Chapter Text
September 20th 1997, Hogwarts Library
It was barely into term but Harry knew if he didn’t tell all his friends now, while they were all studying together, he’d put it off indefinitely. Hermione was already going to be furious at him for keeping it from her for this long, he didn’t want to think about how bad it could be if he kept it off for another few months. Best to get it over with now and maybe his friends will have forgiven him by Winter hols?
Harry took a deep breath, gathering everyone’s attention before releasing it and saying in a rush, “I’m going to enter the Selection next year.”
It was like someone had cast a silencing spell upon the library. No one said a word, no one even dared to breathe. Hermione’s gaze was burning a hole in his skull. Ginny and Neville were simply sharing wary glances between themselves and Hermione who sat between them, like they were waiting for a potion to explode. Luna, at least, was simply smiling at him- serene and unfocused. Blaise looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, as was the expression he often wore when around classmates that weren’t in their house, but he did raise an amused eyebrow at him when Harry looked his way. He’d be hearing about this back in their dorms, he was certain.
“Harry James Potter,” Hermione finally snapped with a vicious whisper, the tips of her curls sparking with volatile magic. “Do you have any idea how little time that gives us to prepare you?”
“What?” was all he could think to say in response.
She balled up a blank piece of paper and hurled it at him, “Less than a year! And we have NEWTs to worry about on top of that!” She crumpled another and threw that one as well, her tirade never pausing. “You have ruined my study schedule. I am only not eviscerating you because one, you admitted it so early into the year,” she paused with an imperious sniff, “and I’m very proud of you for that. It’s progress.”
His jaw dropped a bit and he could only stare in befuddlement as she switched right back to berating him.
“And two, because I already planned for this and made a second study schedule to include learning everything you’ll need to survive living in the Star Citadel. But honestly, Harry, if you’d just told us earlier I wouldn’t have had to make two study schedules- just in case. You were leaving it so late that I wasn’t sure you were ever going to officially make the decision. I was wholly prepared to research what I could and send it all in letters after you’d made the last minute decision to join. We’re lucky you gave us any time at all, frankly, given your track record.”
“Hey!” he protested before being shushed and remembering they were in the library- thankfully in the back where Madame Pince wouldn’t immediately send them away and under privacy wards. He hadn’t really an argument to protest with anyway. His track record was, in fact, terrible.
Hermione leveled him with a knowing look, lips pursed as she turned to rifle through her bag, likely for whatever secondary schedule she’d made, because apparently she made more than one. She was a Ravenclaw through and through.
“You-,” he paused to gather his thoughts a bit more, “you act like it was certain that I was going to make the decision to join the Selection. Just a matter of when instead of if.”
It was Ginny who answered him, brown eyes glinting with laughter, “Harry, we know you better than that. We were certain the only thing holding you back from the Selection of ninety-four was your age.”
At this he blushed heavily, red spreading from his cheeks to his chest. He couldn’t refute it because she was right. When their older friend Cedric had announced his intentions to them, he’d been insanely jealous. He’d thought he’d hidden it all better, but apparently not. He’d long since had this fascination with the Emperor, but it’d only ever been that- a fascination. A passing thought. A daydream. He’d never thought he’d actually go through with applying to the Selection, not until this summer. But apparently his friends knew his plans before he did. He’d have to work on being so openly read. He was already atrocious at it as a Slytherin. He’d get eaten alive in the Harem at this rate.
“You’ve had a crush on His Majesty for ages now, Harry,” Luna added dreamily, twisting a lock of her hair around her fingers and thoroughly breaking his composure; leaving him sputtering broken protests.
“It’s not- Luna! It’s not a- what?” He groaned and dropped his face into his palms. “Why would you say it like that?”
She smiled mischievously at him before her eyes turned slightly glassy and a light mist came from her mouth as she spoke, “A seed planted; can be watered, can be nurtured, can be grown to full bloom. Ignored, it will wither and die.” She blinked and her eyes came back into focus, the mist dissipating.
