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Chapter Text

Hogwarts was home to many people. To the students that stayed there and learnt their lessons within her walls. To the Professors who lived there most of the year and taught the young. To the creatures in her walls and outside of them; her presence stretching over the forest nearby and protecting it from those that would do it harm. Hogwarts was a safe haven to those that had nowhere else to go; she had been built as a place of safety for the magical community while they were being hunted down and prosecuted. Hogwarts never turned someone away, until one day she did.

She had liked him at first; he was polite and a bit shy. He was like one of her creators, Salazar Slytherin. Thin and gaunt, she nudged the House Elves to take care of him and fatten him up a bit before he left the safety of her walls. As he grew, he grew stronger and more powerful until he was the unspoken ruler of the Slytherin House. Hogwarts was fine with that, he was a Slytherin, why shouldn’t he control his ancestor’s house?

She saw that he talked with those that damaged other students and assumed he was warning them off. And indeed, he was. By promising them that it would more fun done outside of Hogwarts, on bigger targets. To Hogwarts, the boy was fair. Not kind, but fair. He would dole out punishments and look out for those who were weak. He would bring them out of their shells and make them strong. He was improving the lives of those in her care. She loved him for doing what she could not.

He had cried when Selena, the basilisk in her walls, had killed the female student. He had never spoken to Selena again after that, something which annoyed Hogwarts as Selena was lonely and did nothing but eat and sleep. He wasn’t sad for very long, but it was enough for Hogwarts to know that the boy was still a defender. He had argued strongly against closing the school and it seemed to take his mind off poor Myrtle.

He was a curious boy, researching all types of magic in the library. Hogwarts often indulged him. Rowena had seen that Hogwarts respected the pursuit of knowledge; and Hogwarts would never actively stand in the way of one whose goal was to learn. She noticed, of course, that the boy seemed obsessed with those called the Dark Arts, but Hogwarts didn’t mind. Her student defended the weak and made them strong. Besides, magic was magic and the students were there to learn magic.

Eventually, the boy left, and Hogwarts mourned the fact that she would most likely never see him again. A few years later, she did see him again. He was older and had lost some of the weight she and the House Elves had managed to put on him. His soul was split, and he carried a vessel that held part of it. Hogwarts happily kept it safe for him; she liked the boy, and she had missed him when he had been away.

Then came another boy, a boy who also carried a part of the other boy within him. This boy was in Gryffindor, although he could have been in Slytherin, and was just like Godric Gryffindor. He also reminded Hogwarts of Helga, the quiet determination to do good and help others, the tortured soul who only wished others wouldn’t have to go through what they had suffered.

With this boy, Hogwarts also nudged the House Elves and they looked after him the best they could. So she had both boys in her walls at the same time, she could sense the Slytherin in the Defense Professor and didn’t know why he hid. Until she did. She watched in horror as Tom and Harry faced off against one another. How had she been so wrong? How had her Tom turned out like this? He had once been a protector and teacher and now he was threatening to kill an eleven-year-old.

She watched as the body Tom had been using burned away when touching young Harry and the spectre that was all that remained of the sweet boy rose up out of the ashes. She would not allow Tom to harm Harry. Her considerable ambient magic formed a shield around the young boy, and Tom bounced off it, screaming his rage as he fled.

That was the pattern for a few years, Tom would appear and try to hurt her students, specifically Harry, and she would protect them as best she could. Finally, it all came to a head as Tom sent an army against her. She had been his home, if he had repented, she would still have been his home, no more. She burned every trace of him out of her walls and rejected his very presence. He did not exist to her anymore; he would no longer be allowed on Hogwarts grounds. He would not gain any aid from her magic.

The very air around the castle became poison to him, the ambient magic treating him as an infection and fighting against him. Tom fell to the ground as his own curse struck him. He lay there in Hogwarts’ Great Hall as his body failed him. He did not feel the warmth he had always felt before; all he felt was coldness. Hogwarts refused to talk to him and he felt alone.

He was not invited to stay as a ghost wandering the halls of his home. His home was not his home anymore. A tear made its way down his cheek as he left his body. He could see the smiling faces of those who had defeated him; could see the way Hogwarts welcomed them with warmth and ignored him. The one place that had always loved him now rejected him fully.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly before leaving; he was no longer welcome.

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Harry had always felt a sort of kinship with the Baudelaire children in the book series A Series of Unfortunate Events. They were orphans; he was an orphan. It was enough for him for the series to be one of his favourite when he managed to hide away from the Dursleys long enough to read. Then he had learned about the Wizarding World and how his parents had been rich; again, another similarity between him and the characters.

He only wished they didn’t have the same habit of luring trouble to them. He never knew which of them had it worse, him or the Baudelaire children. Both of them had one person after them, and they both always somehow managed to escape the person. His person was Voldemort while their person was Count Olaf.

Their groups were made of three people. Violet, Klaus and Sunny were related by blood, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were as tight as they could be without being related. They were even almost the same. Hermione was Klaus, Ron was Sunny, and Harry was Violet, sort of. They had the same determination and both strove to keep those in their group happy and generally managed to make something up that would get him out of whatever situation he was in.

Unfortunately, there was no escaping the unfortunate events that plagued both Harry and the Baudelaire children, so they had to deal with it. They each grew stronger, better at thinking of ways out. And eventually, the unfortunate events seemed to be behind them. Voldemort and Count Olaf were dead; there was no more fleeing from or fighting against one man and his organisation.

One night after his three children had gone to bed and Ginny had finished washing up, Harry thought that perhaps he would write his own series. His own series of unfortunate events. Perhaps he’d ask Hermione for help as he wasn’t much of a writer after all. Yes, Harry had decided that he would ask Hermione to write up their adventures and publish them in the muggle world. One book for each year at Hogwarts.

With that thought still in his mind, Harry got ready for bed and went to sleep dreaming about his first year and the adventure with the Philosopher’s Stone.

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Flying was something he was proud of; something that was just him and not his family name. Of course, a few years ago he wouldn't have cared about what was him and what was his name. Then he met Lily Evans, and she refused to have anything to do with him until he grew up. Back then, he hadn't realised how young and stupid he had been. He still was young and stupid, but tempered it with a bit of 'Lupinism' when required. 'Lupinism' meaning to act like Remus Lupin, all quiet and smart, assessing each action and its consequences. He spent a long time thinking about this action, even talked with Lupin and Amelia, Lily's best friend, about it.

Everyone else had gone to bed. Amelia was keeping Lily awake, and Lupin was giving him the go ahead. James grinned at him, hopped on his broom, and flew out the window of the 7th year Gryffindor boys’ dorm.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Lily and Amelia were gossiping, well, Amelia was gossiping and refusing to let Lily go to sleep. Suddenly, there was a tap from one of the windows. The two girls jumped and looked to where the noise had come from. Hovering outside their dorm was James Potter with a cheeky yet shy smile on his face.

Lily leapt up and opened the window, exclaiming, “What are you doing, James?”

“James?” James enquired, “Don’t you mean Aladdin?”

Lily stared at him for a few moments, long enough for James to doubt himself and babble, “It’s just that you keep telling me about how you love magic carpets and that scene between Aladdin and Jasmine; and I thought that maybe I could give you your own flying experience. I don’t have a magic carpet, and I don’t actually know who Aladdin and Jasmine are but-”

Lily cut him off, “Breathe, James. I love it.”

“Well then, Lily, fly with me?” Lily grinned and nodded, stepping out onto the broom with help from James and Amelia.

They flew around the castle with James pointing out all the things that you could only see from that height. They saw the lights shining from various windows, the Whomping Willow moving restlessly, and the centaurs running through the forbidden forest. It was all unbelievably beautiful, Lily felt the urge to sing, but instead simply marveled at the sights her boyfriend showed her.

They came to a stop at the astronomy tower, where James flew in via one of the huge open space and landed by a blanket, on which laid a picnic. Lily gasped at the sight of the floating candles spinning slowly in a circle above the blanket; two plates were set out, and there were multiple cushions to lay on.

James smiled at her and offered his hand, “Shall we?”

She smiled and nodded, letting him lead her to the picnic and arrange the cushions around her until she was comfortable. He settled himself on the other side and poured them both a cup of tea from the pot. Perhaps not the normal date drink, but it was perfect for them and perfect for a picnic.

James opened the basket at his side and began pulling out a variety of foods.There was fruit salad, bread rolls, little quiches and, for dessert, Honeydukes’ chocolate fruits.

Lily watched as James piled her plate up with food and smiled softly at him when he handed it over to her. She would never have guessed that this sweet man in front of her existed within the prankster and bully he had been a few years ago.

Now she was glad she had given him a chance; he had shown that he was willing to become a better person. The Marauder’s pranks had calmed down a little since they had been dating, they were now mostly all harmless and in good fun as opposed to what they had been once before.

The group had even taken a break from tormenting Severus Snape, as Lily had once been his friend and didn’t want any harm to come to him even after he had called her the worst name possible in the Wizarding World for the muggleborn.

As the picnic progressed, James started fidgeting until he could barely sit still. As Lily drained the last dregs of her tea, he got up on one knee and produced a small box from his pocket. Lily’s hands came up to cover her mouth as she realised what was happening.

“Lily, I can’t thank you enough for giving me a chance to show you who I could be if I had a reason. You became my reason to make myself better. These past few years have been some of the best of my life, and I know you’re the reason for that. I want you to stay in my life and continue to make it better as you encourage me to be better. Lily, will you marry me?”

Lost for words, all Lily could do was nod. James’ face broke into a brilliant smile, and he shakily put the ring on her finger before swooping her up and around in a hug, kissing her softly as they came to a halt. They grinned dopily at each other for a while before Lily lightly smacked James in the chest, “You made Amelia keep me up, didn’t you!”

James shrugged, “Guilty as charged. We should probably get back now, exams are next week and we’ll need all the sleep we can get.”

“Well then, take me home, Aladdin ,” Lily grinned.

Your wish is my command, Jasmine .”

Together they climbed back on the broom and flew out of the astronomy tower; the House Elves popping in to clear up the picnic things and smiling, happy that the plan had worked, and Lily had agreed to marry James.

Chapter Text

Hugo Granger-Weasley was obsessed with his father’s chess set. He would sit there and watch as his father played with his pieces and developed strategies to use in future games. Every night, he would lay in bed and think about the chess set, about one day having his own chess set that would obey him because they knew his strategies were solid. He would fantasize about sneaking downstairs and commanding his father’s chess set and them instantly obeying him.

He would dream about the battles they would go through together; perhaps they would forsake his father and prefer to work with Hugo instead. He felt kinda bad about that; his father had worked hard to gain the trust and loyalty of his pieces. But Hugo knew that he would be a good chess player. He had watched his father play every night; he knew all the moves one should make when in a tight spot.

As he laid in bed one night, Hugo decided that this would be the night; this would be the night that he finally went downstairs and took control. His mother and father were asleep, as was his sister. The time was now, his moment was here. He crept out of bed and listened at the door to his room for a moment to ensure that there was no one moving about for a glass of milk or the toilet or something.

The house was quiet and Hugo slowly opened his door, tiptoeing downstairs and carefully opening the cabinet that held his father’s chess set. They were not happy to be woken up, but Hugo was sure that would change once he showed them how good he was. Smiling to himself, he set up the board and looked expectantly at the pieces as they shuffled into place.

“Knight to C6,” he commanded.

The Right Knight looked at him for a moment, shook his head, and moved to C6. On the other side of the board, a pawn moved forward one space.

“Knight to F6,” the Left Knight also looked at him questioningly before moving to its assigned spot.

The black Bishop next to the King moved out, and Hugo ordered the Right Knight to A5. “Really? You want me to go there? I’ll be blocking the Rook!”

“I don’t care. I know what I’m doing now go to A5!”

“As you wish, but I’m not happy with it.”

The game progressed with the pieces getting more and more annoyed with the fact that Hugo was directing them and taking no notice of what they had to say. It was when he ordered one of the Bishop to open up a path for the Black team to the King that would end in a series of checks before checkmate was achieved that they truly rebelled.

The Bishop and the other White pieces stared at him in horror, it seemed as if he didn’t even know what he was about to do. The Bishop threw up his hands, “No. Just no. We gave you a chance because we know your father, but you are nothing like him. You don’t know how to command us; you don’t know how we work! You’re just sacrificing us one by one and headed to a nasty end. I refuse to play under you.”

He walked off the board and back into his place in the box. The other pieces followed him, and soon, they were almost all settled back into the box. Only the White Queen was still out and she was standing in the middle of the board looking up at Hugo. “We are not yours to command. We already have a good commander and we gave you this chance to lead us purely for him. We will not work with you again even if Ronald asks us to. This is the end of our affiliation, Hugo.”

With that, the White Queen joined her comrades in the box and went still. Hugo sat there, stunned. They didn’t like him; they thought he was a terrible chess player. How could he have been so wrong? He thought that they would rejoice to be playing with him yet instead, they had rejected him completely. They would never accept him as their leader; not even if his father asked them to follow him at some point.

No, he thought fiercely, this was not the end. He would learn more about chess, he would study hard and become the best chess player the world had ever seen. Better than even his father, no one would ever again say that he was terrible at leading his pieces. When Hermione and Ron came downstairs the next morning they were greeted by the sight of their son slumped over all the strategy books Ron had collected over the years. Nothing would stop Hugo, expect perhaps, the need to sleep.

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Luna was skipping; she liked skipping. It brought out the Rangles, the opposite of Nargles. According to her parents, not many people could see what they saw, some didn’t even want to see. It made her very happy that she had the family she had and that they had taught her all about the unseen world. The creatures from both the seen and unseen worlds were her only friends, but she was happy.

Once, her mother had taken her to a nearby gathering of families to try and get Luna friends her own age. Unfortunately, even though they were young, the other kids made fun of her for so firmly believing in the creatures she talked about. Everyone knew that what they saw in the enchanted play area stayed in the play area. Plus, they had never heard of most of the creatures she talked about. What in Merlin’s name was a Nargle?

Luna’s mother had then held an impromptu lecture on the unseen world before taking Luna home. Luna loved her mother; she was the best friend a little girl could ask for.

An explosion stopped her skipping.

Smoke arose from her house. Not a lovely little wisp that meant the fire was burning from the furnace, but a giant cloud that left stains on everything it touched. Luna ran towards it, only to find herself already there. Ignoring that she had performed magic for the moment, Luna collapsed at the side of her mother who was lying on the floor of her study, covered in ashes from the explosion.   Pandora Lovegood smiled slightly at her daughter; a hand coming up to rest on one side of Luna’s face.

“My darling, what are you doing here?” Pandora whispered with what little breath she had left.

“I was playing with the Rangles but then the house exploded and I think I apparated.”

Her mother laughed lightly at that, “That’s my little moon; you keep playing with the unseen and meeting new unseen. Maybe you’ll see the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Never lose your love of life and magic, Luna. It may be all you have at some point. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mum. You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

“I will always be with you, no matter what.”

At that moment, Xenophilius Lovegood rushed into the room and stopped as the scene before him sunk in. His wife was laying on the floor of what had been her study, on the verge of death. His daughter was kneeling by Pandora’s side. As he stood there, Pandora reached out her other hand towards him and he quickly went to take it in his own.

“Look after her, Xeno,” Pandora pleaded.

“I will,” he swore.

“And look after yourself,” Xenophilius swallowed a few times, choking back tears, before nodding his consent.

Content that her family would be okay, Pandora let go and went to explore the next world. She would find all the creatures and tell them about her lovely husband and adorable daughter. And when her family eventually joined her, she would take them to see everything she had discovered while she waited. She would watch over Luna as much as she could and ask the unseen creatures to look after her little moon when she couldn’t.

A week after the funeral, Luna walked up to her father and said, “I’m going to find every unseen creature and tell it about Mum. That way, they’ll know who she is and will know where to go when they get lost after they leave here.”

“That is very nice idea, Luna,” her father said, perking up a little. “Perhaps I’ll write a journal of all the creatures you find and publish it. Then the shy creatures will know we’re friendly, and other people might even understand the unseen a bit more.”

“Let’s get started, Papa.” And so, The Quibbler was born, a journal that documented the unseen, creatures and facts, for those interested and for the unseen themselves.

Chapter Text

Harry Potter was bored. It had been several years since the end of the war with Voldemort yet there were still people clambering to meet him, marry him, or kill him. He had thought he wanted to be an Auror after he had finished school but the memories had overwhelmed him. He couldn’t keep going into training every day and remembering all the people that had died at the Battle of Hogwarts.

So he had left the training program and then left Britain. Four years after the war, three years after he had left Britain, Harry had explored all of the world that he had wanted to. He had been across the United States, seen the sights of France, skied in Austria (falling down many times), trekked across Northern America, explored the Andes, walked around Uluru in Australia, and much more.

Now he was back in Britain and bored. All of his friends had dived deep into normal life: work and families everywhere. He was the drifter. The person who didn’t really know what he wanted to do. He had enough money that he didn’t need to do anything. Still, he was bored. He had seen what he had wanted to see and his friends had their own normal lives.

As he sat on the swings in the park outside of 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry heard a strange wheezing sound. It echoed from a nearby alleyway and Harry was instantly curious. He hadn’t seen anyone enter the alleyway from his side and it wasn’t the typical sound one would hear in London. Thinking it might be something magical that would either be totally awesome or terrifying, he made his way into the alley.

What he found was a big blue box that proclaimed itself to be a Police Box. He was fairly certain that a big blue Police box had not been in the alleyway before. Surely he would have seen it. It was not, after all, very inconspicuous. Therefore, it had to be something magical. Magical meant he would have to call the Aurors to take care of it before the muggles got curious or deal with it himself. A voice that sounded like Hermione told him to go get the Aurors. He never listened to Hermione; why would he start now?

Wand out, he proceeded to the box and, not knowing what else to do, knocked politely on the right-hand side door. It opened to reveal a middle-aged man in a tweed trousers, a vest with question marks with a jacket over the top and an umbrella in his hand.

“Hello,” the man said as he examined his surroundings.

“Er, hi.”

“If I’m not mistaken, this is London, 2002.”

“Yup. You got a time-turner in that box or something?”

The man spun around to look at Harry, pointing his umbrella at the wizard’s chest, “A time-turner? The TARDIS does not turn time; it travels through. Time is something that turns ; it rolls around and breaks off and becomes a mass of squiggly lines that are almost impossible to interpret.”

“Right, you’ve lost me.”

“Never mind about that. Let’s go have some tea, eh?”

Harry grinned, “Now you’re talking. Follow me.”

As he guided the strange man from the blue box to his home, Harry could hear Hermione yelling at him. Normal people do not find a stranger, who was possibly muggle, possibly magical, possibly something else, get totally confused by that person and then agree to have a cup of tea with them! Harry had plenty of practice ignoring Hermione; besides, he was bored and this man seemed to exude adventure.

Instead of taking the man home--he should really get his name--Harry guided them towards a small café that he frequented. It was out of the way and for the locals, always quiet and reasonably cheap. Sitting down at a table, they both ordered English Breakfast tea and waited in silence for it to be brought out. After they had both made the tea to their liking and taken a sip, Harry opened his mouth to ask the man’s name.

Except the man wasn’t there. Nor was the café or his freshly brewed tea. He was in what appeared to be a storage room, filled with metal crates, and there was a slight hum in the air. “Now how did I end up here?” he mused to himself as he wandered through the crates. One of them was open slightly and, curious, he peeked inside. There were a whole lot of metallic sticks that Harry assumed were technology and not metal wands. Judging from the way they were packed, he also assumed they were weapons of some sort.

Booted feet were marching his way and he quickly ducked behind a tower of crates. If these people had kidnapped him, he didn’t want to meet them anytime soon without actually knowing what was going on. The door hissed open and in stepped a short figure covered entirely by armour. The figure held out one of the rods Harry had seen in the crate and was systematically walking through the towers of crates. Assuming this was some sort of enemy operation and due to fact the figure was paying zero attention to the actual crates, it was presumably looking for Harry or his companion. Harry’s companion that was nowhere to be seen and he knew absolutely nothing about.

The figure was coming closer to him now and he quietly made his way to the other side of his tower. After checking that the figure was facing away, Harry dashed out into the corridor. He almost stopped when he exited the storage room. He was most definitely not in Kansas anymore. The corridor was metal panelled and light was emanating from circles on the wall. There was also a window--a window that showed a planet; Earth, to be exact. He was orbiting around Earth .

Shaking his head to clear it, Harry put aside the fact that he was apparently on a spaceship and continued running to the left. He hoped he could find something that would explain his situation. Maybe the box man could explain. He needed to find the other man.

Suddenly, he was yanked into a side corridor by an umbrella. There was the man that he still didn’t know the name of. Hopefully he could explain, but first things first, “What in the entirety of Merlin’s scraggly beard is your name?”

“I’m the Doctor.”

Harry ignored that it wasn’t technically a name, “Okay, great. I’m Harry. Why are we on a spaceship?”

“Ah, that would be my fault. The Sontarans have been following me for a while now and I thought that I’d lost them. Turns out I hadn’t and they decided they wanted to have a little chat about war with me. They’re all about war, this species, always fighting and cloning so they can keep fighting and now they want to try me for crimes against them during their war in which I stopped them from destroying an entire planet!”

“Right, so what’s the plan?” Harry was determinedly ignoring all the space stuff and instead focusing on what he could actually understand and believe. Which, considering that he was a wizard who went to a school of wizards and fought against a whole bunch of bad wizards, was a space war really that hard to believe?

“We get out of here and then we blow them up.”

“Good plan. How do we get out of here? We’re on a spaceship.”

The Doctor smiled at him, “The same way we got on this spaceship, the transporter.”

Harry followed the Doctor through the corridors, trying to take everything in. They made their way to what was apparently the engine room. There the Doctor fiddled with all sorts of things, pulling wires out of machines and occasionally passing something over to Harry for him to hold. Harry had no idea what the Doctor was doing except somehow causing the ship to blow up at a predetermined time.

The Doctor stood up from the machine he had been working at and clapped his hands together, “There, that should do it.”

“What about all this?” Harry held up his armful of bits and pieces.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. There’s always bits left over when you modify something.” The Doctor wiped his brow with a handkerchief he had pulled from one of his pockets and then said, “Let’s go. We don’t want to be here in a few minutes.”

They ran again, this time to the transporter room where the Doctor ushered them into the pod-like area and hit a button. The spaceship disappeared and they were on Earth again, in the alleyway and next to the blue Police Box.

“So, what is that thing? You said it travelled through time.”

“Yes, and space. This is the TARDIS, my spaceship. Did you want to have a look?”

“Sure.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting, something like the ship they had just blown up but tiny. Instead what he found was a massive room that held a console thing in the middle, arches coming down around the console with circles cut into the metal of them. Surrounding that and further in were shelves filled with books and all sort of knick-knacks.

Lights shone down from the ceiling high above and there were candelabras glowing happily dotted around the space. It was like a very old-fashioned futuristic spaceship. It was bigger on the inside but on a massive scale. He knew wizards could create objects that were larger on the inside--the tent from the Quidditch World Cup and Hermione’s beaded bag were proof of that--but this wasn’t magic. This had to be science, an incredibly advanced form of science.

“You like it?” the Doctor inquired from his position next to the console.

“I love it.”

“Do you want to see it in action?”

Harry stared at him, “You mean, you want to take me away in your wooden box spaceship?”

“Why not? I can drop you back five seconds ago. Remember, this is a timeship as well as a spaceship.”

He thought about it, thought about what he’d be leaving behind to go exploring the stars. It turned out there wasn’t really much to leave: his friends had their own lives and if he could be back five seconds ago, they wouldn’t miss him. He had seen Earth; he hadn’t seen the universe, and he wanted to see it. This had been, by far, the best day ever, and he wanted more days like it. Grinning like a lunatic, he replied with one word.

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

You are the sentinels

Silent and sure

Keeping watch in the night

~Stars, Les Miserables

The Black family had the tradition of naming their children after the stars and their constellations. Sons of Orion and Walburga Black were called Regulus and Sirius, both named after the stars in the sky. The two boys were good friends in their youth; they were all they had due to their father being Lord Black and their mother focused on drilling etiquette into their heads.

When Sirius was eleven and Regulus was ten, the two of them snuck out to their favourite place, the roof. The roof was where they went to get peace from their family and the pressure that family created. They would stare up at the stars and make up stories about what their stars were doing. Every so often they would imagine that they were the stars instead of simply being named after them.

Tonight they were saying goodbye; Sirius was going to Hogwarts the next day and the brothers would be apart from each other for longer than they had ever been. Even when Regulus joined Sirius at Hogwarts they would probably be in separate houses, Sirius was determined to be in Gryffindor, but Regulus was happy to follow the family and go into Slytherin.

“You reckon the stars are like guardian angels?” Regulus asked Sirius under the starlight.

“You mean, are they watching over us because we share names with them?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius shrugged, “I dunno, maybe. Muggles think magic isn’t real, who’s to say that stars aren’t watching us and we just don’t know it yet.”

