer coming out of his nose, sending Harry into more howls of laughter. The small group noticed Harry's state and looked at Neville. Poor boy was covered in butterbeer, face flushed. All of them laughed, Neville eventually giving up being embarrassed and laughing too. Overall, it was a good night.

Chapter Text

“Hello, Harry,” Luna said from behind the boy. Harry just waved absentmindedly as he reviewed some material for Transfiguration. Neville sat behind him, slightly dozing off as he stared at his half-finished Potions essay. “What is plaguing you?”

“Nothing you need to worry yourself about, Luna,” Harry said, not unkindly. “I just need some time to get my thoughts together.” He rubbed Neville's sleeping head lightly. They had stayed up late the night before going over spells for their test review in Transfiguration. Neville was exhausted, especially from the back-to-back classes they had today.

“Do you mind if I join you then? I’ve got some studying to do for Herbology.”

“Go right ahead. Just don’t wake up Nev. He doesn’t deserve that.” Harry responded to the girl. Her hair, a pretty shade of blonde and white, was in three odd ponytails, all curled in different directions. Harry didn’t mind the younger girl. In fact he liked having her around. She was a good friend of Neville’s, so she was automatically a friend of Harry’s.

It was quiet for a little while, Neville eventually rousing from his slumber to complain about his Potions work once more. Harry just stifled a laugh at Neville's complaints while Luna grinned. 

“Potter, Longbottom .” Harry heard from his spot in the library. In front of him stood Blaise Zabini, a boy he recognised from defence, and another girl in Slytherin clothing. “May we join you for studying?” 

“Why?” Neville questioned. Harry just gave the pair in front of them an odd look. Who was that girl? Harry swore he had heard her name somewhere within the school. 

“I’ll put it straight to you two.” The girl sighed. “You two are the best in both defence and transfiguration. We both need help in those subjects. It’s not right for heirs like us to be lacking.” 

“I uh, I don’t really, Harry.  Help me out here.” Neville mumbled. Blaise gave Neville a look of disdain, but Harry wasn’t paying attention. He was still trying to figure out who this random girl was.

“Potter, I do not appreciate you staring at my friend and housemate.” Zabini said. “If that’s what you’d rather do than study, then it seems Draco was right about you.” 

“Sorry, Zabini and woman I don’t know, not to bruise your egos, but I’m not interested. I just swear I’ve seen you around somewhere before. What’s your name?”

“Greengrass. Daphne Greengrass.” 

“Nope, never heard of you. Go ahead and sit down. We’re reviewing the spell frequency for proper casting.”

“What Harry means is how much power you’re supposed to put behind the spell.” Neville elaborated on the odd looks of the two Slytherin. “He likes to think of different ways to break down topics into ‘bite-sized pieces’, as he likes to call them.”

“So he doesn’t copy the text book?” Greengrass questioned. 

“Nope,” Harry said, popping the P. “Between you and me, Greengrass, half these textbooks are lacking in a multitude of ways.”

“It’s Heir Greengrass, actually.” The girl said, turning up her nose. 

“Okay, and? It’s Heir Potter, but you didn’t have enough respect to call me by my title, so why would I call you yours.” A beat of silence. 

“Ah, I apologise, Heir Potter.”

“All is forgiven, Heir Greengrass.” The two Slytherins took their seats. Harry and Neville whispered to each other about spells while Luna studied quietly.

“If you’re so good, Heir Potter, please explain this.” Greengrass pointed to a page in their Transfiguration book. Harry glanced over at it and promptly pushed his book towards her. The inside was marked with ink and some cut outs from other books. Greengrass eyed it with disdain, but took the offered book anyway. Her eyes widened. Harry watched as she scanned the page once more. And again. And a third time, okay what was wrong with his book?”

“Heir Potter, how do you make this make sense?” She mumbled. Harry shrugged.

“Something me and Neville have learned this year is magic is power and intent. Unless you truly want the mouse to change to the box, it will never work.”

“What's this about a box-to-mouse spell?” Zabini asked, looking over his friend's shoulder to read the page. Harry’s blood ran south, and he quickly pulled the book out of their hands. Neville seemed just as tense as he was, but for a different reason. Neville hadn’t known about his self-study of transfiguration. 

The rest of the study block was awkward, but never silent. Luna would go from talking to Greengrass to practising spells on Nevile’s vine. Zanini talked a lot, Harry learned, especially about theory. Harry himself wasn’t big on spell theory, power and intent afterall, but Zabini had raised a few good points. Spellcraft, for example. How did that work with Harry's explanation of power and intent? It would be something they would have to look at later, Zabini had said. Harry took it as a silent win. Slytherins and Gryfindors getting along in the pursuit of knowledge. Who knew?

“Harry my dear boy, I'm so glad you could join us this evening for tea! Had to make a fast escape?” Dumbledore asked cheerfully. Harry was still a little on guard with the man, he was the one who had subjugated him to his muggle lifestyle all those years, but Dumbledore was making an effort to change those ways. He told Harry stories about the first war, his parents, and about their time in Hogwarts. Something Harry’s brain had been lacking for a while.

When Dumbledore had first said that they “needed to talk”, Harry assumed it was about his biological father. However, and most graciously, that wasn’t the case. Harry didn’t have to deal with that yet. 

“Yes of course, Professor. But what do you mean by us?” Harry asked, looking around Dumbledore's desk. No one else was there. A black dog suddenly popped his head out of a blanket, and Harry laughed in surprise. “Sirius!” 

No later had Sirius Black turned back into his human form had Harry jumped into his godfather's arms. His godfather. Not Ron’s, Not Hermione’s, Not even Neville’s. His . That thought alone made Harry very, very happy. Sirius was something he had never wanted to share.

“Hey little man!” Sirius ruffled his god-sons hair. “We’ve got something wonderful to tell you.” 

“While this has been a most touching display of affection, I say we all sit down.” A voice said from behind them. A pit formed in Harry’s stomach while Sirius growled above him. Snape.

“Snape, I’ll have you know I haven’t seen my Son all summer! You can bugger off, you know!” Son, son, son, son, son! Sirius had just called him his son! “But we should sit down, this might shock you out of your socks.” Sirius told Harry with a wink. Harry was still reeling from the fact that Sirius had called him son.

“Well, Harry, I have some great news.” Dumbledore had said after they sat down. “You will be spending the rest of your holidays with Sirius, wherever he may be, or may go.” Harry’s eyes lit up like christmas trees, and he turned to look hopefully at Sirius. His godfather just sat there, a giant grin on his face as he hugged Harry. The warmth was amazing.

“Thank you, Professor!” Harry said earnestly. Dumbledore just smiled, eyes twinkling and alight with joy.

“Why does this concern me, Headmaster?” Snape asked, tone annoyed. Wow, way to ruin the moment, sperm donor!  

“Well Severus, you stay at headquarters quite often, either recuperating from missions or brewing potions. I figured it would be polite to let you know beforehand.” Dumbledore stated.

“Well thank you, Headmaster, but I must be going, I’ve got potions on the burner-”

“Sit, Severus. There is one more thing all three of you need to discuss. I promise, it will take but a minute of your time.” Snape sat back down at the Headmaster's words, face and body language clearly showing what he thought. Harry on the other hand was a wreck. Not because of the “oh my god Sirius called me his son!” but because his body language matched that of the horrible potion professors. 

“This is not easy to say,” Dumbledore sighed. Harry’s grip on Sirius’ hand tightened, and the man looked down at his Godson in confusion. “Harry, would you like to say it?” 

Harry shook his head, eyes wide. Sweat ran down his forehead. Snape on the other hand could barely keep his head from snapping over to look at the boy. Did he know? That had to be the only reason all three of them were here! Did Dumbledore tell the brat? No, there's no way, Severus was sure of it.

“Very well, my boy, I’ll just go ahead and say it. Harry’s biological father is Severus Snape.”

A maelstrom of emotions crashed over Sirius—betrayal, confusion, and a seething rage. Why had James not told him? Why was he not informed of that, in his opinion, horrible, decision? He knew that James couldn’t have kids, he couldn’t either, bit still! He was the godfather! He was Harry’s godfather!

“Sirius, I'm still my dad’s son, I promise. I-I can prove it, the goblins, my parents used a blood potion-”

“A blood potion would have run out if you weren’t continually taking them.” Sirius stated. He looked down at his Godson, and his heart broke. “Oh pup, you’re still my godson, no matter what, or who your biological dad is. You are James and Lily’s son, you hear me? My son. That won’t ever change, Harry. Not in a million years. Even if you went up and joined Voldemort. Still have to kick your ass though.” Harry let out a wet laugh, neither one noticing the paleness of Snape’s face. 

“There is one more thing I’d like to ask you, Harry.” Dumbledore said, clearing his throat. “Then I’ll let you take snuffles out to the Hogwarts grounds and play around for a bit. Sirius needs a little sun.” Harry laughed and wiped his eyes. Damn tears.

“Yes, Professor?”

“What have you been doing with that study group of yours? The Slytherin’s? Professor Sprout brought it to my attention that she saw a group of you arguing the other day.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Probably antagonising them, it's in his blood after all. Oh wait.” Snape said, seething. The boy finds out he has a dad and decides to choose someone else!? Not that Severus would ever want to be that brats father, not in a million years. Harry clenched his fists, vile words on the tip of his tongue begging to be released. He couldn’t though, not in front of the headmaster. Not while he was still in school.

“Fuck off, Snivilus. Now pup, I wanna know too. Arguing with Slytherins?” Harry shrugged.

“Not really arguing, but debating. At least at the start,” Harry waved his hand as he got into the story. “See, Neville and I wanted to work on some of the household charms, and Heir Zabini said it was stupid to even know them because we have house elves. Both Neville and I agreed, but Hermione started talking about how they have lives too, which I also understand. Heir Greengrass and Hermione started bickering over it. Even Neville couldn’t see Hermione’s side of things, and I remarked that I’d like a house elf when I get my own place one day, and Hermione didn’t like that. So me and Nev tried to explain to her the magic behind house elves and the contracts, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. She called it slavery, so when she stormed off no one went after her.” Dumbledore frowned.

“That's most troubling. Was it Ms. Granger that wrote the letter to the house elves a few days ago?”

“Yes, professor! Me and Neville told her that was a bad idea, but she didn’t listen.” Dumbledore chuckled.

“Ah, I see then. I’ll call up Ms. Granger soon and explain to her how the elf contracts work, don’t worry. Now, how about you and Sirius go out and have some fun, alright? Enjoy yourselves.” Harry nodded and smiled at the old man, and got up to walk towards the door. Sirius, who quickly transformed into his black dog form, Snuffles, followed him out quickly. The two left without a second thought.

Snape on the other hand, was seething.

“Albus, how could you!” Snape burst out, anger and magic evident in his voice.

“Harry knew for a long time. Since this summer, might I add.” Albus reasoned. “He and Sirius deserved to have it spoken out loud.”

“I can’t believe for a second that Potter was this open to me being his biological father.”

“You’re right, he and Mr. Longbottom call you sperm donor with such malice, it even gives me the chills.” Dumbledore joked.

“This is not a laughing matter! Black is unfit to be a guardian let alone a parent .” 

“Oh but you are?” Dumbledore asked. Snape stayed silent. “That boy may be your child but he is not your son. I will not misjudge the little trust he has given me again. He will not be staying with you, or anywhere around you, unless he wants to.” 

“I don’t want him with me.” Snape hissed, and with a massive twirl of his cloak, left the office.

“Have fun with Sirius?”

Harry looked at his friend. Something was off, really off, and Harry couldn’t tell why. Maybe Harry had upset him when he took his bacon earlier that day? 

“It was really fun actually. He found out about Snape being, y’know, but he was okay in the end. He said he would have done anything for my SD to be anyone else but Snape.” He muttered to his friend quietly. Neville's eyes softened briefly, but his face remained stone cold.

“Good, I’m glad you had a good time. We need to talk.” Neville said. Harry winced.

“Look if its about the bacon-”

“It’s not about the bacon!” Neville exploded. He sighed, stepping back from his friend. “It’s about your transfiguration experiments.”

“What about them?” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

“They’re wrong, Harry! It’s immoral! You’re forcing animals to become things in an unnatural way of magic!”

“I am not!” Harry shouted back at his friend, anger rising. “It's exactly what we do in McGonagall's class!”

“It’s not! You just leave them as book covers or tea cups or boxes! For no reason.”

“There is too a reason! It's so I can see how long I can go without being near the object! And It’s not like they’re stuck like that!”

“Don’t you understand what you’re doing is permanent transfiguration?” Neville exclaimed.

“What..?” Harry had a questioning look on his face, not understanding what his friend was talking about.

“You mean you didn’t,” A shocked laugh left Neville, and he seemed to sag. “I’ve been yelling at you for something you had no clue you were doing.” 

“Neville, please, have I been doing dark magic?” Neville let out a sound between a laugh and a wail.

“No, permanent transfiguration, or PT, is an advanced branch of magic. Newt level kids barely get a grasp on it before graduating, and you just, you just did it from a book.”

“How’d you know that?” Harry asked.

“I went snooping after our meeting with the Slytherins that day, I would have brought it up then but I was scared. But you’re my friend, Harry, and you need to know that these animals you used aren’t ever going back to what they were.”

They sat in silence for a while, heads hung and knees touching. 

“I, I’m sorry Neville. I swear, I didn’t know.” Tears threatened to fall with Harry’s head hung so low. 

“I’m sorry too, Harry. I thought you knew. But please, promise me something?”

“Yeah, Nev?” Harry asked. His quiet voice seemed loud in the now silent room.

“Promise me, if we look at magic we look at it together. Harry, you’re the first real friend I’ve ever had, I can’t lose you, or, or,” He stuttered a bit, something he hadn’t done much of since summer. Something in Harry clicked just then, and he vowed inside himself to never break this specific promise. Harry nodded instead, gently cutting Neville off.

“I promise, Neville. Never again, and I’ll let you know beforehand if I ever go looking for knowledge. I promise.” They hugged each other for a few seconds.

“This is a bit awkward.” Neville said.

“It is. Let’s uh, never talk about this again, yeah?” Harry retorted awkwardly. Because it was awkward. Is it always this way?

“Agreed.”

Chapter Text

“ Why is everyone so crazy today?” Harry mumbled. Neville just shrugged, eating his food happily. Harry had stayed up late reading over his Transfiguration essay that he had put off for three days. Neville had already done his, and was happy enough basking in his friend's pain.

“Haven’t you heard?” Dean said from across the table. “There’s a new newspaper out. It's apparently challenging the Daily Prophet .” 

“Really?” Neville asked. “Is it blatantly filled with lies like the Daily is?”

“I’ve got no clue. Apparently, it’s run by parents, both muggle and magical. It's called The Letter .” Dean took a bite of his eggs. “I think Hermione has a copy, if you wanna ask her about it.” 

“I just might, actually. I mean, what’s the worst that could have been said? Oh! Do you know if it’s from this year?”

“Yes and no.” Dean said suspiciously.

“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Harry responded, annoyed. He had a bit of a headache going on, and he really didn’t want to deal with a second Daily Prophet . 

“Well, it has letters from people in first year.”

“And? First year’s write home all the time. Plus, what do they even know?”

“No, our first year.” 

“Oh.” Harry was quiet. He returned his head to the table, trying to block out the chatter from those around him. Really, a headache this early. Well, if he was able to sleep they’d probably go away. Plus, he was a bit dehydrated. Where was any damn water in this school? Well, besides the chamber of course. Eugh.

“Here, Harry.” Neville said, handing him some sort of paper. When his eyes focused, he saw the bright Orange words calling it The Letter . “I got it from Hermione.”

THE LETTER

Hello parents and guardians, muggle and magical alike. Today is a bit of a shorter, special edition. In this issue, we're going to be talking about what happened during the Hogwarts Championship. Now, some of you won’t know what I’m talking about, so I’ll explain.

Harry skimmed over it for a bit. Having experienced the Tri-wizard championship himself, he had no wish to reread about it. That’s when a certain excerpt stopped him in his tracks.

No one ever believes me, mom. I tried to tell my friends that Potter wasn’t lying, but no one believed it! I saw the way he was crying over Cedric. There’s just no way he did it himself, or faked Cedric's death. I just don’t believe it. I don’t know if it’s You-Know-Who, but something’s out there.

This filled Harry's heart with a little bit of warmth. However it did nothing to ease his pounding headache, so he just passed it back to Neville with a grunt. His head hurt too much to deal with all of this at the moment. Honestly, He just wanted to go back to bed. If he had charms, or even transfiguration, he would have skipped and gone straight to the infirmary. Potions was his first class of the day, and he felt like he would be running away from his problems if he didn’t show up. Especially with the awkward, horrid conversation they all had with the Headmaster.

Harry was incredibly grateful for Sirius. Harry had thought the man would be incredibly immature about it, and Harry suspected that Sirius wanted to lash out and curse everything in sight. But, he didn’t. He held back for Harry’s sake, not that he minded that dungeon bat being cursed. Still, it was nice to have an adult looking out for him, even if he couldn’t legally have them as his guardian. Harry wanted to write to Sirius today, but he didn’t know if he would actually get too. After potions he was going straight to madam and getting some sort of potion to cure his headache, and knocking himself out. Plus, he and Neville had something planned for tomorrow. Halloween. Something that usually filled him with fear and anguish from the loss of his parents, now filled him with trepidation. The constant thought of not being caught filled his head.

“C’mon Hare, we gotta go.” Neville said as he stood up, stretching. Harry just groaned, barely moving an inch out of his seat.

“Here, Harry.” Hermione said, handing him a small potion vile. “It’s a small dosage of Pepper Up I brewed. It works a lot like coffee.” Harry thanked his friend, plugged his nose, and swallowed the small  potion. Not even an ounce, but the sludgy peppermint taste made him squint his eyes in disgust. Nasty arse potions.

“Thanks, Hermione.” Harry said as he slowly felt himself becoming more awake, and his headache lessened. The three of them were still tense with each other. Ron from his opinion that Neville doesn’t need all that time spent with him, and Hermione because of Harry’s lack of a stick up his arse. Harry hated thinking of it that way, but it was true. She expected him to just go up and see Dumbledore. It may have benefited him in the end, but Harry was glad he made the man wait. If he hadn’t they wouldn't have talked about Snape, or the Dursley’s. Harry was glad Dumbledore had actually listened to his feelings, and was actively doing something about his wrong-doings. Though Harry didn’t want to be spiteful, Harry thought it was well deserved. Come on, a baby left outside during late fall? Seriously? He could have gotten seriously sick. Or kidnapped. Or eaten. 

Walking through the classroom door, Harry was filled with a new emotion, not one he was used to feeling. It wasn’t fear or worriedness, although he did feel those as well. It was something else, something like hatred. It couldn’t have been, right? Harry was the Chosen One , the good guy! Hero’s don’t feel anger, after all. At Least not the ones he read about, or the ones Dudley watched on T.V. No, it had to be something else. As he sat down, he locked eyes with Daphne, and gave the girl a small nod. While she hated being called Daphne, everytime she called Harry, well, Harry , he would retort by calling the girl her first name. After these few weeks with constant study dates and times, it’s stuck. They’re just Harry, Neville, Blaise, Daphne, and sometimes Luna. Daphne wasn't a big fan of Hermione, which she openly admitted in front of her. Hermione rushed off, vowing to Harry she wouldn’t come to another one. Harry had blown up a bit at Daphne, and the Slytherin girl had retorted with “She should learn that you don’t have to like someone to be nice. She just needs to stop disrespecting our views.” Both girls were in the wrong, but both were also right. IT gave Harry a headache. Everything gave Harry a headache this year.

Sitting next to Neville did nothing to calm his nerves. He didn’t even know what he was worried about. He had talked to Neville after their argument about what went down, and Neville practically beat the words “Sperm doesn’t make a father” into him. He was right, of course, but a small part of Harry wanted a father, or even just a father figure in general. He squashed those feelings down, down so hard it made him nauseous. Sirius was his father figure, the dad he always wanted. If Snape wanted to try to ‘parent’ him, Harry would kick up such a big scene even Sirius would be embarrassed. No, not like that would happen anyway, Snape hated him. 

“Mr. Potter, zoning out once again. Ten points from Gryffindor for not being able to pay attention to your professor.”

“Sir, please,” Hermione spoke up from somewhere behind him. “Harry’s sick, he’s not doing it on purpose sir.”