They sat in silence a moment, Hermione even ceasing her rustling around with parchment. It was not a full prophecy, not even close. But it was still a glimpse, a hint, at the future. It seemed a straightforward one, but those could end up being the trickiest to interpret, being certain it meant one thing and it meaning something else entirely. They’d grown well used to Luna’s moments of foresight over the years- used to interpreting them, rare as they were. Harry dared to hope that this one meant- well. If the seed was his- admiration (it was not a crush, it was not) for the Emperor then maybe… Maybe a full bloom meant he could come to truly love the man? Was it even possible? Even if the Emperor didn’t love him back… Although it hurt to think he’d live with a love unrequited, it could still be worth it. Harry- he has doubted for a very long time if he’d ever be capable of love as he hasn’t ever felt it before, not of the romantic sort at least. He’d loved his grandmother Effie, loved his cousin, and loved all of his friends. But this was- different. Not to mention what he was. How dark his soul must run to have the sort of magic he commanded.
Hermione broke the silence, resuming her search for the alternate study plan- her arm and then the top half of her body disappearing into her bag. He knew she had a bottomless bag! It was the only way for her to carry so many textbooks! He really should have realized it sooner. She emerged and slammed a hefty stack of papers onto the table. They sat in awe as she duplicated the stack and handed one to each of them, even Ginny and Luna, who wouldn’t be taking their NEWTs until next year. It was twice the size of the one she’d handed out before their study session.
“Merlin, Hermione,” Neville whispered, the Hufflepuff boy looking a bit pale at the amount of parchment in his hands.
Blaise absently flipped through the pages, “Why do we all have such a larger schedule if Potter’s the one going into the Selection?”
“I’ll be going too,” Luna said cheerily before Hermione could answer Blaise. They all gaped at the girl. Harry barely had a chance of surviving within the bloodthirsty castle walls of the Citadel as it were- they’d hunt Luna for sport.
In an uncharacteristic move, she rolled her eyes at all of them. “I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten through Hogwarts, haven’t I? Despite all the Nargles and Hinkypunks. It’s where I’ll need to be to best help Harry.”
He considered this for a moment. It was true that Luna was stronger than she seemed. She’d dealt with a great amount of bullying before being absorbed into their group and even then she dealt with more when none of them were there to buffer it. Having an ally within the other concubines would come as a great boon as well, especially one with Seer blood in her veins. But the sacrifices she was making… She wouldn’t complete her last year at Hogwarts. She wouldn’t be able to travel and become the magizoologist he knew she’d wanted to become.
He locked gazes with her, making sure her eyes were clear and focused on his own. “Are you sure?”
She smiled, silver eyes growing warm, “Yes, silly. I’m very sure.” And then she shifted to look at some far off place in the distance, fingers curling in her hair again. “Besides, I’ve heard that His Majesty keeps a herd of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in his garden and I would so like to see them.”
Considering the existence of such creatures was still up for debate, he highly doubted it. But one never knew with Luna. She knew a great deal of things she shouldn’t.
Ginny was the next to speak, crossing her arms and glaring down at the table. “I’m going too.”
“What?” Harry and Hermione snapped at the same time. Ginny was committed to her quidditch career, already being scouted by the Hollyhead Harpies despite having another year in Hogwarts to go. There was no way she would give that up to be a part of the Emperor’s Harem. She had also voiced, several times, that she disliked boys who tried to tell her what to do in a relationship.
“Not to join the Selection,” she rolled her eyes with a huff. “Merlin, no.” She looked at Harry then, brown eyes boring into his green with a determined frown. “I’m going as your head maid.”
Harry sat back, still confused, but Hermione let out a thoughtful hum. “Yes, you’ll need people you trust by your side on the inside.”
“What?” he’d quickly lost control of the whole discussion it seemed.
Even Blaise joined in, “She’s right. Your grandmother only keeps a house-elf or two, yes? House-elves are banned within the Citadel and you can’t just hire anybody to be your maids. They’ll be the ones dressing you and feeding you and doing whatever task you need of them. Ginevra would be a valuable maid to have with her skills. And the position might just bring her family out of poverty with the pay maids receive.”
Ginny curled her lips at Blaise’s last words, almost making to lunge at him across the table before she stopped herself. “Fred and George have already made names for themselves. Bill and Charlie as well. We get on just fine you absolute wanker.”
She was right, too. Despite the shame her family had suffered as having sided with the Order of the Phoenix so long ago, her brothers had mostly proven themselves- powerful and smart and skilled. A curse-breaker, a dragon-tamer, and two creative inventors. He’d only ever met the twins (who Harry owed a debt of gratitude to considering the map they’d passed on to him), having been at school at the same time before they graduated, but Ginny’s family wasn’t exactly suffering and Blaise really hadn’t needed to bring it up.