“I’m going to talk to your star when you’re gone and maybe you’ll hear me.”

“I’ll talk to yours as well,” the two brothers grinned at each other, their shoulders touching as they lay back and stared upwards at the night sky.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Sirius Orion Black laid back on his bed in the Gryffindor dorm room that he shared with three other boys who had been sorted in the same house. It had only been one day since he had seen his brother, but he was already missing Regulus. He didn’t know how he was going to manage the three months until the Yule break.

The dorm room was filled with unfamiliar noises, the shuffling and sniffling originating from three other people sounding strange after having his own room all his life. Sighing, Sirius turned on his side and looked out the window by his bedside. The stars were shining bright, surrounding the moon in all its glory. He smiled up at it weakly; was his brother looking at the stars right now?

Locating the Regulus star and sending it a small wave, he whispered, “Hey, Reg.”

He was silent for a while, simply laying there with a small smile on his face imagining what his little brother was doing at that moment.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Regulus Arcturus Black was on the roof of the Black house and looking up at the stars. The Sirius star was shining brightly down upon him. Downstairs his mother and father were arguing over Sirius’ sorting, though they might have known that Sirius wanted to go into Gryffindor they didn’t expect him to actually get into that house.

He grinned up at the star and waved, “Hey, Siri. You’ve certainly caused a ruckus here today; they are not happy with you. Congrats on getting into Gryffindor, I know that’s where you really wanted to be. I don’t quite understand why; it’s a bit brash, but I won’t hold it against you.

“How’s Hogwarts so far? I mean, I know you’ve only been here for a night but how was it? Is the castle as awesome as people say? Was the food good? Have you made any friends yet? Of course you have, what am I saying? You’ll be friends with everyone at Hogwarts, well, except for the Slytherins.” Regulus laughed and then threatened, “But you better still be friends with me or else!”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Both Black brothers smiled up at the night sky and were comforted by the thought of their brother doing the same thing. Though one was in Scotland and the other in England, it was the same starlight that shone down on the both of them.

Chapter Text

When he was a young child, Harry James Potter had no one to turn to. He didn’t have a shoulder to cry on or an adult to ask for advice. All he had were his Aunt and Uncle who often neglected their duty of care and his bullying cousin. So, he had learned how to take care of himself and when he turned eleven and was introduced to a whole new world, he figured he could deal. That was, until he found out that an evil wizard killed his parents and was still trying to kill him.

The first year he could kind of deal with it, mainly because he didn’t fully understand what was going on; he was only eleven at the time. His first year at Hogwarts had actually been kind of fun, adventuring with two friends to find out the secret hidden within the school. It was like the many adventure books he had read after Dudley had thrown them around and tore out their pages in frustration at the book’s inability to make cool noises.

Together, he, Ron, and Hermione had solved the mystery and stopped Voldemort from winning. It had been a fun time; there hadn’t really been any attempts on his life apart from the broom thing and a professor had saved him.

It was second year where things started going downhill, almost every student attending Hogwarts that year suspected him of releasing a giant basilisk and going after the muggleborns. At least until one of his best friends, Hermione, had been attacked. He had learned a lot about the Wizarding World and fame that year. He had also learned that it wasn’t common to be able to talk to snakes, reinforcing his aunt’s constant utterances of him being a freak.

Third year, he learned that an escaped convict was his godfather and was thought to be the betrayer of his parents. Sirius Black was an innocent man, convicted without a trial, and thought the worst of for twelve years while Peter Pettigrew lived as a rat in the happy home of the Weasley family.

Fourth year was when things turned insane. Ron turned against him completely until the first task was over. The fact that Harry was even participating in the Triwizard Tournament aggravated the Boy Who Lived to no end. He almost wished that he had never discovered the Wizarding World, the whole thing just made him want to throw in the towel and tell the Wizarding World that he was a fourteen-year-old boy who was still learning magic and had no desire for his life story to be splashed across the front page of a newspaper.

However, none of those years held a candle to his fifth. His fifth year at Hogwarts was a blur of torture from Voldemort and Umbridge while still suffering from nightmares about the graveyard where Voldemort resurrected. Dumbledore was kicked out, and Hagrid expected Harry and his friends to look after his full-blooded giant brother.

Voldemort sent him visions almost every night, leaving him with a migraine afterwards. Umbridge kept giving him detention where she made him write with the quill that used his own blood as ink while Professor McGonagall told him to keep his head down and not attract attention. Except everyone was looking at him because he was the Boy Who Lived and famous because of something his mother did.

The Invisibility cloak got a lot of use during that year, he would sneak up to the Astronomy tower and watch the stars when he knew there wasn’t a class. The murtlap essence provided by Hermione soothed his hand where the quill had etched the words, I must not tell lies , as he sat there quietly. Several times, he almost gave in to the idea of simply stepping off the edge, but then he’d think of Hermione and Ron and the rest of the Weasley’s; they kept him from abandoning all hope and giving up.

His family that consisted of his friends helped him through his grief when Sirius died. They stood by him as he tried to work out Draco Malfoy’s plan and learned about Voldemort’s childhood. Ron didn’t shun him when Harry started dating Ginny and was, instead, happy for them. They were there when Dumbledore died and accompanied Harry on his quest to find Voldemort’s Horcruxes.

There was no way he would have been able to get through the next year without Ron and Hermione. Even with them there, when he wore the Horcrux he so often almost gave up. He wanted to give up, to just forget about the prophecy and let someone else deal with Voldemort, but he couldn’t let himself do that and neither could Ron and Hermione.

It devastated Harry when Dobby died saving them from Malfoy Manor; another family member dead in the horrid war Voldemort was forcing upon them. Harry couldn’t allow anyone else to die for him, he would get the Horcrux they thought was in Bellatrix Lestrange’s Gringotts vault, they would find the remaining Horcruxes, and then Harry would end the war, no matter what.

He gave up; he let Voldemort kill him and hoped that Neville would finish what he couldn’t. Except it wasn’t the end, instead he was given a choice; to stay and go to the afterlife or to return to Hogwarts and the war. The temptation to join his parents was almost strong enough to make him stay, almost. Until he thought about the family he had back home, in the world of the living. He couldn’t just leave them behind like this; he had to go back.

Harry Potter never gave up, he was the Boy Who Lived.

Chapter Text

Sirius Black laughed when the Aurors dragged him away from the street where he had killed the traitor, Peter Pettigrew. He laughed at the absurdity of it all; that they had chosen Peter because no one would suspect him. They themselves hadn’t suspected that Peter would be so weak as to follow You Know Who. It was a hysterical laugh that didn’t stop, even when the boat was approaching Azkaban prison and the chill of the Dementors kissed his skin. It was no longer a full-blown laugh, but every now and again he would let out a strangled chuckle of dark amusement.

It seemed as if he hadn’t been able to escape the madness that the Black family was so famous for. The guards on either side of him exchanged glances; they were afraid of this mad man who had managed to kill twelve muggles and Peter Pettigrew with one spell and was now laughing as he entered one of the most feared places in Wizarding Britain. It seemed that the Black Madness was real.

As he was thrown into the cell that would be his for however long, Sirius smiled at the guards and gave them a gracious bow. Then he turned to face his cell, threw out his arms, and drew in a deep breath. The smell of the ocean filled his nostrils along with the general smell of prison filth and unwashed bodies. Home sweet home.

He let out another chuckle at that, what kind of sane person called Azkaban a sweet home? Then again, he wasn’t entirely sane now. He had heard from his father that when a Black goes through a traumatic event, their hold on sanity becomes very tenuous and can so easily be broken. Sirius figured that losing his best friends due to another friend’s treachery was traumatic enough; and no matter how much he had tried to escape the family, he was still a Black by name and blood.

A Dementor stopped outside his cell in solitary confinement and he stopped laughing. He didn’t like the memories that began surfacing in his mind. He didn’t like the cold that was seeping into his bones. He wanted to escape it; he wanted to be warm, so he did the only thing he could think of and transformed into the big black dog that was his Animagus form.

As soon as he became Padfoot the Dementor’s effects vanished. The Dementor seemed to be vaguely confused by the sudden change of human to animal but didn’t much care; there were plenty of other sources of food. It moved onwards, and Sirius watched it go with relief. He barked a laugh; the Dementors couldn’t touch him when he was Padfoot! He had a defence system against the only true guards of the prison he was stuck in. Perhaps Azkaban wouldn’t be so bad after all.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Twelve years later Sirius caught a glimpse of the newspaper Cornelius Fudge was holding and repressed a snarl. As politely as he could he asked Fudge if he could read the paper and—when the Minister had given it to him—confirmed that, yes, Pettigrew had survived and was living as Wormtail with the Weasley family. Instantly his mind began whirling, he had to escape Azkaban and track down the traitor.

Pettigrew was on the youngest boy’s shoulder; the rat would probably accompany the boy to Hogwarts. Harry would be at Hogwarts as well, and Sirius couldn’t let anything happen to his godson; he would not allow Pettigrew to finish the job of wiping out the Potter family. It was time to leave the prison.

That night, he transformed into Padfoot and managed to squeeze through the bars of his cell. They should really feed prisoners more, otherwise anyone could get skinny enough to fit through the gap between two bars. Letting out a small, amused bark, Sirius loped down the corridor and slipped through the shadows until he reached the entrance of Azkaban. Not stopping to think about the temperature, he dived into the sea and started swimming towards the mainland. He glanced back at the imposing tower once and gave it a little wave goodbye. Home sweet home, indeed.

Chapter Text

The Black family had a duty to their blood to keep it pure and untainted by muggles or mudbloods. This was achieved through marriage contracts with other Pureblood families. The Black family had three daughters they could offer to the Pureblood families; Narcissa, the youngest, Andromeda, in the middle and Bellatrix, the eldest.

After much discussion and negotiation, it was decided that Narcissa would be gifted to the Malfoy family. Andromeda was promised to the Rosier family, and Bellatrix to the Lestrange family. This was what the Heads had decided; and this was what would happen. As each child graduated Hogwarts, they were married to their betrothed and sent off to continue each family line.

Bellatrix was happy with Roldolphus Lestrange. He didn’t require much from her, and she was generally free to do as she wished. Then she went into the Dark Lord’s service and everything changed. Voldemort was everything she had ever believed a pureblood to be; he was powerful, focused, driven, charming, and so much more. She wanted to do everything she could for him and his cause, but Roldolphus did not understand her desire and refused to help her, even as he remained a loyal servant to the Dark Lord.

So the eldest Black sister found another way to serve her Lord. Although Andromeda had been purged from their family for running away with a muggleborn and not honouring the marriage contract the Blacks held with the Rosier family, Narcissa was married to Lucius Malfoy. Though they had been married for a few years now, there had been no word of a child on the way, and Bellatrix wondered why.

The next time she went to visit her parents she brought the topic up in conversation and received a most intriguing answer. Her sister was barren and there was no spell that could help her provide a child for her husband. An idea sparked in Bellatrix’s mind, Lucius was the Dark Lord’s right-hand man; she could pretend to be her sister and provide him a child. The Malfoy family could continue to serve the Dark Lord, even after Lucius had passed.

That very night, before she left the Black family home, Bellatrix snuck up to Narcissa’s old room and stole a hairbrush from where it was laying on the dresser. She would have to enlist Severus’ help in making the Polyjuice Potion, but she was sure that wouldn’t be a hardship. She would just tell him it was for the Dark Lord.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Shall we go to bed, Husband?” Lucius smiled up at his wife from lounge he had been reading on and took the hand she was offering him. As he let her lead him towards the bedroom, he wondered what he was going to do about getting an heir for the Malfoy family. He loved his wife dearly and did not wish to have to bring in another woman to act as a carrier.

But that was for another day. Now Narcissa was smiling suggestively at him, and he happily joined her in their rather large bed. Who knew, maybe a miracle would happen and Narcissa would bear them a child without outside help.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Bellatrix rubbed her swollen stomach and whispered soothing words to the child growing inside of her. Roldolphus didn’t suspect that the child was not his, and she would keep it that way until she was in her third trimester. She could do this for the Dark Lord, and she could make sure his right-hand man would have a son to teach and eventually take his place.

The door to her solarium slammed open and her father, Roldolphus, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa all entered. She stepped backwards, eyes flicking from person to person as Lucius advanced upon her.

“Did you pretend to be your sister one night and as a result of that, carrying the Malfoy heir in your womb?” the aristocratic blond demanded tightly.

“Yes.” Bellatrix said proudly before swallowing at the disgusted and disappointed looks sent her way.

Lucius nodded once, turned on his heel and addressed her father, “Lord Black, I request Line Repossession.”

Cygnus Black nodded in acceptance and withdrew his wand. Bellatrix backed away in earnest as the three men advance on her, but Roldolphus managed to grab her and hold her still as Lucius and Cygnus performed the spell that would remove the fetus from her womb and place it into Narcissa’s. It was a spell not often used; it would only work if Line Theft had been attempted and then only within the first trimester.

Bellatrix screamed as the pain hit her, her insides were twisting, stretching and retracting as her baby was forcibly removed from her body and placed inside Narcissa. An answering scream echoed around the glass walls of the solarium as Narcissa’s body was prepared and then forced to accept the fetus from Bellatrix.

Once the spell was complete, the two women collapsed into unconsciousness. Narcissa was carefully carried out by both her husband and father while Roldolphus stayed by Bellatrix’s side. Even though she had purposefully gone to another man, she was his wife and he was her husband. They had vowed to stay by each other’s side, and he would keep that vow.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The void where her child should have been never vanished and Bellatrix slowly went insane. She would always protect him, even if he was no longer hers.

Chapter Text

Sands of time, take me back

Before it all went wrong

When love was but a song

And tomorrow shone as brightly as the sun

Teach me to undo what's done

Sands of time, take me back

~Sands of Time, Twisted

They had been looked upon strangely when they had arrived at Hogwarts and remained friends while sorted into opposing houses. The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was infamous and thought to be impossible to overcome. Somehow, they had managed to do it and their relationship stayed strong until the one mistake he made in fifth year.

Severus Snape was the bat of the dungeons, the greasy git of Hogwarts, the least liked professor and he was content with that. For the past eleven years he had been atoning for his mistake in whatever way he could.

In the beginning, he had hated Lily Evans as she refused to accept his many apologies and decided to become what she thought he already was; now he simply wanted his friend back. He knew that this was the year her son would be attending Hogwarts, and he would have to see the boy’s face every day for the next seven years.

As he sat in front of the glowing fire in his quarters at Hogwarts, Severus stared into the glass of brandy he had been holding but not drinking for the past hour. Images from his memories were projected onto the warm liquid as his past with Lily plodded through his mind. He had been staring at the two of them fervently studying for OWLs for a while now, it was the last happy memory he had with his childhood best friend. It had happened the next day.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Severus was sitting under the tree by the Black Lake getting some last-minute studying in before Lily came down to meet him when he heard the laughter he had learned to dread draw closer to his position. He shrunk into himself, hoping beyond hope that maybe they wouldn’t see him this time. His hopes were in vain, however, as James Potter spotted him almost instantly and he directed the other Marauder’s attentions towards the skinny Slytherin.

“Hey, look at that Moony, Padfoot. A slimy Slytherin all by his lonesome. Guess we’ll have to teach him a lesson.”

Severus abandoned his books and stood up, hand hovering over his wand in case he needed to draw it, “You’ve already tried to teach me several lessons, Potter. They never seem to do you any good so why don’t you stop trying?”

The Marauders all laughed while Potter sneered at him, “It’s my duty to teach those who are of a lesser class than myself. Maybe if you stopped hanging around those who are above you and stick to your own, slimy, kind I wouldn’t have to try so hard.”

“Lily is my friend!” Severus snarled; he knew that his friendship with the redhead was the main reason Potter and his cronies tormented him but Lily was his only friend and he wasn’t going to let anyone tear them apart.

A whispered spell later and Severus was hanging upside down in mid-air. “Hey, who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s trousers?”

Severus started struggling in earnest when he heard that but unfortunately, Potter was a fairly adept wizard, even in fifth year. He just hoped that Lily wouldn’t arrive until after the Marauders were finished with him. Once again, it seemed all his hopes were in vain as Lily Evans came storming into the little group that had formed around Severus’ hanging body and started yelling at Potter.

“Leave him alone!”

Potter’s attitude changed immediately and he was the charming, smooth pureblood heir once again, “All right, Evans?”

“Leave him alone,” Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. “What’s he done to you?”

“Well,” Potter pretended to think about that for a few seconds, “it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.”

Severus groaned internally, this feud would never be finished. He stopped paying attention to the conversation happening around him and instead tried to think up a plan of escape and retaliation. He was jerked out of his thoughts as he fell down to earth again.

Potter sneered down at him, “You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus —”

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!”

Lily blinked and Severus immediately regretted his words. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I won’t bother in future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

That was the day that he had lost it all and descended into darkness. How he wished he could have thought through his words before he spoke them but unfortunately that was not a skill he had learned at the tender age of fifteen. He had spent the rest of the year trying to talk to Lily, even camping out in front of the Gryffindor common room one night, but she had never spoken to him again. The loss of her in his life had made him search out darker and darker magics until he had finally agreed to go with Lucius Malfoy and meet Lord Voldemort.

Severus shivered even with the fire burning, those were memories he did not want to relive. Instead he returned to his happier memories of Lily Evans, she was never Potter in his mind, always Evans. His best friend.

“If I could turn back time and undo what I've done…" he murmured softly to the empty room, thinking about all the days he missed out on because of his stupid words said in the heat of the moment. He had always known that the Marauders were trouble but that had to be the most damaging thing they had ever caused him.

He wished he had thought of grabbing a time-turner when he was young but then again, would it have made any difference? A time traveller could not interact with themselves without facing dire consequences. It was the first rule of time travel; you must not be seen.

Lily Evans was forever lost to him, and the Sands of Time would not answer his plea. He could never undo what he had done but perhaps, through her son, he could atone for both his actions and his words.

Chapter Text

“Can a person ever be entirely sure of their own safety? Or is it simply wilful naivety that makes us feel certain we are safe? These are some of the questions you should ask as you make out your way through the training to become a security blanket that the general public has learned to rely on. Welcome to Auror training.”

Applause rang out as the speaker bowed his head in thanks and stepped back. His place was taken by Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, “Thank you, Harry. Now, onto business. There are several classes in Auror training and several different teachers. Each teacher…”

Harry Potter tuned out Kingsley’s speech as he sat on the chair provided for him on the little stage they used for assemblies within the Auror department. It was a strategic placement, as always. He was there to give support to the minister and therefore, had to be seen alongside or just behind him whenever he and Kingsley were in the same room.

Even though Harry had stopped being an Auror a few years after he had been officially inducted, he was still the Saviour of the Wizarding World and still as famous as he had been during his Hogwarts years. More famous, even, due to the fact that he had succeeded in ridding the world of Voldemort once and for all.

He had spent those few years as an Auror trying to catch the Death Eaters that had escaped after the Battle of Hogwarts but had eventually realised that it would be impossible to catch all of them. Even with the Dark Lord dead, there were still people who believed in his ways and converted others to supporting Voldemort as well. The sects had begun popping up more and more until Harry had had enough and thrown his badge upon Kingsley’s desk before storming out.

Surprisingly enough, once he had retired the number of new sects died down. Maybe they felt that with Harry no longer taking an active part in society, they didn’t need to try so hard to keep Voldemort alive in spirit and memory. Harry didn’t know, but he was just glad they had stopped.

Harry Potter was now quite content with his life. He had married Ginny and had three wonderful children. Yes, every now and again, Kingsley demanded his presence for this or that, and yes, he had to attend the Ministry Balls that were held for the end of the war but all in all he had a pretty good life.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Harry inhaled deeply as he stepped into the little house he shared with his family, the air was rich with the scent of freshly baked biscuits and he could hear the giggles coming from the kitchen. He grinned at the sight of his beautiful wife and daughter, both of them covered in flour as their masterpieces sat cooling on the bench.

They looked up as he entered the kitchen and Lily ran towards him full pelt and threw herself into his arms, consequently covering him in flour. “Daddy, we made biscuits!”

“I can see that, lovely. Did you have fun?” he settled his daughter on his hip as he made his way to Ginny and gave her a quick kiss in greeting.”

Lily giggled, “Yup! Me and Mum had a flour fight! I won.”

“Did you now? I don’t suppose Daddy’s allowed to taste test your creations?”

“Course you can, Daddy! I’ll get you one that I made.” With that, the young girl slipped down and ran to the tray of biscuits where she proceeded to look them over very seriously as she decided which one to give her father.

Harry slipped an arm around Ginny’s waist as she leaned against him, “Good day?”

“Yes, the boys are working on their Hogwarts prep work that Hermione gave them. Lily and I decided to make biscuits for when you came home and I’m sure James and Albus won’t mind helping demolish them.”

“Here you are, Dad!” Lily held up a singular biscuit and beamed up at him.

He grinned at her and took it. Nibbling a bit off, he pretended he was a biscuit connoisseur while Lily giggled and Ginny looked on fondly. “Hmm, I detect a slight hint of cinnamon. The texture is just right, light and crispy on the outside while the inside is still slightly gooey. I do say that this is one of the best biscuits I have ever tasted!”

The biscuits were plated up and taken into the living room where James and Albus were working on the things Hermione had sent. “Biscuits are ready, boys! And look who it is, Dad’s back from work!”

The two boys immediately cheered and abandoned their work as they each hugged their father and grabbed a biscuit. The family of five all settled around the unlit fireplace and caught up with each other. It was a tradition of theirs to do this every time Harry had to go out, either for his freelancing work in the muggle world or his duties as the Saviour.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

That night Harry woke with the feeling that something was wrong. He didn’t often get these feelings, generally only when he was dealing with Voldemort or his followers, and he hadn’t had one ever since he had retired from the Auror forces. The fact that, right now, that feeling was making itself known was worrying.

Cautiously, he slipped out of bed and picked up his wand from the nightstand. A glance at Ginny told him she was still asleep, and he let her be. He didn’t want to wake her up for no reason. He padded silently down the hall, peeking into the children’s rooms as he passed them. There was nothing out of place; the house was still, yet the feeling of wrong didn’t fade. In fact, it grew stronger as he continued his patrol.

A force hit his back and Harry fell forwards; the Petrificus Totalus making sure that he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. He felt a foot nudge his side and roll him over. He was greeted with the masked form of his attacker. They were wearing a Death Eater mask, and Harry was instantly filled with fear for his family.

“Hello, Saviour ,” the masked attacker mocked. “Do you want to know why I’m here?”

Harry could say nothing so he settled for glaring at what he presumed to be a male, judging by their voice.

“Oh, I forgot, you can’t speak. Well, I’ll tell you anyway. I’m here to get some retribution for myself and my family. I have been waiting years for this chance and it has finally arrived.” The attacker twirled his wand and continued, “See, I was on your side once. I was a good citizen who had nothing to do with the Dark Arts or You-Know-Who. But You-Know-Who had something to do with me and you didn’t stop it! ”

Harry was now staring in confusion at the clearly deranged person who had broken into his house and petrified him. “Ahem, sorry, I tend to lose control of my emotions when talking about this subject. As I was saying, You-Know-Who sought me out and offered me a deal. Me, being the good citizen that I was, refused even as he tortured me.”

“After a week of staying in his dungeons, I managed to escape and I thought that would be the end of it. The war was heating up and it seemed as if all the Dark Lord was interested in was killing you, but no, You-Know-Who wasn’t done with me.”

“He came into my home, petrified me and then killed my family in front of me while I was helpless to stop him. He was about to kill me too but then he said some of his followers had caught the Boy-Who-Lived and left me there, staring at the dead bodies of my family! And do you know what? If you had just killed him when you were a baby like everyone said you had, it wouldn’t have happened at all !”

“It’s all your fault, Hero , and now I’m going to do to you what he did to me. And I’m all dressed for the occasion. I think it’s time you introduced me to your family, don’t you?”

Harry let out a muffled yell as he tried his hardest to break the spell, he would not let this madman kill his family in some twisted form of revenge. The attacker chuckled and gave him a little wave before slinking off in the direction of the bedrooms.

Try as he might, Harry could not break the petrification placed on him and soon enough his wife and children were walking placidly into the living room. He could tell from the glazed eyes that they had been placed under the Imperius Curse. He watched helplessly as each one was tied up with an Incarcerous and released from the Imperius as soon as they were tightly bound.

Ginny realised what was going on almost immediately and worked on keeping their children from panicking too much. Harry fell in love with her even more as he saw how she dealt with the situation at hand; she was so strong even when she was tied up and helpless.

He screamed when she did as the sudden Crucio hit her, “There is no comfort to be offered to your children, little missy! They will die , no matter what you try to do to save them.”

A barrage of spells began, and Harry watched in horror as all types of Dark spells were directed towards his loving family. He couldn’t move, couldn’t close his eyes or jump in to save them. When the self-appointed Death Eater had finished their work, they grinned at Harry and swiftly made their escape, disappearing through the wards that should have kept them out.