“You’ll find, Ms. Granger, that I care little for Potter’s false ailments.” His voice was filled with so much malice that even Harry’s foggy brain could pick up on it. So that’s how he was gonna act now? It was a bit comforting, an odd thought that Harry would never admit to anyone, not even Neville. At least Harry knew that the arsehole wasn’t going to suddenly become a father. “Detention tonight, Potter, for your disrespect.”

Anger filled Harry’s hazy mind, and as it swirled in his head his face grew hot. He shouldn’t be in trouble for being sick, he thought. Hypocritical, as he defended Aunt Petunia whenever he got sick. She shouldn’t have had to put up with a freaky, sick nephew. That should have been Snape's job.

But he didn’t know, his kinder thoughts interceded. How could he care for a son he didn’t know he had? His head swarmed some more. Holding a quill was challenging, and his head lolled forward.

“Harry, Harry lookup.” The voice sounded as if it was in water. He mumbled something incomprehensible, trying to force his head up. “Harry!” His eyes rolled back.

“Longbottom!” Snape barked. Neville didn’t care about him at the moment, his worry for Harry far greater than his fear of Snape. “Fifteen points from Gryffindor for interrupting my class with horrid attempts for popularity.”

“Professor, Harry isn’t responsive.” Neville heard Hermione practically squeak. Neville shook him some more, eyes darting around the classroom for something, someone who would be of more help then Snape. Even Malfoy looked worried. Fine, he would do it himself. Paying no mind to the stupid potions professor, Neville began to get up. Harry was light, much too light for a fifteen year old boy, but knowing his homelife and eating habits it was understandable. That’s right, Neville. Focus on getting Harry out of here, then you can freak out. Just get out of the classroom.

“Longbottom!” He heard the man explain. “You’ll have detention for the rest of the semester if you walk out that door," he hissed.” If Neville hadn’t been so worried about Harry, he probably would have pissed himself.

“Let me help, Neville.” Ron said quietly as he walked up to them. He slung Harry’s other arm over his shoulder, and the three made their way out of the classroom, Harry still not moving. Snape muttered a spell, one Neville didn’t recognise. He didn’t turn around, not even when he heard Hermione gasp. As soon as they had walked out, the whispers started. Neville didn’t care, not right now. He honestly felt like crying his eyes out. 

“Do you know what's going on with Harry?” Ron asked quietly.

“A little.” There was a tremor in his voice. He was actually gonna cry. “I can’t really tell you, but I know that it’s making him sick.”

“It’s not magic or school related, right?” Ron questioned after a few beats of silence.

“No, it’s something else.” Neville reassured. Ron said nothing. The rest of their walk to the infirmary was silent. Neville both hated and liked the silence. He liked it, because he wasn’t being questioned about Harry’s well being. He hated it, because it left him with his thoughts. He was trying to act strong, he really was, but he was just so worried. Ron looked worried too, so he knew he wasn’t alone, but this was his best friend. Whatever Ron and Harry had, Neville had replaced that. (And wasn’t that a dark, pitiful thought to have? As if that made Ron’s worry any less real.) God, Neville was a wreck.

“Boys, finally.” Madam Pomfery said as they entered. “Professor Snape told me you were on your way. Get him to the bed.” Neville and Ron looked at each other, but the questions could come later. It was easy to lift him up to the bed, especially with Ron’s help. Once they had, the two boys just stared at each other, helpless.

“Thank you, boys. Please head back to class.”

“No.” They both spoke in unison. Neville flushed a bit at Pomfrey's raised eyebrow, but he stood his ground. “Harry needs someone here. If he wakes up alone it’ll make things worse.” Not a complete lie, Harry had climbed into his bed almost four times a week since Hogwarts started. It wasn’t romantic, it didn’t make Neville flush pink or his heart beat faster. They both had nightmares, trauma that the other could understand, and having each other made it better. When Harry had joked that he wanted Neville there if he ever went to the hospital ward, Neville had taken that to heart. 

“Fine, but don’t complain if Professor Snape takes points. Only one of you can stay.” She began casting some spells over Harry, frowning and writing things down on a piece of parchment. He looked at Ron, and the redhead just shrugged.

“You’re his best mate now, Neville. Me and Hermione messed up, you’re the only one he trusts y’know?.” Neville nodded, not saying anything. If he spoke he knew it would come out a warbled jittery mess. Ron patted him on the shoulder and left.

-

It was three hours later when Harry woke up.

“Honestly, Potter!” He heard Daphne mumble loudly. “Can’t you show up on time for once in your life?” 

“Oi, we had to avoid Hermione and Ron.” Harry responded, quickly setting up the candles he had brought for their circle.

It hadn’t been hard to get Greengrass and Zabini to talk about their rituals. The hard part was convincing them that Neville and Harry wanted in.

“Isn’t that too dark of a topic for you two?” Daphne had seethed. It was Harry’s first time seeing Neville argue with someone and actually mean the mean things he said. Daphne hadn’t bothered him about it after that, only telling Neville where they were meeting up and what to bring. Harry was just along for the ride.

“Here, Harry,” Neville said, handing him a thing of salt. “Put the salt around each candle, then connect the circles to the lines Zabini made.” Harry nodded, doing exactly as he was told. Neville knew a lot more about this ritual than Harry did. It was surprising, especially since Harry had read up on the ritual in his Cynrêd Enchantment book. Harry just hadn’t led a ritual before, he wasn’t in-tune to the magic like Neville or the Slytherins were. It would be interesting, Harry thought. Two gryfs and two snakes, doing magic in an empty classroom.

“Who do you guys usually speak to?” Harry asked when the room got too quiet. It was Samhain, October thirty-first, and the day his parents were murdered. Harry was glad he had skipped dinner in the great hall, according to Ron, Malfoy wouldn’t shut up about his family's influence on the newest bill in the ministry, and how muggles ruined Samhain. Harry had hid a small wince. It was odd, both Ron and Neville were from ‘light’ pureblood families, yet Ron had shot him down with a worried look when Harry had mentioned the Samhain ritual. 

“Talking to the dead is dark magic, Harry.” Ron had said. “It doesn’t matter what goes into it, the dead should stay dead.”

“Family, mostly.” Daphne replied. Harry nodded sympathetically and looked at Blaise. 

“My grandmother. I’ve talked to her every year since I was six.” 

“What about you Neville?” Harry asked. 

“Oh, sometimes my grandpa, or my cousin Nigel. He passed away when I was a babe.” 

They finished setting up the circle in silence. Once all four of them had cast multiple silencing charms and a few warning spells, they all sat down in the specific circles. Daphne had picked out candles for each of them, according to how their “auras felt”. Harry thought she nutters, but Neville had convinced him it was a real skill. He was starting to believe it, especially as he held a stunning white and brown swirled candle in his hands. It seemed to pulse with his heart beat. 

Neville’s was a marbled red and orange, Blaise had a half used navy blue one, and Daphne’s was a striking pink. 

“Alright. I’ll lead.” Daphne spoke up. Harry closed his eyes.

He’d been alive a very long time. No matter how many worlds ended, started over, and passed again, he was eternal. 

He was revered and feared, he knew that much. He didn’t understand it, not in the slightest. He wasn’t his brother, Death, or his sister Life. He just existed, and everyone existed on with him. People's horrid prayers of “more time” and “if only I have another chance” were never answered. Therefore, people feared him. Who would be the next to leave, to join him and his family in eternity? 

It wasn’t that simple. 

His job was to simply take and give time. Good people tended to live longer, unless they weren’t truly good. Evil people never lasted, unless they weren’t truly evil. It was his way of life, his inner moral. 

Yet two people had since abandoned him and escaped all 3 of the Deity’s. 

Tom Riddle was the first one. Oh, he knew the man better than Death did. He had followed him, sent his birds and his sun, and when that hadn’t worked he sent his moon and stars. Still, Tom Marvolo Riddle evaded him, just as he had evaded Death. 

Life had no interest in Tom. Tom was nothing but a shell, something that deserved to be squished. He didn’t agree, he thought his sister was harsh. Tom needed to be studied, for how had he evaded the pair of them for so long? He knew how, the Horcruxes. Death had let it slip that he was the one to put the idea in Tom's head. Life had fought Death that day, and neither won. For who could win against equals? 

Yet it wasn’t Tom that was summoning him, trying to summon him at least. Tom had never succeeded in summoning a Deity, much less one of the “big three” as history called them. (They were long forgotten in history now, all except Death). Tom had always wanted Life, wanted her immortality. She had laughed when she found out. 

No, the boy who was summoning them was Harry Potter. The boy who avoided death. Never on purpose, but he always did. 

No, he decided. Death would not have this boy. He was not one for senseless violence and acts of broken down refuge. No, he just wanted to give everyone time. 

The red smoke grew and grew and grew, all four children in the room covered by it completely. It should have been hard to breathe, but not with those made of something pure. All of them were. 

He appeared in the smoky air, golden eyes peering down. Much too thin, much too kind. Death would have eaten him alive. He hoped the other boy, Neville LongBottom, would survive his brother’s torment. 

“Who are you?” He heard from the quiet boy. Green eyes, as green as the curse that Death had taught the world. Yet they weren’t filled with fear, they were filled with wonder. Amusing. He could feel Longbottoms fear rolling off him like waves. Death must be putting on a show. 

“I am many things,” he said, reaching a hand over to gently touch the boy's hair. Black, like pitch. An angled face as if it was carved from stone. “I have been called Chronos, Infinity, Orion. But you wouldn’t know that, not yet.”

“You’re very cryptic.” The boy responded. “What do I call you then?” 

“Time, to put it simply. You may call me Time.”

“Time,” the boy said the word as if he had never said it before. It was filled with magic. The boys, not the ritual magic that coated the room in a sticky sweet feeling. “Are you a Deity?”

“In a way,” he fibbed. “I am eternal, yes. But my influence is not one that can reach out and Tug the strings of Fates Harp like Death or Life can.”

“Are they your friends?”  What an interesting child. 

“Yes, they are my siblings. We, both Deity’s and Humans, are all handcrafted from Fates Harp, we were just the lucky three allowed to stay.” The boy just nodded, keeping silent. 

“That boy over there, is he your brother?” 

“In all but blood. He’s the only one who, well. Yes, he’s my brother.” 

“It seems my own Brother has taken a liking to him. He holds his ground even in fear. Very, ah, what’s the word? Gryffindor, yes.” 

“Is Neville alright?” The boy exclaimed. He went to stand up, but a force kept him seated. Times magic was fickle at best, but it always did as he truly wanted. 

“You are better off remaining seated, child. It is not safe for you to leave a circle as finicky as this one.”

“Finicky?” He questioned. “Nevermind, is Nev okay?” 

“Yes, the LongBottom child is alive. I say finicky, because two of you converse with family, and another two with Gods. It would be ill advised to break such a circle, lest you are all found dead.”

“Oh.” The child muttered. Time took pity on the orphan child. No, he had a father, just one as absent as Times' own creator. 

“Let me tell you a story. It starts off with a lovely girl with bright red hair.” 

The boy listened intently as Time told the story of Lily Evans. He scowled when a man, Severus Snape, was mentioned, and he seemed to internally weep when James Potter was mentioned. Time had watched Lily every now and then as a child. It was one of his tasks, protecting those of magical blood. Lily was a good child. So much so that he..

“It was I that showed up to her in her time of need, a child resting in her belly.” He saw the boy tense. Odd. “I told her I had a plan to save her child. Lily was dear to me, you see. As bright as my own sun and as daring and changing as my moon. My sister, Life, found out. She did not approve. I was stripped of my control of magic by Fate, such a cruel act. Death, my brother, stood by me. He did not think the woman deserved to die. 

“Life went behind our backs, creating a horrible prophecy. One that spoke of a boy born in the fall of the seventh month. Fate was not angry that Life had intervened. Life had always been Fate's favourite child. Death didn’t think it was fair. So when Tom, I understand you know who he represents, showed up at Lily's home, Life and Death fought once more. Each using the other's magic. It was not a pretty sight. Tom, destroyed, fled with his soul shattered, Death following after him. Life stood by your crib, attempting to take you to your end. Yet, your soul was not one that was able to move on, even as the Killing Curse was cast upon you. I would not let her, neither would Lily’s love for you. Fate intervened, called Life selfish for trying to take Death's job. And so, you lived Harry Potter. Avoided death like only one other wizard had done before.”

The boy was quiet, silent tears rolling down his face. Time understood. This was a story Time had longed to share with someone other than his family, with others besides those he brought to his brother to take to the other side. 

“Time, does that mean Voldemort didn’t try to kill me, but Life?”

“No, young child. Voldemort had indeed casted the killing curse at you, but the powerful shields that surrounded you, full of love, shot his own curse back at him.”

“I don’t, I don’t understand. I can’t make any sense of this. If you’ve watched for so long, why haven’t I known you? Why hadn’t my mum seen you?”

“It is only through Fate's Seeing Eye that allows others to see us. Not everyone is blessed with her gift.” 

“Where do I go from here? What was the purpose of telling me this?”

“The purpose? Well, I suppose there isn’t one. I have not been able to tell that full story in many years.” Time thought for a minute. “Where you go, Harry Potter, depends on you and you alone. That is not my choice to make. Just remember, child, I see you in my sun and my moon.” The deity seemed to bend a shift. Harry tried to call out, but his voice was stuck somewhere under Adam's apple. Time shifted more, slowly becoming part of the smoke still coming off of the melting candle, and as the smoke lowered, Time was gone. 

Harry was shaken, eyes red and once more brimming with tears. He looked at his friends, Daphne and Blaise both sniffling. Neville though? He looked stricken in fear. He heard Daphne end the ritual, allowing them to clean up and exit the room. Harry stood, tripping over his scrambling feet. 

“Brother,” he heard Neville whisper. 

“Brother.” Harry agreed. 

Daphne and Blaise didn’t interrupt the two as they hugged each other.

“He spoke to you then, Time?” Neville asked when Harry had crawled into his bed that night. The nightmares were getting worse, long corridors and doors that seemed to beckon him in, begging him to come inside and play, or learn, and even fight. It was horrible. 

“Yeah he did. He spoke of my mum, some awful prophecy that his sister Life had made. He said, he said you spoke to his brother.”

“I did.” Neville took a deep breath. “He told me about us, how this isn’t our only life. It was horrifying.”

“What do you mean only life? Like reincarnation?”

“Exactly. He said in another life we were brothers, you, me and someone else. He didn’t say who, but he said we were chosen by Fate to live again and find each other.”

“Time didn’t mention that to me.” Harry mumbled into his pillow. “This is all so ruddy confusing. I just wanted a chance to speak to my parents, not some Deity.”

“I mean, you did say it would be cool to speak to one this summer.” Neville half joked. Harry snorted. 

“Karma must be a bitch then.” Neville hugged a laugh. 

“Must be.” The two boys fell into a peaceful silence, each others breathing eventually making them tired. 

“Hey, mate.” They heard from outside the bed. Neville, using his vine, moved the curtain aside. “Got room for one more?”

“Cmon Ron.” Harry said as they scooted over. For the first time in a while, the three boys felt truly complete. 

Chapter Text

Something was stirring in the castle, Albus realised. Not anything dark, but something big. He let out a sigh. Looking at his trinkets, he noted that the one he had monitoring Harry was spinning like crazy. He must be practising with Neville, Albus thought. A house elf had informed him of what the two boys were up to. The elf had seen Harry’s full body illusion. Albus’ heart filled with pride. Oh, if only Severus could see how similar he and his son really were. Harry was mastering a technique that Severus wasn’t able to master until his seventh year! 

Albus wanted Harry to be happy, for him to have a family. Yes, he had Sirius, but that wasn’t the actual father Harry needed. It would do for now of course. Harry was happy, and away from the Dursleys. That’s all that mattered. 

Now, he just needed to have that meeting with Ms. Granger

Hermione was conflicted. Yes, she was happy for Harry and the fact he was making new friends, but she missed him. She hated to say it, she missed Ron too. She tried to convince herself that they were boys and they needed their space, but no one had spoken to her in class, or asked for her help on assignments, or even talked about sneaking out. Ron, Harry, and Neville of all people were thicker than thieves.

“I can’t believe you actually talked me into this.” She heard. It was Ron, his voice was always recognizable. 

“Come on, Ron. You said you’d do it, now you have to.” Harry said with a laugh.

“Do what?” Hermione asked. All three boys (Neville had followed the two boys through the portrait) froze slightly.

“Umbridge’s duelling club.” Hermione’s face lit up.

“Oh why didn’t you tell me! There’s a lot to be done! I knew she couldn’t be that bad of a teacher.”

“Hermione,” Neville started. “You aren’t, well, what I mean is, you can’t go. It’s invite only.” Hermione paused in pulling out her defence book.

“Why wouldn’t I be invited?” She asked slowly. “I’m top of the class?”

“Well, actually, Harry is. And you aren’t invited because you’re a muggleborn.” Harry cuffed Ron on the back of his head.

“Hermione, wait, sit down.” Harry said. “That’s not how Ron meant to phrase it.”

“It sure seemed like it. Who would have thought Ronald could be involved in that.”

“Oi! I’m not, would you sit down and let us explain?” Hermione turned a glare on the redheaded boy, expecting to see him flinch. That would show him how angry she was. Except, he didn’t. He just rolled his eyes.

“Hermione, Umbridge only cares about status. We had to fight tooth and nail to get her to include a ‘blood traitor’ into the club. I was pulling lies out of my arse to get her to believe Ron wanted to be a part of the ‘right sort’.” Harry explained.

“So you’ll fight tooth and nail for Ron but not for me? Fine.” Hermione stomped up the stairs, leaving three very confused teenage boys below.

“Well, that could have gone better.” Neville said, voice small. 

“Not really the time, Nev.” Ron remarked, tongue like sandpaper in his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to upset Hermione, but what he said was true. It wasn’t prejudice, just a fact of Umbridge’s sad life.

“Isn’t it better this way, though?” Neville asked. “If Umbridge actually thinks we don’t get along then maybe she’ll leave Hermione alone.”

“That's the thing, mate, we aren’t getting along.”

“Come on Ron, it’s just like us in fourth year. We didn’t start talking again until after the first task.”

“I guess that's true. I just don’t understand why she’s upset. It’s not like we’re blood purists or something stupid like that.”

“It's because we’re choosing to be around one. Hell, she was the same way during our study groups.” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Was she really?” Ron asked. 

“Yeah, I love ‘mione but she acts like only her opinion can be right. Now come on, let's go get our books so me and Nev can show you our room!”

“Wait, you actually have a room?” Harry just gave his friend a big grin.

“Harry go and show him the trick!” Neville exclaimed, jittery from excitement. Harry hadn’t shown Daphne or Blaise his little illusion trick yet. Ron was special to the both of them. Ever since Ron had started spending time with him and Harry, Neville felt more powerful. He knew Harry and Ron felt it too. They even pushed Ron and Harry’s beds together so the three of them would have a large enough bed to sleep in. And if they fell asleep, pinkies intertwined, who was there to see?

“Alright, alright. Ron, close your eyes.” Harry told his friend. Ron rolled his eyes but closed them eventually. He was a bit jealous of Harry, though he would never admit it outloud. Still, how cool would it be to practise his inheritance? Mum had said he had to wait until he graduated, which Ron didn’t think was fair. He knew dad was helping the twins with theirs, and that both of his parents had helped Bill and Charlie, so why was he not getting any help?

“Okay, open.” Harry said. It sounded like Harry was still in front of him. He opened his eyes, and there Harry stood. Except, well, Harry was also beside him!

“Bloody hell Harry!” Ron exclaimed. Harry and Neville both laughed, and the Harry in front of him flickered a bit. “Illusion magic?” He asked.

“Yep! Harry’s getting so good at it! He can hold up a full body illusion for a whole minute now, and he's even starting to be able to get the illusion in different places!” Neville answered for him. Harry flushed pink and Ron smiled. He was jealous, yes, but Harry was working hard for this. He just hoped he would be able to catch up when he turned seventeen.

“Come off it Nev, I’m not that good. Anyways, Ron, wanna join us in practising?” Harry asked his friend. It was Ron’s turn to flush.

“I don’t know mate, how would I be able to practise with you two? I don’t, well I’m not an enchanter.”

“That's totally fine, Ron. That just makes it more fun.”

“Yeah! And we don’t mind owls ordering you books or going through the library for you.” Neville offered.