But there was one thing that was bothering him. “What about quidditch?”
She slumped back in her seat, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t- I don’t want to give it up, but. But, I need to get into the Citadel.”
The air around them sobered. They were dancing around the edge of treason with talk like that.
Ginny rolled her shoulders back and finally looked up. “I want to know what really happened to my Uncle Gideon.”
Harry released the breath he’d been holding in suspense. Not treason then, just a personal vendetta. And one that wouldn’t necessarily get him in trouble with the Emperor. Just with the other concubines, especially whichever ones might have sabotaged Former Noble Prewett. It would be a dangerous game, but no more dangerous than the one he’d already be playing.
Ginny’s Uncle had been inducted into the Harem under special circumstances during the Selection of nineteen-eighty-two. Three members had been, in fact. At the time, they’d been called ‘war brides’. Caradoc Dearborn, Gideon Prewett, and Benjy Fenwick had all been inducted in eighty-two as an option between serving in the Harem or serving time in Azkaban. Understandably, no one wanted to end up in Azkaban. He’d made it up to the rank of Noble when four years ago it’d been reported he’d died by suicide. None of the Weasley family believed it, but there was no proof to be found otherwise. Having been in the Harem since before she could remember him, Ginny wasn’t particularly close to her Uncle- but she’d seen the effect his death had had on her mother and Uncle Fabian.
He ran a hand through his hair, causing his loose curls to tumble everywhere and knot together. “Alright. If you’re certain.”
She nodded, resolute. “Besides, I can always finish my term of service with you and try out for the Harpies or whoever else will have me when I’m free. Once you’ve gotten a stable position, at least.”
He nodded again, feeling exhausted by all this planning already. He’d really just wanted to tell them his intention, not make the entire plan to go to war.
Hermione leaned forward then. “You’ll need power on the outside, as well,” she said, eyes flicking over to where Blaise continued to lounge and pretend to ignore them all. “And you know I’m planning to join the Ministry when we all graduate.”
He grinned at her, “And I’m sure you’ll take them all by storm.”
She lifted her chin, pleased with his faith in her but trying to hide it.
Neville surprised them by being the next to lean forward, words hesitant but free from his usual stutter, “The Longbottoms have seats on the Wizengamot and as Heir I’ll be taking over when I graduate. Da has no plan to take the seats since he prefers teaching here and Gran wants to retire soon.”
They all blinked at the soft-spoken boy. They knew his father taught at the school, being an assistant professor of Herbology, but they hadn’t known about the seats in the Wizengamot or that there was a plan at all for Neville to take them.
“Planning to go into politics, Longbottom?” Blaise questioned with a lazy drawl, sounding derisive, but his eyes were curious and sincere.
Neville grimaced and rubbed at the back of his neck, “N-not really. B-but Gran’s really been pushing for someone to take over and since its just me or Da… I can do it. I can always get my Herbology mastery while its not in session after all.”
Hermione smiled, “Fantastic. Now that that’s all settled, let’s review what all we’ll need to cover-”
There was a round of groans from everyone but they dutifully flipped open the packets in front of them anyway. Hermione hadn’t steered them wrong yet, when it came to studying at least.
*
September 20th 1997, Hidden Corridor Before Slytherin Common Room, Hogwarts
Blaise ended up cornering him just after dinner, pulling him into a shadowed nook and casting a silencing spell to surround them so they wouldn’t be overheard. Blaise leaned casually against the stone wall and looked him up and down with a frown.
“I can’t say I didn’t see this coming, Harry,” and Harry fought another blush at the insinuation, “but for some reason I still stand shocked at your audacity.”
“You really shouldn’t be at this point.”
Blaise snorted and cracked a smile, proper aristocrat facade melting just a bit. “You’re the most Gryffindorish Slytherin I’ve ever had the displeasure to know.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Zabini.”
He raised a dark eyebrow at Harry and smirked, saying with a dark drawl, “Au contraire. Flattery has gotten me many places.”
“Like shoved into the Black Lake by Padma Patil?”
Blaise scowled, “That was one time.”
“Three actually.”