Harry was left staring at his family until the binds of the petrifying spell had worn off. Slowly, he crawled towards Ginny and gathered her in his arms, rocking back and forth. As he sat there, cradling his dead wife and surrounded by his dead children, one thought echoed through his mind.

Where were the Aurors?

Chapter Text

Sirius never unpacked his trunk when he arrived home from Hogwarts. He didn’t really like his home and only called it home because he had lived there all his life. His home was the Potter Mansion, and that was where he spent most of his time if he could escape the Black house. It went like this: Sirius would arrive home, the Blacks would have a dinner to celebrate the return of both Sirius and Regulus, the House Elves would wash Sirius’ dirty clothes from his trunk, Sirius would make sure his trunk was still fully packed, then Sirius would leave the house and make his way to the Potter’s.

He never took his trunk with him, but it was packed in the event that he actually wanted or needed to leave his ancestral home forever. James had some of Sirius’ things that the boy could use when he ended up staying over at the Potter’s and needed more than what he had arrived with. The young Black was always welcome at the Potter’s; and he knew that they were one of the only reasons he could still keep a smile on his face.

At home there were a lot of well- and ill-concealed looks of disappointment and disapproval sent his way. Sirius delighted in shoving his sorting into Gryffindor in his family’s faces with his brightly decorated room and wearing the red and gold associated with that house whenever they had been invited to a function. He refused to wear the more ‘respectable’ green and silver colours of Slytherin or even the subdued blue and grey colours of Ravenclaw.

The Black’s had nothing to do with Hufflepuff, who they thought as a load of wishy-washy people that were soft and of no use to society. Sirius quite liked some Hufflepuff’s he knew but he didn’t mention the house to his family. He knew that that would get him disowned quicker than getting into Gryffindor and being best friends with a Potter would. There was almost nothing a Black hated more than a Hufflepuff being in power; if they couldn’t be placed in a house where ambition was important, why would they be placed in a position where ambition was the most important thing?

So, with all this in mind, Sirius never unpacked his trunk and always had it ready in case he should ever need to leave quickly. It was his raft, his security blanket if things went bad; and they were spoiling to go bad at any moment within the current environment of the Wizarding World. The Dark Lord, You-Know-Who was making waves, and more and more Purebloods were gathering behind him.

His own family was leaning towards following him. The man had power; he was the Heir of Slytherin—or so he claimed—and the Blacks had always been loyal to Slytherin. Except Sirius because Sirius Black was the outcast and he would never follow a Slytherin unless it was to play a prank on said Slytherin.

His trunk sat at the end of his bed every night; and every night he would check it over, just in case. He took care of his trunk for he knew that it may well save his life one day. Once he had graduated from Hogwarts, it moved from the Black house to a small, sheltered cave that was fiercely warded against any intrusions that weren’t Sirius himself, and there it stayed. It sat there patiently waiting while its owner was in Azkaban.

It would wait until the day Sirius remembered it and went to fetch it. In that trunk were the two-way mirrors he and James had used. He would give one of them to his godson, Harry Potter, and that way Harry would always be secure in the knowledge that his godfather was there for him, day or night, no matter what.

Chapter Text

Hermione Granger was known for her adventures with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter; together they were the Golden Trio. Hermione was the very driven by equality as evidenced by her creation of S.P.E.W and she was now determined to make sure that the Slytherins who had fought in the war against Voldemort were treated with respect. Ron was working out different strategies they could use to bring the public around while Harry was using his hated fame to talk to the public.

Draco Malfoy was Hermione’s personal project. She was determined that he would be able to walk down Diagon Alley without being side-eyed or threatened. At the moment, he wasn't very receptive of her efforts; tending to spend most of his time in Malfoy Manor away from the world, but she had high hopes that she would be able to bring him out of his seclusion.

She was currently waiting at a little restaurant in said Alley where she had invited Draco to meet her five minutes ago. There was a slight chance that he wouldn't come but there was also the chance that, like all the other times, he came later in the hopes that she would leave before he arrived. The door opened and she smiled at Draco as he walked in and he scowled back.

“Granger.”

“Hello, Draco. How nice of you to come out of your manor to spend this time with me.”

“Whatever, Granger, let's just get your obligatory weekly community service meeting over with. You Gryffindor’s are always so controlled by your emotions.”

“I've told you before and I'll tell you again, Draco. I'm doing this because I want to, because you deserve more than what everyone has been giving you.”

“Honestly, Granger, I don't care. Just leave me alone.”

“No. Now let's enjoy a nice cup of tea and a chat and then we can go to Flourish and Blotts to see if they have any good new books.”

Draco sighed but acquiesced and Hermione smiled to herself, one step closer.

 ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Draco collapsed on the chaise in front of his fireplace when he exited the Floo. His time with Hermione Granger every week drained all the energy from him and he needed the whole next week to recover. He wasn't used to positive energy being focused towards him. His life when he had been growing up had been full of lessons on how to behave as a pure blood. There were etiquette lessons and magic lessons but there had been no time for affectionate family times, especially not when the Dark Lord has surfaced again.

It felt like Hermione was trying to kill him slowly as she continued to force him to socialise and leave his safe little corner of the world. He liked living in his manor; he experimented on his potions, read his books and was content with himself. He knew who he was, he was a Slytherin who had defied the Heir of Slytherin and sided with the Boy-Who-Lived. 

Hermione Granger might think that what she was doing was what was best for him, but she was instead destroying what little he had left with her acts of ‘kindness’.

Chapter Text

Salazar Slytherin was the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son in a pure blood family. He grew up learning the importance of the number seven and how, as a Seventh Son, his magic prowess would increase the more he paid tribute to the number. A Seventh Son was a gift and brought prestige to the family that produced such a miracle. A Seventh Son of a Seventh Son was a gift from Lady Magic herself and the family would forever be remembered as one of the Greats.

A Seventh Son of the Seventh Son was Fate whispering to the world that change was coming and the Seventh Son would aid and abet, guide and bring about that change. All Magical Kind knew that when such a son was produced, they should prepare to deal with the outcome, whatever that may be. This Seventh Son would change the Wizarding World completely.

As Salazar was growing up, he made friends with the family next door and spent most of his free time playing with their daughter, Helga. The Slytherin’s were hesitant about this companionship as the Hufflepuff’s were not in such high a standing as the Slytherins. However, they saw the influence that little Helga had on their son and decided that it was a good influence, so they decided to allow the friendship to continue.

Helga Hufflepuff was a sweet and demure girl who worked hard at everything she put her mind to. She didn't care about the snobbish practices of the higher class and accepted everyone as they were, a quality that she tried to impart on Salazar. And so--with the influence of Helga--Salazar Slytherin became a noble-born pure blood who didn't mind slumming it with the poor on occasion.

When Salazar began to learn magic under the Master that had taken him in, he learned alongside a female. Now, due to his friendship and regard for Helga, he did not mind learning alongside the fairer sex. Instead he was cordial to the other apprentice and they eventually became friends. Rowena Ravenclaw was an incredibly bright person and strove to discover everything she could about the world around her and the magic that ran through her body.

Salazar became her test subject and she, his. While Rowena would draw complicated diagrams and then wave her wand around, Salazar would work over a cauldron and Rowena would test them as Salazar wrote down the effects. This was always done under the supervision of their Master in case an experiment went awry.

When he was sixteen; Salazar was noble and unrefined, clever and foolish. He was a mix of conflicting traits that should never be found in a single being. And yet, there he was, a blend of what he had learned from his family, Helga and Rowena. The three of them had dreams of becoming something more, with Salazar as the unofficial leader due to him being the Seventh Son of the Seventh Son. Then another Seventh Son came along.

Godric Gryffindor was a charming man who exuded confidence and friendliness. He charmed his way into the group of three by aiding Rowena when she had been targeted by some overzealous and drunk males looking for company. They had quickly run away when Godric, big and burly with muscles on muscles, had entered the stable and demanded what they thought they were doing.

The four were discussing their plans for the future a few seasons later when Godric, drunk on mead and the close-knit friendship he was now a part of, declared, “I propose a school!”

“Yes! A school of magic and research!” Rowena exclaimed delightedly.

Helga smiled happily at the image in her mind, “A school for all with magic to learn without needing to worry about being seen.”

“An excellent idea,” Salazar agreed, “but where will we put this school of magic and research that all who have magic are free to learn and practice?”

Godric subsided, he hadn’t thought of that. It was Rowena who said, “There is a place. It is rumoured to be the site of Camelot, where King Arthur ruled with Merlin by his side. It can only be found by those who have need of it and who have Magic by their side.”

It was settled, the four of them would journey out to find the site of the great citadel Camelot and transform it into a school. Salazar and Godric, the Seventh Sons, were both blessed by Magic. Godric, the loud, brash and compassionate warrior. Rowena, the quiet, reserved and learned scholar. Helga, the kind, brave and knowledgeable healer. Salazar, the noble, humble and cunning alchemist.

Together they were the Founders Four and together they created a school of magic that would carry on teaching for centuries. The seven original students became hundreds. The seven years of learning imparted wisdom on all who passed through the halls of what once was Camelot. Through them it became Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Chapter Text

James took a deep breath; he was going on a date with Lily today, and she had suggested going into the muggle world. James, of course, said that it was a brilliant idea and he was all for it. Until he realised that going into the muggle world meant that he had to figure out how the muggles dressed. The muggles seemed to have so many different types of clothing, and he was used to wearing robes; wizards wore robes not the ensemble that the muggles somehow managed to jumble together.

Earlier that day, he and Sirius Black had gone out into Muggle London and tried to find some suitable attire. Seeing as they both came from wizard families, they really didn’t know what to look for; but they tried. They had gone into at least two shops and followed other males around to see if they could pick up any hints. In the end, Sirius had just shoved an article of clothing that was the most robe-like and they had left after giving the cashier some paper.

Now James was examining himself in the mirror to make sure that he was presentable. The robe-like thing Sirius had chucked at his face was a simple straight down piece of fabric with a sash around the waist. James didn’t quite understand why a sash was needed but there it was, and he had cast a simple colour-change charm to transform it into Potter colours. He was ready.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Whatever James had expected when he arrived at the meeting place Lily had suggested, it was not Lily taking one look at him and bursting into laughter. He grinned at her—he always liked her laugh—and twirled around to show off how muggle he looked. Shaking her head, Lily had kissed him and then started pushing him into a nearby alley.

“James, what are you wearing?”

“Muggle clothes!” he said proudly, “I couldn’t very well wear a robe, now could I?”

“So, you found the next best thing?”

James was astounded, how had she known that was what he had done? It was official, his Lily was a genius. “At least it’s muggle, no one will suspect that I’m a wizard and then somehow make me break the Statute. Because I am wearing muggle clothes!”

“Yes. Yes, you are wearing muggle clothes, James. Female muggle clothes.”

He blinked, looked down at himself and then back up at her, “Really?”

“Really.”

“How can you tell?” Lily rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand before dragging him out of the alley way and towards a nearby clothes shop.

“Come on, you moron wizard. I’m going to teach you all about the complexities of muggle clothing.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The world of muggle clothing had been a mystery to James for the entirety of his life thus far; and even as he was getting a lesson on everything you needed to know about it, he felt that he would never understand everything. Muggles wore things because they apparently looked good, no matter how uncomfortable they were. He felt as if he were a contortionist with how much he had to squeeze into some of the clothes Lily shoved at him. All while she was nattering on about what was what and who would wear it.

“In the muggle world, men only wear dresses, which is what your ‘robes’ were, if they’re pretending to be a female and are looked down upon for not being the epitome of manliness. Instead, you wear trousers and a shirt, occasionally with suspenders. Suspenders are these,” she held up what looked like three pieces of fabric connected together in an improbable way, “and they help keep your trousers from falling down.

“If you need to be dressed up, instead of wearing Family Robes, you wear a suit. Which is this,” here she held up a shirt, a mini shirt without sleeves, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of trousers. “The layer of shirt, vest and jacket is very fashionable and is definitely what you want to wear if you ever decide to go out to a fancy dinner in the muggle world. You also need a tie, which you’ll need to learn how to tie.

“And there is also, of course, dancing gear which you’re going to need tonight. Disco is the height of muggle entertainment right now, so I figured we’d have some fun and do some dancing. Pet’s been talking about this one place ever since I got home from Hogwarts and apparently, it’s the best, so we have to go there. Here, try this one.”

James caught the shirt and trouser combination Lily had thrown at him and wandered back inside the changing room in a daze. He had no idea what was going on. Except, maybe, they were going dancing tonight, and he had to look the part which consisted of extremely tight trousers and an even tighter shirt that was covered in a colourful feather pattern.

“How do I look?” he asked uncertainly as he stepped back into the store. Lily looked him over, tutted a few times and then passed him another colourful outfit to try on. He sighed and went back in the small room to somehow eek his way out of tight outfit and squeeze himself into another one.

They repeated this process a few times until Lily finally professed herself to be happy with the outfit she had given him. Painted onto his body was a pair of black trousers and a shimmering leopard print shirt that was in all sorts of different colours as if a rainbow had decided to smear itself all over a piece of fabric. He wanted his makeshift robe with its sash of Potter colours back.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

A few years later—just a couple of weeks before Halloween in 1981—James leapt down the stairs and spun around to show Lily his chosen outfit. Even though they were in hiding, they had decided to go out into the muggle world and attend a few early Halloween parties. Lily’s mouth dropped open and then her head fell onto the kitchen counter where it proceeded to bounce up and down a few times.

“James…” she started to say but trailed off as she was once again greeted by the sight of her husband in tight black trousers and a colourful leopard print shirt.

“What?” James didn’t understand, what was wrong with his outfit?

“That died last year, no one wears that anymore. It’s just… No, no James. I will not be seen in public with you wearing that.”

“But you were seen with me wearing this three years ago! You picked this out for me!”

“Yes, three years ago. Muggle fashion changes and that is no longer in fashion! Go find something else.”

James went upstairs and came back down in the only other muggle thing he had. Lily’s head reacquainted itself with the kitchen countertop as she processed the fact that the ‘robe’ from three years ago had somehow survived and was still in the Potter household. James shuffled his feet, “This is the only muggle thing I have other than the dancing outfit.”

“Fine! Go get changed back into that, it’s better than having you walk around all right in a dress. Honestly, wizards and their robes. But tomorrow, we’re going shopping. I will not have my husband only owning a dress and an outdated disco outfit.”

At least it’s near Halloween , Lily thought, maybe we’ll get away with it tonight .

Although they got a few strange looks as they walked around, it appeared that most people put James’ attire down to the closeness of Halloween. Which was good for James because it meant Lily wouldn’t be too angry with him for not keeping an updated muggle wardrobe; and good for Lily as it meant she didn’t have to suffer second-hand embarrassment of someone who wouldn’t even feel embarrassed in the first place because he was so sure that what he wore was what muggles wore and that he was fitting in perfectly. Honestly.

Chapter Text

The forest was never quiet, and it both soothed and agitated Harry as he sat beneath the tree he had chosen for that night’s watch. In the tent close by, Hermione was safely sleeping; and he hoped that she would be able to recover from Ron’s abrupt departure soon. As he looked around the little campsite they had created, Harry had a sad, small smile on his face. Camping was something that had always interested him but with the Dursleys the way they were; the only experience he had was the Quidditch World Cup that had been interrupted by Death Eaters.

A snap to his left caught his attention and Harry quickly turned his attention towards the sound. A glimmer of silver light shone through the trees and slowly formed into the shape of a large animal. The doe snorted at him and tossed its head as if telling Harry to follow it. Unsure and wary of what dangers lay outside the warded campsite and in the Forest of Dean, Harry got up and padded his way towards the doe with Hermione’s wand held out in front of him.

He hated that he had to use her wand but his had broken at Godric’s Hollow and there was no way to fix a broken wand so for now, he made do. As he had been thinking about his wand, he had been absentmindedly following the doe as it stayed a few feet in front of him and lead him away from the safety of the campsite and its wards.

Shaking his head and forcing himself to focus on the matter at hand, Harry kept following the doe until it arrived at a small clearing and disappeared into a wisp of smoke. “Hey, wait!” he called out too late as he watched the smoke drift away. Ever curious, Harry ignored the clearing and instead followed the smoke, hoping to discover the source behind the silver doe.

It led him through the trees a little way before it turned back into a doe and trotted up to a dark figure. The figure held up a hand and caressed the doe’s nose before the doe once again vanished and the smoke was pulled into the wand that the dark figure held loosely. The figure sighed, and Harry was sure he heard the name Lily being whispered into the cold air.

As the figure turned, Harry tried to stifle a gasp as he saw the familiar visage of his Potions Professor and current Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape. Snape’s head snapped towards where Harry was standing, and Harry cursed inwardly. Just his luck, he had to follow a glowing doe into the forest and end up being captured by the Death Eater who had killed Dumbledore.

“You may as well come out, Potter. I know you’re there.” Harry gulped but stayed where he was. There was another sigh from Snape—though this one was more exasperated than the previous one—and the headmaster continued, “I promise I won’t hurt or capture you, Potter.”

“Why would I believe you?"

“I wouldn’t deign to delve into your brain again to find out, therefore I cannot answer that question for you. It is, perhaps, a question that you should ask yourself.”

Typical Snape. Harry debated it before finally shouting out, “Why did you kill Dumbledore?”

“Reasons that your tiny mind could not possibly comprehend, now will you come here so that I do not have to shout?”

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked as he finally stepped out from behind his tree.

Snape grimaced, “Delivering something that may help you in your task. If you had just stayed in the clearing that my patronus showed you, we would not be having this conversation, and you would not even know I was here.”

“But I didn’t stay in the clearing. What are you delivering?”

“This,” yet another sigh and a flick of his wand later, the sword of Godric Gryffindor came flying through the air to hover in front of Harry. “I believe it may be useful. Do not tell anyone you received it from me, not even your little band of friends.”

“Why would you do this? You killed Dumbledore. You’re loyal to Vol-”

“Don’t say his name!” Snape hissed and Harry stopped. “I do this for my own reasons. Perhaps you will learn of them someday but for now be confident that I am not loyal to the Dark Lord. Now go back to your campsite, it is not safe to be out of wards for too long nowadays, especially for you.”

The headmaster gave Harry a curt nod and dissipated into smoke that flew up and out of Harry’s sight. Harry stood there for a few more minutes, trying to figure everything out but eventually gave up and wandered back to the campsite. Perhaps they had all underestimated Snape and his devotion to being a slippery spy and no one but Dumbledore could see through the masks and loyalties the Slytherin wore. Harry shrugged to himself and started walking. He would think more on this within the safety of the wards; whether he wanted to help or not, Snape was right that it wasn’t wise to be outside of any warding these days.

Chapter Text

There was never an option really; if he managed to somehow have this opportunity presented to him, he was going to take it. It was the chance of a lifetime, and he had always been obsessed with the creatures that were on the pamphlet he had received that fateful day. Every morning he would look eagerly towards the skies and hope that an owl would fly into their house, bringing a letter that said he had been accepted. That owl was in front of him now, and he just didn’t know if it brought an acceptance or a rejection.

“Go on then, open it!” jostled one of his brothers when they felt he had been staring at the letter for too long without doing anything.

With shaky hands he reached out and unfolded the parchment before beginning to read. The whole breakfast table was holding their breath as his eyes flicked back and forwards, taking in the words written on the parchment. The silence stretched as he carefully folded the parchment up again and stared vaguely at a spot on the old kitchen table, processing.

Eventually it grew to be too much for his family and another of his brothers plucked the letter from his hand and began to read aloud, “ Dear Charlie Weasley, we are pleased to inform you that your application has been accepted and we would like to offer you a place as a trainee Dragon Handler at our Dragon Reserve in Romania. Enclosed with this letter is an international portkey—” Fred stopped reading as the noise in the room suddenly rose and Charlie was having the life squeezed out of him by their mother.

“You did it! Oh, my baby boy, I’m so proud of you!”

Arthur patted his wife on the back, “There, there, Molly. We all know that you’re proud of him, but perhaps you could let him go? Breathing is an essential part of living, you know.”

“Yeah Mum, let him breathe!” the twins chimed in together.

Molly released her iron grip and smiled tearily at her son, arms outstretched and on his shoulders as she looked at him. Charlie drew in breath and smiled back at her, he had been a bit worried about how she would react to him leaving the Burrow to live in Romania, but she just seemed proud of him and happy that he was following his dream.

After examining her son for a bit longer, Molly bustled off to the kitchen to make a celebratory breakfast for the whole family. Everyone else drifted away, some went to watch and be dragged into helping make breakfast while others went to collapse on the floor or couch to catch some more sleep while they could. Arthur beckoned to Charlie and they walked out of the house to stand in the makeshift Quidditch pitch that lay in the backyard.

“This will be good for you, Charlie.”

“Yeah, Dad, I think it will.”

“You sure this is what you want? You sure you want to go racing off to Romania to look after dragons and leave us all behind?”

Charlie turned his head and looked towards his father, “What’s that supposed to mean, Dad?”

“Nothing, just a bit disappointed that the first chance you get you’re leaving as fast as you can. We’re not so bad, are we? I know me and your mother aren’t rich, but we survive and we’re happy? We gave you a good childhood, didn’t we?”

“Dad, this isn’t about that. Not at all. I know we’re not rich but I don’t care. If there was a Reserve in Otter St Catchpole, I’d train there. But there isn’t and the best place to learn is in Romania. Me leaving has got nothing to do with you or Mum or any else. I just have to go away for a bit to study my passion, I’ll be back.”

“You better be,” Arthur’s voice was hoarse and he pulled his son in for a hug that was almost as strong as Molly’s.

“Breakfast is ready!” Molly called from the window and the two men separated.

“Come on, let’s have some breakfast and then we’ll figure out what you need to pack.” Charlie grinned at his father and they both ran towards the kitchen table that was sure to be groaning under the weight of all the food Molly would have prepared.

Chapter Text

Cedric sighed and rubbed his face vigorously with his hands. It wasn't working! No matter how he tried to phrase it, how many or how little words he used, it didn't work. There was always something off about it. It was too formal, too friendly, too direct, or too vague. He groaned as he looked down at his latest attempt before tearing out the page it was written on to throw it over his shoulder where it joined the rest of its kind. How was he supposed to do this?

He wanted to return the favour Harry Potter had done him when the fourth year had told Cedric about the First Task and the dragons. He didn't know if the young Gryffindor had worked out the egg yet, but he figured he'd try to help. If he could only word this note right!

"Hey Ced!" yelled Hugh, a fellow Hufflepuff, from the common room below. "Kitchen raid, let's go!"

Cedric glanced at his notebook—it looked very forlorn now with half its pages missing—he wasn't getting anywhere and some food might help get his brain into gear. He stood up and went to join Hugh, leaving the torn-out pages where they lay. Maybe he could just tell Harry personally?

Chapter Text

She never liked it, never found a need for it, yet he still insisted. She had acquiesced, and he was happy. All her friends had noticed it, but they had assumed she was becoming more feminine and congratulated her on discovering her femininity. She didn't really understand why they thought it was something to be congratulated about—she had never had any desire to appear more feminine; instead, she preferred what was comfortable over what was fashionable.

She had been wearing it for quite a while now, and it made her feel very strange. She was not allowed to leave the house without it, and he made sure of that with a ward keyed into her signature and the colour red. Red had once been a rather nice colour to her, but now it was the worst colour. Red signified a prison. Red was the cell door that kept her trapped, and she could not break out.

She was not herself when she wore it, yet he seemed to think that she was at her best when she wore it. When they were in school, there had been no expectations except that of to love and be loved in return. Now, it seemed as though he could only love her when she wore the right shade of red on her lips. She hated it, but she loved him and it was a small enough concession for the one she loved.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn't even recognise the face that looked back at her. Gone were her comfortable clothes and practical hairstyle. She was the epitome of beauty, and it was wrong. She had never been beautiful in her life—except perhaps during the Yule Ball—her parents had always told her that brains won out over beauty. He didn't seem to believe that, and now she wasn't sure who was right.

Four years after graduating from school, she wanted to visit a new exhibition in a magical museum that showed the history of creatures. He didn't think much of that plan and instead told her that they would be attending a ball at the Ministry of Magic. That night, she dressed in the red dress he had chosen for her and applied the red lipstick that was her jailor. The ball was for the fourth year of peace after the Second Wizarding War; and she had no desire to drag those memories back into the light.

She had a plan; she would go to the ball then slip away after a few minutes. She had packed a small purse with an extension charm with a change of clothes and some extra money. She would be seeing the exhibition, and she would see the advances in wizard/creature relations. She would have a night of freedom away from the dreaded colour red. There would be no red dress after she had left the ball. There would definitely be no red lipstick. She would be herself again—even if it was for only one night, Hermione Granger would return to the world.

Chapter Text

Newt Scamander was a magizoologist—that was what he was most known for by people interested in creatures in the Wizarding World. He loved the creatures he sought out and learned all he could about them, dedicating his life to the study of magical creatures and teaching the world. He was determined that they would no longer be feared because they were misunderstood—Thestrals were not vicious and yet they were feared due to people only being able to see them after viewing death.