“Even if it's Apotropaic magic?” Ron asked hesitantly.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we?” Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend while Neville rolled his eyes good naturedly.

“Well, Apotropaic magic is kind of volatile, and it’s not easy to master.” Ron explained. “Most of my family bar Charlie have an inheritance in conjuration. Charlie got one in Divination, Runes specifically I think.”

“Ron, I killed a plant a couple weeks ago because I put too much magic behind my magic. Harry had to give me a calming drought and consol me for another hour afterwards. If anyone can help you, it’s Harry.”

“And Neville’s Evocation is practically perfect for giving us a little more energy behind our spells, or even tapping into our magic and taking some of it away. You’ll do great, Ron. I promise.” Harry reassured. 

Somewhere in Ron’s heart, something clicked. He hadn’t heard those words before. Hearing them from people he considered to be his brothers was something else. It was like, if all three of them stayed together they could solve every problem in the world. Harry’s eyes had a bright shine in them, and Neville looked like he would burst into song. Ron gave them a large smile.

“When do we start?”

“Hello students!” Umbridge spoke to the class. There were about thirty kids, ranging from year four through seven. Mostly pureblood, as it should be, but she also included the more magically powerful half bloods, like Potter or Davis. 

“Good evening Professor Umbridge!” They chorused.

“Wonderful, wonderful. As you all know, there were a few complaints about how I taught my class, mostly by the unsavoury sort.” This got a few laughs out of the pure blood students. “Thankfully, Mr. Potter had a wonderful idea to start this duelling club. Mr. Potter, would you come up here and tell them your plan?” 

“Right, well,” Harry stuttered a bit. “It’s a bit unfair, in my opinion, that every student be allowed to partake in magic they have no right to be doing. I mean, only the best of us will become someone. The rest, well, let's just say that some people are meant to be errand boys for the rest of their lives.” This got another few laughs out of the students. Harry’s mouth tasted like ash.

“You can’t be talking, Potter! Plaguing yourself with blood traitors and muggle loving freaks!” He heard a voice shout. Malfoy.

“Let’s just say, Malfoy, that I was able to figure out the right sort after all. Better late than never, I suppose.” Harry saw the way his scowl turned into a smirk, and Harry wanted nothing more than to punch it off his slimy face. He heard a gasp, and everyone turned to look at the source of the sound. Hermione.

“Ms. Granger, you were not invited to this meeting. What are you doing here?”

“Harry, you can’t mean that! The right sort? Really? What does that even entail?” Hermione asked, voice getting higher and higher with every word. Harry clicked his tongue and looked at Ron and Neville. He was helpless, but they needed to be here.

“Just leave, Granger.” Ron said quietly. The room was silent though, and his words seemed to ring out.

“Ron!” She yelled.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor for not answering a professor, Ms. Granger. And detention, tomorrow night, for not listening to your betters.” The class laughed, Harry, Ron, and Neville laughing alongside them. Harry saw the hurt in his friend's eyes. ‘If she can understand this, I'll forgive her like I forgave Ron.’ Harry thought to himself. Though, it was far easier to forgive Ron, especially since he made an effort to understand why Harry was hurt by their actions. Hermione just didn’t get him. Sure, they got along well when Harry was studious or interested in a topic, but it had to be something she was interested in. If it wasn’t, he and Ron heard the biggest earful in the world. Even bigger than the howler Mrs. Weasley sent Ron in their second year.

Honestly, Harry just wanted this year to be peaceful.

Hermione let out a choked noise and left the classroom, snickers and whispers following her.

“Well, now that the excitement is over, I say we get to the actual fun!” Umbridge announced. “Now, split off into pairs, and try to stick to the ministry guide book spells. However, if you go off by accident, I won’t snitch.” The pink toad winked at the class. Harry had to fight to keep his emotions off his face. Ron looked green. Everyone quickly split off into pairs.

“Potter! You’re with me.” Malfoy practically growled. Neville and Ron both placed their hands on Harry’s shoulders, but he shrugged them off. His heart ached with happiness at the thought of someone protecting them, but he could fight his own battles damnit!

“Lead the way, Malfoy.” Harry spoke, confidence oozing out of every pore. Did he feel it? Absolutely not! He and Neville had gone over basic duelling spells the night before, Ron joining them to talk about random charms and transfigurations that could be used to throw off an opponent. But would it work on someone like Malfoy?

“Wands at the ready boys!” A seventh year announced. He didn’t know who she was. She was a Hufflepuff though, hopefully a fair judge.

“Scared, Pottah?” 

“You wish.”

Harry didn’t know who casted the first spell.

“Blimey Ron, look at them go!” Neville said, stopping their duel to turn and look at their friend. Harry was, holy hell, he was something else. Spells of all colours seemed to zoom around them both, but when they flew past Harry , wow. It was like time itself was bending so Harry wouldn’t get hit.

“Time,” Neville muttered to himself.

“What?” Ron questioned, but Neville was back to staring at Harry, at his brother. Harry Potter was powerful, even at fifteen. It seemed the whole room noticed it. Almost all the mock duels had stopped. What Harry was doing… this wasn’t a mock anything. They were duelling to show who was superior, and Harry was winning . 

Malfoy looked horrid, in Neville's stellar opinion. He was hit by a nasty cutting hex, deep enough that even Ron winced for the blonde pounce. Harry was aiming to maim, aiming to show he was better, stronger than Malfoy would ever know. Stronger than Malfoy would ever dream to be. Harry was dangerous. 

Ron on the other hand was enthralled with the power Harry was exuding. The way his green eyes shone, a colour somewhere in between forest green and- who was Ron kidding he didn’t know colours, but Harry’s eyes were bright and stunning and etherall all wrapped up in one. He was proud to call someone like Harry his brother.

“Reitus!” Malfoy yelled out. Neville didn’t know the spell, but Ron did. It was a spell that Charlie would use every now and then for dragons who needed to be broken in. Literally. It was a bone breaking curse!

Neville watched, fearful, as Harry clutched at his left arm. Not his wand arm, thankfully, but that was all there was to be grateful for. There was no way Malfoy would be allowed to cast that! Except, he was. Neville saw the look on Umbridge’s face and knew she was going to allow it.

“ Defenuro Refinitus !” Harry shouted back. A light purple shield began to cover Harry, startling Malfoy. “ Exteulso! Expelliarmus! ” 

The expelling charm, both ways, Ron noted as Malfoy began vomiting a crude mixture of blood and his lunch. One used on sick children to clear their stomach, another to take Malfoy’s wand away. A good mix of spells. Hermione was gonna be so jealous she missed this. Ron’s heart throbbed, but he tried to push the feeling away. He would explain it to Hermione, and if he couldn’t, Neville or Harry could.

“Well class, it’s my pleasure to announce Mr. Potter as the winner of this duel! Now, yip yip! Get back to your own duels.” Everyone grudgingly turned back to their own matches, but very few people were paying attention or giving it their all. How could they compete with the Potter/Malfoy show?

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, please head to the infirmary, both of you look like you’re going to collapse. Tut tut..” both boys nodded, neither having enough energy to fight with one another about being sent off at the same time. Malfoy was pale, sometimes gagging on nothing. Potter’s whole left arm was black and blue, the bruising and broken bones leading up into his shoulder.

“That’s a nasty bone breaking curse you’ve got there.” Harry remarked as the two boys made their way to Madam Pomfrey.

“Going to give me a lesson on how dark of a spell it is, Potter?” Harry snorted, regretting the action when it jostled his arm.

“I used Defenuro Refinitus , I have no room to talk.” Harry said to the pissed blonde. “You’re pretty good with accuracy, if I hadn’t dodged that would have hit my right arm instead. Not even Neville’s that accurate.”

“Comparing me to Longbottom, Potter?” Malfoy said with a sneer. Harry just rolled his eyes.

“Yes, actually. I’m saying you’re more accurate than him.” Malfoy said nothing, and Harry took it as a win. They walked through Madam Pomfrey’s doors together. 

“Oh yes, hello- by God! Both of you boy’s get in here!” The old medi-witch exclaimed. “What happened to you both?” Instantly, Harry and Malfoy were placed in side-by-side beds, neither looking at the other.

“We both got a bit out of hand during our duel, Madam. Nothing wicked or mean.” Malfoy answered.

“Illegal duelling? I should write you two boys up for that!”

“Illegal? Oh no, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Umbridge was leading it. Like Draco said, it was just a duel that got a bit overpowered. I wanted to see what new spells he could cast.” Draco sent him a mild glare when Pomfrey’s back was turned.

“It’s true, I wanted to see how Harry’s shield would hold up.” It was Harry’s turn to glare. Madam Pomfrey just tsked.

“I’m keeping you both overnight. Mr. Malfoy, your stomach lining is completely charred, so you’ll need to be on a steady potion regime. Mr. Potter, your bones will need to be vanished and regrown with how shattered they are. So boys, you’re both stuck in here with me for the next few days.” Both boys began to protest, but Pomfrey’s glare shut them up.

“I’ll hear none of it, young men! You put yourself in this predicament, you will suffer the consequences. Honestly, fifth year's, duelling?” Madam Pomfrey began muttering to herself as she made her way to her office. 

“This is your fault, Potter.” Malfoy hissed.

“Oh shut it, Malfoy. If you hadn’t broken every bone in my arm-”

“Well if you hadn’t burnt through my stomach-”

“BOYS!” Madam’s voice rang out. Not another word was shared between them the entire night.

Hey Pup!

I know you told me to keep an open mind when you sent me your last letter, but wow. I mean, confirming to slytherin standards because of a duelling club? I would have just started my own instead. Maybe you should try that instead, I mean Flitwick would approve and sponsor it. 

I’m glad you’re feeling better though, but you should definitely drop the pink bitch and apologise to Hermione. I mean, y’all are friends, why can’t she be included in this club? I know you’re only pretending to be better than her, but is anyone really better than Hermione? She is the top of the class for a reason.

Write to me soon, kid.

Padfoot.

Harry crumbled the letter in his hand. Of all people, he thought Sirius would understand. Like, seriously, it was a class that was being provided. And to compare him to Hermione ? Sure she was book smart and could cast spells like no other, but Harry was more magically powerful. He shook his head. No, that way of thinking would just drive a further wedge in between them. He passed the letter to Neville, shaking his head. Hopefully Grandma and Grandpa would understand.

Dearest Harry,

Young man you know you can write to us whenever you want, and as often as you want! Don’t feel like you have to wait for us to reply, if you have something to tell us, tell us!

Now, onto your last letter. I know I’ve told you this before, but I was a Slytherin back in the olden days. Your grandfather was a puff, and he always will be through and through. Even then, we both agree that this was the best path to take with this professor. Sometimes you have to hide who you really are to survive. But Harry, you mustn’t forget who you really are. You are kind, helpful, and so talented. You are strong, Harry. 

Keep those two boys, Ron and Neville, with you. They’re good for you. I do hope that that Hermione girl is a good enough friend to actually listen to you and that you two make up. But remember, it’s not the end of the world if you two don’t. There are so many wonderful people around you, don’t feel like you have to maintain a friendship that's just going to bring you down.

You better be focusing on those owls, Harry! Don’t make me send a howler to remind you.

Grandpa’s currently manning the counter, but he sends his regards. We wanted to get you this letter as soon as possible.

Much love,

Grandma Mary and Grandpa Tom

Harry smiled at the letter. At least they understood, and that meant a lot to Harry. He felt a bit guilty, having such different opinions of the adults close to him. What could he do though? If he could fool Umbridge, he could fool the world, and then everyone would get off his back. Then he could have the peaceful year he deserved. 

“Rough luck mate.” Ron chimed in as Neville handed him his letter. Harry sent his friend a weak glare, but Ron was right. It was simply rough luck that Sirius didn’t agree with his plan.

“Why’s he acting like Hermione’s all you need in life? I mean, we’re clearly right here.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Come on, you know it’s true Harry!” Harry pushed Neville’s head away with a small grin.

“Hey mate, speaking of Hermione, can I join your study group?” Ronald asked.

“How does that relate to Hermione?” Neville deadpanned.

“You know, she’s smart, she is, well was in the group. It was related to her. I think.” Harry and Neville burst into laughter, laughing harder when Ron tried to question them.

“Never change, Ron.” Neville said, wiping tears from his eyes. Harry was beside him, clutching his stomach. It wasn’t like Ron was purposely funny, he was just Ron. That made the stomach pains worth it.

“Come, come on.” Harry gestured to Ron when he finished catching his breath. “We were gonna head there anyway.” The walk to the library was filled with stifled laughter.

“Weasley,” Daphne said as the group of three approached. Harry rolled his eyes while Neville excused himself for a moment. Another nose bleed. Neville had been having a lot of those recently, and Harry was a bit worried for his friend. Neville swore it was the ritual, but if it was then why wasn’t Harry having any? Oh well, hopefully Neville was telling the truth.

“He’s going to be joining us, Daph.” Harry said as they sat down. “He completes the set.” 

Daphne and Blaise stared at each other for a moment, faces revealing very little of what they were feeling. Of course, Harry had told them all about Time, and Neville with Death. Ron stared, confused, but Blaise just nodded.

“Well, let’s just hope he’s not as bad as Granger.”

“What happened with Hermione?” Ron asked. Daphne was happy to tell the tale. As they talked, Harry took in his calm surroundings. The Hogwarts Library was bathed in the warm glow of enchanted lanterns, casting soft light on rows upon rows of ancient tomes and mystical texts. The tables were arranged in a quiet corner, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of other students. All of them knew that the five of them made an unlikely group. If you had walked by them, you probably would have stared

Harry, wearing his familiar glasses and a determined expression, flipped through a book on advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, his finger tracing the text as he absorbed the information. Ron, sitting next to him, was attempting to decipher a complex ward scripture, his brow furrowed in concentration. They had started him on books right away.

Neville, seated across from them, was deep in thought, poring over a book about magical plants. He occasionally glanced up to offer a supportive smile to his friends, eager to contribute his knowledge in Herbology if needed.

At the other end of the table, Daphne Greengrass was immersed in a book about ancient magical rituals, her silvery-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder as she took meticulous notes. Blaise Zabini, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence, was reading a book on magical theory, occasionally interjecting with insightful observations.

“Theoretically, we could bomb the whole world.”

“Blaise, no-”

As the minutes turned into hours, the camaraderie among the group became evident. Harry would share a fascinating detail he had stumbled upon, prompting Ron to put aside his potion book and join in the discussion. Neville's insights about the magical properties of certain plants often sparked discussions that ranged from practical application to theoretical possibilities.

Daphne's knowledge of obscure rituals added an unexpected dimension to the group's studies, while Blaise's insights into the intricacies of magic tied the various subjects together. Despite their diverse backgrounds and houses, the study group's members found themselves united by a common goal: to excel in their studies and gain a deeper understanding of magic.

Occasionally, the group would pause to take a breather. Ron would bring out a bag of chocolate frogs and jokingly complain about the difficulty of warding, prompting laughter and light bickering. “If you had just taken Arithmancy and ancient runes!” Neville would share a humorous anecdote from his Herbology class, lightening the atmosphere. Daphne and Blaise would exchange subtle glances that hinted at a deeper connection between them.

As the evening wore on, the library's lanterns began to dim, signaling that closing time was approaching. With reluctant sighs, the group packed up their books and notes, realising that their study session had come to an end. 

They knew they’d be back there tomorrow, hiding in the same corner, away from the world, laughing, arguing, and just being able to relax. They might not be the most common group of friends, but they worked well together, even without Hermione.

Chapter Text

It was dark in the hallway. He slithered this way and that. He could smell his prey, smell his master's enemies. Smell who he needed to kill. 

He flicked his tongue out. There!

With barley a hiss, his teeth sunk into the leg of the man, biting through cloth. It wasn’t enough. He released his teeth. More, the man needed more. How dare he go against his Master? Master was all powerful! Crunch. Master was the greatest wand wielder in the world! Crunch. Master would be pleased with him. He slithered over the mans crying, snivelling form. Pathetic. Until-

Mr. Weasley! Harry thought. He had just attacked his best mate's dad! Oh but his Master would be so very pleased, Master would love that he gave into the temptation! His venom would flood the man- no no no NO!

Come back to me, my sweet , he heard in his head. It burned, the pain in his forehead burned. He was going to explode, he was going to die. Yet it felt so delicious, this magic running its hand over his scales. 

Where was he? Who was he? This didn’t make sense. He needed to get out of here, he needed to wake up, this had to be a dream. He needed to tell Ron. He needed to figure out where the hell he was-

Come to me, Nagini. My wonderful creature of the night .

Nagini's mind was a tumultuous blend of emotions and thoughts as she slithered by Voldemort's side, his praise echoing in her consciousness. The memory of her previous life as a woman, her autonomy and identity, had been overshadowed by the Horcrux's influence. She struggled to reconcile her past self with her present state as Voldemort's loyal serpent and Horcrux. 

As Voldemort's cold, sibilant voice resonated through her mind, Nagini felt a mix of pride and submission. His words were like dark melodies, playing upon her desire for recognition and purpose. She had become an essential part of his sinister plans, a living vessel for a fragment of his soul. While the human emotions she had once cherished were distant echoes, a small part of her still yearned for his approval. 

Harry was both disgusted and enthralled. Something connected him to Voldemort, he realised. There was no way that he wasn’t some normal kid who had been targeted by Voldemort. Nagini, my sweet, the voice called again. 

Voldemort's praise fed into that yearning, validating her loyalty to him. His acknowledgment of her contributions to his cause stoked the flickering flames of her devotion. His words seemed to seep into her very being, twisting her thoughts and desires until they aligned with his own. She was both a weapon and an extension of his will, a willing participant in his quest for power and domination. Her master, she loved her master-

Harry flung himself out of bed, gagging. He ripped off the covers, almost flying down the stairwell to McGonagall's office. It was closer than Dumbledores. As he ran, he tried to shake off the lingering darkness in his mind, the power surging through his veins. Something was wrong with him. Fleeting memories of laughter, friendship, and the warmth of human connections resided in the corners of his consciousness. They weren’t his memories, no, they were Nagini’s. Was she a human once? Was that the purpose of holding onto memories that were barely fragile threads?

“Mr. Potter! What are you doing up at this hour!” McGonagall demanded after Harry banged on her door.

“Mr. Weasley’s been attacked, he was in this hallway, and Voldemort's Snake, Nagini- I, he’s been attacked! Someone needs to go help him!” 

“Mr. Potter those are serious-”

“Please!” Harry practically screamed. Harry didn’t know if it was the look in his eyes, or his tone, or if McGonagall had taken pity on him, but she nodded.

“I’ll fire call Molly. Go to Dumbeldore.” And Harry was off.

As he ran through Hogwarts windy walls, Voldemort's words rose quickly into his mind. My sweet he had said, and part of Harry had liked it, had wanted more of it. It disgusted him, he disgusted himself. 

No matter how much Harry shook his head, or dug his nails into his palms, Voldemort's praise could never completely erase itself from his mind. Harry’s mind was trying to crush down the intoxicating allure of serving the Dark Lord. It wasn’t him! It was that damn Snake. Yet they were somehow connected. 

The gargoyle jumped aside and Harry clamoured around the corner. Up another flight of stairs he went. HE slammed open the door.

“Professor! Mr. Weasley! He’s been attacked!”

“Breath, Harry. Breath. What do you mean?” Dumbledore questioned.

“The hallway,” he gasped for breath. “I’ve been dreaming of the hallway, and this time I saw Mr. Weasley. He was, the snake-” Harry gasped again. “Please!”

“Dumbledore!” Harry heard from behind him. McGonagall. “Arthur was on duty tonight and hasn’t answered Molly’s patronus!” Dumbledore's face hardened as he stood up.

“This is serious, Minerva. Go and get their children. Send them home early, use your floo. Harry, please stay here.”

“But sir!” Harry objected. 

“No, Harry, it isn’t safe for you right now. Who knows what else you might see. We need you here for your safety. I will be back with news.” And both teachers left the room, grim looks on their faces.

Hermione had talked about the five stages of grief once. He didn’t believe that was true, denial coming first and all that. He knew that he was the one who attacked Mr. Weasley, even if he wasn’t actually there. Harry was in the snakes mind, Harry had felt her thoughts caress his own, had felt Voldemort's sinful words slide over his back-

Harry vomited. Then he did it again. Voldemort's words were in his head, calling, caressing, and crucifying him over and over again. He must be some sick and twisted freak to have like what Voldemort had said to him. He tried to tell himself that it was Nagini, the snake who liked it all. But wasn’t he the snake? He was, deep down. Everytime Voldemort's words flickered in his mind, his head pounded and his magic flared. Something was happening, something was wrong- how long had he been on the floor? Where was he? He-he killed someone! He killed his best mate's dad!