Blaise narrowed his eyes and pushed off from the stone wall to hover more ominously above Harry. Curse his short stature. “You’ve gotten much better at deflecting, Potter, but we’re here to discuss your bloody insane plan for the future. Short as it might turn out to be if you proceed.”
Harry crossed his arms in defiance, “You really have such little faith in me?”
Blaise looked down upon him seriously, “No, but I have an older sister.”
Harry dropped his arms, confused. “And?”
“And,” Blaise stressed, “Mamma has taught her all she knows about poisons and killing without getting caught. And she’s a high ranking concubine within His Majesty’s Harem.”
“Oh,” was all he could think to say. He knew there was a Zabini within the Harem but he hadn’t known she was Blaise’s older sister directly.
“Yes, oh,” his friend continued. “You see now why I’m- bloody- concerned about you? You won’t make it past your first week.”
Harry hummed thoughtfully, though, preoccupied. “Just poison?”
“What?” Blaise said, rearing back, confused. “I don’t know? Yes? What?”
Harry grinned then and patted Blaise’s cheek in a condescending manner, “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”
With that he waved his hand lazily, dispelling Blaise’s silencing spell with ease and slipping back out into the main hallway, relishing in his housemate’s confused yelling behind him.
“What does-,” he could hear his unusually flustered voice rushing after him. “Potter! What the bloody hell does that even-”
Harry’s grin widened when Blaise was docked points for yelling in the hallway and he slipped into the Common Room without further discussion.
*
October 15th 1997, Magical Theory Classroom Number 3, Hogwarts
“Potter,” called the familiar voice of his Magical Theory professor just as everyone was packing up after lessons. “With me.” It was a relatively small class considering few people took the optional subject so far and considering how strict the standards of Professor Prince were, not many people made it into the advanced class either.
But it was Harry’s best and favorite subject. At first he’d thought it was Dark Arts and Defense, but then he’d taken up Theory as an optional addition and fallen in love. It was such an intuitive branch of magic, something you felt first and explained later. All of which was Harry’s forte. Magic was something you couldn’t always explain into words, it was something you felt. Spell-crafting was about forming spells with careful research, yes, but sometimes it was also bursting out a new spell and trying to reverse-engineer it into stability. This was his best method and it baffled his professors every time.
But Harry was a prodigy and he couldn’t always explain his work, the spell worked because it did. You move your wand in this motion because it feels right. You use this incantation instead of another variation because it sounds better. It was like riding a broom. Yes, technically someone could explain the physics of it all and run the maths and calculations of when to make what move or where best to turn. But nothing would beat the sheer intuition of knowing with your body and soul how to maneuver. Taking a split second to calculate versus already leaning into the next curve was what had won him many a game before.
A rolled up piece of parchment hitting him over the head brought him out of his thoughts.
“If you are done wool-gathering,” came the drawl of his professor. “I would appreciate you not waste what precious little time I have without idiot children running about.”
Harry rubbed the sore spot with a grin. Professor Prince was all bark and no bite. He’d seen the Professor pouting in one of Grandma Effie’s handmade sweaters during Yule break after-all.
“Does that mean I’m not counted among the so-called idiot children?” Harry asked with a grin.
Cousin Severus rolled his eyes and whacked him again with the rolled up parchment. “Insolent thing.”
“What a way to treat your star pupil!” he exclaimed, pulling the chair in the corner over to Severus’s desk and settling down in it while Severus gracefully folded himself into his own. It was a familiar arrangement, Severus often keeping him after class to discuss family matters or go into more depth about the lesson they’d learned that period. He, somehow, always arranged for Magical Theory to be his last class or at least have a free period afterwards, every year. Harry strongly suspected Severus was the one to actually arrange Slytherin schedules rather than their Head of House, Professor Carrow.
“So humble,” the man murmured absently as he pulled multiple books from a drawer in desk and placed them with a heavy thunk on top.
Harry blinked. Those were not Magical Theory texts. He stated as much and earned himself a raised eyebrow in return.
“No, they are not Magical Theory texts. They are survival guides,” he stated firmly, pushing them in Harry’s direction. He picked one off the top, flipping through it and noting it’s contents. Most of the small text was on poisons and how to counter them. The next in the pile was a handwritten journal that he thumbed through- it was all in Severus’s spidery script, a header stating “Infertility Potions; How to Reveal Them and How to Counter Them.”