While he loved his work and wouldn't give it up for the world, there were times when he thought that maybe it was too much, too big. He saw the little things that others did; the differences they made in the world with their actions and all he had done was learn of creatures and spread that knowledge. He loved it but would it make a difference? A true difference?

Newt sighed and set down his cup of tea, it had grown cold as he sat in thought within his enlarged suitcase. The niffler that was burrowed in a pile of shiny objects poked its head out to see if what Newt had put down would be a good addition to its collection. It sniffed and examined the cup from afar before burrowing back into the pile—evidently not thinking much of the cup. Newt smiled at the creature's actions; that was why he studied them, so that he could observe something as pure as nature and take comfort in their never-changing ways.

"Well," Newt said, clapping his hands together, "back to work, I suppose."

Taking out his small notebook with accompanying self-inking quill, he made his way out to the garden and his friends. That was what they were; his friends. He didn't really like human company; it was loud and confusing and full of unseen pitfalls that were almost always unavoidable. Once his days at Hogwarts had finished and he had departed on his journey, he had discovered that he rather liked the solitude and quiet that came with nature.

His suitcase was his home, and it was the home of his friends. He had brought in the little hut that had been his while he lived on his mother's hippogriff farm and duplicated the land that surrounded it. Now, the suitcase was full of creatures that had agreed to go with him and allow him to tell their stories to the world. No longer was it just bare land that held only grass, trees and bushes. It was a paradise for all the creatures that joined him and he worked hard to make sure each creature had a habitat that suited them.

He was rather proud of that; it was a spell of his own creation and he had not yet taught anyone else. It allowed him to create a habitat suited to the creature he performed the spell on. As such, there were areas in his suitcase where the air was cold and filled with snow while next to it would be a desert with a conjured sun beating down. The magic was incredibly complex, and he had spent years poring over rune books, spell creation guides, even divination books about foretelling the weather.

Newt hummed as he walked along the winding path that made its way through his suitcase and took notes on the various creatures that he happened upon. The land was free in his suitcase, any creature could go anywhere—so long as they refrained from harming other creatures—and he sometimes had to use a point me spell to help him locate a specific creature when he needed to see them.

A rapping sound echoed down through the main house and out across the fields. Newt looked up from his notebook and sighed before pocketing it, saying goodbye to the Sphinx he had been talking to and making his way to the house and out from his suitcase. Anna was waiting for him and he grinned at her before cradling his arm after she saw fit to hit him with considerable force.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"That was for forgetting about the gala you were going to take me to! Whenever you go into your suitcase, it's like you forget all about the real world and all that you care about is that case and the creatures you keep in it. What is so important about them, Newt? How are they more important than me? Huh?

"I have waited and waited for you to wake up and realise that there are more important things to think about than what some creature does and why. What about me, Newt? What about the life I thought we could build together? All you want to do is play around in the life that you already have and there is no room for other people in that life! Only creatures! We are done, Newt Scamander."

"Anna! I-I-I I'm sorry, I just… There is so much to learn!"

"You're not a Ravenclaw, Newt. You're a Hufflepuff, you're supposed to care about people, not books and learning. You're supposed to care about me." Anna was crying now and Newt went to hug her—comfort her—but she shrugged him off, "All I ever wanted from you was your love but I see now that you direct all your love to the creatures that fascinate you so.

"I would say that I'll miss you but you can't miss something you've never had. And I never had you, Newt, no matter how much I wanted to or how much you wanted to give me what I wanted. Goodbye, Newt, I wish you all the happiness in your pursuits."

Anna turned and walked away, leaving Newt standing and staring after her. He was sad to see her go but he could understand her reasons, he was a terrible romantic partner. Anna had been right when she said that Newt directed all his love to the creatures that he cared for, he didn't know how to do anything else. That was the way his mother had been, his brother directed his love towards his career as an Auror. All Scamanders had trouble splitting their attention from their passion.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Several years later, Newt Scamander found himself on American soil and chasing down a niffler with a muggle—or no-mag as they were called in America. He found himself working with an Auror, her sister and the muggle to relocate all the creatures that had escaped from his suitcase when it had managed to make its way into the muggle's hands.

After the whole adventure was over and the obliviating rain had started pouring down, Newt realised that he had forged a firm relationship with the Auror—Porpentina 'Tina' Goldstein. He realised that she had somehow managed to worm herself into the space in his heart that was previously reserved for his creature family.

Now, it seemed as though Tina had decided to take up permanent lodgings, and Newt found himself smiling. Perhaps he could love something other than the creatures he studied, and perhaps he could break the Scamander curse and divide his attention equally. That seemed to be an achievement far worthier than the book he was planning to write about all the creatures he had discovered on his journeys and where to find them all.

It may have been a small achievement to others in the world, but it was the most important thing he had ever achieved in his life. He doubted he would be able to achieve anything greater than finding a person he could love and actually loving them.

Chapter Text

The light blinded him, and he quickly tried to both block the sun and keep track of the small golden ball that had been in front of him just moments before. His efforts were in vain however, and the snitch had vanished. Harry groaned and started looking for the snitch all over again. It was no use—the sunlight reflected off his glasses and he couldn't make out much detail of things far away, especially not a little golden ball. Sighing in defeat, Harry guided his broomstick to the ground where Hermione and Ron were waiting for him.

Hermione rose her wand and said the incantation that would bring the snitch back, inert once more. They all squinted into the sky to try and find the snitch as it flew back and managed to see it just before it almost smacked Hermione in the face, she was only saved by the arm she held over her eyes for shade.

"Ugh, I wish I'd thought to bring some sunglasses!" exclaimed Hermione as she recovered from a small ball hurtling into her hand.

Ron was confused, "What are sunglasses?"

"They're glasses with polarised lenses that help block out the sun's rays. They make it easier to see in bright sunlight and they also protect your eyes from harmful effects of the sun."

"Huh," was Ron's eloquent response.

Harry grinned at them. "Come on, let's go inside. We don't have sunglasses and I can't see a thing with the light blinding me every few seconds. I guess Oliver will just have to deal with a rusty me until I can practice and not get blinded."

They went inside, Ron eagerly thinking of the food his mother would be making soon, Harry thinking over tactics for playing Quidditch on sunny days and Hermione wondering if she could slip away to muggle London and get a pair of sunglasses. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of packing them when she had left for the Burrow, but she hadn't and she regretted that now.

It was the first practice of the year and, of course, the sun was beating down on the team and Harry couldn't see a thing. He sighed as he mounted his broom, he would just have to do his best to squint through the light and look for the golden ball that was sure to be reflecting the sun's rays. Unfortunately, squinting through light was extremely difficult when you had mini reflectors on your face, and Harry couldn't find the snitch at all.

He explained the situation with Oliver and Oliver just offered, "They put up a sun shield on the match day but not on practice days, just do what you can."

That didn't help Harry at all. If he was only going to be able to see the snitch on match days, how was he supposed to practice catching the golden ball beforehand? Looking around the pitch in an effort to find a starting point to resume looking for the snitch he saw Hermione waving at him from the stands.

Confused, he made his way over there and she immediately stole the glasses from his face, "Hey!"

"I'll give them back, don't worry," Hermione fiddled around and then presented the glasses back to him.

When he put them on again, the world darkened and he could see without squinting. "Woah, what did you do?"

Hermione huffed. "I went to muggle London and got some clip-on sunglasses. They attach to your glasses so you don't have to wear two pairs of glasses at the same time. You can also get sunglasses that have your prescription so you don't have to worry about losing the attachable ones. Now go out there and find the snitch."

Harry grinned and hugged Hermione tightly. "Thanks Hermione. You're the best!"

Chapter Text

Her niece was laughing happily as she zoomed about on the little toy broom Amelia had brought her from Susan's old home. Her brothers were dead. They had been killed by Death Eaters a few years ago, and she had been granted custody of Susan. After everything that had happened, the war and Voldemort, Amelia would never abandon her family and she would make sure Susan was always happy and protected.

She wondered how Harry Potter was doing, everyone in the Wizarding World hailed him as their saviour but Amelia simply wondered how the young boy was doing. She wondered if he was being looked after, Albus Dumbledore said that he was in the best place possible but Amelia still wondered. Susan ran up to her and she knelt down to give her niece a hug.

"Did you see me, Auntie? Did you see me fly?" the young girl enthused.

"I did, you were very good. You must be a natural."

"Yep!"

"Come on," Amelia said, standing up and holding out her hand for the five-year-old to take.

"Let's go get some lunch, hey?"

The broom was clutched tightly as the two walked inside, it was the one thing left from Susan's life with her parents. Everything else had been destroyed by the Death Eaters that had tortured and killed her mother and father. Amelia didn't try to remove the broom from her niece's possession, Merlin knew she wouldn't want to part from something that reminded her of happy times with her family.

Amelia had her family album, photos taken throughout their lives as young witch and wizards. She had pictures from when they were just a few weeks old to when they were into their twenties. That was when their parents had died and a few years after that, both her brothers had also died. Occasionally Amelia would let Susan peruse the pictures and see the faces of her father and uncle, with the odd photo of her mother smiling and having fun with her father.

They were in the kitchen now and Amelia set to making sandwiches for the both of them. Susan hugged her broom and asked quietly, "May I see the pictures after lunch, please?"

"Of course, sweetie," Amelia smiled softly, she could do with seeing the happiness of her brothers again. The sandwiches were gobbled up at super speed once Susan knew she would be able to see the photos and Amelia humoured her, eating her sandwich at equal speed.

The plate was presented proudly once it had been cleared of all but crumbs and was swiftly taken to the sink and set to clean itself as Amelia pulled the photo album from its place on the bookshelf. Together, they sat down on the couch and began the process of flicking through the many photos.

There were her brothers in their Ravenclaw blue on a Hogsmeade weekend where they had met up with the rest of the Bones family. There was Amelia herself in Hufflepuff yellow, testing the robes still fit her before her second year. There was Fabian and Claire—Susan's parents—smiling happily and wandering down a snowy street.

Graduation day was flicked past after gazing at all the happy faces in all the different House colours, with Amelia surrounded by a sea of yellow and her two brothers who had graduated a few years before her. Susan's tiny face appeared and they were into the many pictures of Fabian, Claire and Susan. They had been so happy together and Amelia missed her family immensely, she was just glad Susan had survived.

Susan snuggled into her little broom as the picture of her first time on it came up. She had been terribly wobbly at first and only managed to gather enough courage to continue due to Fabian's help and encouragement. Amelia hugged her tighter and they continued flipping through until they reached the day at the park that was followed a few days later by the brutal murder of Fabian, Claire and Edgar.

With a sigh, Amelia closed the album and said, "You'll see them again. They're here right now, watching over us, we just haven't been able to see them."

"You really think so?"

"I really do. I think your father would be very proud of how good you are at riding a broom, don't you think so?"

Susan nodded in an affirmative. "I'm going to get even better, I want them to always be proud of me!"

"And they will, no matter what you do." Amelia kissed her niece on the forehead and they continued to sit there, thinking back on their family and content with the family they had now.

Chapter Text

Professor Sprout was always known as one of the most cheerful teachers at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was a known fact that her door and arms were always open to any student from any House if they needed her. She made it a part of her routine to patrol the corridors of Hogwarts during the first few days of a new school year in case any of the first years managed to get lost.

There were always a few of them that couldn't figure out the moving stairs, the doors that pretended to be walls or the walls that pretended to be doors. It wasn't all muggle-born students either; she had found quite a few purebloods that were completely lost within the walls of Hogwarts. She found it rather amusing how they tried to maintain their cool façade while being overwhelmed with relief that they wouldn't be lost in the corridors of Hogwarts for the rest of eternity.

It was nearing that time again; the sorting ceremony and welcome feast were fast descending upon them. All of the Professors were frantically sorting out their class schedule for the coming year. Thirty new students should be arriving in a few days, thirty students who all had the same chance to get lost within Hogwarts and be found by the cheerful Head of Hufflepuff House.

Even as a prefect of Hufflepuff during her school years, Pomona had always patrolled the corridors for lost students. She felt that it was her duty to help the young wizards and witches that came to learn magic also learn how to navigate the confusing layout of Hogwarts Castle. She and her fellow Hufflepuff prefect had tried to convince the prefects of Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin to do the same but they had failed in creating an actual schedule for patrolling purely to find lost students.

So, she and Miles had done it by themselves and had inevitably made friends with those they had directed back onto the right path. It had been a fantastic way to make more friends and learn more about those they helped. Although friendship was now off the table due to Pomona being a professor and the impossibility of a student and professor being true friends—she still enjoyed learning about those she helped.

They often sought her out a few days after their rescue and she would welcome them with a comforting drink and some chocolate. They would then talk about how the young student was finding the castle and classes so far, how they were dealing with being away from their parents for such an elongated amount of time. When the student left, she made sure to let them know that they were welcome back at any time and gave them a map of Hogwarts in case they should get lost again.

She had gotten the idea from the Marauders and their rumoured map of the corridors that showed where everyone was in the castle. Her version only showed the holders location and the surrounding rooms and halls. It was an effective tool for finding ways back to people and away from the deserted side passages that lost children often found themselves in.

Now she would have thirty new children to aid and get to know. It was the best part of her year; she loved getting to know the students they taught more personally. It helped her with knowing which students needed more personalised attention and which students would need to learn a subject differently than the others. She encouraged the other professors to do it with their students but just like with the prefects when she had been young; none of them had the inclination or time to do so. Still, at least Pomona knew she would always be there for those lost within Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

It didn't matter how much power he actually had, or how many spells he actually knew. So long as he knew one spell, above all others, no one was going to think him a fraud. They would continue to sigh over him—their jealous partners off to the side—and keep awarding him 'Most Dazzling Smile' as he continued to smile his way through life. Others may have to work to feed themselves and any dependants, and others still may have dreams they worked their whole lives to achieve, he was different.

Gilderoy Lockhart had been blessed with dashingly good looks and had learned how to charm himself out of any situation that was going awry. He learned how to gain the friendship of others more famous than he and used their fame to increase his own. He was a storyteller and he told marvellous tales full of adventure after completely obliviating the very same tale from the mind of the one who had gone through the experience. There was no chance that they would remember and even if they did, they probably wouldn't care—living in hovels and drowning in firewhisky seemed to be all they wished to achieve in life.

Not him. No, Gilderoy Lockhart had had a taste of living in hovels and being surrounded by strong liquor and he had sworn to never again live like that. He had built up connections when he had attended Hogwarts, had ordered the house elves to clean and mend his clothes to the highest standard and had stumbled across his ticket to glory. The obliviate spell—if used by capable hands—was able to erase, modify and replace any memory of any person so long as that person did not have strong mental shields. Once he had discovered this fact, the whole world opened up for Gilderoy and he worked hard to become a master of the spell.

He was understandably proud of this accomplishment; it was, after all, the only accomplishment he could lay claim to that was his own. Of course, no one knew that he was so well versed in the use of the spell apart from those he used it on and they always forgot.

It didn't matter how much power he actually had—he was far less powerful than others believed. Nor did it matter how many spells he actually knew—he most certainly didn't know any spells to deal with a banshee off the top of his head. So long as he knew one spell, no one was going to think anything of him except that which he wanted them to think.

Yes, Gilderoy Lockhart would forever be the dashing and adventurous author that never backed down from a challenge. He would never fail and he would never fall. He would continue to rise in fame and status; why, he'd even been invited to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts! He would certainly accept that post, especially as Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived—was currently attending that very school!

Chapter Text

If there was ever a strange and confusing creature in the world of the strange and confusing, that creature would be a boggart with its lurking in shadows and small spaces, waiting for a victim to come by that it could scare before moving on. No witch or wizard had ever quite figured out what a boggart's purpose or drive was, not even the great Newt Scamander—notable magizoologist. It wasn't possible to ask a boggart what it wanted as all it did was delve into your mind and steal the image of that which you feared the most.

For some, that was a creature that had access to their minds, for others it might be a dark secret they kept hidden away. It was rumoured that for Harry Potter—Vanquisher of Voldemort—it was fear itself. There was only way to deal with a boggart and that was to turn your fear into something humorous. A difficult task for most people and an even harder one when your greatest fear is bearing down upon you. It was either that or run away screaming and hoping the boggart doesn't decide to follow you as you run.

Boggarts are not necessarily harmful, unless seeing your worst fear come to life right before your eyes is going to cause physical trauma. The boggart causes harm psychologically and those affected can remain so for the rest of their lives. It also means that if you are confronted with a boggart during a time when enemies are near—those enemies are made aware of what you fear the most. As such, boggarts are often used in interrogations and torture.

This use of boggarts was first introduced by Mafalda Higgens—a hedgewitch who had minimal power and wished to leave her mark on the Wizarding World. She had not been planning on using a boggart at first but had encountered one when walking home one day and captured it after realising the potential of the creature. A boggart helped many of Gellert Grindelwald's followers confess to their crimes and even reveal what they knew about the Dark Lord's plans.

The practice has since been disbanded, along with the use of dementors as guards of Azkaban prison. These changes were made by the Head of Creature Relations department—Hermione Weasley—accompanying her ongoing campaign of equal rights for all creatures from house elves to centaurs.

Boggarts are now on the protected species list, and hunters are fined a total of one hundred galleons per boggart they have in their possession. Consequently, a black market for boggarts has started forming; and many organisations are willing to pay a considerable amount to ensure a safe delivery of such an effective interrogation tool.

Aurors and the special taskforce of Creature Relations field agents are always on the lookout for shady dealings of boggarts and other creatures. It is unknown how boggarts breed, and is therefore unknown how wizard-kind can ensure their continued existence. At the current moment in time—there is an estimated seventy boggarts in existence.

Following in my brother's footsteps, I intend on capturing their existence in photos.

Dennis Creevey, Daily Prophet

Chapter Text

In the mad rush of getting to Platform 9 ¾ and then getting onto the Hogwarts Express without missing the train and still having time for goodbyes, it was easy for things to get misplaced or forgotten about. In the crush of so many witches and wizards that wanted to send their baby's off with a smile and a hug, it was easy for things to disappear into the crowd and be abandoned. The platform was always full of noise and the screeching of disgruntled owls that were forced to be awake during the day.

Everyone knew to watch their step when on the platform; you never knew when a toad might have gotten away from its owner and gone for a stroll, after all. The cats would have great fun climbing around the train and winding through the many human legs surrounding them. Occasionally a cat would try and grab a toad, but the platform attendants were always watching out for the hungry cats and herded them back towards their carer.

One such attendant—John Markle—rose an eyebrow when he spotted a rat scurrying across the platform and avoiding the many dangers that presented themselves. It wasn't often he saw a creature other than an owl, cat or toad during the time the Hogwarts Express was stopped at his platform. Students weren't allowed any other animal and parents normally didn't bring their own animals with them while they were saying goodbye to their children.

John watched as the rat headed directly towards the barrier between Platform 9 ¾ and Kings Cross Station only to squeal as he was scooped up by a woman with flaming red hair who immediately started scolding the rat. "Scabbers! There you are! Honestly, what do you think you're doing? Running away like this, Ron is going to have a fit, and the train's about to leave!"

The woman hurried off, keeping a firm grip on the rat as it desperately tried to wriggle out and run away again. John watched on, amused if not a little confused. Why was a rat going to Hogwarts with a student? He assumed that was what was happening, that Ron was a student who had lost his rat that he shouldn't have in the first place. At least, not on the Hogwarts Express that was going to Hogwarts where students were only allowed an owl, cat or toad. There were no rats on that list and any animals that were not the three allowed were sent back to the student's home.

So why bother bringing a rat? Why hurry to give it back to whoever this Ron person was when it would just be sent back to his mother as soon as he arrived at Hogwarts? John shook his head in wonder at the silliness of some people. It was pointless trying to understand why they did what they did but that didn't stop him from trying. This was one of the most interesting times to be on shift at Platform 9 ¾, what with all the people rushing about and providing him with great entertainment.

A squeal caught John's attention and he looked over just in time to see the rat—Scabbers—fly backwards through the air into the very unimpressed hands of the woman who had tracked him down before. No, John most definitely didn't understand the people that came to the platform every year, but they were certainly very interesting to watch. He wondered if he'd see the rat again next year, or if the family would have realised by then that rats weren't allowed.

He shrugged; it wasn't his problem. Just then, he spotted a cat on the prowl who was definitely stalking a toad. Time to get back to work then, he thought as he pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on and hurried over to the hungry cat. He had never lost a toad in all his years of service in the railway; there was no way he was losing one today, even if he was still confused about the whole rat business.

Chapter Text

Poppy Pomfrey was known for her fierce protectiveness of those under her care, especially when they were in the Hospital Wing. The first few weeks of school term were the busiest for her as that was when all the First Years found themselves in her office for some calming draughts, soothing hot chocolate and comforting words. Every student was different, and she did her best to soothe their worries.

Some—notably Purebloods that had familial expectations—were anxious about the House they had been sorted into. They worried what their family would think, if they would wind up being the same as their parents, if other students might be reporting their progress to those still at home. There were other students who just missed their home and family and didn't know if they would be able to survive the following term until the holidays arrived. Muggle-borns worried about living and studying in a brand new world that—until recently—had only existed in fantasy.

After the first week, the flow of anxious First Years tapered off, and the Infirmary was quiet once more. Poppy usually felt strangely bereft at this point. After having student after student come to see her every day, the absence of those students was not an altogether pleasant feeling. Still, there was always next year's batch of fearful new students to both look forward to and calm.

Besides, Quidditch season would start soon enough, and that generally meant she would get some company.

Chapter Text

Their rivalry was the stuff of legends; they were so entwined by their animosity that they could never be separated. Like Merlin and Morgana, Tesla and Edison, Shaggy and Scooby; one did not exist without the other. They hated each other yet they loved the hate and could not imagine life without it. This was the reason they did not allow the other to die—even when the opportunity presented itself.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had not stopped their fervent duelling—verbal or otherwise—since the war had ended. They did not know how, nor did they particularly want to. Their friends tried to urge them to forgive one another; one pair for prestige and the other for a new beginning. What the friends did not know however, is that the two had already forgiven each other and were both depending on the normalcy the other represented with their duels.

It had started on their first day of school, before that in some people’s eyes. Draco had been a young boy who had been raised in a certain way, and Harry had also been a young boy but had been raised differently. These two ways of life were different and conflicted with the other. Hence, those who knew the ways, conflicted with those who knew another way.

If, at some point, Draco had been asked if he liked Harry Potter, he would have said yes. He did like Harry Potter; he wanted to be Harry Potter’s friend and was certain that his father would manage to bring Harry Potter to him and they would be friends. That didn’t happen, however, and Draco was forced to try and make friends with Harry Potter by himself. He had never had to make a friend before—his father chose all of his friends for him.

Harry would have quite easily become friends with Draco Malfoy, if not for the fact that the boy had managed to insult the two people that showed Harry kindness first in this new world. Hagrid—the half-giant that had made him a birthday cake and introduced Harry to magic—was insulted and called an oaf. Ron Weasley—the boy who sat with Harry on the train and tried to make his rat yellow—was insulted for his name and financial situation.

As Harry was used to bullies due to his cousin Dudley, he did not particularly want to be friends with someone who was quite clearly a bully, or well on their way to becoming one. And so their rivalry continued and it never stopped. As Harry went about his business in the Ministry of Magic as an Auror and Draco attended Wizengamot meetings, they would pass each other in the halls and always manage to insult the other, even if they only saw each other for a second.

It annoyed the other employees at the Ministry, but the one time they had tried to stop it by placing wards that stopped the two communicating, the two men had started to break down. As they were both rather important members of the Ministry, this caused some alarm, and the Minister passed a local decree that no one should try and stop Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter from fighting unless wands were raised and harmful spells cast.

The week after this disastrous attempt at stopping the two from fighting saw an increase to that fighting and spats often occurred. No wands were brought out, nor were any spells cast, so the Ministry employees let them continue and instead quickly hurried off to where they were meant to be.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Honestly Harry, you are not setting a good example! People look to you for guidance and all they see is you continuing your school feud with Malfoy instead of the acceptance that you should show towards him. You saved his life!”

“Yeah, and?” Harry asked Hermione, tired of the conversation already.

“And?” the bushy-haired witch shrieked. “And you should know by now that Malfoy’s a good person and not about to try and get revenge on you for Voldemort!”

“I do know that! Just because I fight with him, doesn’t mean that I think he’s going to go all Death Eater on me!”

“Then why are you still fighting with him?”

Harry shrugged. “I can?”

“Ugh!” Hermione stomped her foot and swept out of the room, annoyed at Harry’s lack of care about his continued verbal spars with Malfoy. Harry just grinned to himself, another victory for him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Drakey, don’t you think you should stop arguing with Potter and start treating him as a saviour like everyone else?”

Draco glared at Pansy. “No.”

“But Draco,” Pansy draped herself over her friend as she whined, “if you don’t play nice with Potter, you’ll never amount to anything. No one wants to promote the rival of Harry Potter.”

“Does it look like I care, Pans?”