“Harry, mate, I know you don’t have a flare for the dramatics but it’s starting to seem like you do.” Harry heard. The voice was murky, as if the person speaking was far away.

“Ron don’t be an Arse, he’s been out for two days.”

“He saved my dads bloody life, he needs to wake up so I can thank him.”

“I killed him..” Harry muttered. He felt a hand running through his hair. It was Neville. He had a distinct chunk missing from his palm from a plant that had attacked him summer of fourth year. Harry could recognise it anywhere.

“Killed who- Harry you saved my dad!” Ron jostled his shoulder. Harry just let out a pathetic moan, head slumping over on his shoulder.

“Ron you don’t understand-”

“Then explain it to me!” 

“Ronald!” Harry heard. Could that be- “Honestly, he’s just woken up from passing out, give him room to breathe.”

“‘Mione, he was out cold for two days.” 

“She’s right, Ron.” Neville chimed in. Harry was already fast asleep. 

When he woke up again, it was not his friends beside him, but Dumbledore.

“Hello, my boy.” Dumbledore said, voice quite. Harry was suddenly blessed with the image of Dumbledore knitting a sweater. Ha, funny brain.

“Where am I, Professor?” Harry asked, voice scratchy. Before Harry could even bring a hand to his throat, Dumbledore was handing him a glass of water. He chugged it gratefully.

“You’re here in Grimmauld place, Harry. You were unresponsive for two days.” Dumbeldore shook his head. Before Harry could apologise to the man, Dumbledore looked at him again. “Harry, I’m so sorry for just leaving you there. If I had been there- well I guess there's no use in suffering on what could have been, but Harry I am truly sorry.”

“It’s fine, Professor.” Harry mumbled, embarrassed to have such a strong teacher apologising to him. Dumbledore did nothing wrong.

“If I may ask, Harry, what let you in on the fact that Mr. Weasley had been attacked?”

Harry said nothing for a few moments, formulating words in his head and trying to see whether he could pronounce them outloud. How could he tell Dumbledore what he had done?

“I dreamed of it, sir.” Harry answered quietly. Dark thoughts tried slipping into his brain, Voldemort's sickly sweet words spinning round and round.

“Dreams you say? Curious, very curious.”

“You sound like Olivander.” Harry couldn’t help but interject. Dumbledore just chuckled.

“My mother always said that the older people get, the closer they start to sound.” A soft quiet lapsed around then. “If that’s all, Harry, I will send Sirius in.” Dumbledore gave Harry’s arm a warm pat and he made his way out the door.

“I was the snake.” Harry said quietly.

“Pardon?” Asked Dumbledore, face revealing nothing when Harry looked through his bangs. He couldn’t unhang his head, not if he was going to admit to this.

“Nagini, the snake that attacked Mr. Weasley was called Nagini. And she- and I-” Harry hiccuped, tears slowly filling his eyes.

“Harry, it’s alright. If it’s too painful we can speak about it another time.” Dumbeldore sat on the edge of his bed. His bed, in Sirius’ house, and- what if he hurt Sirius? What if he transformed into Nagini and attacked his friends- he needed to be put down.

“I was Nagini, I attacked Mr. Weasley.”

“Harry, you couldn’t have been the snake. Unless you somehow managed to get from the Ministry of Magic to Hogwarts and back inside undetected, I can guarantee it wasn’t you.” Dumbeldore reassured.

“You don’t understand, you didn’t feel the way he did, his magic washed over me- over nagini, over us! It was so vile, but it was delicious. It was so good and I wanted more, I felt like I could overdose on it and die happy. That’s not me! I’m not evil or vile or disgusting.” A choked sob left Harry’s throat, and his fingers itched to wrap around it. He would do that at the Dursley’s when he cried, just to make sure no one heard him. “And in your office- even now his words are still in my head! Calling me to him, telling me to come home . He’s not my home, but everytime I hear his voice my magic spikes. I can feel it in my bones, in my heart, Dumbledore something is wrong with me. I-” Warm, filled arms wrapped around Harry’s shoulders. He blinked. Curly black hair.

“Pup, you aren’t evil or wicked or mean or vile or anything. What you went through- Harry you are so strong. So strong for talking about it, for making the move to tell Dumbeldore.” Sirius rubbed circles into Harry’s back. Harry clutched at the man's shirt, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and soaking the fine material. 

“Sirius- I” 

“Shh, Harry. It’s okay, you’re home. You’re home with me. That’s all that matters.” Neither one noticed when Dumbledore left the room.

“What if I hurt you, Sirius? What if I turn into some horrible snake and kill you?” 

“Even if you did, Harry, you are my son. That’s all that matters. Plus, hospitals are a thing. And I’m pretty sure Dumbeldore would force Snivellus to make the antidote for me.”

“He’d probably make it wrong to poison you more.” Harry said bitterly. Sirius let out a small laugh.

“Maybe. Then I’d have to come back as a ghost and haunt him for life. Maybe I’d be a poltergeist. Blow up his potions lab every thursday.”

“Only on thursdays?” Harry asked, a small smile forming on his face.

“Of course, I have to have enough time to prank everyone else!” Sirius smiled into Harry’s hair as the fifteen year old laughed. Yeah, Harry would be okay. Maybe not now, but eventually. Sirius would just have to help him get better.

“Severus.” The man just walked away from the door, ignoring the man. “The boy will never be yours if you continue to act like this.”

“I don’t want that pathetic boy.” Snape sneered. He kept on walking.

But oh how lovely it would be to have someone to comfort again.

After Dumbledore was sure Harry was well enough to get up, Harry, Neville, and Ron instantly found themselves in the library. Oftentimes accompanied by Sirius and Hermione. Which leads us to our current predicament.

“Ronald! Honestly, studying such volatile magic at such a young age! What if you got hurt? What if you got Harry hurt?” Hermione asked one morning, rubbing a hand through her curls. 

“That’s what Nev’s for, of course!” Neville clicked his tongue in mock annoyance, throwing his charms book at Ron’s head.

“Still, this is very irresponsible! Harry, you can’t be okay with this.” She rounded on Harry. The green-eyed boy sighed, closing his book. He didn’t want to get into a row with Hermione, but he had some pent up frustration that he would love to release. Not that it was healthy, but Hermione was practically asking for it. 

“Hermione, I’m the one who pressured him into practising with us. It just made sense.” The three boys shared a look.

“And why wasn’t I invited?” She asked, a mixture of hurt and annoyance in her eyes.

“We did invite you, multiple times. Not like we can say ‘oh come practice super hard magic in an unused classroom with us. We invited you to practise transfiguration and you said no.” Harry responded, rubbing a hand over his face. Sirius was sitting quietly (for once) by the entrance of the library. Sirius seeing him lose his temper was not on Harry’s to do list for the day.

“I thought you meant transfiguration! Not some advanced sort of magic that you have no need to be practising!” 

“What do you mean by that, Hermione?” Neville said icily. Fhozite, Nevilles vine friend, was poised around Nevilles finger like a snake. 

“You know what I mean.” She shot back, arms crossed.

“No, I don’t think we do Hermione. Spell it out for us since we are oh so stupid.” Ron said with a glare. Sirius stood up, ready to intervene.

“This! This is what I mean! You’re so quick to anger, to annoy, that you don’t need to be practising malevolent magic! It’s dark magic!” Hermione practically shrieked.

“How is it dark magic?!” Harry rounded on her. “Neville can make things grow, Ron is so bloody good at Rune’s it's insane! I can make illusions of anything I want! How is that dark magic?”

“They all have dark sources! Neville could kill plants, Ron could make wards that disintegrate people, Harry could, well I guess yours is just silly illusions-”

“Silly?” Harry asked, a deep calm settling over him. That’s right my sweet, that's right. Words settled in Harry’s head. Hermione was still talking, Neville and Ron both interrupting her. Harry couldn’t hear them. 

Show them how powerful you really are, Harrison…

Magic slowly rose around him, filling his senses. It wasn’t often he got like this. It was once before, after a bad confrontation with Malfoy that had made his skin itch, made his magic flare. Nothing had been wrong then, but now that Harry had such comforting words in his head-

“Harry no!”

Magic exploded around Harry, not caring who it was supposed to hit. Was it even supposed to hit someone? A long snake made its way to Hermione. Nagini, Harry released. With a jolt of fear, Harry reigned in his magic, trying to pull everything back into him like he was breathing. It wasn’t working, Nagini was still making her way to Hermione and she sat there not moving. Fear passed through her eyes when she looked up at Harry.grazed Hermione’s 

“Finite Incantatem!” He heard a voice yell. The snake lunged. As Nagini’s teeth began to graze Hermione's neck, she faded away in a colourless display of sparkles. 

“Harry!” He heard Neville yell. Harry looked up at his friend. Worry was evident in his eyes. Ron was next to him too, grabbing his shoulders before his knees gave out.

“Attacking your friends now, Potter?” He heard a voice sneer. “Oh how the mighty fall.” Anger flooded Harry’s veins again, but Neville’s and Ron’s grounding hands kept his magic from lashing out. It was as if the three of them shared one magical core. It was much more stable when they were all around each other. Harry didn’t deem Snape worthy of a response.

“Hermione, do you see why we have to practise? Why do we have to learn this magic? I can’t just- I’m sorry, Hermione.” Harry ended lamely.

“Oh Harry-” She tried to get closer to him, but she stopped short. Ron and Neville were glaring at her. Harry shrugged them off, just for a moment, and opened his arms wide for his bushy haired friend.

“Harry I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I would ever say something like that. You have every right to practise magic, and just because I can’t doesn’t mean it's bad. Harry, I'm so sorry.” Hermione sniffled into his shirt. Harry patted her back, Neville and Ron eventually joining in on the hug. “I’m sorry to you guys too. I shouldn't have called you stupid or idiotic, because you aren’t. You are all so strong and smart but you- you guys are doing so well without me I didn’t know what to do.”

“Of course we need you, ‘mione. You understand topics-” Someone cleared their throat. It was Snape. “Sir we’re having a moment, please wait. Now Hermione, you can understand topics better than anyone we know! Your research skills are unparalleled, and you just get magic in ways none of us understand. You just don’t understand wizarding things. That's okay! If you try to learn, we’ll teach you.” Hermione sniffled some more, leaning into the hug more. Unbeknownst to them, Snape was seething. 

How dare those insolent brats ignore him!

“Ah, Harry!” The group heard. It was Dumbledore. “I’m so glad I found you, I need to talk to you and Severus soon.” Harry tensed up, Neville tensing up with him.

“Why, professor?” Harry asked.

“Ah, I’m afraid it's for your ears only.” So it was probably ‘family’ talk. Bloody fucking hell. He just attacked his friend with magic and was now going to have the big bad family talk.

“Hermione, I really am sorry.” Harry told his friend. She gave him a watery smile and gave his shoulder a little pat. 

“I’m fine Harry, I shouldn’t have, yeah. It’s not your fault.” Wasn’t it though?

“Harry, I know that this might not seem like the wisest plan-”

“You’re bloody right it's not! Sticking my son with that git-” Sirius interrupted the headmaster, hands slamming onto the table. They were in Sirius’ father’s office, a beautifully decorated place, even if it was covered in that same sticky disgusting dark magic.

“If you remember correctly, Black, he came from my loins-”

“Don’t speak of your bloody loins in front of my son!”

“Severus deserves some time with Harry, Sirius.” Dumbledore stated plainly. Harry sat quietly on the couch. It was comfortable, but everything about the atmosphere in the room was too awkward to enjoy.

“This isn’t spending time with him! This is tearing into his mind to teach him some mind magic that could be resolved with a magical object. No, he’s not doing it.” Sirius stated with finality.

“Harry must, Sirius. I believe Voldemort is trying to possess Harry.” 

The room dropped ten degrees.

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, anger no longer pulsating around the room. Instead, confusion and fear took its place.

“It’s exactly as he said, Black.” Snape sneered. Sirius snarled at the man, wand at the ready.

“Boys!” Dumbledore boomed. “Maybe it was a mistake to have you in here, Sirius. I thought you could handle this as an adult, as Harry’s father.” Sirius filled with satisfaction when Snape bristled, but his eyes and tone were still hard.

“No, because then Harry would have taken it as punishment for something he couldn’t control.”

“That's exactly what this is, Sirius. Training so he has some control.” 

“Ah yes, because the great Harry Potter can tell the future from dreams.” Snape said, none too quietly. Sirius growled, deep in his throat. Harry’s heart pumped with happy satisfaction. For all of Sirius’ flaws, he protected him like a father should protect his son, and that’s all Harry could ever ask for.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Snape.” Sirius snapped.

“He’s right, Severus. It isn’t just dreams.” An uncomfortable silence followed, all three adults looking at Harry. Severus sneered. Harry was looking up at Black as if he hung every star in the world, wrote every song, and created magic. It made him sick. Potter was a pathetic, snivelling brat who had no use being his son.

“Harry, do you think you could explain it to Professor Snape?” Dumbledore asked softly. Harry began sweating.

“Not all of it, Pup, I promise. Just the more, uh, important bits.”

“I was the snake. I heard Voldemort talking to me in my head.” Harry’s teeth were clenching, stopping him from biting through his own lip. This is so ruddy awful.

“Lying now, Potter? You want the attention on you that much?” Snape sneered. “You cannot simply become someone else.” Dumbledore held his hand up, stopping the man from speaking anymore. This didn’t stop Harry.

“You’re a right prat, Snape. You weren’t there, you didn’t feel it. Or maybe you do when he crucios the shit out of you. Yeah, I’ve seen the meetings. Did you like how it felt? To have his disgusting dark magic flowing into your brains, begging you to come to him, seek him out?” Harry was standing now, his presence overbearing as his magic and emotions flared. “Does he call you his sweet ? His creature of the night ? No! You don’t! There’s something wrong with me! I thought you’d at least be of some help, being the only person to have survived Voldemorts-” Harry grinned cruelly at Snapes flinch. “-mind powers. But no. You just can’t bear the fact of helping anyone survive.”

“You insolent boy!” Snape roared. 

Now my sweet .

The crystal glasses exploded. Shards embedded themself in everyone in the room. Harry stared, eyeing Snape, not wincing as blood dribbled down his face. Must have got a shard in his face. Snape's stare was as heavy as his own. 

“Harry, you’re bleeding.” Sirius said softly. “Let’s go check your head out, okay?” 

“Yeah, alright.” Harry finally looked away from Snape, eyes angry and tired and oh so through with this. They left in silence.

“You’re losing him, Severus. Faster than you can think.” Dumbledore told the man. He was angry, Severus noted. At what? Probably at him.

“You can’t lose something you’ve never had.” Snape said tersely. 

“But you can always lose something you could have had.”

“You were speaking Parseltongue, Harry.” Sirius mused.

“Was I?” Harry asked dejectedly.

“Yeah. Can you tell me what he said in English?” Sirius rushed to add, “If you’re okay with it.” 

“ My sweet, " he said. “ Creature of the night. ”

“Still Parseltongue, Harry.” Sirius said as he pulled out small pieces of glass in Harry’s temple. They were small, hard to get with magic.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Harry figured his head only ever thought in Parseltongue.

 It was the day before Christmas-eve when Mr. Weasley got released from the hospital.

“Harry!” He had called out to the teen, ready to thank him for his life, to thank him for everything. 

Harry had fled. 

The sight of Arthurs bandaged neck was too much, even for him. Even though he had steeled himself, readied himself to see what he had done to the man, it was too much. Arthur was pale, too pale, for a man who spent weekends outside dealing with gnomes, working in the sun on god knows what. He was thin, thin like Harry was coming back from the Dursleys. Yet he was still so joyful, so happy to see Harry as if Harry hadn’t been the one to try and kill him.

Harry dry heaved into the toilet. 

He did this. He could have ended this family’s life, ended everyone's life. He attacked Mr. Weasley, then Hermione, even hurt Sirius! He was dangerous, too dangerous. He needed out, out now!

“Breath, Harry.” He heard a voice say. “If you don’t breathe you’ll suffocate- get your hands off your neck, now.” His hands were roughly pulled away from his throat, and a choked sob left him.

“I did that to him, I tried to kill Ron’s dad.”

“You didn’t, brat. Quit your mindless self pitying.” This voice didn’t sound like Sirius, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, to see who it was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” The man in front of him got up and left, Harry’s breathing finally calming down. It was quiet. When Harry opened his eyes, he was alone.

“Harry! Where’d you go?” It was Ron.

“Uhm,” Harry looked around. A bathroom. He should know this, he almost threw up in the toilet here. “Bathroom.”

“Dad really wants to see you, mate. Come on. I know it’s scary but he looks so much better.”

That was better? Oh God, what had he done?

“Yeah, I’ll come out.” 

“Good!” A loud voice rang out. Harry smiled despite himself. “I’ve got so much to tell you about.” 

Oh how Harry loved his dad. His Sirius.

“Harry if you don’t come out, I’m coming in!” Sirius yelled in a sing-song voice.

“Oh Daaad! I’m gaaaaay!” Harry joked, opening the door.

“I knew it, you cuddled with Neville far too much.” Ron said sagely, nodding his head.

“Bugger off, Ron!” Harry said with a laugh, pushing Ron’s kissy face away.

“Yeah, who would want Harry’s skinny arse anyway?” Neville joined in, bounding down the stairs.

“Good point, Nev.” Ron said, nodding his head once more.

“Crazy, the lot of y’all.” Sirius said.

All of them were smiling though, which means a little crazy must be okay sometimes.

Christmas at Grimuald was beautiful.

Paper snowflakes held from the normally dapper ceiling. Snow filled reindeers pranced around, sprinkling snow on whatever victim was closest. Red, white, and gold everything hung from every surface. “No green, too snakey.” Sirius had said. 

The rooms were filled with so much life. Harry was filled with so much life.

“Come on mate, open your presents!” Ron nudged. Harry just rolled his eyes. 

“Neville went first on Christmas-eve, he goes first on Christmas.” Harry stated, matter-of-factly. It was Ron’s turn to roll his eyes. Hermione just launched a pillow at the both of them.

“I saw ladies first.” She sniffed. Ginny, sitting next to her, just grinned.

“Youngest lady first!” She yelled, tearing into her presents. Everyone followed suit after that.

Ron’s gifts were bloody amazing. A multitude of books on warding, and even one on spellcraft! Blaise even included a Speaking-Quill, which would trace over the words and read the words to you! The voice was a tad annoying, but Ron was adamant that it was better than reading them himself.

“You better write Blaise, you know how prissy he gets.” Harry said, dodging the chocolate frog one of the twins threw at him.

“Yeah, Mr. Prince cant be left alone without thanks for long. He might combust.” Neville jokes, eyes staring greedily at his newest book, Uslenlit and similar plants, and the poisons they make. Blaise’s note was short and crude. ‘We’ll make a posioner out of you yet, Longbottom.’ Neville just chuckled and used it as a bookmark.

All three boys had received beautiful quill sets from Chlodion's Ink and Quill Store courtesy of Daphne. Both Ron and Harry were playfully insulted by the girl in their letters. ‘Maybe it will help with Ron’s and Harry’s horrid handwriting.’ 

Neville got a sweet ‘Happy Yule, Neville.’

Harry’s favourite gift was from Luna. It was a painting of some sort of sea creature.

It was about the size of a carp, and had two small flippers. Its long dorsal fin and huge muscular tail were what captivated Harry the most. It was a beautiful bronze colour, yet it seemed to fade into white on its underbelly and its dorsal fin. It had a thin nose, like that of a dolphin, but its large, long body was nothing like one. 

At some angles, the creature almost looked skeletal. As if the copper colour fizzled away, leaving only strong bones and cartilage. 

‘These creatures are very territorial, but reside calmly in river banks.’ Luna wrote. ‘The Saffron-Scaled Drever reminded me a lot of you.”

“I thought saffron was yellow.” Hermione remarked, not unkindly. 

“Who knows with Luna.” Harry said, his grin large and happy and bright that Hermione couldn’t comment on anything else.

“Oh! Harry, Ron, we’ve got gifts from Grandpa and Grandma!” Neville shouted, passing the two boys another parcel.

“Grandpa and Grandma?” Mrs. Weasley questioned. 