“What is…?” Harry trailed off, not even knowing where to begin. He had an inkling of suspicion why Severus had given him all this, but he was baffled still. He’d only told his friends, under privacy wards nonetheless, about his desire to enter the Selection.
“When Aunt Euphemia passed,” Severus started and both of them grimaced. It had been a hard time for both of them, Grandma Effie being the only positive role-model either of the men had ever known. But while the Pox vaccine had saved her from passing from the disease, her body had still been weakened greatly by the sickness and all it had taken was a cold and then pneumonia and she’d been gone. While a wixen’s magical core worked as a particularly efficient and robust secondary immune system- protecting them from many of the same diseases that continued to fell the muggle population, Dragon Pox was particularly insidious for it’s ability to deplete the magical core over time. The vaccine had been a booster, but it could not replace what the Pox had damaged forever. He’d hardly told anyone yet, her passing having happened over the summer and still feeling fresh.
“When she passed,” Severus said again, softer this time, “the duty to care for you fell to me.”
Harry opened his mouth, ready to protest. He’d already been seventeen when Grandma Effie died, there was no duty involved when he was already an adult. Severus raised a hand to halt his argument before it started.
“I am aware that legally you are an adult,” he leveled a flat look in Harry’s direction, “however, this only means that I cannot prevent you from making foolhardy mistakes. I must still endeavor to make sure you survive them.”
Harry ducked his head, feeling grateful for the man that was all that was left of his family. Family he cared about, at least. He never wanted to see Petunia ever again. In a small voice he said, “Thank you, Severus.”
The man sighed before pushing the stack of books closer to Harry and then leaning back in his chair. “Do not thank me just yet. While I am sure your friend Ms. Granger is already compiling a study guide even a troll could follow, that does not mean I am going to let you go without a good amount of knowledge you will need for the Selection from me,” he drawled with emphasis before leaning in with a shark-like grin. It was a rare expression on Severus’s face and it terrified him, frankly. “If you thought having me help you study for your OWLs was grueling, you are in for a nasty surprise this year, baby cousin.”
Harry was stunned to horrified silence. Forget the Selection, he’d never make it through the year between Hermione and Severus. While Harry wasn’t one to slack when it came to his studies, having grown up self-taught for much of his childhood- it was an ingrained habit, but the both of them were swots to the highest degree. Either one would likely live in the library if given half the chance- granted they’d have to camp out on either side, but still. Harry still liked to breathe fresh air occasionally, thank you very much. But his window for enjoying the outdoors was growing slimmer and slimmer by the second it seemed. He’d never see the skies again.
“Now,” Severus continued, barely giving him a moment to collect himself before moving on, which was typical really. “I am sure, being the impudent little brat you are, you have decided that the likelihood of you having inherited the Prince family’s innate immunity to most poisons is great enough that you need no further protection from such sabotages.”
Harry said nothing because it was true, but he knew Severus had a point somewhere in there so he stayed silent.
“And you would be outright, idiotically, astoundingly wrong.”
“Ouch,” he muttered to himself. Louder, he tried to defend his line of thought, “But I-”
“Inherited your great-grandmother’s parseltongue ability, yes,” Severus cut him off, predicting what he was about to say. Harry leaned back with a huff at that. “But only partially. You can understand snakes, but you cannot speak to them. If anything you have a parsel-ear not a tongue.”
Neither of them bothered to mention how this had become public knowledge in the disaster that was his second year at Hogwarts.
“That is not a word,” he protested.
“Irrelevant,” Severus shot back, refusing to lose steam to his tirade. “The point I am trying to make here is that you are an absolute imbecile for thinking that inheriting half of an ability from one line means that you have inherited the full ability of another. Just because you revived a dormant ability of the Patil family through your great-grandmother Aditi, does not mean you revived the dormant ability from Euphemia’s.”
Harry sunk down in his seat and said, petulantly, “You have it, though.”
Severus sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Harry almost felt bad. Almost.
“Yes, and we only know this because your fool of a godfather accidentally tried to poison me in our youth. Forgive me for not wanting to test you in the same way.”
Harry sat up, he hadn’t known that. But whatever past laid between Sirius Black and Severus during their Hogwarts years was not a subject his cousin appreciated questions about. So he focused on something else.