She pouted and turned to look at their other friend in the room. “Blaise, help me make Draco see the light?”

“Since when have we wanted to see the light?” Blaise asked, “We were raised in darkness and taught to ignore the light when it came calling.”

“That was ages ago! The war is over, and we’d be in high standing if it wasn’t for stubborn Draco Malfoy here.”

“If it bothers you that much, Pansy, why don’t you split all ties with me and go find a nice, light husband?”

Blaise laughed from his position where he was leaning against the wall, “You know she’ll never leave, Draco. She’s decided we belong to her and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Exactly.” Pansy grinned.

Draco groaned; he needed to find Potter and yell at him for allowing this sort of situation to occur. Even if it wasn’t actually Potter’s fault and the Vanquisher of Voldemort couldn’t actually be blamed for his friends’ antics, Draco was going to blame him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Oi, Potter!”

Harry turned around and grinned when he saw Malfoy, just the Slytherin he wanted to see. “Yeah, Malfoy?”

“Why is it that my friends have suddenly decided they love you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. Perhaps the same reason that my friends have decided they love you?”

Draco snarled and pulled out his wand, the annoyance at his friends’ persistence boiling up inside of him too much for him to handle. Harry grinned at the sight and pulled out his own wand, quickly casting a protective barrier around the two of them so no well-meaning Ministry employees could stop their duel.

“Reducto!” Draco yelled.

“Expulsio!” Harry replied.

Each of them ducked out of the way of incoming spells and continued to throw and dodge as they let out their frustrations at the world on each other. The air inside the barrier lit up with multiple spell lights and the crowd that had gathered were amazed and frightened at the wide range of spells known by the two combatants.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, stood to the side and groaned, covering his face with his palms. This was not what he wanted to deal with today; he could deal with the verbal spats Malfoy and Potter had but a full on duel was not allowed and most certainly not allowed in the Ministry! Unfortunately, with the rate the spells were flying around, he wouldn’t be able to bring down the barrier that separated the Slytherin and Gryffindor from the rest of the world without those spells flying out and hitting innocent bystanders.

Inside the barrier, the two men were grinning as they continued hurling spells and insults at the other. This was what they had both needed, to vent about the pressures they were feeling from the world and their friends to someone that vented right back and didn’t try to fix everything. The duelling exhausted them and filled them with adrenaline that they could use and remember to get them through until the next time they needed to vent.

The unspoken agreement and support found in a bitter rival was what kept them going in this new world they didn’t know. While everything else changed around them, they knew that this would stay the same, that it would remain as it was from school days and into their adulthood. Their rivalry was a stable point they could cling to, and that would never change.

Chapter Text

~Meet me at midnight, Room of Requirement~

Harry fiddled with the slip of parchment he had found in his potions textbook, wondering what he would do about it. He didn't know if he trusted the person who had slipped the note in without him noticing; but on the other hand, what if the person was trying to help him? He needed as much help as he could get; Ron and Hermione weren't much help at the moment seeing as they kept trying to get him to stop following Malfoy.

It was ten o'clock, and he still hadn't decided; the curtains around his bed were drawn and he knew the others in his dorm room were asleep. He hadn't told Ron or Hermione about the note, didn't want to hear their suspicions or advice. Everything they would say, he had already thought of. He decided he'd give this person a chance and meet them at midnight; it was either a DA member or an Inquisition Squad member, no one else knew about the Room of Requirement.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The corridors were quiet as Harry made his way to the seventh floor under his invisibility cloak with the Marauders Map in front of him. There were only professors wandering the halls so he assumed whoever had asked him to meet them was already in the Room of Requirement. He really hoped this wasn't a trick.

He arrived at the entrance and took a deep breath before pacing up and down three times. I need a place to meet the note giver, I need a place to meet the note giver, I need a place to meet the note giver. The door appeared and he slowly opened it, removing the cloak as he entered. The room was coloured in a neutral brown and looked as though the Slytherin and Gryffindor Common Rooms had been merged together.

A figure was standing in front of the burning fire, facing away from the door. Harry would know that silhouette anywhere, "Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy turned around, "Potter," he greeted curtly.

They stared at each other in silence until Harry shifted, "Uh…"

"The Dark Lord wants me to sneak Death Eaters into Hogwarts," Malfoy burst out suddenly. Harry stared at him in disbelief. Malfoy took a deep breath and continued, "I know you may think this is a trap, I know I'm not acting like you're used to, but I am sick of pretending. I'm done trying to hide how I really feel, I've been playing a role and I think it's time you know who I really am.

"I'm a Malfoy and my father has been the Dark Lord's right-hand man since before I was born, as such, it is expected that I will follow his footsteps and ascend into the Inner Circle when my father is no longer around. If I don't find a way to let the Death Eaters in, they'll kill my mother. I come to you for help, whatever you feel for me, please help me save my mother and I'll get out of Britain with her; you won't ever have to see me again. You'll say goodbye to the Malfoy family forever."

"What makes you think I'm going to believe you?" Harry asked, "Do you any proof of your story?"

Malfoy's face crumpled, "No, I only have my word and I know that my word is not worth much to you. Even so, I give you, Harry Potter, my word as a Malfoy that all I have told you tonight is true."

Harry wasn't sure what made him believe Malfoy—perhaps the utter desperation he could see in the other boy's eyes—but he did believe him and that meant that he would help Malfoy, even if they had hated each other from the first day of school.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Narcissa Malfoy was allowed to go to Hogsmeade village on a weekend where Hogwarts students would be there to see her son. It had been decided that she would be less conspicuous to the other students than Lucius would be and she had been ordered to get an update from her son about how his mission was faring. This allowed the first part of Harry and Draco's plan to proceed. Draco would slip a portkey to his mother that would take her to the Shrieking Shack at midnight that night.

Harry reluctantly let Malfoy know about his invisibility cloak and they met up in front of the Slytherin Dorms. With both of them under the cloak, they made their way up to the astronomy tower from which they flew down to the Whomping Willow on brooms. A few minutes later, Harry successfully prodded the correct knot that stopped the Willow and motioned Malfoy to proceed into the tunnel.

"Follow the tunnel all the way until you come to an end, look up and there'll be a trapdoor that leads into the Shrieking Shack. It's up to you from there, Malfoy."

"Thanks, Potter. I swear, I will never bother you again."

"Whatever, Malfoy, just get down there before the Willow unfreezes."

Malfoy chuckled and stuck out his hand, just as he'd done in their first year, "Goodbye, Harry Potter."

"Goodbye, Draco Malfoy." Harry took the hand without hesitation and shook it before pushing Malfoy towards the tunnel, "Now go!"

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

There was alarm in the morning; a Slytherin student had gone missing during the night. After finding out it was Malfoy, Ron grinned and mumbled, "Good riddance," through a mouthful of food.

Hermione looked disgusted and worried. "But what if something's happened to him?"

"He's Malfoy, Mione! He's probably sneaked his way back to his father's place so he could become a little Death Eater."

"Now you're sounding like Harry, Malfoy may not be pleasant but he's not a Death Eater! He's too young to be one!" Hermione huffed.

Harry just grinned at their bickering and casually ate his toast. He knew exactly where Malfoy was, and he wasn't going to tell anyone. Malfoy had said goodbye to Magical Britain, Harry was quite happy with that, and he knew that he had been right all along. Malfoy had been planning something—even if that something caused him to escape and save his and his mother's lives. So, really, Harry had been perfectly within reason to stalk him.

Chapter Text

There were many strange characters to be found at a school for witches and wizards, one of them being the headmaster of said school who appeared to be both colour-blind and slightly insane. That headmaster—Albus Dumbledore—hired a centaur as a Divinations Professor when the previous one had been fired. Firenze both loved and hated his job; like every centaur, he could read the stars and see what they said. He couldn’t quite figure out how to teach the humans how to understand centaur divination. He had also been exiled from his colony.

Still, the way he interpreted the stars, this was where Firenze needed to be. Listening to Lavender Brown prattle on about how she was sure she was a true Seer. Whilst the girl did have an understanding of the divining arts, a true Seer she was not. There were signs of world changing events speeding up—the same events that had started when young Harry Potter had been reintroduced into the Wizarding World.

Firenze stood at the edge of the Black Lake, looking over at his old home that was the Forbidden Forest. He missed running with his colony and, so far, the stars said nothing about reconciliation between Firenze and his colony.

“You’ll return,” came an airy voice from his right.

Firenze looked to the voice and smiled when he saw Luna Lovegood standing next to him. Luna was a Seer, even if she couldn’t access her gift fully at this time. Firenze trusted the word of a Seer, “Thank you, Miss Lovegood.”

“You’re welcome, you need to watch out for the wrackspurts.”

“I will be sure to do that,” he bowed his head gravely at her words before glancing at the suns position. “Class begins in 10 minutes, we should proceed to the classroom.”

“Of course, Professor.”

With one more longing look at the Forbidden Forest, Firenze turned away and accompanied Miss Lovegood to the Divination classroom where he would once again try to teach young humans the subtleties of centaur divining.

Chapter Text

The wails echoed through the village as a baby drew in its first breath and expelled it immediately. As one, the villagers sighed in relief. The birth of the little one had been hard on the mother and they had all worried if the little one would make it or not. Hearing a cry sound through the night was the most wonderful sound any of them had heard – even if it did wake them up from some much needed rest, it was harvest season after all.

In the small home of Tamar and Wilona Hufflepuff, the midwife smiled softly as she passed the newly born girl to her mother who was looking at her adoringly. The midwife knew that that little girl would have the best life her parents and the whole village could give her. For three seasons, the village had watched and worried over Wilona as she carried another child until she finally gave birth in the warm Summer months. They hoped against hope that this time, the child would survive. And she had.

"What will you call her?" she inquired gently.

Wilona smiled besotted at the small child in her arms, "Helga. Helga Cille Hufflepuff."

The midwife nodded in approval, it was a good name. "I'll fetch in your husband then and let you two get to know young Helga. Mind you rest though, dear."

There was a vague nod in acknowledgment as Wilona's attention was completely captivated by her daughter. The midwife just shook her head slightly and walked out to get Tamar, she had seen plenty of other new parents act this same way to know she would not be getting any long responses from either of them tonight.

Tamar was outside with several other village men, all anxiously awaiting her news. She grinned at them and addressed Tamar, "You have a healthy baby daughter, Tamar."

The man sagged in relief, and a silly smile appeared on his lips as the men around him clapped him on the back in congratulations before pushing him into his own house so he could go see his daughter and wandering off to their own homes to tell their wives the good news.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The next morning, there was a knock on the door of the Hufflepuff household and Tamar went to answer it. Outside stood the whole village, all eagerly waiting to see the newest member of their community. He laughed as he saw their eager-but-trying-to-repress-it faces and went to fetch his wife and daughter.

As Helga was revealed, they all gasped in wonder and adoration. There was no doubt that this child was going to be the princess of the entire village. Wilona circled through the crowd with little Helga in her arms and one by one, each villager greeted the small child in their own way. Some bestowed a kiss on her cheek or forehead, others presented small flowers that she could look at and play with.

When Wilona had been to each villager, she returned to the door of her home and stood there with her husband as they looked out at the crowd still surrounding them. Wilfrid stepped forward from the group and cleared his throat slightly.

"We, as a village, decided that this joyous occasion deserves a special gift and worked together to create something that your child could use in the future either as a utensil or a dowry."

From within his jerkin, he drew out a small, golden cup and presented it to the new parents. "We traded some of our finest furs for the gold and Dougal crafted the cup while Basil did the fine work. We wish you and Helga well for your new adventure."

Tamar and Wilona both nodded, overwhelmed by the generosity of their village. Wilona had tears in her eyes as she gazed at the small cup that was held in Tamar's hand. The cup was made out of gold and the Hufflepuff family crest was wrought out of various different metals and overlaid on two sides. It was a beautiful piece of work. A previously unknown burden lifted off her shoulders as she looked at that cup. Helga's cup. Helga Cille Hufflepuff's cup. Her daughter would always have reassurance of a good husband even if Tamar and Wilona could ill afford a grand dowry.

Helga's new cup had seen to that.

Chapter Text

Throughout the Wizarding World, it was common knowledge that Goblin-forged items were the best. The Goblins used special techniques and imbued their steel with the ability to take on the properties of that which it interacted with that would make it stronger. It was also known that Goblins were extremely possessive of the items they forged and would not allow any wizard or witch to hold onto that item for longer than an agreed amount of time.

Years ago, there were many Goblin-forged items out in the Wizarding World. Slowly but surely, all of them were reclaimed by the Goblin Nation until the only items still in the general Wizarding World were the items that had been lost. Such as the famous lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw or the deadly sword of Godric Gryffindor.

Of course, Harry Potter managed to find both of these items within seven years of being in the Wizarding World when said world had spent several hundred years searching for them. The still sharp sword was imbued with the strongest poison known – Basilisk venom – and used to kill said Basilisk. The diadem was destroyed due to the Dark Lord Voldemort using it as a soul container.

The Goblins weren't particularly happy with that piece of information, but they were more interested in getting their hands on the sword that had been evading their grasp for many years. They had wanted to retrieve it when it had first appeared in Harry's second year, but Albus Dumbledore had stopped all their attempts and then decided to will it to Harry Potter.

They had managed to return it to the Nation when Griphook had taken it from Harry Potter and his friends when they had broken into Gringotts Bank. They had also managed to lose it again when Neville Longbottom had pulled it out of Hogwart's Sorting Hat and used it to behead Nagini, proving that the sword had stayed sharp for it to have the ability to cut through a Horcrux.

Every time the Goblin Nation repossessed the sword, it would inevitably vanish and reappear in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after it had been pulled from the school's Sorting Hat by a Gryffindor in need. No matter how many years may have passed, the sword remained as sharp as ever.

Chapter Text

There was always a fascination for Tom Riddle with living until all else had faded away. He had been even more fascinated by that line of inquiry when he had discovered that magic was actually real and that there were more people like him out there that might also have felt his fascination. He would build on their research, he thought, and find a way to live forever. That way, he could see all that there was to be seen and know all there was to know.

With multiple lifetimes at his fingertips, he'd be able to find and read all the books he wanted and research all of the topics that tickled his fancy. He would know all there was to know and when there was nothing else to learn, he'd create something new to think about. He would research all of the old rituals and spells, both of the Light type and the Dark along with the middling grounds of Grey. Nothing would stop his quest for information, not even death.

There was little to no information in the Hogwarts library when he looked, he blamed Dumbledore for that. That Light loving fool wouldn't be able to handle any books on Dark magic in his school, even if they taught how to combat said Dark magics. The man was only a Transfiguration Professor and yet Headmaster Dippet listened to him, Tom still didn't know why.

While there wasn't much to be found in the library, that didn't mean there was nothing. He had found a word that intrigued him. A small word that he had never heard before but was accompanied by an absolutely fascinating description. A way to split a person's soul and save the split off piece of soul into a separate container that should or would never fade and as long as some part of a soul remained on Earth, a person wasn't likely to leave the Earth either.

This was what he had been searching for. A Horcrux would help him remain alive even when the Earth itself had died. He was disappointed, however, that there was no more information easily accessible to him in the library. Not even in the restricted section could he find more on the elusive Horcrux. So he went to the teacher that he knew he had wrapped around his little finger. Horace Slughorn might be a Potions Professor but there was no guarantee that he wouldn't also know about some of the Dark Arts. For that was what a Horcrux must assuredly was. The darkest of Dark Arts but that wasn't going to stop Tom, not at all.

He would be researching even Darker Arts when he had his Horcrux and infinite life, he was sure of it.

Horace was very helpful and also very set against someone making a Horcrux. Especially against the idea of someone making more than one Horcrux. Tom didn't care though, seven was a powerful magical number. If he had seven Horcruxes, it wouldn't matter if someone somehow destroyed one, he would have backups. Dumbledore was watching him closely however, he couldn't begin to make Horcruxes yet.

He would have to wait until school let out for the holidays. Then he could start his plans. He would travel to Little Hangleton and use his useless muggle family for his first Horcrux. That way, the muggles would achieve something in their miserable lives beyond simply being a gene-donor to the most powerful wizard there was.

There was no way that a muggle would serve a greater purpose than to help a wizard live forever. After all, muggles had no magic of their own, so why not use them in a magic ritual that would grant them a higher purpose than that which they had faced for their entire lives? His father would aid him beyond simple creation, just as all fathers should.

He would prove Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn wrong. They would not see it coming for they believed it wasn't possible. Tom knew it was and he was determined to follow it through. A person could have multiple Horcruxes. A person could live forever no matter what the laws of Earth said. No matter how much Death called for a person to submit, that person could refuse so long as they took the correct counter measures. He would prove them wrong. He would show the entire Wizarding World what real power truly was.

He would not retain his muggle name of Tom Marvolo Riddle. No, he would become the immortal Lord Voldemort. He would know all there was to know, and people would come from all corners of the world to get his advice on spells and rituals. He would show them how the muggle filth were destroying their world and erasing their history.

When he had all the power and all the knowledge, the world would bow down to him and respect him as it should. He wouldn't be weak, half-blood, Tom Riddle. He would be wise and majestic Voldemort. He would prove them wrong. Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop him, no one would. The others wouldn't look down at him as if he were a bug on someone's shoe that had been crushed and was now an interesting experiment. They would know that Tom was the cunning snake that stalked and bit those lesser than it.

The Heir of Salazar Slytherin himself.

Chapter Text

Crazy. Insane. Wacko. Nuts. Barmy. Bonkers. Loony. All words that had been thrown at him when he was a young child. When he had deluded himself that somewhere out there were people that understood him, that would know he wasn't mad. Yes, he believed in things that were not commonly known, but that didn't mean that he was crazy.

He had full control over his mental state and was not prone to running around the Black Lake naked whilst shouting that there was no other way to summon this or that. He was not crazy. He was merely able to see through the haze of mist that covered so many other's eyes. It was both a blessing and a curse, this ability to see. His parents had merely smiled at him when he rambled all about what he had done that day with the various creatures they thought didn't exist.

When he had grown older and still talked about them, they started giving him concerned looks and urged him to go outside more and talk to real people. He had been confused then, that was what he was doing wasn't he? The nargles may not be people as such but they were real and he talked to them outside. That was when he came to the conclusion that parents were idiots who had outgrown the ability to see.

He believed that until he went to Hogwarts and started talking to his fellow housemates. He had eagerly brought up the subject of the nargles and the humdingers and the snorckack only to find those he was talking to staring at him strangely. When he had asked them why they were looking at him as they were, they had said that they had never heard of such creatures before and didn't believe they existed.

He had immediately sought out the Care of Magical Creatures professor and asked him about the creatures he had been able to see and talk to since he had been young. The professor had shaken his head and repeated what his classmates had said, there were no such things as nargles, humdingers or snorckacks.

Having been distracted by the nargles floating around the professor's head while the professor said this, Xenophilius Lovegood had been understandably confused but had chalked the refusal of knowledge to adults having grown up too much to be able to see the small creatures. He was sure he had once heard that adults could not accept some magics and he assumed that, for some reason, his creatures were counted as those magics.

That reasoning still did not explain why his classmates could not see that which he could see but he learned to live with it. Never again did he talk about his creatures with those around him. Instead, he went into the Forbidden Forest and spent many happy days gallivanting around with the creatures he had known since he was young and the new ones he found within the Forest's boundaries.

The professors knew that he went into the forest but did not try to stop him. He was the oddball that had delusions of creatures that did not exist. He had no friends within Hogwarts and seemed happier when he was allowed to go into the Forbidden Forest. In no time, he had become Loony Lovegood to the school and the only place to get away from his tormentors was the Forest.

So, they watched over the deluded child as he danced and weaved through the dark trees that frightened so many others. They watched as he laughed and chatted to things unseen by them. Yes, Xenophilius was mad and had completely deluded himself in the matter of strange creatures existing, but he was happy and performed well in school. Those were the more important things to the professors of Hogwarts.

He was not the first odd Lovegood to attend Hogwarts, nor would he be the last. Delusion of some sort always appeared in a Lovegood child, just like madness did in a Black child.

Chapter Text

Many things went through her mind when she was handed a letter on the new parchment that was supposed to be an outdated version of paper. For one, she was very confused as to why someone would give her a letter written on parchment. She didn't know anyone that had any sort of interest in old types of paper and nor did her parents. It seemed a very odd choice to give a young child of eleven a letter on parchment.

And it was for her, her name was written clearly – in some type of calligraphy! – on the front of it. What was beneath her name puzzled her and worried her parents greatly. The second bedroom on the right. How did this stranger know where her bedroom was? And why was that important information to put on a letter?

Upon opening the envelope that bore her name, bedroom and address in green calligraphy, she found a letter that defied explanation. It also gave much needed explanation to all the things that happened around her that she had never understood. It was not normal for a toddler to make a well-loved cuddly toy fly through the air from the shelf and into their hands, after all.

Except, apparently, it was completely normal and even celebrated for some people. Those people were wizards. Magic was real. She had read and seen so many stories where magic played a part; Cinderella, Peter Pan, The Magic Faraway Tree, The Chronicles of Narnia, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, The Sword in the Stone, and so many more.

Magic was something she had wished she had with all her might. She would often stare at a glass of water and try to make it move like Matilda had done once. She had never succeeded at moving the glass, but so many other things had happened around her that she felt there had to be some reason for it.

Her parents read the letter over her shoulder and all three of them spent quite some time staring blankly at the piece of parchment that changed their world forever. Finally, her father plucked the letter from her hands and started examining it carefully. He read through the letter several times after performing strange things to the parchment that she assumed made him more confident in its legitimacy.

"Well," he finally said, "if this is true, it would explain quite a bit."

The woman who had delivered the letter – a stern looking woman with grey hair in a strict bun – cleared her throat. "I assure you, Mr. Granger, it is very true. Perhaps a demonstration?"

Not waiting for a reply, she pulled out a wooden stick, waved it while saying something in another language and the vase sitting on one of the side tables suddenly turned into a teapot. The three members of the Granger family gasped, and her mother pulled her closer to her. Hermione stared at the teapot that had previously been a vase.

Many things went through her mind at that moment but the most prominent was a feeling of utter relief. She wasn't going mad, she wasn't some strange alien from a far away planet that had been destroyed and her real parents had sent her away to protect her. She was a witch, she had magic, and that was perfectly okay.

Chapter Text

There were many times in his life that Harry had been alone. Of course, when the Dursleys went on holidays, he was left with Mrs Figg and all of her cats. Or Aunt Marge. He hated staying with Aunt Marge; her dogs always tried to attack him. Mrs Figg’s cats were much better but then again, Mrs Figg always had stale cake that he enjoyed the sweetness of but not the dryness. So, one time when the Dursley’s were preparing to leave for the airport, he hid.

Being who he was to the family, they didn’t spend too much time looking for him and as such, never found him in his rather poor hiding spot of the tree just a few blocks down from Privet Drive. Instead, they gave up after five minutes, loaded the car, locked up the house, and drove off. Maybe they were hoping that Harry would run off and not bother them while they were away.

Whatever they thought, Harry was just happy to not have to deal with Mrs Figg or Aunt Marge. After waiting for an hour to make sure that the Dursley’s weren’t coming back, Harry walked back to Number 4. Once he reached the silent house, he lifted the rock that hid the spare key and let himself in. Apparently, the Dursley’s didn’t think him capable of finding out where they hid their spare key should Dudley come home to an empty house or one of them forgot their house keys when they were out.

Still, it worked in Harry’s favour and he gleefully sat down on the couch in the living room. The couch was Vernon and Dudley’s territory and Harry was never allowed on it. He also made himself a sandwich and ate that, though he was careful not to let any crumbs fall on the floor or the couch. Sitting on the couch and looking around the empty room, Harry wondered what he should do now.

He had never really had any time to himself and certainly never had any time where there was no chores or homework to be done. Eyes falling on the TV remote, Harry shrugged and decided to see what had his family so obsessed with the box and its multitude of channels. The first channel to flick on was a news channel and that was interesting for a few minutes. However, it grew depressing after a while.

Flicking through, Harry stopped on a animated film that showed someone waving their hands and chanting nonsense. Curious, Harry kept watching and was drawn into the magical world of Merlin and Arthur Pendragon as the young boy named Arthur searched for a magical sword under the guidance of a wizard. It was fascinating, and Harry was immediately in love.

As things tend to do, the movie finished, and Harry was once again bored. He had spent far longer than he ever had just sitting, and his body was protesting from the stillness. Getting up, he stretched, dropped his plate off in the sink, and then wandered upstairs. Upstairs was another place that he was rarely allowed to go.

It wasn’t all that interesting, which was annoying to the curious boy who wanted an adventure while his relatives were away. Then he saw the door that was slightly ajar and moved to investigate Dudley’s bedroom. Remembering the show he had just watched, Harry raised his hands in front of him as he’d seen Merlin do (he didn’t have a sword so he couldn’t be Arthur) and carefully pushed open the door.

The room was packed with all kinds of things. There were toys everywhere, a computer sat on a desk that was covered in computer games, action figures and the occasional comic. Intrigued, Harry stepped closer, avoiding the random piles of clothes and toys like he was in a dungeon and they were traps.