“Oh, the couple Harry stayed with this summer, they're absolutely wonderful.” Ron told his mother.

“And the chocolate Grandma Mary makes is delicious.”

“Always wondered how she made it.” Ron said, rubbing his stomach.

“Magic.” Harry joked teasingly. 

“Maybe you should check it for spells, just in case.” Hermione supplied, noticing the adults' uncomfortable looks. “We don’t even know how they got here, Harry.”

“Hedwig of course.” Sirius reached for the package in Harry’s hands. Harry jerked back, almost hitting Ron in the process.

“No, it’s mine.” He hissed. Nothing else was said as the three boys tore into their packages. Hermione didn’t know if they just didn’t notice the atmosphere, or if they were choosing to ignore it. Probably the latter. 

“Oh Sweet! I got a wand holster!” Ron yelled proudly, strapping on the walnut-coloured leather onto his wrist.

“I got a miniature Dryopteris Sensibilis! Harry you didn’t!” Neville exclaimed.

“He totally did! He can’t be trusted!” Both boys tackled Harry, all of them laughing and happy. 

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, confused.

“We told Harry we wanted these months ago! This git told Tom and Mary!”

“And I'd do it again! Viva La Grandparents!” He shouted joyfully.

“What did you get though?” Ron asked.

Harry just raised up a beautiful journal and pen set. The journal itself was the same colour as Ron’s wand holster and the pot of Neville’s plant. On the cover the words ‘Harry J. Potter, the youngest brother’ were detailed in soft gold. When he traced them, words began to glow on his friends' gifts too.

“Neville A. Longbottom. The middle brother.” Neville read.

“Ronald B. Weasley. The eldest brother.” 

All three shared a look. That’s right, they were brothers, and no one could change that.

No one else at Grimmauld commented on their gifts, and if the three boys fell asleep together on the couch, pinkies intertwined, no one said anything. Not even Snape.

“Harry, take a look at this!” Hermione passed him the paper. The Letter, Harry noted with a smile. Each issue was starting to get better and better. 

Here you have it, parents! The long awaited issue that many a person have sent in a letter about. Harry Potter versus Draco Malfoy. 

‘It was insane mom! I’ve never seen someone duel like they were! It was insane! I think I already said that, but it’s true! The way Potter and Malfoy were duelling stopped everyone else! Even Potter's best friends, Weasley and Longbottom.

Malfoy threw some sort of spell at Potter. My housemates are speculating if it was dark or not, but Professor Umbridge allowed it so It must not have been. It shattered Potter's arm! Like, from shoulder to his fingers! It wasn’t his wand arm, I don’t think. He kept switching what hand he was casting with the whole time, it was bloody awesome! Then, Potter cast two spells back to back that made Malfoy throw up blood and food, and then Potter got Malfoy's wand. Then they walked to the infirmary together! It was so awesome! 

So there you have it, parents and students alike. A small piece of the Harry Potter puzzle solved. Now, here’s some of our funniest (but most unlikely) theories about the two boys, sent from students in their fifth year!

‘They’re lovers, I just know it. Malfoy purposely avoided Potter's wand arm, and Potter casted that shield around the both of them that blocked Malfoy from view. They probably shared a passionate kiss!’

‘They’re brothers, Paul! I’m serious, there's no way they aren’t. Maybe Potter was kidnapped from the Malfoys when he was a child? No! It must be the other way around, Malfoy is a secret Potter!’

‘They both time travelled here, I’m sure of it, Dad. They are both too strong for their own good. That duelling club is something else.’

“A secret Lover? Oh how you wound me, Harry.” Ron said with a dramatic sigh, draping himself over Harry’s shoulders. “I thought I was the only one.”

“Ger off, prat.” Harry laughed. Ron didn’t budge.

“Speaking of the duelling club.” Hermione started to say. Ron felt Harry tense. “I was thinking of starting something similar.”

“Oh, really? That’s an amazing idea ‘Mione!” Ron voiced. Harry nodded with a smile.

“Well, I want you to lead it, Harry.” She said with a whisper. 

“I can’t Hermione, I’ve got my hands full with quidditch and the DC already.”

“If you were the poster boy, people would feel more inclined to join.” She said, Harry scowled.

“I’m already Umbridge’s poster boy, I can’t be yours too. Plus, if anyone in the duelling club got wind of it, our plans would be over with.”

“Plans that, maybe if you filled me in on them, I could help with!” Hermione stated with a huff.

“‘Mione, not again please.” Ron said with a tired shake of his head. “We’ll fill you in later, just leave it for a little alright?”

“That’s not fair to me!” She yelled. Harry heard some of the people stirring upstairs. Must be coming to see who was yelling at who this time. 

“It’s not fair to us either, Hermione. You can’t demand things of me and Ron.”

“Why is asking to be included a demand?” Hermione, well, demanded. Harry just got up and left, leaving his two friends to argue without him. He was too tired for this.

“Potter, come here.” Harry heard. It was Moody! “I got this for you when Dumbeldore told me about your magic inheritance. It’s a book on magic signatures.” The gruff man said. 

“Thank you, Sir.” Harry said, holding the book to his chest. The auror just grunted. 

“Use it well, Potter.” Then the man hobbled off.

Harry stared at the book in wonder. He definitely would.

“Uhm, well first I would like to say welcome! I know most of us here are muggle borns or half bloods, but I do hope we’ll all be able to get along well.” Hermione said awkwardly. “Well, let’s start the first meeting of the Defense Association! Does anyone know how to cast Protego ?”

A few students raised their hands. Most of the students were younger. Almost everyone in the room was a victim of the dreaded blood quill. Everyone hated Umbridge

Words burned on Hermione's hand. I will learn to respect my betters .

“Alright, the motions go like this.”

Is it wise to let their counterparts run free?” Life said, watching the three brothers studying.

“Is it wise to leave you alive?” Death muttered sourly.

“Is it wise to have us interfere in their lives?” Time questioned. “I think not. Yet, we still do it.”

“You like the boy more than you let on. He reminds you of Cadmus.” Life teased.

“As if young Weasley doesn’t remind you of your boy Antioch? As if Death hasn’t stalked Young Longbottom like he stalked and waited for Ignotus? They are their copies, through and through.” Time remarked.

“Will we lose them the same?” Death questioned, always the more emotional of the three deities. 

“I hope not.” Life remarked quietly. 

Time stayed quietly, but had a small smile on his face. The joys of time, he knew how this would end.

Chapter Text

“You sure you’ll be alright there, Harry?” Ron asked as they turned a corner in the dungeons. It was dingy down here, and with Harry’s first Occlumency lessons today, his two brothers decided to tag along.

“Ron, dear, you’ve asked me that seven times now.” Harry said in a high pitched voice. 

“Well yeah, I know, but with what you told me when we got back, I’m just worried about you, prat.” Harry laughed softly.

“I promise, I’m fine. Thank you for walking me all the way here.” Neville nodded, silent. He was worrying Harry. He hadn’t said much since dinner.

“Neville? What's up?” Harry asked the boy. Neville shook his head.

“I’ll tell you later, the both of you, I promise. Just, not right now.” Ron shrugged, patting Neville on his shoulder with a smile. Harry gave his friends a quick hug, then ventured into the dungeon bats office.

The room was shrouded in an eerie stillness as moonlight filtered through the short windows of the potion master's rooms. They were magic, of course. How could moonlight reach this hell? Severus Snape stood before the Pensieve, his dark eyes fixed on the swirling memories within. The decision he was about to make weighed heavily on him, but he knew that he had no other choice. He would teach this goddamn brat, then he could rub it in Dumbledore's face that Potter was useless.

As Snape gazed into the Pensieve, he felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his chest. He had heard the boy enter, and here he was, alone with a child that was biologically his. He whirled around, expecting to find a face full of anger. Expecting to see James Potter. Instead, he saw a boy that looked so much like him. So much like Lily, especially when he had that quizzical look in his eye.

“Potter.” 

“Professor.”

“I hope you’re prepared. Legilimens!” Snape casted the spell.

The intrusion was swift and uninvited, a silent trespass into the sacred sanctuary of another's mind. Snape's consciousness delved into Harry Potter's memories, navigating through the labyrinthine corridors of the young wizard's experiences. Flashes of bright lights, laughter, and moments of warmth brushed against his consciousness as he ventured deeper.

But as Snape delved further, he encountered barriers – walls erected by Potter himself to protect his most precious memories from external intrusions. Except-! The magic surrounding them wasn’t Potters. It was darker, more sinister. He knew this magic, he knew it well. These barriers were formidable, a testament to the Dark Lord’s skill as a Legilimens. Snape's brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to breach the defences, his wand movements precise and deliberate.

Suddenly, the memory landscape shifted. Snape found himself standing in a dimly lit chamber, the air heavy with foreboding. In the centre of the room stood Harry Potter, his posture tense, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Snape could sense the resistance radiating from the young wizard, an instinctual urge to protect his innermost thoughts. This boy wasn’t the Potter he was standing in front of, oh no. He was younger. In clothes far too big and a body far to frail. It was a wonder Potter was even standing. 

"You won't find what you're looking for," Harry's voice echoed in Snape's mind, a defiant challenge.

Snape's lips curled into a sardonic smile, his own determination unshaken. He began to walk slowly toward Harry, his steps deliberate, his gaze unwavering. "You underestimate me, Potter," he hissed, his words like a venomous serpent. "I am a master of the mind arts. Your barriers may be strong, but they are not impenetrable."

As Snape drew closer, the room seemed to darken further, shadows lengthening and swirling around them. The tension in the air was palpable, the clash of wills like a storm gathering on the horizon.

Harry's eyes blazed with an unexpected fire. "I won't let you in," he declared, his voice firm with resolve. "You might have your reasons, Snape, but this is my boy's mind, and my sanctuary. You won't violate it."

“He isn’t your boy.” Snape spat. “Quit with your tricks Potter! You won’t scare me out of your mind.”

A surge of raw magic crackled in the air as the two forces collided – Snape's formidable Legilimency skills pitted against Harry's unyielding determination to protect his mind. The struggle was fierce, an ethereal battle of minds and wills that reverberated through the room. Harry’s magic and the dark lords mixed with perfect sequency, winding and pulling and twisting around each other. If he truly let his magic attack, He would tear the boy's mind apart. He’d likely be thrown in Azkaban, so that wasn’t an option.

Snape's wand hand wavered for a moment, his conflict apparent in his eyes. And then, with a reluctant sigh, he withdrew his wand and stepped back, his connection to Harry's mind severed.

Harry slumped from his knees to the floor.

“Up! Potter, get up now!” Snape demanded. Harry struggled to push himself up, arms shaking. The magic swirling around him wasn’t his magic. No, Snape hadn’t even encountered his own shields, his own illusion! Harry and Neville had spent so much time on it too.

The room fell silent once more, the tension dissipating like mist in the morning sun. Snape's shoulders slumped as he turned away, his gaze averted from the trembling boy.

“Those weren’t my shields.” Harry said, frantic. “That wasn’t what me and Neville worked on! It’s not, what did you do to me!” Harry yelled at Snape, fury and fear evident in his eyes. Pathetic, Severus thought, that this boy could somehow share a shred of his blood. He was too emotional, too wide eyed, too much like Lily like Potter. 

“Why are you acting like a fool, Potter?” Snape asked in a condescending tone. “You know as well as I do who's in your head.” Ice filled Harry’s veins.

“It’s not Voldemort.” Harry shook his head, shock slowly settling in. “It can’t be, it feels too different.”

“Ah yes, your odd ability to feel magic.” A trait which he shared with Severus. He didn’t comment on the boy saying that devastated name.

“It’s not- again. Do it again. Those aren’t my shields.” Snape sneered.

“Obviously not, Potter. They are far too calculated to be yours. Legilimens!”

As the spell left Snape's lips, his eyes locked onto Harry's with a piercing intensity. The invisible force of Legilimency began to probe, seeking out the chinks in Harry's mental armor. But this time, Harry was ready. His mind was not defenceless, left to that evil magic to protect it. 

Suddenly, a shimmering barrier materialised around Harry's consciousness. It was an illusion, a mirage of shifting colours and patterns, like a protective cocoon. Snape's Legilimency spell collided with the barrier, causing ripples of distortion to ripple across its surface.

Snape's eyes narrowed, detecting the unexpected resistance. He pushed harder, his mental assault relentless. But the illusion held firm, its colours becoming more vibrant and hypnotic in response to Snape's attempts.

Inside his mind, Harry concentrated on maintaining the illusion. He visualised his emotions as swirling colours within the barrier, focusing on the memory of a calm lake surrounded by serene meadows. He drew strength from the image, reinforcing the barrier's stability. It was Neville's plan, afterall. Smart, amazing Neville.

Snape's frustration was palpable. He had not expected the boy to employ such an unconventional strategy. A stagey almost the exact same as his. He redoubled his efforts, his magic pulsing against the shield.

"Do you believe your little trickery will be enough to stop me, Potter? Your mind is a maze, and I am its master."

As Snape's words echoed in Harry's mind, cracks began to form in the illusion's façade. The colours wavered, and for a moment, Snape seemed on the brink of breaking through. 

Harry’s magic exploded around them, throwing Snape from his mind and pushing them both into different sides of the room. 

“Idiotic boy! If you had just maintained your shield-”

“You were hurting me!” Somewhere in Snape's body, his small heart thumped in guilt. He ignored it.

“If you had just held out, you wouldn’t risk blowing up your own moronic mind!”

“Oh, sorry father .” Harry said venomously. “It’s not as if you are supposed to be teaching me or something.”

Snape saw red.

“Never! Do not ever utter the word father in front of me again! I am not your father!” Snape roared, magic rearing back like a snake, ready to attack Harry’s own. The moment their wills collided, everything seemed to stop. Their breathing, hearing, and thinking. Harry was the first to regain movement in his limbs. He shot out of the room like a bullet, avoiding the state of the man in front of him.

Neither one noticed the room was destroyed, nor the soft flames that lingered at Severus’ desk.

A trip to the Gryffindor common room had never been made so fast.

“Oh Harry, you’re back early!” Hermione said when he burst into the common room. She was reading, but Harry’s mind was far too scrambled to notice what it was.

“Where- where are they?” Harry said with a pant, winded from his run to the Gryffindor room. A look of confusion flashed in her eyes before realisation settled on her features.

“Up the stairs, I think they were gonna go wait for you.” Hermione said quietly. Harry nodded and raced up the stairs. No one paid him any mind.

“Oh- Harry you’re back! Is everything alright?” Harry shook his head, running into Ron’s arms. His head laid down on the redhead's shoulder, and even though he didn’t sob it was a near thing. “You and Neville both.” Ron muttered.

“Harry?” Neville asked quietly. Harry just opened his arms, letting the boy into their hug.

“I think I’m going crazy.” Harry whispered. If he hadn’t whispered it his voice would have cracked, and the flood gates would open.

“You aren’t crazy, Harry.” Ron said instantly. 

“I am, guys I don’t know what’s happening to me- VOldemort is inside my head and- Oh god.” Harry’s shoulders shook with repressed cries. “I don’t know what's going on inside me anymore. It’s like I’ve been poisoned.

“It’s just like second year, with the diary. I know it sounds crazy, but... I've been having these visions, these dreams. It's like I'm seeing things from his perspective. His anger, his desires. I can even feel his presence sometimes, like a whisper at the edge of my thoughts. No, not just that, it’s like he’s in my thoughts. He’s infecting me, my magic, I can feel it.” He took a shaky breath.

“And the worse part is, I can’t bring myself to hate it.”

“What do you mean, mate?” Ron asked, shoulders tense.

“Just now with Snape, he was there, Ron. He protected my mind from Snape. It was so- I can’t even explain it.” Harry let out a quiet, hysterical laugh. 

“I’ve felt it too, Harry.” Neville said quietly, stopping Harry’s thoughts immediately.

“What?” Neville scratched his head aggressively. They said nothing for a few moments and Ron herded them to their joint bed.

“I’ve been having dreams, dreams of Death. He says things to me sometimes.” Neville muttered. Ron held up a hand.

“What do you mean, ‘dreams of death?’ How can an action speak to you?” 

Harry and Neville shared a look, and filled Ron in on the ritual that happened. Ron’s face held a lot of conflicting emotions, but soon determination set in his features.

“When can I join?” Ron said. Harry and Neville broke into matching grins. It reminded Ron of the twins. Harry and Neville were more connected then Ron would be with either of them, connected on a more spiritual basis, but Ron didn’t mind like he used to. It just felt right.

That night they all dreamed the same thing.

The Forbidden Library is dimly lit, its shelves lined with ancient tomes and dusty scrolls. Ron Neville Harry stands alone in the eerie silence, a faint sense of unease prickling at his skin. His eyes are locked on a mysterious, ornate book displayed on a pedestal at the centre of the room.

The book seems to radiate an unnatural aura, its pages flickering with unsettling shadows. Neville Harry Ron’s gaze is drawn to it, as if it's calling out to him. He steps closer, his heart racing in a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

As Harry Ron Neville reaches out to touch the book, his fingers tremble. He hesitates for a moment but then feels an inexplicable compulsion, an almost magnetic pull that makes him grip the book and open it.

The air is thick with an ominous energy, tendrils of darkness wrapping around him like fingers of a ghostly hand. He can feel the darkness seeping into his very core, stirring something within him that he's never felt before.

“What is this place?” They all whisper. Separate and yet the same. Three beings cut from the same tattered shred of cloth.

The shadows seem to respond, whispering in a haunting chorus of voices. They swirl around him, like malevolent spirits trying to ensnare his soul. Words swirl around his head, all different but all hearing the same. 

His (theirs? They didn’t know) eyes widen as he starts to feel a strange exhilaration, a surge of energy coursing through him. His surroundings warp and twist, becoming more sinister and surreal with each passing moment.

Despite  Ron Neville Harry’s resistance, the shadows seem to entwine themselves around their thoughts, blurring the line between  Neville Harry Ron’s desires and the darkness whispering to Harry Ron Neville.

Only just, my sweet. Only just.

“Potter!” Harry heard one afternoon. Neville and Ron weren’t with him like they usually were. Since their shared dream, their shared experience of having sick magic twisting in their bones, they all decided that some time apart would be good. “Your boyfriends aren’t with you today, Potter. Scare them off?” 

“Why, Malfoy? Wanna ask me out yourself?” Harry retorted. Malfoy flushed an awkward red, and his grip on his wand tightened. 

“You’ll get what’s coming to you soon, Potter.” Draco promised. “And when you do, I’ll take down Longbottom and Weasley with you.”

“Draco, I thought we were doing better than this.” Harry said with an eye roll. “You can’t beat me in a duel, you think your little master can?” 

“You only won on technicality, Potter, and you bloody know it. The next time we duel, it will be to the death.” 

“If Umbridge wasn’t there, it would have been.” Harry snarled. It was full of anger and venom, shocking both boys. Could Harry really say something so cruel to a boy his age? A boy who only knew what his parents had preached? Yet Harry was angry. Angry at Voldemort for doing this to him in the first place, at Malfoy for trying (and succeeding) to rile him up, and at Neville. Neville was the one who insisted that time apart was going to be a good thing, but here Harry was, worse off than ever. He hoped Neville knew the state he was in.

The air crackles with tension as the two adversaries face each other. Their rivalry is etched in every line of their postures, every glint of their eyes.

“ Difindo !” Draco is the one to cast first. It catches Harry in the arm, but he manages to cast a quick healing spell on it. Hermione insisted he learn them. He conjured a few stones, sharp and pointy. He aimed to harm tonight.

“ Repelundo !” Harry casts back, the stones flying towards Malfoy. A shame, Harry thought, that one of them didn’t embed itself in one of Malfoy’s pretentious eyes. 

“ Liberes Caneos ” An amber spell shot out at Harry, quickly transforming into fiery claws. He recognised it almost immediately, and quickly cast it counter, Liberes Camchelo . Water met fire, and their hallway filled with steam. Not that it mattered to them, of course. They kept casting, spells and shields coming up from all areas of the spacious room.

“This ends now, Potter.” Malfoy said in a low voice. It was loud enough for Harry to hear, and laughter bubbled out of his chest. Somewhere, in some other place, he would have said the same thing. 

“Oh, how noble! Draco Malfoy, the hero we never knew we had.” Draco snarled at Harry, casting another spell, this one bright yellow in colour.