“We could, though,” Harry said lightly, “test it that way.”
“No,” Severus responded with feeling, more forceful than Harry expected. “You twit. Just because you are immune from dying from most poisons, does not mean you are immune to all side-effects. It is a heavily unpleasant experience and if you keep this up I might just be tempted to make you experience it all anyway. If only to shut you up.”
“Ah,” was all he had to say, deflating. He’d hoped to avoid having to study and memorize various poisons and dangerous drafts. There were a horrifying amount of them, truly, and there were an even larger amount of antidotes and antivenins and preventative potions to consider.
Severus was back to pinching the bridge of his nose and now mumbling to himself, “I’m going to have to send you an entire box of bezoars every week, aren’t I, just to keep my sanity.”
Harry grinned and was about to answer that when he was interrupted for the thousandth time this conversation. This time, by a welcome sound. The dinner bell.
Severus rolled his eyes and gestured toward the stack of texts still on his desk, “Go, and take those. They are for you to keep. Take them with you to the Citadel as well. You will need them.”
Harry scooped them up with a smile. Saying to take them to the Citadel meant that Severus had enough faith in him to pass the Selection itself. The man was not prone to empty compliments, which implied he truly thought Harry had a chance.
“Bye, cousin Sev!” he called out as he skipped through the threshold of his classroom, knowing the man hated when he called him that.
“That is Professor Prince to you, Potter! Five points from Slytherin for disrespect!”
His grin widened. Worth it.
*
December 2nd 1997, Third Floor Corridor, Hogwarts
Harry had been sneaking around the castle after curfew, hidden beneath his family’s fading invisibility cloak, when he’d heard the sniffling.
Immediately, because no matter how much his house-mates had tried to beat it out of him- he still had Gryffindor tendencies of utter recklessness, he’d pivoted toward the sound to investigate. Personally, since he was still practicing a modicum of precaution by continuing to wear the cloak, tattered and worn and losing potency though it was, he considered it less recklessness and more… curiosity. Hermione would just roll her eyes and call him nosy. But Hermione wasn’t here and he was nosy, so nose his way to the source of the sniffles he would do.
He almost regretted it when he found the small figure curled up in the corner of the corridor, crying his eyes out, and discovered who it was. His Royal Higness, Second Prince of the Empire, Kassios Alexander Walker-Slytherin. Age twelve. And… a Gryffindor. He and his twin sister were the youngest of the Royal children to enter Hogwarts, only two others having entered before them. But Princess Eudora was in Ravenclaw with their older sister Princess Delphinia and their eldest sibling Prince Hesperos was a year below Harry in Slytherin. Prince Kassios was the only one of the Slytherin Dynasty to sport the colors of red and gold.
He wondered if that’s what the Prince was upset about. Was His Majesty displeased? Publicly it had been said that he was proud of his children no matter the House, so long as they did their best in school. But privately… He also wondered where the boy’s guards had gone, always at least two around the children while they were outside of the Citadel, and how much trouble Harry might get in if he was found around the Prince alone.
Oh well. His bleeding heart refused to let the boy cry alone, damn the consequences.
He slid the cloak off his shoulders and stuffed it in his robe pocket. He took a few steps forward, making sure they were measured- slow and audible. He watched as the Prince’s shoulders stiffened and curled further inward, his sniffles stopping with a sad hiccup. Harry approached until he was a few paces away, turned so that his back was to the Prince, and slid down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He let loose a gusty sigh and spread his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his palms, like he was lounging on a blanket during a picnic. Then he channeled his inner Luna.
“What a lovely stone wall.”
He heard a strangled sort of noise, like someone who’d been surprised into laughing and trying to hide it. Good. His master plan was working. He didn’t really know what it was, but it was working.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a pattern of cracks before. They look- well, they look rather like cracks of another kind. Slightly… rounded?”
There was a surprised bark of a laugh behind him and then muffled giggles. He grinned, arse jokes were always a hit with the twelve and under crowd. And if it hadn’t been he’d have at least shocked the Prince out of crying by his sheer audacity. It had been a no-loss gamble, but he’s glad he got the more favorable outcome.
He hummed absentmindedly, like he was simply looking for shapes in the clouds. “Hm, yes. I think that one in the corner looks rather… cheeky.”