When he reached his goal, Harry ignored the computer, having no idea how it worked and instead picked up a comic. He had seen Dudley read these and knew they were the only things the other boy would read apart from school books he was forced to look at. On the cover was a man covered in some kind of red and gold armour with a blue light in his chest.

Harry flicked through the comic and was fascinated by the pictures. Knowing that his relatives wouldn’t be home for a few days and inspired by both the comic and the movie, he raced downstairs to raid the cupboards. Several hours later and Harry had his own armour and a sword in the form of several pots and a ladle.

Completely free of relatives that would try to stop him from playing his game, Harry charged around the house and backyard. He managed to kill several monsters that were trying to destroy the Earth and even managed to trap one of them in the garden hose! It had spilled all of its evil plans, and Harry had managed to save the day from the evil monster things that had invaded.

After that, he realised just how carried away he had gotten with his game and hastily started to clean up. The flour that had somehow gotten out of the pantry and used as a weapon was swept up and put in the bin. The garden hose was reeled in, and his armour was dismantled before being put away.

That night, Harry slept well and dreamt of adventuring around with Arthur and Merlin, protecting them with his awesome fighting skills. The next day, Harry spent his time in Dudley’s room reading more comic books and getting even more inspiration for his imagination to work with. The entire time his relatives were away, he read and played and quite often had clean up the inevitable messes he created while killing monsters, saving damsels and simply adventuring through the lands of the worlds he discovered.

In a few years, he would receive a multitude of letters that all said the same thing when he finally managed to read one. He was a wizard just like Merlin had been, he didn’t need a sword to fight the monsters; he had a wand and magic!

Chapter Text

The hippogriff enjoyed flying through the sky by the large building of stones. His kin also enjoyed the place, so much so that they had settled down within the forest nearby the building. They were not hunted in this place, they were free to fly during the day or night. It was a fun place, a calm place.

The hippogriff had just landed from a flight around the large lake near the building and was walking into the forest from the lake. He did not pay heed to those who watched him, he knew that there were many reasons for a human to watch something as grand as he was. His kind were beautiful and highly dignified, after all.

He stopped with a snort as he realised that someone had blocked his path. He glared at the one who dared step in the way of a hippogriff and was pleased to see the other looked rather askance at his own daring. The hippogriff was also pleased to see that the other immediately bowed when he saw that he had gained the hippogriff's attention.

The hippogriff gazed thoughtfully at the one in front of him. He had stepped in front of a hippogriff, had blocked the path of said hippogriff, but clearly knew that hippogriffs demanded respect and had bowed. The hippogriff decided that he would give this man in front of him a chance. He bowed his front legs and lowered his head in acknowledgement of the other.

The man grinned and stepped forward, holding out his hand. The hippogriff allowed it and gave a happy sound when the other went straight for the place that brought pleasure to every hippogriff. The ruff that protected their necks from the cold was eternally itchy and they were not adept at scratching it for themselves or others of their kind.

"I'm gonna to call you Buckbeak," the man declared and then hurriedly added at the glare the hippogriff sent him, "If tha's okay with you."

The hippogriff thought it over and then snorted in agreement, shaking his head and nudging the man to continue his scratching. Buckbeak was an acceptable name while he was within this man's presence. The man obligingly continued to scratch as he asked, "Would it be okay if I showed you off to some students? Only, I'm the Care o' Magical Creatures pr'fessor and I ain't quite figured out what I'm s'posed to do."

Buckbeak nodded in agreement and the man grinned. "Great. I'm Hagrid, by the way. I'll whistle when I need you, if tha's okay."

Answering to a whistle was similar to being a pet, Buckbeak thought. Still, he didn't have to answer and if he did, he would be allowing others to see the wonderous sight of a hippogriff. Yes, Buckbeak thought, it would be good to show these humans how magnificent we are. A good partnership, he thought. And when Hagrid brought him a few dead ferrets, well, that was just a bonus.

Later, when a sharp whistle rang out across the forest and Buckbeak answered, the hippogriff was quite happy to show off to the children. He decided he liked the one who had not stepped back with the others, he showed a reasonable and understandable amount of fear but also still treated Buckbeak with the respect that hippogriffs deserve.

He did not like the one who started insulting him and his kin, though. And he made sure the other knew about it. Not enough to kill, not yet. Merely a warning. Do not insult a hippogriff or you will surely feel their wrath.

Chapter Text

There are many things that go with running a school, I have found. It is not merely imparting the knowledge you have gained over the course of your life. I also find myself needing to look after the children that are in my care. I teach these children not only magic, but also the lessons I have learned throughout my own life. However, there are some things that have to be experienced to be learnt. This is why my friends and I began the tradition of letting the students teach us occasionally.

We realised that though we are able to share our knowledge with those in our classes, it does not necessarily mean that that knowledge is being accepted. So that we knew our words were being heeded, the four of us introduced the day of CAT—Children Attempt Teaching. It is our way of making sure our students know the things we have taught them as well as we do ourselves.

Sometimes we have students who know nothing of what they are supposed to be teaching and instead tell amusing stories in the hope that we will not berate them for not learning. Other times we have students who have studied a subject far beyond what we have and actually end up teaching the teachers about that subject. Those times are by far the most fascinating. It is often clear that the student is passionate about the area they are teaching us and it is wonderful to see such dedication to the art of magic.

The time leading up to the day of CAT is the busiest for both teachers and students. Those that are expected to take on the role of professor for a day are often running back and forth like a cerberus who has lost one of its heads. The multitude of questions that we are asked by these mad children is staggering.

We find that we do not have a lot of time for quiet in these times, too often are such times interrupted by a frantic student who needs to know why it is not wise to put porcupine needles in a cauldron while it is sitting above a flame (the answer is, of course, an explosion of some sort will occur depending on the other ingredients in the cauldron).

It is therefore, a great relief when the day finally dawns and the students can attempt to impart their frantically gathered information to their own students consisting of Godric, Salazar, Rowena and myself. The four of us do not always attend the same student's class as there are far too many students for such a thing to happen. But there are always at least two of us, one wise in the subject and one less so.

Godric has always been abysmal at potions while Salazar is a genius and thus the two of them will attend the classes that students hold revolving around the subject of potions. I hold much practical knowledge in herbology and Rowena only factual; we are quite the pair when a student is attempting to teach us what they have learned.

When a student is teaching the subject of transfiguration, it is Godric who will pay close attention to what they are saying and know whether it is correct or not. The same goes for Rowena when a student has decided to regale us with all they know on the subject of charms. My friend is quite well versed in the usage of charms and has created quite a few of her own.

I sit now in a class taught by a rather nervous and enthusiastic young boy. He is discussing the art of wandless and wordless magic casting. It is clear on his face that this is something that means a great deal to him, most likely due to the way we found him and brought him back to Hogwarts with us. It was many years ago now, and yet I still remember it clearly. Such a thing as being chased out of a town by people carrying pitchforks and torches tends to leave an impression.

The young man, Merlin, had grown up around Muggles with no idea that such a thing as magic existed. He found himself able to do things that his friends could not and his mother had told him to hide these abilities he found himself with. Salazar and I were travelling to the South of Hogwarts Castle in order to find students and happened to be in the town Merlin lived in when he inadvertently showed his neighbours his magic.

He had good reason, yes, but it meant the end of his life as he knew it. As the young child slowed its descent from the rooftop, we searched for the one who used magic. As did the townsfolk after they had assured themselves the child was alright. I fear for our kind if the first reaction of people who have just had a child saved by magic is to try and stone the one who performed such an action.

If even the act of saving a child is not enough to gain the slightest bit of gratitude or acceptance, what sort of a life will my descendants live? Will they be shut away from those that fear and hate them? Will they grow to hate those that hate them? I hope that it is not so, but I fear it will be.

The eyes of young Merlin shine as he regales us with his knowledge, showing that this is far more than mere schoolwork. He wishes to show us the wonders of working without a wand and voice. It is clear to see that he wishes to explore magic to the fullest and that is a goal that I can wholeheartedly support.

The lesson is over now and it is time for Godric and I to let our student know how he did as a teacher. Godric expresses his approval with a very enthusiastic slap on the back, an explosive, "Well done, my lad!" and then proceeds to bound out of the classroom to his next class.

It is I who provides a touch more feedback for the young man to consider. "You did exceedingly well, Merlin. It is clear to me that this is a subject you feel strongly about. Your passion and knowledge made for an interesting class. I have a feeling we will be seeing great things from you soon."

Merlin flushed and ducked his head, "Thank you, Lady Hufflepuff."

I smiled at him and swept out of the classroom. I had another class to attend and I had a feeling this one would not be as interesting as the last. Young Horace preferred to spend his days swinging a sword around than learning the art of spell casting. It was sure to be entertaining, at the very least.

Chapter Text

Luna Lovegood had always known that there was something strange about her. It was obvious in the way that she could see the Nargles and Wrackspurts. Even her father couldn't see them, but he believed her when she said they were real. They talked to her at times, telling her stories of things more wonderful than even magic. They told her about the stars, about the way that blobs of rock drifted through the world above the planet she and her family lived on.

She listened as her world was expanded beyond that of the Earth. When her letter from Hogwarts came, she almost wanted to refuse it. Magic was magic and everyone one who had it, knew about it. It wasn't special like the things her friends talked about. They told her about the council up in the sky that protected the universe. In Britain there was only the Wizengamot, which was hardly interesting.

In the sky there were so many different things that she could learn about. On Earth, there was magic. But she had no way of getting into space and following where the Nargles and Wrackspurts guided her, so for now she would go to Hogwarts and learn all she could there. She would learn the magic and she would learn the world. If the lessons grew tiresome, there was always the fabled Forbidden Forest that she could explore.

At Hogwarts, Luna was almost immediately given the nickname Loony Lovegood, but that was okay. She knew that to those who had no idea of the outside world, someone who could see beyond magic would be strange. To those around her, magic was the most amazing thing, it was what set them apart from the rest of the world.

Luna knew differently. Everyone had magic of some kind. Not everyone could see her friends. Not everyone could hear stories of worlds far away and know them to be true. One of her favourite classes at Hogwarts was that of Astronomy. Of course, she tended to ignore what her teacher said about the planets that they looked at.

Instead, Luna listened to the tales the Wrackspurts told her about the planets and the stories the Nargles told her about the inhabitants of those planets. It was very difficult writing essays for that subject and remembering to stay within the bounds of understanding that her teacher had. For if Luna wrote about the beings that she knew lived on Venus, the world would think her crazy indeed.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The war had come to Hogwarts. Death Eaters ran the school and they took great glee in punishing those that looked even slightly rebellious. Luna did her best for her housemates and friends. She helped them where she could, finding Murtlap Essence to aid healing, along with Dittany and learned various healing spells. She, along with a few others, kept the morale of the Hogwarts students relatively high as they continued to be tortured in their classes and detentions.

One night, as Luna was walking through the Forbidden Forest to say hello to the Thestrals and be away from the Dark aura that currently permeated the castle of Hogwarts, she heard the Wrackspurts begin to cry out in excitement. They danced in front of her, telling her to follow them if she wanted to help her human friends even more.

Never having ignored her friends before and seeing the Nargles in complete agreement with the Wrackspurts, Luna raced through the Forest as she followed the trail of light her friends left behind them. Eventually, she burst into a clearing and found a sphere of green light. Enraptured, Luna stepped closer, examining the globe from every angle.

Glancing at her friends as they urged her onwards, Luna stepped into the glow and immediately felt the difference as her magic was modified by whatever the glow was. She could feel the green glow rush through her body, she knew that if she wanted to, she could now see with her own eyes what her friends had told her about her entire life.

But as she turned her gaze back towards the darkened castle, Luna knew she couldn't leave yet. She had work to do. The green power inside her settled and she smiled slightly. She knew that there would be a period of waiting until she could finally set off exploring the universe, but that was okay. Until such a time that the Dark Lord Voldemort was defeated, Luna would stay within the walls of Hogwarts and help protect the students as she had done before. Only this time, she would be able to do it better.

No one noticed when Luna's healing spells took on a tinge of green, or when sometimes an almost transparent green shield would form between a student and a Death Eater. Luna remained quiet, she remained just as she always had been. She had never really been a target for the Death Eaters, despite being a known associate of Harry Potter. Luna Lovegood was merely the crazy girl who believed in creatures that didn't exist. What harm could she do?

They learned that she could do quite a bit of harm when the Battle of Hogwarts finally commenced and Harry Potter returned to defeat Voldemort. Green shields, no longer transparent, sprung up in between Death Eaters and their targets, reflecting the deadly spells they had cast back towards them.

No Death Eater was safe from her devastating green power as it continued to shelter those in need. There was no escape once Voldemort fell and green tendrils sought out all those with darkness in their hearts that had been acted upon with glee. Across the grounds of Hogwarts, Death Eaters fell and Luna smiled.

She could leave now, she thought as she felt the last tendril of green magic return to her. Turning her face towards the dark night sky with all its twinkling stars, Luna felt the green magic inside of her swirl excitedly. Glancing to her side, she could see the Nargles and Wrackspurts already shooting off into space, knowing she would follow them.

With a grin and a delighted laugh, Luna Lovegood let the green magic inside of her rise up and take over. It lifted her off the ground and sped her towards her next adventure. Finally, she would be able to see the things she had only been able to dream about. The universe was hers to explore and protect.

Chapter Text

One of the hardest things for the Muggle-borns that attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to wrap their heads around (besides the fact that magic is real), is the existence of ghosts. Within the castle of Hogwarts, there are plenty of ghosts that wander through the halls and interact with whomever they may come across during their wanderings.

Some ghosts are quiet and will vanish upon interaction such as the Grey Lady. Peeves the Poltergeist is not so much a ghost per say but is within the category of supernatural and finds enjoyment in playing jokes on the inhabitants of Hogwarts. There are those that belong to the Headless Hunt, who ride their ghostly horses through the corridors of Hogwarts as they hunt down the heads they have detached from their bodies. The sight is not one easily forgotten and has fuelled many a nightmare.

There are the kind ghosts, who will aid a lost student should that student think to ask. Eventually, the ghosts become as normal as the moving and thinking portraits. They are merely a part of the crazy life that living at Hogwarts creates. It is not considered polite to ask how a ghost died, the memory is usually one they do not wish to think on for any period of time. Of course, the ghost of Gryffindor will tell anyone interested about how close he came to being able to join the Headless Hunt. But there is always the exception to the rule.

Perhaps the most famous ghost to haunt the halls of Hogwarts is one known as Moaning Myrtle. She was a relatively young ghost compared to the others that floated around the castle, only being about fifty. She remained in the location of her death and her high strung teenage emotions gained her the moniker of Moaning Myrtle. The others ghosts tried to rein her in but had little success.

If a student of Hogwarts was asked who they would call the scariest ghost they had encountered during their tenure in the school, they would undoubtedly answer with The Bloody Baron. At least, most of them would. For one, The Bloody Baron was an avenger and protector. There was nothing scary about The Bloody Baron to them.

The Bloody Baron was aptly named as his ghostly form showed the blood that had been spilled upon his death. It was this fact that made the students wary of him, even those of the House he had claimed as his own - Slytherin. The Bloody Baron took it upon himself to teach the young upstarts in his House how to behave as a baron should and held nightly classes that were compulsory if you didn't want to end up walking through the cold ghostly figure several times the next day.

As one, the Slytherin House detested the lessons and would much prefer to merely curl up in the common room and work on their homework or enjoy a little down time with their friends and allies. One Slytherin quite enjoyed the lessons however, and even sought out The Bloody Baron when he was free to continue the lessons without the rest of his House present.

Theodore Nott Jr. was a quiet Slytherin. He watched, learned, and said very little but when he did speak, it was with absolute authority. The Bloody Baron had taught him that skill and he felt forever indebted to the ghost. Within Hogwarts, Theodore was almost like a ghost himself, staying in the shadows until he deemed it wise to exit and share his observations.

The other Slytherins started calling him the second ghost of Slytherin House and Theodore was fine with that. He was quite happy to stay in the shadows, unseen and unnoticed until such a time as he wanted to be seen and noticed. He knew the power of being invisible in a crowded room. He knew how to make the people in a room to spill their secrets and then forget that they had done so.

The Bloody Baron had taught him this skill as well. At night, when Theodore was unable to sleep, he wandered the corridors of Hogwarts with The Bloody Baron as company. Peeves the Poltergeist was incredibly wary of The Bloody Baron and thus never bothered the young boy as he wandered. The Bloody Baron kept an eye out for any prefects or professors that might be patrolling the corridors and Theodore was never seen.

Sometimes, The Bloody Baron wouldn't warn Theodore of the presence of another nearby. Instead, he would wait and see what Theodore would do when faced with a situation of possible capture. Every time, Theodore evaded whoever might be around the corner and The Bloody Baron would feel pride swell in his long dead chest. He had taught this young one well.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The castle was shaking as deadly spells hit the walls as they missed their target. Coloured flashes of light lit up the air in the halls of Hogwarts as The Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters fought each other in a last stand. Adults ran from fight to fight, protecting children who were determined to also protect the castle that was their home for most of the year.

It was utter chaos, the kind of chaos that it was easy to fade away in. No one paid any attention to the nook in one of the many halls of Hogwarts. No one saw the boy standing there and watching the fighting with wide eyes. They did not see the silvery form of a ghost hovering protectively by the boy, warning him when an enemy came near.

Theodore watched as those he had shared a home with for so many years rushed past to find the fighting. He watched the Death Eaters that he was supposed to be fighting alongside also ran past his place, sadistic grins on their faces as they destroyed the castle around them and cast deadly curses at whoever they encountered.

When the Dark Lord called a ceasefire, Theodore finally stepped out of his nook and made his way back to the Slytherin common room. That was where the Slytherins would be holing up and recovering their strength. Or at least, that had been the hastily created plan when the news that the Dark Lord was making his move reached them.

The Bloody Baron floated next to him and Theodore took strength from his tutors presence. It was because of the ghost floating beside him that he could ignore the faces he recognised staring blankly ahead as they lay where they had fallen. He moved past the students he had once observed living as they lay in death.

Upon arrival at his common room, Theodore took a deep breath and gathered all the things The Bloody Baron had taught him. With a single word, the entrance to the common room opened and Baron Theodore Nott entered to take charge of the chaotic situation. There was a war happening outside, even if it was now static as both sides waited for the other's play. Theodore had been watching. He had knowledge and he had the skills he had been taught since he had been eleven by a baron who had also been involved in a war.

Slytherin House would emerge as unscathed as they could under the guidance of quiet, unassuming Theodore Nott. Apprentice to their House ghost; The Bloody Baron. There was no need for loud bluster when calm confidence did the job better. A lesson learned by many who declared him unfit to take part in the small war council Slytherin House had formed.

As Theodore calmly tore his opposers to shreds and took charge of the war council, The Bloody Baron floated off to the side and nodded in approval. Theodore Nott Jr. would go far in life with the lessons he had learned from the old ghost.

Chapter Text

Lily and her sister often pretended that they were exploring strange and dangerous worlds. They would have such fun running around the park and fighting off the imaginary enemies of the day. Their mother told them stories of magic, chivalry and knights. These stories sparked the imagination of the two girls and they gleefully reenacted them whenever they were bored.

At night, Lily and Petunia would sometimes crawl under the same blanket and tell stories of their own. They would craft worlds of adventure, and play in them during the day. It changed when they met someone new who revealed why their games were so real to them. Lily had jumped from the swing, ready to attack the ogre that was waiting at the base of the tower (swing) and a boy had burst out of the bushes proclaiming her to be a witch.

Petunia had of course scoffed at his declaration but Lily had given it a bit more thought. She had noticed that strange things happened around her and thought maybe, just maybe, the boy was telling the truth. That night, the two sisters crawled under a blanket and discussed the new world that might actually exist.

They spent hours the next day exploring the powers that Lily now knew she had. They ran around the park and giggled as flowers sprouted where there had been none before. Lily tried to teach Petunia how to access the magic but had no luck. The next time they saw the boy--Severus Snape, as they now knew him to be called--he explained that Petunia had no magic of her own. That it was only Lily who had been granted the powers of magic wielding.

Still, Lily and Petunia didn’t let that stop them from playing with Lily’s magic. How amazing was it that one of them could actually levitate rocks and throw them at the beasties that tried to overtake their forts? And then the letter came and Lily went away to Scotland, leaving Petunia in a world with no magic.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Lily was flush with excitement as she watched Platform Nine and Three-Quarters grow closer through the train’s windows. She had never been away from her family for so long and she missed her sister and parents. She couldn’t wait to tell Petunia all the things she had learned in the few months she had been away.

Some of her fellow Gryffindors had shown her the owl order service, that meant she could order things from wizarding shops without going to Diagon Alley. Her parents had given her a small allowance in wizard currency and she used that to order the perfect gift for her sister for Christmas. She couldn’t wait until Petunia saw it!

But that night, when she crawled under Petunia’s covers to tell all the fantastic stories she had, it was to find Petunia scoffing at her fantastical imagination. Lily didn’t understand what had happened to her sister that she shared everything with ever since they had been young. She left Petunia’s bed quietly and returned to her own, trying to shove the sadness from Petunia’s rejection to the back of her mind.

The next day, Lily asked her parents if they knew why Petunia wouldn’t listen to her. They had hugged her and said that Petunia had spent too long without magic in her life. It was one thing to love it when you had someone to share it with, it was another to love it when it took your sister away from you.

That night, Lily had determinedly stayed in Petunia’s bed and promised her that even if she was away for most of the year, she would never forget her favourite sister. Petunia had chuckled slightly at that. “I’m your only sister,” she said.

“Yes, and that means that you’re my favourite,” Lily said proudly, snuggling closer to her sister. They slept side by side for the rest of the Christmas holidays and spent almost every waking moment together until Lily had to once more go to Scotland and continue her magical education.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

That was how most school breaks were spent after that. Lily would come home and she and Petunia would spend all their time together. They would go out to the park and continue defending the giant tree there that become a massive fortress in their imagination. At least, they did until they decided they were far too old to be defending tree forts and instead they went to the park to giggle over boys away from their parents.

Lily told Petunia all about the boy that would not stop asking her out and Petunia rambled about the boy she sometimes saw in the school library. They laughed over the antics of James Potter and his little gang of friends, giggled over Petunia’s reluctance to approach one Gerald White. Sometimes they would imagine what their life would be like if they actually dated the boys that captured their attention.

Sometimes, boy talk would be suspended due to the presence of an actual boy. Severus Snape was a common fixture in their gatherings, Petunia knew that it was only due to Lily that the rude boy actually tolerated her. She would insist that he didn’t show up to their days in the park except she knew that Lily liked him and she didn’t want to make her sister choose which one to spend time with.

Until Severus decided to insult her directly while Lily had run home quickly to see if their parents could organise a picnic. “Even though you’re her sister, you are far below Lily. The only reason she still sticks beside you is because otherwise your parents would be disappointed in her. She has magic, and you have nothing.”

“She is my sister,” Petunia hissed backed, “and she loves me.”

“Does she?” Severus rose an eyebrow in question, “Then answer me this, Petunia , why is it that she allows me here when she sees me all the time at Hogwarts and she only sees you during the holidays? Surely, she would prefer to spend this time only with a sister she rarely sees?

“Unless, of course, she merely spends time with you because of your parents and uses me as a buffer so that she can feel free to sometimes ignore you. Why, she’s even now left us alone. Perhaps she grew too tired of your presence and had to create a reason to leave.”

“That’s not true!”

“Are you sure?”

The problem was, Petunia couldn’t be sure. She rarely saw her sister and she could have changed so much while she went to her school of magic. Petunia only saw Lily during the holidays, what if Lily was pretending during those times?

Afraid to ask and afraid to think, Petunia shoved the whole thing to the back of her mind where it would fester and rot. When Lily once more went off to school and left Petunia behind, she wondered if Lily was even now laughing at how bland her sister was. After all, what did Petunia have?

She had no magic, she was an ordinary student with ordinary grades in school. There was nothing special about Petunia. Not like there was with Lily. Lily was the special one. And Severus was right, why did Lily spend time with Severus outside of school when she practically lived with him when she was at school?

The next time Lily came home, it was to find Petunia completely shutting her out. The insecurities she had been carrying for so long had been exacerbated by Severus’ wounds and grown exponentially. They had grown into an intense jealousy and when Lily tried to crawl under the same covers and tell her stories, Petunia feigned sleep.

When Lily wrote to their parents and announced she was dating a boy, Petunia went out and picked the first boy she saw and declared him hers. There was nothing special about Petunia Evans, but she would not let Lily have all the things that she could also have. If Lily had a boyfriend, so would Petunia.

She just wished she had picked someone better than Vernon Dursley. For when Lily announced her engagement, well, what was Petunia to do? There was no choice in her mind, she had to get married to her boyfriend as well. And so, Petunia Evans became Petunia Dursley and she quite happily ignored Lily’s wedding invite. She was far too busy living her own, normal, life.