Without further warning, Harry sends a spell flying. Draco deflects it effortlessly, his wand motion fluid and confident, but filled with emotions.

Sparks fly as spells collide, illuminating the corridor with bursts of colour and light. Harry's disarming charm meets Draco's stunning spell midair, the two forces struggling against each other. The force of their magic sends a shockwave, causing nearby torches to sputter.

Draco's lips curl into a cold smile as he steps up his attack, sending a barrage of curses at Harry. Ducking and dodging, Harry counters with a stunning spell that narrowly misses Draco.

“Tut tut, what is happening here boys?” Both stop in the tracks, half muttered spells quiet on their tongues. “Detention for the both of you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy.”

“Professor, surely-” Malfoy began to say, probably going to claim Harry attacked him.

“Mr. Malfoy, you attacked Mr. Potter first.” Another voice sounded. McGonagall! He was saved. 

“Exactly right!” Umbridge's saccharine voice rang in the hallway. Harry barely withheld a wince. “My office, the both of you.” 

Harry and Malfoy followed, McGonagall giving him a hard, yet sympathetic look. He was attacked first, afterall. Maybe Harry could tell her what Malfoy said, get some points removed from the prat.

Umbridge's office is adorned with pink frills and kitten plates. She sits behind her desk, an amused smirk on her lips.

“Duels are strictly forbidden within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. I trust you two were not causing any harm? We have a duelling club, after all. Could you not have waited until next week to, ah, settle your differences?”

“No, Professor. We were just... discussing some things.” Harry said, resigned. “It just got a little heated.”

“Yeah, just a friendly chat.” Malfoy snarled. Harry’s hand itched for his wand. Professor Umbridge’s smile became more patronising. 

“Well, let this be a lesson to you both. I shall keep a watchful eye on your behaviour from now on. Detentions will be assigned for any further transgressions. Potter, stay behind for a moment.” With one last glare at the blonde, Malfoy locked out, leaving Harry alone with this defence professor. Maybe this was the part where she tried to kill him?

“Harry, may I call you that?” Harry nodded dumbly. “I must say how proud I am of you for not ending his life right then and there. The cover up of an heir’s death is always such a horrid affair.”

“Pardon?” He asked, his brain coming to a stop.

“I saw how you were looking at him, Harry.” She purred. “I could sense the magic thrumming from within your wand, ready to escape out of it. I come from a long line of wand makers, you know. Very easy to tell.” She stirred her tea.

“Professor..” Harry was ready to scream that it wasn't true, that he wasn’t going to actually harm Malfoy, but a thought flashed in his mind. A shame that one of them didn’t embed itself in one of Malfoy’s pretentious eyes.

Harry had wanted to hurt Malfoy. He wanted to harm him. A dark mass in his chest swirled with giddiness. The same feeling as when he would go flying. Maybe he should do that.

“You don’t have to lie, Harry.” She said with a small giggle. It made his stomach turn. “You’ll be a proper dueller one day, oh yes. Maybe even come and serve the Ministry.” She let out a small sigh. “Best be on your way, Harry. Don’t want you to be caught out after curfew.” She patted his cheek, the way he once pictured his mother would. 

He vomited the moment he had left the classroom and knew he was alone.

It had been a week since he had last talked to Ron and Neville. They weren’t talking to each other. Harry found himself paired up with Hermione in class now. He loved his friend, but she wasn’t Ron, she wasn’t Neville.

Instead of studying with the pair, which he had tried, he found himself at the quidditch pitch. It was too awkward in the library, and Daphne had told him not to come until they all figured out their problems. So, he hadn’t come back.

On this particular day, as he trudged across the grounds of Hogwarts with his broom in hand, anger and disappointment gripped his heart like a vice. The weight of recent events pressed down on him, and he longed for a way to break free from the turmoil that threatened to consume him.

He reached the Quidditch pitch, its emerald grass glinting under the golden rays of the sun. The stadium stood quiet, devoid of the usual cheers and laughter that accompanied the thrilling matches. With a determined expression, Harry swung his leg over his Firebolt, his fingers gripping the smooth handle with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

With a powerful kick, he shot into the sky, leaving the ground behind in a rush of wind and exhilaration. The cool breeze tousled his hair and stung his cheeks as he soared higher, leaving the worries of the world below. The feeling of the broomstick between his legs was both familiar and comforting, a connection to a simpler time when Quidditch was the centre of his universe.

As he circled above the pitch, the familiar layout of the Quidditch goals came into view. The three towering hoops stood like sentinels against the backdrop of the castle and the surrounding Forbidden Forest. Harry's grip on the broomstick tightened, and he leaned into a sharp turn, his body responding instinctively to his movements.

He picked up speed, the rush of air drowning out the chaotic noise in his mind. With each twist and turn, he felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, pushing aside the anger and disappointment that had plagued him. For those moments, it was just him, the broom, and the open sky.

He flew with a renewed sense of purpose, darting between the goalposts and imagining each hoop as a hurdle to overcome, each twist and dive as a metaphorical escape from his troubles. The rhythmic beating of his heart matched the cadence of his flight, and his thoughts began to clear as the physical exertion demanded his focus. He noticed someone standing below, but he couldn’t make out who it was. He touched his head to bring down his glasses, but they weren’t sitting on top of his hair.

Up in the sky, Harry found a fleeting sense of freedom. The world below seemed distant and insignificant, and the burden of his emotions lightened. The anger that had been gnawing at him began to dissipate, replaced by a newfound clarity. He couldn’t force Neville and Ron to talk to him, but he could force himself to be around them, in their presence. All three of them knew that they were stronger around one another, but right now they just couldn’t be around each other. So, if Harry just let them get used to his presence-

No! Bad Harry! That wasn’t how you got your friends to be near you again. That was manipulation, something Voldemort would do!

Revulsion filled him.

As his head immersed itself in more horrid thoughts, Harry gradually lowered his altitude. The feeling of the broomstick beneath him was no longer an escape, but one of realisation and dawning. He couldn’t go the same way he had been going before.

“Harry.” He heard. He turned around. It was Hermione, waiting for him to finish his flight. He grinned at her, happy to see her but not in the highest of spirits. 

“What's up?” He asked as he dismounted his broom. She gasped. Hermione had started noticing of course but-

Harry looked so much like Professor Snape.

He was getting taller, that much was obvious. He was well fed and constantly active now that he was out of the Dursley’s residency. Mrs. Weasley and Sirius had made sure to stuff him full of food. His hair too! It was long, but unlike Professor Snape’s straight hair, it had a wild bit of curl to it. Hermione figured that, if she had ever known Lily Potter, it would have looked the exact same as hers. His jaw line echoed Snape’s completely, and though his eyes and nose screamed another parent, every other feature was entirely his fathers.

How had she not noticed before? 

“Hermione? Yoohoo?” He waved a hand in front of her face. She batted it away with a cheeky grin. 

“Sorry, I was thinking of our charms assignment, which is due this evening by the way.” Harry grinned at her.

“I know, I got it done. Scouts Honor.” 

“You aren’t a scout, Harry.” Hermione said with a playful eye roll. The pair linked arms, walking back to the castle as Harry banished his broom back to his trunk.

“So, what’s up Hermione?” Harry asked. The girl sighed.

“I really didn’t want to be the one to come and get you, but Ron isn’t talking to Neville and- well Neville wants to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Harry said nothing for a moment, keeping his head down as they continued walking. “I suppose I should go see him.” 

“Only if you want to, Harry.” Hermione chimed in softly.

“I do. I’m just incredibly angry.” He admitted. Before his friend could ask why, he continued talking. “I told them something personal about me, about my life and whatever the hell is happening to me, and Neville suggested we just don’t talk. And Ron went with it! Didn’t even ask him why, just agreed! I couldn’t even go and see them after what happened with Umbridge.”

“It hurts your feelings.” Hermione said.

“Yeah, it bloody fucking does.” Harry said, venom evident in his tone but not directed at her. His magic was spiking, rearing its ugly head out like it had done all week. 

“Do you think it will help? Talking to Neville, I mean.” She asked. Harry shrugged, wiping his runny nose. It was so cold in Scotland. He casted two quick warming charms on them. 

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll know after we talk. Is Gryffindor tower blown up? Then probably not.” Hermione let out a derisive snort.

“I’ll see you after my Prefect duties, yeah?” Hermione asked quietly. Harry nodded at her, and the girl made her way back down the moving staircases. Harry took a deep breath and entered the common room. 

“We need to talk.” Was the first thing Neville said when he saw Harry. Harry let out an angry bark of laughter.

“Of course we do, after almost two weeks of not speaking to me?” 

“I needed to see-”

“See what?” Interrupted Harry. “See how volatile I am without you? How much of a wreck I am when you and Ron aren’t near? I can’t keep living in a constant state of anger, Neville!” 

“That’s exactly what we needed to check.” He heard Ron pipe up from a few feet away. He was leaning against one of the bed frames. Harry hadn’t even seen him.

“Well yay you guys! Had your fun, did you?” 

“Harry- will you just sit the fuck down and listen for once!?” Neville exploded in anger. It shocked Harry, but he tried his hardest to not let it show on his face. 

“Fine.” Harry didn’t sit down. None of them commented on it. 

“Your magic is acting as a renewable source for us. It’s why we’ve all been so miserable without you. Something in your magic is connected to ours, or in your person is connected to us. That's why we needed to see how we’d all react. I told Ron but-”

“So you can tell Ron but not me?” Harry verbally shot at him. Neville at least had the courtesy to wince. 

“We figured it would be better if you didn’t know, so we could get an accurate reading on your emotions.” God, he was starting to sound like Hermione. Or like he was treating Harry like one of his plants.

“So you hurt my feelings for some bloody data? How thoughtful.”

“Mate, it was just a couple days.” Ron said dejectedly. 

“Yeah, the worst days ever! My magic is constantly stuck between exploding and just not being there! I almost couldn’t cast in charms today!”

“We didn’t wanna hurt you, Harry.” Neville said.

“Well, you did. So, congrats.” Harry sat on his bed, now disconnected from the others. 

Gryffindor tower didn’t blow up. Hermione was thankful. It was awkward, but, by the end of their talk, their beds were pushed together once again

“Come on Harry! You gotta give it a try!” Ron encouraged. They were sitting in their practice classroom, and Harry was working on his illusion magic. So far, he could make his illusion last 3 hours. 

His illusion was also able to grab and hold things if he flexed his magic just right. It was incredibly taxing, but it would be useful. Especially when Neville-

“Petrifiatis Intimior.” Neville casted. The spell was a blinding white. It moved incredibly fast, but the moment it came in contact with Harry’s illusion, it encased it softly. As the spell slowly covered his illusion, he started to feel a soft pull in his naval. Nothing strong, like apparition or portkey, but it was there. It connected him to his duplicate, his twin in a way. He wondered if Gred and Forge felt the same way around each other. Flex your fingers, he thought. The illusions finger twitched. More, he kept thinking. Give it more.

Neville, too, was pushing his magic into the illusion. Give it life, he thought, make it see. 

Ron, never one to be left out, was carving tiny runes into a piece of cloth. Life, Breathe, See, Hear. He placed it into the solidifying shoulder of the illusion.

Just a little more…

The hand on the illusion raised up. 

“Way to go, Harry!” Ron high fived him and Neville. Harry just brought the two into a hug. It was still a bit tense between them, especially with Harry being considered an anchor. Hermione and Neville were going to go look in the library this coming weekend. Harry had the big quidditch match against Hufflepuff. 

Harry missed Cedric. He knew they would have had a new seeker anyways, as Cedric was graduating, but it still didn’t fit right in Harry’s heart.

“Come on! See if you can get it to walk!”

And walk it did. All the way to potions. Which was their next class. Which was starting in a few minutes. And Snape had already seen Harry and sneered. They were fucked. Hopefully Snape wouldn’t notice. 

“Potter! Your chopping is atrocious, five points from Gryffindor!” 

And in pure Harry fashion, the illusion chopped off its own finger.

There was a lot of screaming, especially when Harry began to dissolve into particles of magic. The grin on his face was manic, and Neville thought it looked a lot like Sirius’ own smile. 

Totally worth the two months of detention. 

The Quidditch pitch was buzzing with anticipation as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams prepared for their much-awaited match. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the stands and the emerald field below. Excitement crackled in the air, and the crowd's cheers echoed against the towering castle walls.

The teams lined up on the field, their vibrant robes billowing in the breeze. Harry Potter, adorned in his scarlet Gryffindor robes, mounted his beautiful Firebolt with a focused determination. His heart raced with a mix of nerves and exhilaration, the same feelings he'd experienced during countless Quidditch matches before. The snitch fluttered in its golden glory at the centre of the pitch, awaiting release.

Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the air, and the Quaffle was released into play. The game had begun.

Harry soared into the sky, his broomstick responding to his every command. The wind whipped through his hair as he gained altitude, scanning the field for the telltale glint of the snitch's wings. Below, the chasers and beaters from both teams engaged in a fierce battle for Quaffle possession, darting between each other with lightning speed.

Gryffindor's chasers weaved a pattern of coordination and strategy, moving in perfect harmony. The red and gold streaks of their robes cut through the air as they executed passes and feints, aiming to score against Hufflepuff's skilled keeper. The audience erupted into cheers as Gryffindor's chaser, Katie Bell, scored the first goal of the match with a precision shot.

Meanwhile, the bludgers whizzed around the field, controlled by the beaters who expertly swung their bats to keep them away from their own teammates. The thuds of the bludgers colliding with wood resonated through the air, a constant reminder of the danger and intensity of the sport.

Harry's attention remained split between the chasers' dynamic plays and his hunt for the elusive snitch. He banked to the left, narrowly avoiding a bludger that was hurtling towards him. In the distance, he spotted a flash of gold as the snitch darted between the players. Determination burned in his eyes as he descended, speeding toward the tiny, fluttering target.

Back on the ground, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff supporters cheered and jeered, their excitement creating a symphony of noise. The tension in the stadium was palpable, the outcome of the match hanging in the balance. The score was tied, each team having successfully scored multiple goals, but the match could tip in either direction depending on the snitch's capture.

Harry's fingers tightened around his broomstick handle as he closed in on the snitch. The wind rushed past him, and the world seemed to blur as his focus narrowed to the minuscule, darting form before him. With a burst of speed, he stretched out his arm, fingers brushing against the snitch's golden wings. It danced just out of reach, teasing him as it changed direction.

A collective gasp rose from the stands as the snitch spiralled upwards, prompting Harry to ascend even higher in pursuit. The sun's rays glinted off the snitch's wings, creating a dazzling display of light that contrasted against the azure sky. Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he willed his broom to go faster, his determination unwavering.

As the match entered its final moments, Harry's perseverance paid off. With a perfectly timed dive, he closed the distance between himself and the snitch. His fingers closed around the tiny, fluttering ball, and a surge of triumph surged through him. The crowd erupted into cheers, the stadium filling with a thunderous roar of celebration for Gryffindor's victory.

Harry flew back to the ground, the snitch clasped tightly in his hand. The taste of victory mingled with the sweat on his brow as he landed, his heart still racing from the exhilaration of the match. The hufflepuff seeker was no match for his broom, or his skill, and it made him think of Cedric. He always thought of Cedric when he played a game. 

Harry missed the boy more than he could comprehend. They weren’t close, they weren’t even dating! He dated Cho (who, as Neville pointed out, was making goo goo eyes at Harry)! Yet Harry missed him. He found himself thinking of him at the worst moments.

“Bloody hell Harry!” Twin one said. Probably Fred. “That was one hell of a dive.”

“You say that every game.” Harry said with a grin.

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” George said. Probably.

It didn’t matter, Harry needed a shower, and then he needed to curl up in bed and die for a few hours. He wasn’t sad or anything, besides missing Cedric. He just wanted too.

It was sunny outside, and Harry stretched like a cat beneath the sun. He didn’t feel like talking much today, too overwhelmed with classes and what not, trying to decipher Umbridge's sugary-sweet words. She was evil, that much was true, but she also thought she knew Harry, and that could work in his advantage. Maybe.

The lovely Black Lake shoreline was the ideal location for a peaceful lunch on a hot, sunny Hogwarts day. On the grassy bank, a big chequered blanket was stretched out and ornamented with a variety of delectable snacks and beverages. The atmosphere was filled with laughing and conversation as Harry, Ron, Neville, Hermione, Daphne, and Blaise congregated nearby.

Harry leaned back up onto his hands, enjoying the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair as he looked out over the sparkling waters of the lake. Ron was digging into a plate of sandwiches with his usual gusto, while Neville examined a potted plant he had brought along, discussing its magical properties with enthusiasm.

Hermione sat cross-legged, a book propped open on her lap as she alternated between taking bites of a freshly picked apple and joining in the conversation. Blaise reclined comfortably, his signature nonchalant demeanour contrasting with the serene scenery around him.

Daphne, her long, silver-blonde hair catching the sunlight, poured cups of chilled lemonade for everyone, her smile bright as she engaged in the chatter. Her presence added an air of elegance to the gathering, her refined manners contrasting with the casual atmosphere of the picnic. She had come out of her shell a lot since the start of their fifth year, and seeing her smile amidst a bunch of Gryffindors was amazing. Harry thought she was beautiful, smiling like that. Same with Hermione, her hair pulled up out of her face for once. She had finally let Daphne get a hold of it, and the so-called Ice Queen took it as the sign of their friendship. Hermione, Daphne, and Neville were never far from the library, just as Blaise, Ron, and Harry were never far from their classroom. 

It took a long discussion, but Harry had finally allowed them to introduce Hermione, Daphne, and Blaise into their (now warded, thanks Ron!) classroom. Daphne had called it disdainful, Blaise had just scoffed, and Hermione brought along enough books to last a year. Still, when one of the boys was casting magic, they all couldn’t help but look up. Especially when Ron worked on his warding. Powerful explosions happened all the time. Whether they be from light, fire, air, water, and even lightning once! But when Ron managed to succeed, the wards intune with his magic, everyone was enthralled. 

Harry was so happy to have all of his friends, happy and in one place together. If the year continued like this, everything would be perfect.

“Is it time, brother?” Death asked Time.

“No not yet, another lullaby.” 

And Death slinked away, hiding his glee,

Because you can out run Karma, but not those who See.

Chapter Text

In the midst of the chamber, a veil-like curtain stood, its surface rippling as if affected by some unseen breeze. His eyes were drawn to it, knowing that it held a sense of profound mystery and power. But before he could ponder its significance further, movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention.

There, emerging from the shadows, were two figures that sent a chill through his heart. On one side stood Voldemort, his pale, snake-like eyes fixed on Harry, his presence exuding a malevolence that seemed to wrap around the very air. On the other side stood Sirius Black, a figure he had longed to see again since his tragic demise.

Sirius' appearance was both astonishing and bewildering. His form was semi-transparent, like a ghostly apparition, yet his features held the same warmth and familiar grin that Harry remembered so well. The sight of his godfather brought a jumble of emotions—joy, confusion, and a deep longing that threatened to overwhelm him.

The other figure with him confused Harry. He looked familiar, he felt familiar. But who could it possibly be-

“Bring me the boy, Black.” The voice said with a hiss. Fear and anxiety flooded Harry’s system, clouding his eyes and ears.

“Never, he’s at Hogwarts, you won’t get him!” Sirius yelled out. Voldemort traced Sirius’ neck with his wand.

“On the contrary, Black, I think he’ll come. Crucio !” Voldemort’s head snapped to the side, looking at Harry, staring into his eyes. 

Bring me the object, my sweet. It is almost as well hidden as you .

Harry woke with a start, body shaking in the same sequence as Sirius’ under the cruciatus curse. His scar, aching and on fire, bled softly on his forehead. 

“Harry, oh my god, come on! Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey-” Was that Hermione? Why was she in the boys dorm? He blinked, opening his eyes that were previously shut. They weren't in the dorm, oh no. They were in the library. 

“I need to talk to Sirius.” Harry said, bolting out of the library. Hermione trailed him, running almost faster than he was.

“Harry, you need to stop.” Hermione panted out. “Tell me what's going on.”

“He has Sirius.” Harry kept pushing himself, faster and faster he ran around Hogwarts, even jumping over a gap in the stairs. If it was the portrait or the painting that gasped, Harry wouldn't know. 