There was another round of barely restrained giggles and the sound of feet scuffing against the floor, like the Prince was trying to contain himself by kicking against stone. Excellent. Time to really sell it. He’d need a little help, however.
He felt the warmth of the castle beneath his hands, her amusement and her disdain and her fondness all in one. She was willing to play along, it seemed, but she still resented the indignity. He focused on his core, feeding a little bit of his own magic down through his fingertips and down into the stone- the smell of rainwater washing over him- and giving a small piece of himself to her in thanks. She accepted it with an ephemeral impression, like the echo of a memory of being kissed on the top of his head. And he watched as she fulfilled his request. He could have done it himself, but he’d rather keep her favor.
There were now faint cracks on the stone where before there had been none. And they did, indeed, greatly resemble butts. He moved his arm, slowly so as not to tip off the still snickering Prince, and rolled up his sleeve so his elbow was bare. He did this with both arms to allay suspicion. Then he brought the crook of his arm up to his mouth and made a horrendous noise.
Silence. Disbelief.
Then Harry said, “Oh, I do believe that one just farted.”
Peals of heaving laughter echoed down the corridor, the kind of laughter that left you breathless and crying. This time for good reasons. Eventually, through great gulping gasps, the Prince collected himself enough to turn towards Harry and say, “There’s no way-”
Only to cut himself short and collapse into another bought of rolling hysterics at the sight of Harry’s well thought out piece de resistance. A wall of buttock shaped cracks. See, Harry could plan things sometimes. He could think ahead, Hermione, thank you very much.
After a good few minutes the Prince collapsed in an undignified heap on the floor beside Harry, star-fished with his left arm flung over Harry’s legs and his head near Harry’s knees. He was surprised by it, not expecting the boy to have relaxed so thoroughly in his presence. He was touched, honestly.
“Oh hello there, Your Royal Highness,” he said, still channeling Luna, “I didn’t see you there.”
Prince Kassios huffed a laugh and grinned at Harry from the floor. “Yeah, right, because you were too busy… wall-gazing.”
Harry nodded, “Quite right, Your Royal Highness. There are many interesting things you can see on the walls at Hogwarts, but most students just pass them by every day without a care in the world.”
“To think,” the Prince said, stifling yet more giggles, “they’re missing out on such- beautiful things.”
“I’m so glad we could agree on this.”
The two fell into a calm moment after that, Harry waiting for the Prince’s next move. Even if he weren’t walking a thin line by risking being so familiar with a Royal Child, he’d still be waiting it out. It had taken him a very long time and many talks with Hermione and Grandma Effie to be comfortable with… well, emotions. Feeling things. And taking the time to understand what he was feeling. He’d still put it off sometimes, shove whatever tangled ball of feeling that was plaguing him into a dark corner of himself until it would come back to haunt him, to overwhelm him at the worst possible time. But he had slowly become self-aware enough to know when he was doing that, at that he often needed to- not- do that. Growing up a Slytherin contributed too, in a sort of sink or swim sort of way. One wasn’t allowed to emotionally explode because they’d been bottling everything up for too long when one was in the House of Snakes.
There was a soft tap on his knee and he looked down to lock eyes, golden hazel to green, with the Prince. “Thank you,” he whispered.
And Harry smiled, warm and genuine, “Of course.”
Harry almost went to push a hand through the boy’s auburn hair, so used to doing it with his friends it felt like instinct, and his hand awkwardly hovered for a few seconds before Prince Kassios looked up and realized what Harry had almost done. He surprised Harry even further by pushing his head up into Harry’s palm, almost like a cat.
“I miss when Ma used to do this all the time.”
And the wistfulness in the Prince’s voice broke Harry’s heart. It was both familiar and not. He remembered a time when he’d yearned so desperately for such gentle affections. When he’d felt starved for it after the one time Amelia the librarian had given him a hug. This was a boy who simply sounded home-sick, sure, but it still hurt all the same.
The Prince sighed deeply, “I should have already told her about all this,” he waved a hand around the air as if to encompass everything that had started his crying in the hallway, “already, but it’s different sending a letter. Putting it all on paper makes it seem… silly.”
“I don’t know what happened,” Harry said bluntly, “and I don’t know your mother at all. But do you think she’d find it silly?”