Chapter Text

There were two freshly dug graves in the earth between them, the bodies of their parents separating the sisters from each other. It had been years since the Evans sisters had seen one another, longer since they had been comfortable in the other's presence. Now they stood in the same place for the same reason, united in the loss of their parents.

Lily had been stunned when she learned of the death of her mother and father. She had thought them safe from the current war in wizarding Britain. And they were, but that didn't mean they were safe from other Muggles. So caught up in the magical war had Lily been, she had forgotten that there were dangers in the world other than You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters.

James, her husband, stood next to her and held her hand. Unconsciously, her other hand drifted to her stomach and rested there, her parents would never see their grandchild. Across from her, she noticed Petunia also clasping the hand of her own husband and holding her stomach. How far apart must they have grown for Lily to not know the name of her own sister's husband and whether or not said sister was pregnant?

She watched her sister, silently wishing her well and that the fate of their parents did not also fall on Petunia. 'Tuney would be safe from You-Know-Who, but would she be safe from other Muggles? Petunia glanced at Lily and their eyes locked. Lily smiled hesitantly and received a nod in return before Petunia turned away and left the graveyard.

Lily watched her go with one thought echoing through her mind, be safe. When her sister had vanished, Lily sent one more look at the caskets holding her parents. "I love you," she whispered to them, before walking away with James at her side. They would get the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade and then Albus would take them to the safe house in Godric's Hollow.

It was the last time the Evans sisters would see each other.

Chapter Text

They were yelling again. They were always yelling nowadays. She could hear their voices all the way down by the lake and she knew that they would be in the highest tower. They thought that by being far away from everyone else, it meant that no one would know they were fighting. Needless to say, their logic was flawed. Helga smiled gently at the two children next to her, both of them glancing up at the tower in slight fear.

"It's alright, they're simply doing what they do best. They'll calm down soon." They had better calm down soon. It was almost time for dinner and if those two were still fighting, the whole castle would be on edge.

Just as she thought that, the blessed sound of silence descended onto the grounds of Hogwarts Castle. "There, see? Nothing to worry about, the two idiots have solved their most recent problem with each other."

And indeed, Godric and Salazar remained silent for the rest of the day. Although, when Helga gingerly inquired as to what the most recent argument had been about, the two of them had merely glared at each other and stalked away from her. Helga merely shook her head, she would never understand the friendship that those two had.

They constantly fought with each other and yet there were times when they worked so cohesively that it was almost inconceivable to think they ever fought. The design for the castle they currently stayed in was all Godric and Salazar, as were the defenses they created. There would be no attackers able to withstand the combined force of the two warriors.

Of course, the silence didn't last. A week later, shouting was once more heard drifting out from the highest tower and onto the grounds of Hogwarts. Helga sighed but continued to pluck the yarrow from her herb garden. Eventually, they would either come to an agreement or tire themselves out too much to continue yelling.

Suddenly, Helga straightened and cocked her head. Silence. She looked up at the tower in surprise. The yelling had only lasted for a few moments before it had stopped. Such a thing was unheard of! The arguments between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were legendary for their longevity. Still, Helga wasn't about to complain about the unusually short yelling period. She much preferred to listen to birds singing than two grown men shouting at each other for whatever ridiculous reason.

At dinner that day, Helga noticed that Godric and Salazar were still glaring daggers at each other. She wondered what could possibly have already made them hate the other so soon after their latest argument. Glancing to her left to ask Rowena if she knew, Helga noticed that her companion seemed rather pleased with herself.

Intrigued, Helga decided to ignore the strange behaviour of the two men and instead asked, "What has you so pleased?"

"I will no longer receive headaches from those two dolts arguing day and night. And nor will you, my friend."

Helga smiled, it was good news indeed that Rowena had found a way to prevent their headaches. The potion she currently brewed for them was rather annoying to both brew and drink. "How, may I ask, did you achieve such a miracle?"

"I have created a spell for silence. Surely you noticed that they ceased their arguing rather quickly today?"

"I did indeed notice that. It was your doing?"

Rowena dipped her head, "Yes. They were interrupting my scrying and I found myself quite unable to concentrate."

Helga gazed contemplatively at Godric and Salazar. "You must teach me this spell," she mused as she watched the two try to continue their argument through vicious gestures.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The spell was a simple one and Helga quickly mastered it. As of yet, she hadn't had a reason to use it on the two men it had been created for but she knew that a time would eventually come. They were, after all, still arguing frequently. It was merely the fact that Rowena was generally closer to them when they argued and thus was the one to perform the spell.

It seemed that the time had arrived when, as Helga was calmly wandering the corridors, she encountered a fuming Salazar and Godric. The both of them were clearly on their way to the highest tower so that they could start shouting in earnest. So worked up were they, they stormed past Helga without even noticing her, both of them obviously struggling to keep in their anger.

Helga sighed softly and followed them. As soon as the two men reached their designated arguing spot, their voices rose in tandem and the shouting began. Just as soon as it started, it was forcefully put to a stop by one rather annoyed witch.

"Silencio."

As one, the two turned to stare at her, clearly not having expected such a quick death to their argument. Helga twirled her wand nonchalantly, "Oh yes, I know how to silence the two of you. Did you think Rowena was the only one who knew her spell? Now then, I am going to release the spell and the both of you will sit down like the civilised people you are and talk about what's bothering you. If I hear even the slightest raise in volume, I won't hesitate to silence you two again. Clear?"

Reluctantly, they nodded and Helga removed the spell, conjuring up two chairs for them to sit on after she did so. "Well? Get on with it!"

Jolted into action, Godric and Salazar quickly sat down and started to glare at each other. "You are insisting that we acquire fewer House Elves than we need," Godric gritted out.

"Oh am I now? Well perhaps that's because I don't need a House Elf to make my bed every morning and do that task myself."

"With the amount of clothes you go through, that hardly makes a difference!"

"Very rich, coming from the man that jumps into puddles of mud every time he practises weaponry!"

"Ahem," Helga cleared her throat meaningfully and the two quickly subsided. "Better. If your argument is about House Elves, I should let you know that Rowena already calculated and acquired the exact amount we will need. Thus, your argument is pointless."

Helga turned to leave but glanced back at the two stunned men, "For making me come up here and deal with you two, I think a bit of silence is in order, hmm? Silencio."

Humming, Helga walked down the many stairs to return to her wandering. The men she left behind glared at the space she had been and then each other, unable to speak. The spell would wear off eventually, they knew, but until then there wasn't all that much for them to do. With a silent sigh, Salazar flicked his wand and arched an inquiring eyebrow at Godric who nodded and they began setting up the chess set that Salazar had summoned, in complete and utter silence.

Chapter Text

Ronald Weasley was the youngest boy in a family of seven children. All his life, he had been in the shadow of his brother's accomplishments and could never find something that could only belong to him. Bill had his talent for breaking spells, Charlie had his creatures, Percy had his general talent of school work while Fred and George had their pranks. Ginny didn't really need to do anything to stand out. She was the only female child so she already stood out.

That left Ron. He wasn't particularly talented at anything except perhaps chess. He couldn't stand out by playing on the Quidditch team at Hogwarts as his brothers had already done that. If he got good grades at school, he was just like Percy, and if he decided to play a prank he was taking after the twins. Nothing he did could be said to be just him with no influence from his brothers.

He didn't think anyone else felt like he did, thought it was just something that was him and only him. That was until Hermione bullied Harry into forming the D.A. and inevitably dragged Ron along for the ride. It was fun, going to the D.A. meetings. It was also scary. The reason they were doing it in the first place was so that they stood a fighting chance against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. But it let him interact with people who he normally didn't.

With the classes structured as they were, the Gryffindors generally only interacted with the Slytherins they shared classes with. Of course, all of those interactions were antagonistic because Gryffindors and Slytherins never got along, but the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were alright.

Ron had always thought the Ravenclaws only cared about the books they could read but he learned that they would always have a firmer grasp on the theory of a spell due to how much they studied it beforehand. He realized that just because they could understand the theory, that didn't mean they understood the practical application. Ron spent the time Harry was going over spells he knew already, walking among the Ravenclaws and helping them transfer theoretical knowledge into practical.

The Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, were great for a laugh. They would quite happily invite you to their friend group and explain the joke that had them giggling while practicing whatever spell it was Harry decided to teach them that day. This was where Ron got to know Susan Bones. He knew her name, of course. It was hard not to when her aunt was the head of the Department of Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic. His father often talked about how great Amelia Bones was and what a good job she was doing.

Susan and her friends accepted Ron into their group of friends when they were all practicing together. They gathered together a lot of the time and often spent a few minutes after the D.A. meeting was over and everyone was leaving in ones and twos to avoid suspicion simply chatting about anything and everything. Soon enough, Ron found himself an honourary Hufflepuff and enjoyed the time after the D.A. more than the actual D.A. meetings.

Those times were how he learned that Susan Bones was feeling the same way he did. She had a great aunt, one that almost everyone knew. One that most people would be expecting her to follow and exceed. It was a heavy burden and Ron could understand the pressure Susan was under. He had brothers that he had to stand out from, while she had to show the world that she was different from her aunt.

They started meeting at times other than when the D.A. met. They would always be discreet, as they never knew when a Slytherin would appear and declare that a Gryffindor and Hufflepuff could never be friends under normal circumstances and had obviously met in a secret and forbidden group that was not approved by Professor Umbridge. This accusation was true. They had met via a forbidden group, but that didn't mean they wanted to be accused of such a thing and draw Umbridge's attention on them and thus their movements which would draw Umbridge to the D.A. meetings they went to.

The times they met up with just the two of them was when they talked about the burden they both felt weighing them down. Ron listened as Susan talked about how much she hated going to the functions at the Ministry with her aunt because all of the people there would look at her and say "You're the spitting image of your aunt, I bet you'll be just like her."

When people said that to Susan, it made her feel as though she had no choice but to follow her aunt's footsteps and go into the Department of Law Enforcement. Never mind that she just wanted to live a relatively simple life and would be quite content being a herbologist or potions master in the background. She would never be allowed to be in the background.

Ron wanted to be in the foreground. He had been in the background all his life as his brothers completed one achievement after another and left nothing for only him to achieve. He couldn't even be the only one to follow his father into the Ministry as Percy had done that first. He felt like he was being squashed down by the things he hadn't done but his brothers had.

The two of them ended up making a pact. If they both survived the war against You-Know-Who, they would trade places. Susan would fade into anonymity while Ron would move forward into the spotlight. They'd help each other escape the expectations their family had put upon them and live their lives as they wished. Ron would probably become an Auror and Susan would get her aunt to help him with that. Susan would open a little shop somewhere and Ron would help keep the press away from trying to discover why the niece of such a prominent figure in the Ministry of Magic was working in a hole in the wall somewhere.

It was a good plan, they thought. Both of them quite content with the future they now had in front of them. It was a good thing Hermione had created the D.A. and brought them together, otherwise who knew what would have been waiting for them. Their friendship was mutually beneficial and they were grateful for that.

Chapter Text

In the world, there were the Gifted and the Nulls. The Gifted had abilities, powers that would aid them in their journey of life. The Nulls had nothing, there was no gift in their blood that they could use. Petunia Evans was a Null while her sister was a strong Gifted. It had been fine when they were younger, before the Testing and all that ensued. Now Petunia knew that all those who were classed as Null were worthless to any who knew a Gifted, even if that was themselves.

When Lily had been declared Gifted with Charming, Petunia's little sister had steadily drifted away from the sister-bond the two had shared. There were no more nights giggling together after their parents had declared lights out—Lily had been given her own room so that she could practice her Gift without being distracted by the Null presence about.

That was when Petunia Evans decided she was going to be the greatest Null in the history of Nulls. There would be no talk of Gifts around her, no aid from those who held them. Petunia would do everything herself and would not turn to her sister or another Gifted for help. She would have a Null family. One that was as plain and boring as it was simple and delightful.

She shunned all the boys who came up to her and asked her out if they showed even the slightest hint of being Gifted. She fiercely shoved aside the crushes she had on the boys who were Gifted and instead focused all her attention on the other boys; the Null boys. Enter Vernon Dursley, a Null who held the same view as Petunia on the Gifted prats waltzing their way through life.

They were connected by their hatred of all things Gifted, bonded by being the outcasts of a society that worshipped those with abilities and condemned those without. In time, they knew everything there was to know about each other. They protected each other from the Gifted who looked down on the Nulls that they were, from the Gifted who seemed nice but would eventually turn patronising and pitying. Both Petunia and Vernon had experience with those types in their own families; both of their sisters were Gifted while they were Null.

Once they married, it was an easy decision to move far away from both of their families. They decided that Little Whinging would be the perfect place to settle down, it had the lowest rates of Gifted people near the London area. Three months, several loans, and many headaches later, the Dursley couple were moving into Number 4, Privet Drive.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

They had lived in Number 4 for several months now and Petunia had been invited to join the gossip nights that the wives held every fortnight. It was a great way to get to know more people and she was happy that the community wasn't mentioning their Null status as something to be ashamed of or even to be remarked upon. She usually spent the nights sitting next to Arabella Figg who often leaned over and caught Petunia up on some past scandal that was fuelling the current one the ladies were discussing.

They became good friends in those nights and started to spend time together without the other ladies. Petunia would invite Arabella over to her house for tea and Arabella would do the same. It kept Arabella from going mad with just her cats for company and gave Petunia the ability to leave the stress of looking after a family for a few hours.

It was Arabella who noticed how Petunia flinched every time the topic of Gifts came up, and it was Arabella who asked about it softly one day when they were surrounded by her cats and sipping tea. The quiet question brought back the memory of when Petunia had lost Lily completely.

The Evans family waited anxiously for their youngest daughter to be tested for a Gift. Their eldest—Petunia—had been declared a Null several years ago. It was now time to see if Lily was Gifted or not. Within a few minutes of the Test starting, the examiner came out of the room with a flushed Lily—both of them beaming.

"Your daughter is Gifted with Charming," the examiner told the anxious family. "I suggest you talk to Master Flitwick about an Apprenticeship over going to one of the bigger schools. Lily here shows an extraordinary talent."

"Thank you, Master Ollivander," Petunia's mother said, already pulling Lily in for a proud hug.

"Congratulations on having such a strong Gifted in your family, Mrs. Evans."

Arabella held her hand after Petunia had told her story and how Lily had drifted away from her after that day. How Petunia had wanted to not be Null so she could have her sister back, or for her sister to be a Null like her. How the reason Petunia hated the Gifted was because she had once wished so desperately to be one.

"Being declared a Null does not mean you don't have a gift, dear," Arabella said. "Look at me, I am no Gifted and yet I have a gift with cats." A white cat jumped and rubbed against Arabella's cheek as she said that and Petunia couldn't stop a watery smile at the sight of the cat begging for attention. "You'll find your own gift in time, don't you worry."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Petunia lay in bed that night staring up at the dark ceiling. Her thoughts whirled around in her mind and always returning to a single thought. I am normal. She wasn't special in any way, she had no Gift and nor did her husband. Ever since her sister had turned eleven, Petunia had strived to be as normal as possible. It was a constant that she could always count on. She decided that she would be constant for the normality.

She wouldn't change, she wouldn't try to have anything to do with Gifts. She would remain true to what had driven her all these years. The Dursley family would forever and always be completely normal and Null with no Gifts or Gifted in sight. With a small smile on her lips, Petunia rolled over onto her side and drifted off to sleep, content with her decision.

Chapter Text

“You’re to stay out here and not move until we let you back in, Freak.”

Harry stared at his uncle as the burly man slammed the back door shut and left him out in the snowy backyard. Inside, Dudley grinned at him and snuggled further into the woolly blanket he had over him. Harry sank down onto the porch and wrapped his arms around himself, already shivering from the cold.

The castoffs from Dudley he was wearing were too loose to properly contain heat and the jumper he was wearing was only thin. Nevertheless, he stayed where he was. Even as the Dursleys relaxed in front of their fire, he sat and shivered. The snow built slowly up, encroaching on the small porch he was sitting on.

He glanced back at the Dursleys, wondering if they would let him back in yet. Uncle Vernon glared at him when he caught sight of Harry shifting and he stopped. The rules were that he stay where he was until he was let back in. If he broke those rules, he’d be in for two weeks in his cupboard with a small meal every two days.

His shivering increased and Harry hoped he would be let in soon. During the summer months, this punishment wasn’t so bad but it was terrible in winter. Harry almost cried out in dismay when the Dursleys turned out the lights and headed upstairs for bed. He didn’t though, that wasn’t allowed. Instead he shifted closer to the house and leaned against the brick, curling even tighter around himself in an effort to conserve heat.

He stared wistfully at the shed that would at least be slightly warmer than the porch but refrained from moving there. For one, he wasn’t allowed into the shed unless he was getting garden equipment; and for two, if he didn’t wake up in time to be back on the porch before the Dursley’s came down in the morning he would be punished.

He filled his thoughts with warm fires and biscuits straight from the oven that were still piping hot, trying to convince his mind that he was warm and not stuck out in the cold. The shivers ebbed away as his body seemed to warm up and he relaxed slightly. He didn’t how or why but thinking of warm things always managed to make the cold vanish for a bit.

With one last glance at the shed at the now dark house behind him, Harry lay down and tried to sleep. As he always did when he was facing a punishment for something that Dudley had done and he was blamed for, Harry wished someone would come and take him away from the Dursleys. Surely anywhere would be better than this.

Chapter Text

Helga ran as quickly as she could while cradling her precious cargo. She had to get to Salazar, he would know what to do. She rushed past Godric without noticing him ask what she was holding or why she was running. Nothing mattered other than getting to Salazar as quickly as possible.

Finally reaching their quarters, she kicked the door open and called out, “Salazar! I need you!”

Salazar dropped the book he had been reading and quickly walked over to retrieve one of the heavy eggs she was carrying. “Helga,” he breathed out in shock. “What have you done?”

“They were abandoned in the rain. It’s nearing Winter, Salazar! You can’t leave dragon eggs out in the cold or the dragons will die!”

“Come, bring them to the fire.”

The fire was already roaring and it took little work to transfigure a metal pot that would hold both eggs as they warmed up in the flames. When they were sure that there was nothing else they could do to aid the young beings inside the eggs, Salazar started quizzing Helga.

“Are you sure we won’t have an angry mother flying over here to burn us all for taking her eggs?”

“No, Salazar. I checked. They were left in the woods, no nest or sign of another dragon anywhere. They’re alone in the world.”

“Not anymore.” At Helga’s confused look, he pulled her closer to him and explained. “I know you, Helga. You would never turn away a child alone in the world, let alone two. Was there any sign of how long they had been out there?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Salazar. They could already have grown too cold to survive. What if I was too late?”

“Hush.” He placed a kiss on her head in reassurance. “You did what you could. There is nothing more you could have done and nothing you could have done better. It is up to them now, Helga.”

“I hope they survive,” she whispered quietly, staring at the eggs in the fireplace.

“With you looking after them? How could they not?”

She shoved him lightly. “You’re going to need to teach me everything you know about dragons.”

“With pleasure.”

Chapter Text

Helga stood as steadily as she could while staring out at the view beyond the cliff she stood upon. There was a vast ocean in front of her that she knew well. She had travelled over it many times and it was as much of a home to her as the clouds in which she had lived her entire life. Her form dispersed as a particularly determined wind tried to drag her away to play. She refused to leave and gathered herself back together—as much as a being made of wind could be together.

A flash of scales came from below and she grinned, leaping off the cliff to drift down into the ocean. Salazar had finally arrived. She had never imagined she would love any other but a wind sprite, and yet here she was gleefully spending time with a water sprite.

Salazar dressed in the scales that many water creatures had, Helga dressed in the pollen that drifted throughout the wind. They had met during a tempest as both of them struggled to remain themselves and not get swept into the larger phenomenon. It was only through twining around each other that they had been able to resist and ever since then they had been close.

It was an unlikely friendship that remained strong nonetheless. Every time Helga left Salazar, she wondered if she would see him again and knew he was wondering the same thing. They were so easily broken apart and remade anew that it was a wonder they had survived as long as they did. So many of her old friends had been replaced by new versions of themselves that held only fragments of the sprites they had been before.

Sometimes they would come up to her and be as they had been before drifting away in confusion as another segment took charge. Nothing was permanent for a wind sprite. Helga only wished for a bit longer to remain as she was, and hoped that Salazar would hold on for as long as she did, too. She knew that if either of them lost the battle, the other would as well.

Chapter Text

The suit was mainly made of lavender fabric with darker purple accents on the lining and vest. Gilderoy twisted around as he admired his figure in the mirror. It was suitably delightful, playful, and with just the right touch of seriousness to make him seem important and distinguished. Though—if the people he was around didn't respond to his charms regardless, they were strange indeed. He had made a point of learning how to charm every person he came in contact with—especially the females.

"You look dashing, dearie," the mirror commented.

Gilderoy chuckled. "I know."

He had chosen his outfit to look like perfection with that added touch of who he was. Lavender had been his mother's favourite colour and it had quickly become Gilderoy's as well. She had often played with his blond curls, designing them into various styles and using lavender ribbons whenever they were required.

She had also loved teaching him fashion as his three sisters tended to avoid it. He owed all his knowledge to her and he thanked her every day by always looking his best. Straightening the cloak, Gilderoy flashed the mirror his most charming smile.

"Well then, I mustn't keep the people waiting."

"You'll be fine, dearie. With such good looks, how could you not?"

Gilderoy smirked; that was why he had obtained the mirror. It was nice to hear the comforting and confirming words that the enchanted object gave him. He was known in the wizarding world as charming and confident. He was charming, yes, but confidence was changeable and it could always use a bit of a boost.

A wave of his wand and an incantation of a spell had his quills and rolls of parchment flying to his hands and he tucked them into an expanded pocket before sweeping out of the room. He had an appointment at the bookstore to organise the release of his latest book. An author's work was never done.

As the door closed behind him the mirror called out, "Good luck, dearie!"

Chapter Text

There was a quiet knock on the door that went unanswered as Teddy remained curled around the thestral that was his best friend—even if he couldn’t see him. The knock came again and Teddy groaned as Mortimer butted him softly with his head. He knew he should open the door. Whichever one of his parents out there would knock once more before leaving him alone for a bit longer and Teddy didn’t really want to be alone anymore. He also didn’t want to have to explain himself.

The third knock came and Teddy responded by throwing the closest book—1,001 Magical Plants and Fungi—in the direction of the door. The door cracked open and Neville peered in, smiling softly at Teddy.

“Hey there, Sprout.”

“Hey, Dad,” Teddy replied softly, his voice raspy from crying.

Neville bent down and picked up the book. He placed it gently on the bookshelf. “You know, you should really take more care of that book, it saved your Pa’s life once.”

Teddy scrunched up his nose. “How?”

“He needed to be underwater for a long time and the answer was in that book. Not that he knew to look there, of course. That was my job.”

“That’s the problem.” Teddy sighed and buried himself further into Mortimer, feeling the thestral nuzzle his hair.

Neville sank down on the floor next to Teddy, fiddling with the thestral figurine Luna had made for Teddy so that he knew what Mortimer looked like. “What’s the problem, Sprout?”

“You! You and Pa and Mum and even my birth parents!” Teddy flinched at the hurt crossing Neville’s face and hurried to explain his outburst. “You guys are all heroes and have this amazing legacy that everyone is expecting me to live up to and I don’t think I can! I’m just a kid, Dad!”

“Yes, you are,” Neville said softly. “You’re still young, Teddy. There’s no need for you to make your mark on the world just yet.”

“You guys did.”

“We were in a war; we had to. Even if all you did in life was work in a shop, Sprout, we would still be proud of you.”

“I don’t want to work in a shop.”

“Not even George’s?” Neville asked.

Teddy giggled and shrugged slightly. “Maybe his shop.”

Neville opened his arms in offer and Teddy crawled into them, curling up in Neville’s lap and accepting the cuddle with relief. “You’ll be okay, Teddy. You’ll be okay.”

“Promise?”

“I can’t promise it’ll be easy, but you’ll make it. And if you ever need anything, you have me and Harry and Luna. We’re always going to be here for you, even if you think you don’t want our help.”

Teddy sniffed and nodded as he turned even further into Neville, grasping his shirt as he sought out comfort. Mortimer shifted closer and lay his head across both human’s laps, letting out a large sigh. The pile of comfort remained silent, soaking in each other’s presence until Harry called them out to the kitchen to eat dinner.

Chapter Text

Hannah was curled up in the bed with the blanket thrown over her head and only a narrow hole to allow her to breathe properly. As she lay there staring blankly out of the little hole, her mind continued racing with thoughts. It was a stupid thing to panic over. It was something that every woman would have to think about at some point and yet she never had.

She had never thought that it would be necessary. She was lesbian and that had been enough for her mind to process when she was younger. And then when that hurdle had been cleared she had thought that maybe that was it. Surely, if she had no contact with the opposite sex, she wouldn’t have to think about children.