No one was in the common room when Harry bolted in. Good. He rushed up the stairs, throwing open his trunk. A shiny glass mirror was right on top. It was a gift that Sirius had given him in case Harry ever wanted to contact him outside of letters. He had only used it once, the first night he was separated from Ron and Neville. Sirius had said it was a good thing, and after some tense conversation from Harry’s side, Harry had gone to bed. He hadn’t used it since, sending the barest of letters to Sirius. Now he felt guilty. If Voldemort really had Sirius then-

“Sirius!” Harry shouted at the mirror. “Sirius, answer me back!” No answer. Harry threw the mirror back in his trunk, clambering back down the stairs. He almost fell but even that couldn’t push him off his goal. He needed to contact Sirius, to make sure he was okay. 

“Hermione! You’re a prefect, activate the floo!” Harry looked frantic now, hands pulling up to pull at his hair like he usually did when stressed. Perfect, just bloody fucking perfect . 

“Harry, I can’t, you know it’s an O.W.L.S day for the history of magic! The only people allowed to floo or fire call are teachers. Plus, we can’t even floo to Sirius’ house!” Hermione reasoned with him. Or tried to, at least. Harry’s mind when angry was a rampaging red river, beating at the small rock he considered his self control. Voldemort had Sirius! He was going to kill him!

“Ickle Harrykins,” He heard, turning around to face a pair of identical faces. Fred and George. “It seems you require our assistance.” Harry took a deep breath, forcing his rampaging feelings down the way he and Ron had practised. Both boys were more expressive than Neville was, so working on that concept together had been helpful.

“Help me.” 

And all four of them were off.

With deft fingers, Fred conjured a glowing map of the castle layout, detailing the movement of every caretaker and professor, ensuring they would have enough time to execute their plan without interruption. George, on the other hand, was focused on assembling an intricate network of enchanted fireworks, designed to go off in a spectacular display distracting the entire staff.

Their most crucial component, however, was a potion that could create lifelike illusions. They had spent countless hours perfecting it, and now it shimmered in a flask, ready to be unleashed. It was based off of Harry’s own ability that Ron had told them about. The twins exchanged a determined look, knowing that this moment was the culmination of their years of pranking expertise.

As they began casting their spells, the fireworks leapt into action, bursting forth with a dazzling array of colours and patterns that lit up the night sky visible through the windows. The unexpected display drew gasps of amazement from anyone who happened to glance out, leaving the staff in a state of confusion and awe.

Meanwhile, Fred and George swiftly moved to their next step. With precision and timing that only years of experience could provide, they scattered a fine mist of the illusion potion across the corridor leading to Umbridge's office. The mist took form, twisting and turning into the appearance of an elaborate parade of magical creatures, complete with floats and music that seemed to echo through the stone walls.

Caught up in the spectacle, the teachers rushed to the windows to catch a better view, while Umbridge herself hurried to see what all the commotion was about. In the midst of the chaos, Harry, wearing his Invisibility Cloak, slipped past unnoticed, his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. Hermione was out keeping watch.

“Sirius Black, Grimmauld Place.” Harry spoke into the fireplace. He reached his head in, ignoring the tickling flames as he looked around. Sirius was nowhere to be seen. 

“Sirius? Sirius!?” Harry yelled. It was silent around the house, and if Harry could have crawled through the floo, he would have. 

“Stupid little freak, coming in here..” Harry heard, his heart soared with joy.

And then crashed. 

“Kreatcher! Where is Sirius!” he barked at the elf. 

“Stupid useless master isn’t here.” Kreacher seethed, teeth baring. God if Harry could just reach over there and-

“Tell me where he is!” 

“Stupid useless master never said. Stupid halfblood child.” The elf muttered some more, walking away from the floo.

“Kreacher! Come back this instant you insolent, barefaced little creature!” Harry yelled, voice echoing with no one to hear it but himself. 

And suddenly Harry was ripped out of the floo. Face to face with Umbridge herself. 

“Well, Mr. Potter.” She said, voice sickeningly sweet. It coasted in his ears, filling them with promises of pain. “What do we have here?” 

“I was trying to reach my Godfather, he wasn’t answering any of my mail.” Umbridge waved her wand, and suddenly tight ropes were covering Harry’s wrists. Umbridge’s face was contorted into an ugly purple. 

“Liar! You were trying to reach Dumbledore, weren’t you? He’s been out for a few day’s, and you were trying to call him back!” 

“I wasn’t, professor-”

“Shut it, Potter. Tell me, where has he gone?” Harry struggled against his restraints, memories flashing back to the night at the graveyard. This was oddly similar. 

“I don’t know, Professor.” He spoke, trying to get out of his bonds, trying to convince her he was innocent. He cared naught for Dumbledore at the moment. His mind’s only focus was saving Sirius. 

“Liar.” Suddenly Harry’s nerves were on fire. He knew this curse, knew it well. Crucio . He heard Hermione scream, somewhere in the room. The spell ceased.

“Well, ready to talk now?” She asked, sitting down on the corner of her desk. Harry was surprised it didn’t cave under her fat arse.

“Yeah, I am. Voldemort’s spells hurt more than yours.” And Harry was back under. If Harry was in his right mind, he probably would have screamed, cried, begged her to stop, something other than laughing. But he wasn’t in his right mind, not without his Godfather. So Harry laughed, laughed so hard that Umbridge had to stop the spell, and then laughed more afterwards.

“I’m not telling you shit.” He spat, spittle landing on her cheek. 

“I thought we were friends, Harry.” SHe traced his jaw line with her wand, disgusting him to his core. “Won’t you tell me where little old Dumbledore is?”

“I’m not telling you shit!” He repeated, voice raising.

“Then I will!” Hermione said. She was held back by Draco Malfoy, who was looking at Harry, stunned. Either from the fact that Harry had laughed, or that his professor was using an unforgivable, Harry didn’t know. 

“Miss Granger, whatever do you mean?” Umbridge asked, turning to the girl.

“In the forest, that’s where Dumbledore is hiding.” Hermione lied, eyes hard. There was no way in hell that Dumbledore had stayed near the school on a supposed trip. One he had announced to the whole school.

“Of course! He wanted to test us, it makes so much sense…” Umbridge muttered. Harry just eyed his friend, still held by Draco Malfoy. 

“Granger, you will take us there.” She snapped, turning to face Harry. “You, you are going to stay here and wait for me. I have plans for you, boy.” Her eyes filled with a malicious gleam. Harry gave her a large, shit eating grin that he wasn’t feeling anymore. Her Crucio didn’t compare to Voldemort’s, but two rounds back to back still hurt. Still, he needed to get out of here. He pulled at the ropes. Too tight for him to reach his wand, but what if…

Harry focused on his magic, feeling it roll off his body in small, jerky waves. His magic was as tense and coiled as a rattlesnake. Slowly, too slowly, a green bunny began to materialise on the desk. His magic pushed a bit more, filling it with his thoughts. Umbridge Room, help . 

“Go get Ron and Neville, okay? They’ll know what you are.” He spoke softly to the bunny. Its nose twitched, paw coming up to rub it, before it promptly jumped out the window. 

Well, way to make an exit. 

“Oh Harry! Oh God!” Ron said as he and Neville came tumbling in. Neville’s heart was beating in his chest. Here Harry was, strong up like some torture doll, shaking. 

“Hey guys.” He said, voice light with darker undertones shifting through. “Wanna cut me down?”

“I got you, I got you.” Neville said as he slowly helped Harry out of the bindings. A couple Difindo’s did the trick, but Harry was still weak from his two rounds of Crucio. Ron helped him prop himself up on the desk. 

“Voldemort has Sirius.” Harry said, voice wavering. He was scared for his Godfather, and a horrid thought crossed his mind. What if he was already too late? What if Sirius was dead?

“Where?” Neville asked softly, hand grabbing Harry’s own. 

“Department of Mysteries in the Ministry.” 

It was quiet, all three boys knowing what the other was going to ask. How would one of them ask the other not to go, ask to come along, and ask to go in general? Neville knew that Harry loved his Godfather, but Neville didn’t want to lose Harry either. 

“Let’s get a move on then.” Ron said gruffly, walking towards the door. Neville stood still, almost petrified. Harry had walked with Ron towards the door, even though his body was filled with dread, and was still shaking. 

“Neville?” Harry asked, a rough voice unusually soft. “If you want, you don’t have to go. I-I know this isn’t really what you signed up for friend wise.” Harry trailed off. Neville shook his head. No, Harry needed him, and Neville needed to protect Harry. That was his job.

Something clicked in his chest, and his magic soared. 

“Let’s go kick some butt. And rescue Sirius.” 

It wasn’t hard sneaking out of Hogwarts, they ducked behind corridors, walked and talked like normal kids around teachers, and then ran when no one was around. 

“How are we going to get out? Neville asked suddenly. They stood by the Hogwarts gate, but all three of them knew you couldn’t leave without a professor. “Should we go back and grab Professor McGonagall?” 

“Not enough time.” Harry muttered, biting his nails.

“I think I can get us out of here.” Ron said, grabbing a rock. “It’ll take a few minutes, but I can get us there.”

“What do you need?” Harry asked immediately.

“Pump some of your magic into this work. You too, I think, Neville. We need a portkey strong enough to overpower the Hogwarts wards and the ministry.” Harry and Neville stared at him a moment, then broke into grins. 

“Ron! Where’d you learn this?” Neville asked. Ron flushed, his face starting to match his hair. 

“I read it in a book.” He said, face pinched. “Now shut up so I can focus.” 

As Ron wrote complicated runes into the rock with a transfigured quill, Harry and Neville lightly entwined fingers. They knew that Ron needed power to supply their impromptu portkey, but would they have enough afterwards to potentially fight off death eaters? A bright light was emitted from the portkey as Ron added a few more runes.

“I haven’t written it yet, but the portkey phrase is Life. We have to say it all at once.” Harry and Neville nodded at the redhead, and Neville squeezed Harry's own. When Ron was finished writing, he shared a look with his two friends, his brothers, his life. 

“Are you ready for this?” Harry asked his two brothers.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Muttered Neville. Ron just nodded. 

“Life!” 

And with a swirl of breathtaking magic, they were gone.

Minerva McGonagall was enjoying the peaceful day of O.W.L’s. That was until an alarm rang on her wand, a high pitched, shrilly thing that caused many students to grimace. Bolting, she made her way up to the headmasters office. 

Three students have left by portkey. A device said. McGonagall knew that, the shrilling of her wand was evident enough. 

Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley. She sucked in, air leaving her body. No, there was no way. Why would they-? She didn’t think about it, only rushing down into the dungeons. 

“Severus!” She pounded on his door. Thirty seconds later, Severus Snape opened the door, irate. 

“Minerva, what is the meaning-”

“Potter, Longbottom and Weasley have somehow acquired a portkey and have left Hogwarts.” Snape sneered at the older woman. 

“And why is that my concern?” He asked. The words ministry popped into The acting headmistress's head. 

“Because, Severus. They are heading to the ministry.”

Magic swirled around our trio, pulling at their hair and their clothes, filling their lungs and leaving them breathless all the same. They landed in a dark hallway, a mess of limbs and slightly tattered clothes. The hallway itself is a long and dimly lit corridor, lined with a series of towering, ancient-looking doors on both sides. The walls were made of cold, grey stone that seemed to absorb the light, creating an almost unsettling gloominess. The air was thick with an unidentifiable scent, a mix of mustiness and an underlying sense of otherworldliness.

The doors along the hallway were tall and ornate, adorned with intricate carvings and symbols that hinted at the magical experiments and studies that may have taken place within. The wood of the doors was polished and worn, showing the passage of time and countless hands that have touched them over the years. A thought passed through Harry’s head. The department of Mysteries. 

As Harry walked down the corridor, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that they were being watched. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint echoes of their footsteps on the stone floor. It was as if the hallway existed in a state of suspended animation, separate from the bustling world of Britain and the outside world.

Harry was terrified. 

“Where do we start?” Asked Neville, wand tight in his grip. Sweat covered his brow, rolling down his cheek onto his neck. Harry didn’t know if it was fear, or the taxing amount of magic they had cast to get here. 

“Just start opening them, I guess.” Harry replied, his uncertainty obvious. They split, going down the walls, trying every door they could get their hands on. It seemed like hours were passing, and Harry was getting more anxious by the second. 

“What if he’s dead and we’re stuck here looking at bloody fucking doors for the rest of our lives.” Harry spat, fist pounding on a locked door. “Come on, open up! ” 

“Harry!” He heard Ron yell. “This one’s open!” 

Harry ran, Neville close behind him. As the three entered, the door slammed shut, slowly fading away. They were trapped. 

Harry looked around at the room, filled with glass orbs and soft lights. He knew this room from his dreams. This was where Mr. Weasley was attacked. 

“Ron, this is what your dad was guarding.” He said, eyes wide as he continued to look at every object. Some of the orbs were pitch black, seeming to draw you in and make you want to flee at the same time. Others were a bright light, fresh and uncovered in cobwebs. 

“Why was he the guardian of some measly little balls?” Ron questioned. No one had an answer for him, and the three continued down the countless rows. 

Laughter, high and bright, rang out somewhere far away, and Neville froze. 

“I know that laugh.” He began muttering it. “I heard it, back when my, when my parents-” Harry grabbed Neville’s wrist, Ron having his own trapped in a tight grip, and the three ran. 

“Illusion, Harry.” Ron said. “They must know we're here.” Harry nodded, focusing his magic as they stopped their running to hide. A second Harry materialised, drawing from his magic. In the centre , he commanded with his mind. The illusion said nothing, but began leisurely walking around as if he had nowhere better to be. Neville nodded at him, hand clammy and tense in his own. 

“Look, Harry!” Neville whispered. “They’re alphabetized. Lumos.” A soft light appeared at the end of Neville’s wand, and Harry saw a shining “M” on the side of the isle. They kept walking, shelves and containers passing them. 

“Harry Potter! Cocky aren’t we!” They heard from somewhere not so far away. They sped up. N, O…P! They turned down the shelf randomly, Harry taking a detour. Something was pulling in his chest, and he walked the lengthy shelves until he found what the object was. An orb, no, two, both bright and shining and there.

“Harry, your name is on both of these.” Neville mused. 

“Ours are on this one too.” Ron said, picking up the orb. It felt warm in his hands, and he passed it to Neville. Harry was struck with an idea. The loud ringing of “ Avada Kedavra !” Only furthered his choice. 

“Dobby!” He summoned. It took a few seconds, a loud pop sounding the arrival of the house elf. He shoved the orb into the being’s little hands. “No time to speak, Dobby. Take this to Neville’s trunk. Hide it if you must. No one must see you.” The elf said nothing, but popped away with a large bout of nods. 

“Ickle Potter! Trying to trick us with a silly spell!” Neville’s grip on his shoulder tightened, and all three of them were filled with dread.

“Run.” He managed to say, a bright green spell hitting the shelves next to them. The boys booked it, running and casting spells as fast and as safely as they could. 

“ Diffindo !” Ron cast, hitting some random Death Eater square in the neck. They crumbled, and Ron shuddered as they kept running.

“Not so good, are we now Potter?!” He recognised the voice as Lucius Malfoy. His blood boiled. Neville cast a large protego , protecting them from a quick onslaught of spells. 

“ Inceptactum .” Harry and Neville cast, the spell a jagged, cerulean intertwining duo of rays. They hit a death eater square in the chest, his body quickly transfiguring into that of a fish. He’d die of asphyxiation if the spell wasn’t reversed.

“ Fluoasis Rategra .” Harry cast on a random orb. It quickly transfigured into a long white sword, and with a flick of Ron’s wrist it went flying. One death eater managed to dodge, but it turned and hit someone in the leg, crippling them. Ice began to form over the wound as they tried to pull it out.

“Oh god, we’re actually harming them.” Neville said as they rounded another corner, a door not far from them. They ran towards it, Ron taking the initiative to cast as many protection spells as he knew.

“Training paid off.” Was all Harry managed to say, the glowing orb still held tightly in his hand. 

“Give us the prophecy!” Malfoy Senior yelled. Ron opened the door, Neville flying threw it, Ron not far behind.

“Catch!” Harry yelled, hurling the orb, well prophesy, down on the ground. The woman screamed. Harry ran after his two friends. Once the door was shut, Ron quickly warded it. 

In the middle of the room stood a veil, frosty and cold to Harry and Ron. Neville on the other hand was drawn to it, his stare unwavering as he took in every detail of it. It had no words, no runes, just a stone arch with whispering noises and crackling magic. 

“Who was that? The crazy bitch?” Ron asked Neville, noticing how tense he was when he heard her scream.

“Bellatrix Lestrange. She was,” he took a breath, finally breaking eye contact with the arch to look at his friends. “She was the one who tortured my parents. I still hear her laughter when the dementors come by.” Ron’s face was filled with sympathy as he patted Neville on the shoulder. 

The loud pops of apparition appeared suddenly, putting the three boys on guard. 

“You’ll pay for what you’ve done, Potter!” Bellatrix screamed, casting spell after spell at the three of them. Ron was nicked by a cutting curse, but most of their spells were deflected by their quick shields. 

“Cover me!” Neville yelled, Ron and Harry quick to follow, casting basic healing charms on each other just in case. 

“ Impereo Tyrarbus !” Neville shouted, the dirt he always kept in his pockets becoming useful once more. Large vines came out of his pockets, sharp as knives as they shot for the nearest death eater. The dirt transformed too, becoming a large vulture. The same as Neville's patronus, Harry realised. A being symbolic of the deity watching over him. Ron was next to cast, his magic not the same as the warded stone he still had from their portkey. He itched a few runes into it quickly, Harry proving a good cover with his volatile spells. The rock transformed, still holding the original runes, into a large dog. Not the grim, like Sirius’ animagus form, but a large dog with pointy teeth and itching for blood. It ran out, skillfully dodging spells as it distracted their enemies. Harry was next, pushing his magic into the form of a bright owl, talons sharp and ready to maim. 

And as they fought, Death, Life, and Time bonded together once more. 

“ Menderous. ” Ron muttered from behind his shield, the spell hitting a maskless death eater in his arm. He watched as pain etched his face, the muscles in his arm likely coming apart in torn sections. He needed to thank Hermione for the access into the restriction section. That spell did some good damage. 

A large door suddenly slammed open, and everyone, our three students and death eaters alike, turned. It gave Neville’s summon the perfect opportunity to slam into a death eater, impaling them and splattering blood onto the wall and floor. 

Neville felt nothing, only morbid fascination. Was this his gift of death? He could practically feel the life draining out of the unknown man, and apparently so could the other boys, their stare turning to the arch. They all knew, this was the gateway to death, the domain of a deity only Neville had the honour to meet. 

“Sirius!” Harry yelled as his godfather jumped into the fray. Spells began flying once more, a symphony of colour and pain and bliss alike. Harry lived for this, and wasn’t that a thought? He always deemed himself non-violent, and here he was, with his two best friends and godfather alike, casting spell after spell. He felt alive, and to Harry that was all that mattered at the moment. Sirius was here, not murdered by a murderous bastard, and was protecting him.

“Nice one James!” The man yelled out when one of Harry’s cutting curses hit Bellatrix in the leg. His heart broke a little then. His hand falling to his side. James? Had Sirius and his father done something like this before? Were memories of happiness swirling in Sirius’ head while Harry felt his own heart shatter? 

“ Stupefy !” Harry heard. The spell hit Sirius in the chest, and the man stumbled back, etching closer and closer to the arch, the veil of death-

“Sirius!” Harry shouted, hand reaching out to grasp at the man, maybe even to jump in after him. Sirius smiled down at him, and so slowly (even though only meer seconds had passed) fell into the veil. 

Harry screamed, and felt someone grab at him. He watched as Ron’s dog ran after him, only to be summoned back by Ron, the stone returning to normal. 

Tears ran down his face, and Neville held him close. The other people that had followed Sirius, Remus and Tonks, he noted, were still casting. They hadn’t seen it- Sirius hadn’t looked so peaceful in so long. He hadn’t looked so happy, even with Harry beside him. 

Sirius was joining James. 

“Harry, the doors open, we have to get out of here.” Neville mumbled into his hair, pulling him towards the exit. “We’ll do something, I’ll talk to death whatever you need but we have to go .” Harry nodded, soul, body, and mind numb. They ran. And they ran after Bellatrix.

“I killed Sirius Black!” She spouted, glee and laughter evident in her tone. Harry’s stomach hardened, and he quickly broke free of Neville’s grip. He chased after the madwoman, ready to kill.