He couldn’t exactly tell Prince Kassios to owl his mother anyway. That could back-fire spectacularly if she was one of the harem that only pretended to be nice. Primary Consort Abigail Walker-Slytherin was the second most powerful concubine for a reason, Harry couldn’t know how she acted around her children.
“No,” the boy said sulkily, “she wouldn’t find it silly. She’d tell me to be proud of being a Gryffindor instead of sad. She’d tell me that winter hols are just around the corner and I’ll be home again soon. I just hate that I’m away from my sister all the time. We can’t even eat dinner together anymore! And people are always staring. Always. It’s weird and I don’t like it. And I know I should be used to it by now and that I’ll have to be used to it for the rest of my life as a Royal, but I still don’t like it.”
Harry hummed and moved an unruly red lock away from the Prince’s eyes, “That would suck. Never be able to pick your nose.”
The boy giggled again, a short burst of mirth that crinkled his nose and put a dimple in his cheek.
“You’re nice,” he said in that tone of certainty children often had. “What’s your name?”
“Here we’ve been wall-gazing at our lovely corridor picnic and you’ve only just now asked my name?” he teased with a grin. “It’s Harry. Harry Potter. I would bow properly to His Royal Highness, but I’d rather not knock foreheads.”
Kassios gave him a considering look and he hoped he hadn’t finally crossed a line with that comment. He rather thought the nose-picking would have done it if anything would.
“You’re the one everyone’s talking about joining Dad’s harem.”
Harry didn’t know what to do with that, really. He was suddenly wildly aware that the kid he was comforting was the child of the man Harry had had many an inappropriate daydream about. The man Harry was planning to, uh, fulfill marital duties with in the future. But also he felt rather miffed that apparently everyone was talking about him and his secret plans.
“Is nothing sacred in this castle,” he murmured, instead of addressing any of that. “No one was supposed to know.”
The Prince shrugged before looking earnestly up at Harry and told him seriously, to his face, “I hope you make it.”
Harry blinked down at the child, uncomprehending.
“You’re graduating this year,” the Prince said when Harry didn’t respond. “So unless you plan to teach, the only way I’ll really see you again is if you make it to the Citadel.”
“Uh,” and Harry didn’t even know where to start with that.
“You’ll visit me in the children’s palace, won’t you? If you make it in?”
And Harry melted just a bit, just one conversation and he was already far too fond of the boy, “If you’d like me to.”
“I would.”
A grumble from the Prince’s stomach interrupted them both. Harry looked down and raised an eyebrow.
“Did you skip dinner, Your Royal Highness?”
The boy looked away with a guilty face and Harry smiled despite himself.
“Right then,” Harry said, nudging a royal shoulder to indicate they should get up. He rose reluctantly and Harry followed, dusting off his own robes while Prince Kassios simply shook himself a bit like a dog. Fascinating. What an odd mix of manners he had. “I think it’s time I, as a seventh year, do my duty to my younger peers and show you some secrets of the castle.”
At this Kassios seemed to bounce on his toes a little in excitement. “Does that mean you know how to sneak into the kitchens? I keep begging Gary to tell me but he never does! He says its ‘not proper for one of my station’ or whatever.”
Harry idly wondered who Gary was and if, perhaps, it was one of the Prince’s missing guards and how much trouble he’d be in when it got out that the Prince had slipped away from him. Regardless he was now on a mission.
“Of course,” Harry said, leading them out of the corridor with a flourishing bow to the Prince. “I couldn’t leave a Royal Child hungry, could I? That’d be treason.”
“It would,” the Prince agreed with a stately nod.
They walked in silence for a bit, dodging shadows and turning corners with held breaths. Prince he may be, but even a Prince could still get in trouble for being out after curfew if he was caught. So he said, at least. Harry would offer his cloak to shield them both, but with how dodgy the enchantments had become he didn't want to risk it.
Just before they reached the painting they were after, Harry leaned over and said, “You know. The elves are always happy to make food for whoever makes it down here. And they’re usually so busy making food they don’t really stop to stare. So. If someone were to say, bring their twin down here, they could- theoretically- have a nice dinner together in peace.”
Slowly, Kassios looked up at Harry, a small smile on his face- dimple on his cheek. “Theoretically?”
Harry nodded. “Theoretically.” Then unceremoniously, he tickled the pear and swung into the kitchen with a hungry Prince to follow.