“Harry, no!” Neville and Ron called, but Harry paid little attention to them. Somewhere in his chest, his magic sang, and he wished to scratch the itch it caused. 

Bellatrix needed to pay. 

“ Crucio !” He spat, spell hitting her in her back. She fell to the floor, her screams delightful to his ears. 

That’s right, my sweet. His magic seemed to speak to him. Was it even his magic anymore? It stenched of Voldemort. Cast it again, you know you deserve to. She killed Sirius. She deserves this .

And Harry agreed. He cast it again, the spell hitting her weakened form. Her screams were like music to his ears, better sound then any instrument could play, then any song could ever be sung. His magic flared.

“Harry! Stop it now!” He heard. The voice was familiar, but his magic, no, the voice in his head was over taking his senses.

You know the spell, my love. The voice seemed to trace his lips, his jaw, his chest. Something akin to a dark arousal flooded his senses. Two little words, the killing curse, you know how to cast it. The voice was right. He did know how to cast it, he had seen imposter Moody do it in fourth year. He could cast it, if he truly wanted to. And boy, he wanted to.

“ Avada Ke-” a body slammed into it, and suddenly the magic filling his mind vanished, leaving him with an incredible headache. It was Ron, evident by the red hair laying on his chest. Shame flooded inside him, washing away every bit of lingering hold that sickening magic had on him. Voldemort was in his mind, and he needed him out.

“Harry you bloody mad fool.” Ron blubbered, and he felt wet spots soaking through his shirt. “I thought- I couldn’t let you, not here, I don’t know why, I just-” Neville ran up to them, crouching next to the boys on the floor, casting a quick Regearmus Tormulso to check and heal any injuries. Harry looked up at him, grateful, and Neville managed a small smile back to him. 

A deep laughter rang out around them, the hair raising on everyone's back. It was then he noticed Dumbledore, face hard and angry in a way Harry had never seen. A black mass of magic came swarming into the room, and when it landed, there stood a pale, noseless Voldemort in all his dark glory. Harry stared, both entranced and disgusted at the man. 

“Tom, you must cease this madness.” Dumbledore spoke. Voldemort just laughed again. 

“Stop what, Dumbledore?” He spat at the man. “You’re dear golden boy already destroyed my prophecy, what else is there to do?” Harry didn’t know who cast the first spell.

The atrium's polished marble floor reverberated with their magical auras clashing, as spells and curses erupted with dazzling brilliance. Dumbledore's wand moved with grace and precision, conjuring intricate shields and weaving protective barriers. Voldemort's spells were swift and lethal, leaving trails of dark energy in their wake.

"Expelliarmus!" Dumbledore's voice resonated like a bell, his wand sending forth a beam of light that clashed with Voldemort's spell. The resulting shockwave echoed through the atrium, shattering nearby glass windows. The force of their magical confrontation sent shockwaves rippling through the environment, causing the statues of witches and wizards that lined the atrium to tremble.

Ron, Harry, and Neville watched in awe and apprehension from a vantage point near the entrance. Ron's freckled face was etched with concern for his friend Harry, who stood mesmerised by the duel's intensity. Neville's knuckles whitened as he gripped his wand, a mixture of fear and determination in his eyes.

Dumbledore's movements were fluid, his wisdom and experience evident in every gesture. He deflected curses effortlessly and countered with spells that combined elegance and power. A whirlwind of magic swirled around him, painting a portrait of mastery over his craft.

Voldemort, on the other hand, relied on his inherent cruelty and raw power. His spells were brutal and direct, leaving behind a trail of destruction. The dark aura that emanated from him seemed to warp the very air around them.

Amidst the chaos, a pillar of light erupted from Dumbledore's wand, colliding with a torrent of darkness unleashed by Voldemort. The collision sent shockwaves cascading outward, shattering more of the atrium's architecture. The force of the explosion knocked Ron, Harry, and Neville off their feet, forcing them to shield their eyes from the blinding light.

As the dust and debris settled, both Dumbledore and Voldemort stood facing each other once again. Sweat glistened on Dumbledore's brow, his breath steady but laboured. Voldemort's eyes burned with a frenzied determination, his own body showing signs of strain from the battle.

The students exchanged worried glances, their hearts racing as they realised the immense power these two wizards commanded. They could feel the currents of magic weaving and intertwining, the very fabric of reality itself bending under the weight of their clash. Voldemort's magic, with every spell, seeming to caress Harry’s skin. He was disgusted. Both at the act, and the fact that his body seemed to like it.

The duel continued with renewed vigour, the atrium bearing witness to a battle of light against darkness, wisdom against cruelty. It was a clash that would be spoken of for generations, a testament to the strength of the human spirit and the choices one makes in the face of adversity. And as the echoes of their spells reverberated through the Ministry of Magic, the destiny of the wizarding world hung in the balance.

“We have to get out of here.” Ron said suddenly, pulling their portkey stone out of his pocket. “On three.” 

“One.” A spell landed beside them. 

“Two.” Harry shielded the trio from a spell, seemingly cast by a now awake Bellatrix.

“Three.” They spoke the word.

And with a flash, the boys were gone. 

They landed back at Hogwarts, exhausted and dirty and hurt. Neville, his breathing laboured, hung tightly to Harry, as if the green eyed boy would escape again. Ron was laying on his back, a hand covering his eyes as he tried to digest everything they saw.

“Never in all my years-” They heard. It was the voice of Professor McGonagall. None of the boys had the strength to get off the ground and look at her, or even turn to her direction.

“Potter!” A louder, more masculine voice shouted. Neville recognised it as Snape, lousy git that he was. Ron looked at Harry, the poor boy's face pale and body gaunt. He needed help, nutrients, water, anything. Harry was ill from magical exhaustion, Ron could feel it.

“What were you boys thinking!” McGonagall yelled as they walked closer. “A portkey out of Hogwarts!? And to the Ministry! You could have been killed.” Ron snorted, full of anger and sorrow. Anger at Voldemort, at himself, at Harry. That git had just run off and left him! Left him to do dark magic! Though Ron could recognise that it wasn’t Harry’s fault, not in the slightest. Ron too had felt the thrall of Voldemort’s magic, and Harry had simply fallen under it like Ron and Neville themselves almost had. 

She cursed your friend. It seemed to crow. Go help him, join him.  

“Death would be better than this hell.” Harry said, hoarse voice catching the professors off guard. 

“I will have none of your pathetic meandering, Potter!” Snape shouted at him, voice raised. “I will see you expelled for this! Stuck with that worthless dog without a wand to save you!” 

“How can he be stuck with a man who is dead?” Neville said, vice grip on Harry. He was tired, but he managed to look up at their head of house, her hand on her heart and eyes wide. 

“I killed Sirius Black…” Harry’s voice rang out, a dry sob following his sing-song tone. “I killed Sirius Black and tortured the bitch who cursed him.”

Chapter Text

Harry sat alone, head hung, as he waited for Dumbledore to come in and question him. Neville and Ron had offered, begged even, to go before him. Harry was thankful. He felt a little stronger now, having rested and eaten a small meal Dobby had provided him. At least he wouldn’t burst into tears at the first mention of Sirius. Maybe. Most likely. 

The door quietly opened behind him, and Harry resisted the urge to turn around and stare at the man. The man who had just fought Voldemort. The man that had likely saved his and his friends lives. Dumbledore said nothing for a few moments, sitting down at his desk and just looking at Harry. Harry kept his head down. 

“Harry, I would like to apologise.” His head snapped up. “When Professor Snape first came to me after your first occlumency lesson, I was astounded that you had such shields set up already. I thought you were simply a natural at it like your father. Both of them, might I add. I should have investigated it myself.”

“Sir?” Dumbledore sighed. 

“Harry, I truly don’t know how to explain this.” Dumbledore said. Harry stared at him, his gaze far and ever reaching. “How about you tell me what happened first?” Harry nodded

“Well, I had this strange dream, and I couldn’t reach Sirius, and I was so worried and-” Harry took a deep breath. “We got the Weasley twins to distract the teachers so I could slip into Umbridge's office and fire call Sirius. He didn’t answer, but that bloody houself was there. He told me Sirius was out, had left and had never come back. Umbridge found me and Hermione, and she, well she casted the Cruciatus curse on me. Twice. Then Hermione took her to where you were supposedly hiding. She left me alone and I was able to use my illusion magic to get Ron and Neville to come find me.”

“Ah, the bunny that jumped from the rafters. Quite a shock for many students.” Harry winced.

“Yeah, that, and afterwards, we went out to the gates to leave but they were locked. Ron had the idea to portkey out, and crafted a port key for us. Er, he might still have it on him if you wanna look at it. Then we appeared in the hallway room, and tried every door we could until the room with the orbs opened up. We hid in there for a moment, and that’s when we heard the death eaters. We ran, and then we found a prophecy with my name in it. Bellatrix caught up to us, and I threw the orb, sorry, prophecy on the ground. Then they started popping in like rats and-” Harry was getting riled up again. Dumbledore raised a hand to stop him. 

“I didn’t mean to kill them, professor.” Harry said quietly.

“Only Bellatrix Lestrange?” He questioned. Harry nodded, body tense. 

“I do not fault you for wanting to hurt her after what she did to Sirius, however-”

“Not like I could control it anyways.” Harry snapped. “It was like Voldemort was speaking straight into my heart, into my magic itself. Everything he told me to do, I wanted to do. He, he pushed me to give in and I did.” 

“Harry, my boy.” Dumbledore sounded so old, so unlike the man he had just seen fighting Voldemort. 

“What is happening to me, Professor?” He begged. Tears lined his eyes. “Am I him? Did he duplicate himself and I was the result? I don’t- I can’t control it! I can’t help it either, and it’s affecting Ron and Neville too!” 

“My boy, I wished to hide this from you for as long as I could, but it seems the time is too dire.” He took a deep breath. “I have great cause to believe that you are holding a piece of Voldemort inside your scar.” 

Harry’s world came crashing down, wringing him out dry and soaking him in pain all the same. 

“What do you mean by that, Professor?” Harry asked quietly. 

“There was a man by the name of Nascht-mes in Ancient Egypt. I know little of the mummification process they used to do, but in the Diary of Nascht-mes, he wrote that his family didn’t have enough money for him to join his lover once she passed. He was a cruel, selfish man, Harry, and he invited a spell and object known as a horcrux. They are items that hold a piece of one's soul in the event of death. He had, essentially, discovered a way to live forever. However, it comes with a terrible price. The murdering of another, specifically with the killing curse, invented by Nascht-mes elder, Ra-nefru, his grandmother. In his greed, he killed his lover with the killing curse, tearing her soul from her, allowing him to break off a piece of his own. He trapped it in a pebble, and threw it in the river. He assumed he would be safe.”

“He wasn’t, was he?” Harry inferred. 

“For a time, yes, he was. But many decades passed, and the rock began to corrode in the river, and he felt his immortality slipping. He created many more, and from his diary, it is easy to assume he had as many as ten horcruxes. He was a deranged man, an evil man, and his appearance slowly began to change because of it. He tore himself apart, and when his own son, Menthesuphis, cast a simple healing charm on him, the man decayed in front of his very eyes. Menthesuphis is the one to finish the diary, begging others to never go down this path.” 

“And you think I’m, what, a horcrux? You said items, I’m very much a human!” 

“I know Harry, but I think you know you aren’t the only one he has created.” Red eyes of a beautiful boy flashed in his mind, and then the yellow eyes of a snake.

“The diary, Voldemort's diary.” he stated. “And Nagini. They’re horcruxes as well.” Dumbledore nodded sadly, and Harry’s body was numb once more. 

“This is crucial information, Harry, no one must know, not even Young messrs Longbottom and Weasley. If this got out to Voldemort, many horrible things could happen. His magic instinctively already knows you are a part of him, but Voldemort himself has yet to realise. I pray it stays this way.”

“How do I get rid of it?” Harry questioned. Normally it was Neville or Hermione asking the important questions, but he needed to know, would he truly be able to get rid of this piece of soul inside him? 

“The only way to get rid of a horcrux is to destroy it, Harry.”

“I got that! So let’s just destroy it!”

“You would have to die, my boy.” Harry stopped, heart filled with more dread. It threatened to consume him. 

“What? You mean- I'll have to die?” 

“I hope that is truly not the case my boy, I as well as Professor Snape are working on a way to sever your horcrux, but keep you alive as well. “

“Oh.” Harry sat back down in the fluffy chair, the comfort offering him no comfort. 

“There are more preceding matters, Harry.” Professor Dumbledore said gravely. 

“What is it, sir?” 

“Where do you plan on staying this summer? With Sirius gone…” Dumbledore trailed off, leaving Harry to think for a few seconds.

“I’ll just stay at Grimmauld.” Harry stated with a nod of his head. “That way, people will be around to protect me, and I can see Ron and Neville.” He didn’t mention how he planned to stay in Sirius’ room, soaking in the smell of his godfather's heavy cologne. 

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible, Harry. The wards have shut in grimmauld, and no one can access them.” Harry looked down at his lap, hands coming up to pull at his hair. Damnit! Everytime he had something good, he just went and ruined it! Just like he ruined Sirius’ chance at being free. Just like how he ruined Sirius’ life.

“You know, Harry, you can always stay with Severus. I know you to do not see eye to eye, but-”

“I would rather go back to the Dursleys, then.” Harry stated, body cold and frozen. He would not ever go to his supposedly father’s house. 

“Harry…”

“No, professor. He is not a father, not my father, I don’t think he even has the capacity for that.” Harry said with a snort. Dummledore sighed. 

“I figured you would say that, Harry. I suppose that is all we have to talk about right at this moment. I propose going back to your dorm, my boy. I know that Mr. Neville and Mr. Weasley are waiting for you.”

  “Harry! You’re okay!” Neville exclaimed when Harry stumbled into their common room. Ron was sitting on their joint bed, eyes red rimmed and glossy. Had he been crying?

“Yeah, as well as I can be, I suppose.” Harry walked over to his friends, face planting into the bed. 

“How’d it go?” Ron questioned. Harry gave a derisive snort. 

“Horrid. He just wanted to know my side of things and then asked if I wanted to live with Snape.” 

“Are you serious?” Neville asked him. Harry nodded, face still in his bedsheets. 

“How are you guys?”

“Horrid.” Ron said with a wet laugh. “I can’t believe we just did that- that we just-”

“That we just killed people?” Neville supplied. Ron nodded before shaking his head, putting it into his palms.

“It was their time, Ron.” Harry tried to comfort. “I could feel it.” 

“That doesn’t make it right. I mean, I get we were protecting ourselves, but it was still wrong .” 

“Maybe for you, Ron.” Neville said quietly, hand instinctively reaching out and playing with Harry’s grimey hair. They all needed showers. “It was bloody heaven for me.” Harry looked up only to find both of them looking at him. 

“It was a mixture, I suppose. It wasn’t Sirius’ time yet, but it was everyone else's in there. It was an odd feeling.”

“Aren’t we a fucked up trio.” Ron said, sitting back up. “Well, might as well pull out that orb. It’s the only reason I haven’t jumped in the shower yet.” 

Harry needed to check on Ron. As daft as he liked to pretend he was, Ron was incredibly smart, and practically a master of pushing conversation off of himself. Neville summoned the orb, the shiny ball landing softly in his hand. He waved his wand again, closing the curtains around their bed. 

“How do we get it to talk?” Ron asked. “Smash it maybe?” 

Harry shook his head as he sat up. “No, it’ll just break it. I did that with the other prophecy.”

“I think we should all touch it.” Neville said. Harry and Ron shared a look, but placed their hand over it anyways. Suddenly, the ball shone brighter, and a soft masculine voice sounded out in their heads. 

With brotherhood and magic bound

Three stranded brothers, sure to found

A secret magic, dwelling deep,

A deeper part, one can keep

And in their virtue, Fate has shone,

Life, Death, and Time alone.

And as two will fall to sleep.

The one with all, the one who will steep.

The train ride back to London was quiet. Hermione and Ron sat with them, unmoving and barely there in the first place. Ron was staring into nothingness, and Hermione hadn’t flipped a page in her book since they all sat down. With a loud slap, Hermione slammed her book shut. 

“That’s it! We have to talk about this!” 

“About what, ‘Mione?” Ron said, grumpy. 

“About whatever the hell happened last week! You all took your O.W.L.s and then shunned away everyone! Even Dean!” 

“We killed people, Hermione.” Harry said bluntly. “We killed people and some of us enjoyed it.” Ron looked green, but Neville practically shone with pride. He tried to hide it around Ron, but Harry knew his friend. He could feel it in every spell Neville cast. What they had gone through had made all of them stronger, yes, but it had enhanced Neville even more.

“And you think I didn’t?” Hermione was angry, shocking Harry. She hadn’t had this level of emotion in a few months. “I brought Umbridge to her death!” 

“Wow, Hermione.” Neville said. Ron looked interested, and Hermione just sighed. 

“Story for story, then?” Harry asked. Hermione nodded, and began telling the tale of how she had brought Umbridge into the forest, and left her with the spiders. 

“We got lost, and came across that field of spiders you found in second year. I offered her as food, fat and hefty for all of them to eat.” Ron shuddered. “She was caught in their webs, and as thanks for the food they let me go. I ran, leaving her there.” 

“She deserved it.” Promised Neville. Ron and Harry just nodded. They fell into silence once more.

Hermione sat there, glaring at the wall. Her hair was more tame then it had been since they met, now falling in softer ringlets. Her posture had changed too, but he didn’t know if that was them ageing or from the events that had transpired these last few weeks.

He looked at Ron. He was more cowed then Harry had ever seen, but he was also more guarded. Even in a place as safe as the Hogwarts Express, Ron had his wand clutched tightly in his hand, and his eyes darted between the door and the window, as if something was out to get them. 

Neville was already so different. His skin was softer, smoother, less haggard than it used to be. The opposite of Harry himself. He seemed ready to take on the world, to fight anything and everything. The boy who had once struggled to remember simple spells was now among the most skilled in their year. His posture was straighter, his strides more purposeful. Confidence radiated from him as he interacted with his friends, no longer overshadowed by self-doubt. Neville knew what he was capable of. 

A bittersweet smile tugged at Harry's lips as he realised that he, too, had changed in this past year. The weight of responsibility had sculpted him into a leader, a protector, but had also opened him up to allow himself to be protected. The events he had faced had chiselled away his naivety, leaving behind a young man who understood the complexities of the world.

And yet, as he observed his friends, Harry realised that they were all still the same at their core. Hermione's thirst for knowledge, Ron's loyalty, Neville's kindness—they were all constants, even amidst their transformations. Harry felt a surge of gratitude for having them by his side through everything.

“You sure you’ll be alright here, Harry?” Professor “call me Remus, I’m not your professor anymore.” Lupin said. Harry just shrugged, not able to lie to the man. Lupin had dropped him off in front of the Dursley’s, and Harry itched with the desire to curse them.

Do it, my sweet.

Harry pushed the feeling down.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be okay. Dumbledore explained why I had to go back, and he said they allowed it.” Probably with a lot of black mail and promises of money, but Harry kept that to himself. Lupin frowned, but leaned over to whisper in Harry’s ear. 

“There are a lot of us sent to watch you over the summer, all right Harry? You’re not supposed to know, but if the muggles try anything please come let us know.” Harry just nodded, giving the man a brief hug before stepping into the hell hole of his childhood. 

Petunia just gasped as she stared at him. Harry said nothing, walking straight up the stairs. After placing hedwig on his desk, he enlarged his trunk with a tap of his wand, pulling out his important books and items (he needed parchment and ink for his homework, after all) and stowing them away under a loose floorboard. The book Mad-Eye had given him caught his eye. He still had a few chapters to read of it, so he might as well bring it too. Better safe than sorry. 

It was a little while later when Vernon stormed into his room. 

“Give me that chest, boy! I won’t have you doing any freak stuff in here!” Harry said nothing as Vernon grabbed the, thankfully locked, box. He winced slightly as it tumbled down the stairs. He hoped nothing was broken inside it. 

“You hear me now, brat, you will stay up here this whole summer! I don’t want to see the likes of you anywhere near my family!” Vernon roared, turning and walking out of the room. Harry breathed roughly through his nose, but didn’t respond. He’d rather not get murdered, thank you.

Reaching into the floorboard, Harry grabbed a book. Magic, and the Ways to Hide it. An idea spun in Harry’s head, and he grabbed a piece of paper, and began jotting down a message for Neville.

I have a plan, if it works, I’ll see you soon.