That had been what she thought until today when Katie had brought it up. Hannah had happily participated in the conversation about children and expanding their family until Susan had brought up surrogates and Hannah had suddenly found herself in panic mode.

Surrogate meant one them would carry the child, or even children. Surrogate meant there would be approximately nine months of a foreign object within one of their bodies and Hannah had suddenly realised that she freaked out at that thought. It didn’t matter that the foreign object would be a child made up of the DNA of whoever bore it and the surrogate they chose; it was still something that hadn’t been there before and thus shouldn’t suddenly be a part of the body.

Hannah had had to leave the table and Katie and Susan before she couldn’t move. With shaky limbs, she had hurried to the bed and buried herself in its comforting depths. It was stupid to feel like this, she reminded herself again. But even though her brain was telling her how stupid it was, it wasn’t stopping the unease pregnancy suddenly instilled in her.

She felt the bed dip and knew that Katie and Susan had determined she would be calm enough now to at least communicate why she had had to leave. Hands slowly pried the blanket away from Hannah’s face and blinked in the light to see two concerned faces looking down at her. 

“You okay?” Susan asked and Hannah shrugged slightly.

She was. It just didn’t seem like it at the moment. It would pass as it always did. As she saw the concern still present on their faces, she wanted to curse her mind for panicking over nothing. It was fine. She was fine. Nothing to worry about.

“Just…all hit me,” she whispered out.

Katie hummed and curled up on her side next to Hannah. “Think you could explain?”

Hannah lifted her fingers from where she was gripping the blanket and waved them vaguely. “Babies in the body… It’s just…bad. Foreign. I never thought about it before but when I apply it to us, I just… It feels wrong.”

“Okay, so we avoid that path.”

“Really?” She thought that having a surrogate was a preferred option for both Susan and Katie. They had both seemed in favour of it when they were talking.

Susan brushed her hand over Hannah’s forehead and pushed back the strands of fringe that lay there. “Of course, Hannah. We’re in this together and we don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable. We can always adopt.”

Hannah sighed in relief and let go of the blanket to pull Katie and Susan closer. “I wish there was a magic pill that could make me not freak out about random things,” she mumbled.

Katie laughed. “Sadly, magic isn’t real and even if it was, we like you just the way you are.”

“Even when I freak out?”

“Even when you freak out,” Susan confirmed, pressing a kiss to Hannah’s forehead and cuddling in closer.

Chapter Text

“Please, Neville, refrain from digging around in the ground. You may be a child, but there is no need for you to be a dirty child.”

Neville happily ignored his grandmother and continued digging at the roots of the geranium with delight. Augusta curled her lip in disgust as she watched the child get dirt all over his once-clean clothes. She had gone through this process before with Frank, and she had assumed that she would have had a rest when her son had his own children.

Sadly, the world had torn her son away from her and now she was left to pick up the pieces. And while she loved her grandson, she wished that he would show a bit more propriety. Frank had learned how to control himself when he was eight; Neville seemed far too interested in plants for him to pay attention to her.

She tapped her cane on the wooden deck twice to signify that she was growing impatient. Neville’s shoulders hunched and he reluctantly left the geranium and took a stance by Augusta. She nodded approvingly at him and rested her hand on his shoulder. He sighed as she guided him back into the house and glanced longing back at the patch of dirt he had been playing with.

The next day, when Augusta allowed Neville to race outside and burn off excess energy, the boy headed straight for the geranium. Without a care for his clothes or the small critters that moved about on the ground, Neville started digging around the plant so that he could find its roots. Augusta had followed him out of the house slowly, with the grace and poise that had been drilled into her as a child and sighed as she saw what her grandson was doing.

“Neville, please refrain from digging around in the dirt while wearing clean clothes,” she said.

Neville showed no sign of hearing her other than a slight nod but that was enough for her. She knew it meant he had heard and understood her. She only hoped that he obeyed her wishes and stopped getting muck all over his nice clothes. When she saw him curiously lift up a worm to his face, Augusta cringed and immediately called Neville back to her.

She could handle him occasionally getting dirt over himself as he played in the garden but she drew the line at mucking about with worms and other such creatures. Still feeling disgusted by her grandson’s actions a moment ago, she quickly hurried him off to the bathroom to wash up and change into clean clothes.

Augusta didn’t even have a chance to dismiss Neville to his free time the day after that before the boy was racing into his room. She smiled at that, at last the boy wasn’t hurrying outside to dig around the garden. The smile lasted as long as it took for Neville to dash back from his room dressed in his clothes from yesterday and straight outside.

With a weary sigh, she pulled herself out of the chair using her cane and made her way to the back door. Sure enough, Neville was sitting on the grass with his hands already wrist-deep in the earth. He had listened to her and wasn’t getting his clean clothes dirty, so that was something. Clearly, the boy was determined to explore the garden and would find ways around her directives in order to do so.

Making a mental note to have a set of garden clothes for Neville, Augusta returned inside and let a house-elf pour her a cup of tea. If she must have a grandson that covered himself in dirt, he would do it in something that wasn’t easily destroyed. As she watched Neville dig and examine, she felt a small smile spread across her face. As disgusting and improper as she thought it was, her grandson was having fun and that was something she couldn’t begrudge him for—unless he started bringing dirt and critters into her clean home.

Chapter Text

Tonks stared at herself in the mirror. Slowly, she changed her appearance from the quirky pink and spiky hair that had defined her ever since she had decided to be different over beautiful to long wavy tresses of brown with copper highlights. Her eyes changed from green to brown. Her breasts grew enough to be noticeable, her legs shortened just enough to be strange, and her fingers became more stubby. With a few more subtle changes to her body, she was staring at the closest she could get to the original plain old Nymphadora Tonks.

She glanced out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where she could see Fleur still curled in bed. The other woman was beautiful—and not just because of her Veela allure. Fleur had gained full control over the allure before she had even learned of Tonks' existence. Tonks turned back to her reflection.

The woman shown there was what she hid behind the talents of being a Metamorphmagus. She was plain and boring. If Fleur knew what was hidden, there was no doubt in Tonks' mind that she would leave. Tonks wasn't worthy of such beauty being in her life. She was the daughter of the House of Black that had been renounced from the family.

She was a half-blood. She knew the Muggle world just as well as she knew the magical one and had never left Britain. And yet, somehow, Fleur had decided that Tonks was worth her time. The other woman could have anyone in the entire world if she decided she wanted them. What was she doing with a nobody like Tonks? Someone who couldn't even walk without tripping over thin air?

Tonks startled when she felt arms wrap around her from behind. In the mirror, she could see the still sleepy and ever-beautiful Fleur standing behind her and the tears that had started to fall without her knowledge from her eyes. She realised that she still had brown hair and eyes and hurriedly tried to turn them back to their normal state even though she knew it was already too late.

Fleur held her closer as her hair shortened and lightened. She kissed the side of Tonks' neck and said softly, "You do not have to hide from me."

"You don't know that," Tonks said, wanting desperately to believe Fleur's words but knowing she couldn't.

Fleur hummed. "Why do you think I am with you?"

"Because I'm different?" Tonks guessed. "I'm strange and weird and not like anyone else you've met."

"Because you are an interesting person. Because you have a kind heart and treat me as a person over a beast that could enslave you with my allure. It has nothing to do with how you look."

"How can it not? You're perfect, Fleur. You need someone just as perfect by your side."

"And I have that." Fleur ignored Tonks' attempt to argue and pressed on. "I am part-Veela, Tonks. I have been desired over my entire life because of my looks and my allure. I have learned to look past the outer shells that people wear to see the heart that lies within. And you, mon bijou, have a heart of beauty."

Tonks let out a wracking sob and turned around in Fleur's arms to cling to the other female. She had thought that once Fleur learned how ordinary she really was, she would have left for good. And now here she was, saying that it didn't matter.

"I love you for more than how you look, mon trésor. No matter how you choose to present yourself to the world, know that I will be right by your side. I'm not leaving you."

Tonks pulled Fleur in for a fierce kiss after she said those words. She had never thought that she'd find someone who would accept her as she was—no matter how that might change from day to day. And now she had Fleur. Fleur, who was amazing and beautiful and everything she could ever have wished for. Tonks loved her more than she had thought possible.

Chapter Text

The landscape in front of Newt couldn't seem to decide if it wanted to be buried in snow or blooming with flowers. He walked through it in wonder, sometimes kneeling down to examine a patch of white or an area of green. There was no rhyme or reason to the pattern of snow and plants. There were simply areas of brilliantly green grass surrounded by cold snow that should have prevented it from growing.

As he walked, he noticed changes happening farther off and started heading towards them. A tree would suddenly burst out of the ground and sprout green leaves with red apples hanging from its branches only to lose every piece of fruit and leaf to be covered in snow. It was one of the strangest sights he had ever seen

As he drew closer, he could see small beings zipping back and forth, dropping sparkling light as they moved quickly through the air. There were two of them as far as he could make out and they seemed to be fighting over the piece of land that held the tree he had seen grow and enter hibernation in a matter of seconds.

When he was only a few feet away, he could hear chirrups coming from the beings as they dashed about and apparently argued with each other. He could see them clearly now. They looked to be small humans with wings and he realised he was seeing season fairies. The Spring fairy was laughing as their rival the Winter fairy attempted to fully cover the tall apple tree with her snow.

Every time the snow settled on the tree, the Spring fairy would dance over the branches and bring back the greenness and growth that would cause the snow to fall off. Newt couldn't stop his own laughter as he watched the antics of the two fairies and they instantly abandoned their argument to face him.

Laughter gone, he held up his hands to signify he meant no harm. "Sorry, I just couldn't help noticing the war between Spring and Winter and I got curious."

The fairies gave him measuring looks before seeming to accept his words. They then looked at each other and nodded. Newt wondered what they had decided on but soon found out when he found himself being pelted by snowballs and apples. He laughed in delight as he tried to dodge the well-aimed throws of the fairies.

Apparently they had decided to stop fighting between themselves and instead fight together against him. He ducked behind a tree and quickly waved his wand to create a pile of small snowballs. He didn't want to hurt the fairies, but he couldn't just accept defeat. With a wild grin, he jumped out from the tree and started throwing his own snowballs at the fairies.

They chirruped in indignation and doubled their efforts. As Newt engaged in a war with the two season fairies, he found himself grateful that he had stumbled upon their battleground. He had never imagined he'd be able to see season fairies, let alone have a snowball fight with them!

Chapter Text

The room was full of people in fancy dress; it was a ball after all. Dancers twirled around on the dance floor with skirts and tails flaring out with their movements. A group of exhausted dancers gathered around the drinks table and chatted while sipping their refreshments. The orchestra were in a group tucked away on a raised platform with their music floating through the room and guiding the dancers as they whirled and enjoyed themselves.

Luna stood against a wall as she stared out at the mass of bodies. There were so many people and so much noise. It was worse than the Great Hall at dinner time. People were laughing and chatting and all with music trying to drown out the other sounds so that the dancers didn't lose their timing. She knew it had been a bad idea to agree to attend the Yule Ball, but Blaise had asked her and she had said yes.

Blaise was one of the only people who liked her for her. He didn't judge her for her outlandish jewellery choices or make fun of her for talking about the creatures only she and her father seemed to believe in. Almost as soon as she thought about him, Blaise separated himself from the crowd holding a cup of water up triumphantly.

She smiled when she saw him. She couldn't enter the crowd and Blaise had known that. She hadn't wanted to make him leave the ball as he was so obviously enjoying himself, but she also couldn't participate as much as her fellow students were.

"Okay?" he asked as he reached her side and handed over the water.

She clasped the cup with both hands and nodded slightly as she held it to her lips. She didn't drink it for a moment, her mind slower at processing things than it normally was with the overload. When she did finally sip it, the cool liquid helped distract her from the writhing mass that was Hogwarts.

Blaise leaned on the wall next to her. "Do you need to leave?"

She shook her head. She couldn't be the reason that Blaise didn't see the night out. She didn't want to stop him from having fun.

"It's okay if you do, you know," Blaise said. "I knew this would be difficult for you when I asked. I won't be having fun if I know you're over here struggling with overload. I don't care about some stupid ball; I want to spend time with you."

She stared at him and then headed out of the giant ballroom. Blaise followed her and they sat together at a bench in the outside courtyard. Setting the water to the side, Luna picked up Blaise's left hand and started examining it. He let her poke, pull, and prod at the skin happily, knowing it was a way for her to try and deal with the overload happening in her brain.

Even though they didn't return to the ballroom, they both considered the night a good one. Neither of them was particularly fond of loud music and too many people crammed into one space, so spending the night outside in the quiet was much more pleasurable than participating in the Yule Ball. Blaise walked Luna up to the Ravenclaw Tower afterwards, her mind was still tracking all of the variances in his hands and she was too tired to direct herself.

"Get some sleep, Luna," he said as he ushered her into the Ravenclaw Common Room. Luna nodded and gave a small wave before heading up to her room and stripping out of her ball outfit into the comfort of her pyjamas and collapsing into bed, exhausted. Tomorrow would be hard, but she had had fun and the drain was worth it.

Chapter Text

Rowena stood in the doorway, watching Helga as the other moved her wand in the complicated set of twisting and flowing that allowed her to find magical children that needed them. Once Helga had fallen from one of Godric's flying brooms and caused irreparable damage to her back and legs, she had taken over locating the potential students and directing the other three to collect them.

The stairs in the castle of Hogwarts had been enchanted by Rowena to help Helga move around the castle. Helga had refused to be a burden on any one of them, even when they had assured her that she would be no burden. She had been ecstatic when Rowena had shown her the spell work that allowed her to call stairs to her and ripple one stair to another one to save her from trying to manoeuvre up and down with her limited movement capability.

Helga's wand stopped moving and a white mist hovered in front of her eyes. She stared into it for several long moments before blinking and swiping her wand through the mist, dispersing it back into the air. She smiled when she saw Rowena and held out a hand to invite her to enter. Rowena quickly accepted the invitation and clasped Helga's hand when she was close enough.

"There is a child not too far away who is forcing himself to hold in his magic. If we do not get to him soon and show him he is not evil, the situation could turn dangerous," Helga said.

Rowena kissed the back of the hand she held. "We will take care of it, Helga. You should rest now."

"Just because I am no longer able to walk as well as I was, does not mean I am incapable of performing a few spells." Helga's eyes flashed with repressed anger as she said those words and Rowena instantly felt sorrow.

"You are right, of course. You are always right, my love."

Helga snorted. "Now you are merely trying to earn my forgiveness."

"Is it working?"

"Perhaps." Helga looked considering for a moment and then said, "If you fetch me a cup of lemongrass and rosemary tea, I may forgive you."

"Of course."

Helga stopped Rowena just as she passed through the doorway by saying, "And you must fetch Salazar as well. You will need him when you meet this child."

"That bad?" Rowena asked, a concerned look crossing her face.

Helga nodded sadly. "If I had not seen him today, it would have been too late. Do not tarry, Rowena."

"I shall not." Rowena bowed her head to Helga before sweeping away to fetch both a cup of tea and Salazar. She knew that when she returned to Helga with said items she would receive more information and then both she and Salazar would be sent away to find a child on the brink of losing all control of his magic.

Chapter Text

Theo let out a curse as the wood split under the pressure once more. He knew this combination of cores could work, he just had to find the right wood that would be able to sustain it. He had thought that holly wood would have been perfect but it had cracked within the first five minutes of the spell that would bind the ingredients together. Aspen wood had fared the same fate and now, so had birch.

With the spell broken and the magic dispersed into the air, Theo dropped back against the chair he was sitting in. Two days he had been trying to figure out the perfect wood that would be able to handle thestral scales and unicorn tail hair and so far he had had no success.

When he had gone to get his wand at eleven years of age from Ollivander, he had never realised how hard wand making was. True, he had been eleven at the time and didn't have a complete grasp on what was difficult and what was not when one was an adult, but even when he had apprenticed to the wand making profession, he hadn't thought about the energy that went into each wand.

To try and keep up with the sudden boom of children that would all be needing wands in eleven years, the Ministry had put out a call for anyone interested in learning wand crafting to apply for n apprenticeship. Theo had been floating in a sea of confusion and loss after the Battle of Hogwarts and the death of his father. The offer from the Ministry had seemed like a good raft he could use to keep his head above the water.

When he had started working with wands and discovered that he quite liked it, he knew that he had made the right choice. He had a purpose now, a direction that wasn't pointed out to him by his father and the Dark Lord. Theo sat up suddenly.

Elder wood. Theo remembered the wand that had changed allegiances from the Dark Lord to Harry Potter at the crucial moment in the battle and had directed the Dark Lord's killing curse back at the caster as it flew through the air to Harry Potter's hands. That had been made of elder wood and was incredibly flexible in its masters and thus should also be flexible in its cores.

Filled with a sudden manic energy, Theo leapt up from his chair and hurried to the wall of wood stored in separate drawers. He plucked out the piece of elder wood that called out to him and moved back to the desk. He placed the wood and the core ingredients in the array and took a deep breath. Hopefully this time, it would work.

Chapter Text

Bill moves with careful steps as he enters the tomb he and his team had just succeeding in opening. There was the possibility of a trap hidden in every single inch of the ancient building and Bill stops and scans with every step. Behind him, his team does the same. They have been taught to move this way when learning the art of curse breaking.

A small click sounds and Bill's reaction is immediate. He jumps backwards, arms out to catch any of his team that might be near him. He is just in time; a whoosh of air crosses his face as arrows fly from one wall and into the wall opposite. He glances to the side to see Herman breathing heavily.

"Are you alright?" he asks and Herman nods shakily.

"I'll be fine, just wasn't expecting it."

Bill grins at him. "You'll get used to it," he says.

"Not sure I want to," Herman admits honestly.

Hannah comes up from behind them and claps Herman on the back. "What are you talking about, Herman? What could be better than traipsing through an old tomb while facing death at every turn? It's a fantastic way to keep life interesting and the adrenaline pumping."

"You can't argue with that logic," Bill agrees.

Herman merely shakes his head and mutters about crazy people throwing their lives away at the merest suggestion of adventure under his breath. Both Bill and Hannah elect to ignore his words and focus on the next step and the next possible trap.

"Watch that tile," Hannah warns as she points at a slightly discoloured tile.

Bill nods and casts a warning light over the tile. It's entirely possible that the discolouration is just from age, but it could also be a trap and it is always better to be careful when raiding a tomb. As they dive deeper into the tomb, Bill wonders about what they will discover at the end of the road. Will it be golden treasure or the type of treasure that was stored on papyrus? Perhaps there will be nothing at all apart from a mummified body.

He would never tire of the excitement and curiosity that surged through his body when he was inside a tomb. It was lighting up his mind like a fire now and he grins as he takes one careful step after another. This job was all about the old and yet it itself would never grow so.

Chapter Text

Tom smiled to himself when he noticed the date on the Daily Prophet he had sitting on the bar for patrons to read. It was the day that Hogwarts letters were sent out. Soon, his pub would become a thoroughfare for newcomers to the wizarding world and to Hogwarts. He loved this time of year. It was so good to see the future of the wizarding world enter his pub with wide eyes—still hardly daring to believe they were going to Hogwarts.

Every student that had ever attended Hogwarts had been to his pub at some point in their lives. It reminded him of what it had been like to be young and full of wonder. Now he was old and mostly kept the Leaky Cauldron open so that he did not forget how to be human or get bored. Garrick would join him sometimes in watching the young ones stream by, but the other man often had to be in his won shop to provide the new wave of wix their wands.

The both of them watched over generation after generation and helped guide them in their journey. Garrick gave them their wands, their focus, their primary way of using magic. Tom gave them a haven where they could enjoy good food, drink and company. Each menu was charmed to show prices that each individual could afford; there would always be a good meal at the Leaky Cauldron for those with little.

Tom had no need for money after living for so long. His investments from long ago kept him in the black far enough that he need not worry, even with the expenditures of owning a pub. The house-elves refused payment as they had always done, and he was the only other employee at the Leaky Cauldron.

The door swung open and Professor McGonagall entered with an apprehensive looking family right behind her. The sons were bouncing up and down on their toes—clearly hyped up on excitement after learning they had magic. Tom greeted Professor McGonagall and she nodded back at him before ushering the family to the back room that led to Diagon Alley.

He would be seeing more of that family, he was sure. He always did. Besides, it was nearing lunchtime and it was always a good idea to get a meal from the Leaky Cauldron once one had finished shopping in the alley as he was sure Professor McGonagall would tell them.

He presided over a gateway and liked making sure that those using it were well looked after. It was how the Leaky Cauldron had lasted as long as it had. Plus a fair few now-illegal enchantments. He had promised Helga that he would look after the wix in the London area and that was what he would continue to do for as long as he could. The Leaky Cauldron was a place that he could do that with ease.

Chapter Text

The sun shone down on Angelina as she stood without moving. She stared silently down at the stone that marked the earth she stood near as the burial place of Fred Weasley. It was the day of the Yule Ball, or the day the Yule Ball had been set all those years ago. Fred had been full of life back then; he and George had always been plotting and laughing together.

She had gotten a chance to know the boy who would die only a few years later. He had asked her to the ball and while she had accepted because he was her friend and she wasn't super interested in the Yule Ball, she had grown closer to Fred as they practiced dancing and even planning the matching outfits they had both decided needed to be a statement.

A smiled crossed her face as she remembered the time-turner costume she, Fred, and George had worn. After all, one couldn't have a Weasley twin without the other close behind. At least, not back then. There were three rings to a time turner and they had thought that perfect. The shimmering gold of the magical object also worked well with their desire to show their House colours while they partied the night away.

Plus, there was so much material for jokes while wearing a time turner outfit. She huffed a laugh as she remembered the more outrageous tales the Weasley twins had told when asked about their outfits. She had found herself sandwiched between them many a time as they detailed yet another fabulous story about time. Of course, she couldn't let them have all the fun and had come up with a few outlandish tales of her own.

She still thought that the illusion spell she had released just after stating that all three of them actually were a time turner but in human form was one of the best spells she had performed. It had made those looking at the trio to only see a floating time turner where they stood. The stunned looks on the faces of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students would stay with her for as long as she lived.

It had most certainly stayed with Fred for that long. She sighed and placed a hand on Fred's headstone. "If only we actually were a time turner, Fred. We could have merged together and been safe from the war. Not that you'd do that. I wouldn't either. I just wish you were still here."

There was no reply and she hadn't expected one. Fred hadn't stuck around as a ghost when he died. Angelina let her hand slip off the stone and walked away from the grave. There were fun times to be had. She wouldn't allow herself to wallow alone in sadness when she could honour Fred's memory by making others laugh.

She held out her hand for the Knight Bus and asked for Ottery St. Catchpole when it arrived. There were pranks to mastermind and she knew just who to ask for help.

Chapter Text

Helga moved swiftly through the corridors, searching for her errant child. Rosalind had entered their chambers with tear streaks on her face before whirling around and vanishing into the castle at the sight of both her parents. Helga had quickly rushed after her daughter with Salazar at her heels and together they searched.

Helga's mind was whirring as she searched, calling out for Rosalind occasionally as she did so. She had idea after idea about what could have upset her daughter so much but they were merely ideas. Salazar was muttering locating spells under his breath and calling out directions when needed. Finally, they came to a door that was shimmering slightly with the magic of both Hogwarts Castle and Rosalind.

Helga glanced at Salazar before knocking softly on the door. "Rosalind?" she asked.

There was silence for a few moments before the door creaked open and the room within revealed. It was a room they were not familiar with, one they had not created when they had made Hogwarts Castle. But the room was unimportant. Rosalind was sitting curled up on several pillows and hugging herself as silent tears streamed down her face.

Both Helga and Salazar went straight to their daughter's side and cocooned her between them. "Who are we sending Aurora to see?" Salazar asked, stroking Rosalind's curly hair.

Rosalind gave a short laugh. "No one, Papa. It's stupid."

"Well, I could always send your mother after them," Salazar returned and Rosalind snorted, wiping away the tears.

"That'd be worse."

"Nothing that makes you cry is stupid," Helga assured before Salazar could derail the conversation too much.

Rosalind shrugged. "I just… I don't want to be weak and the boys said that that's all I ever could be. That you were a fluke, and a freak of nature, or that Papa was letting you think that you're an Alpha and he's an Omega when it's the other way round!"

Her words had gotten more frantic as she spoke, breaking off every so often with a hitch as new tears started falling. "Everyone says Omegas are weak but Papa isn't."

Helga almost stormed out of the room then and there to hunt down whoever had told Rosalind such things and she could see that Salazar was fighting the urge as well. But their daughter was more important. They could track down the perpetrators later.

"Do you know why people look down on Omegas?" Helga asked softly and Rosalind shook her head. "It is because they believe they are better. They think that being an Alpha, or a Beta, makes one inherently smarter and stronger. Some think that Omegas are nothing more than housekeepers, that they do not possess enough brains to do more than take care of a household.

"Some young boys have the tendency to assume they are the rulers of the world and no one is above them, thus they make sure no one tries to so much as gain even footing. They do not realise that they are made of the same things that the rest of our kind is. It is the same as looking down at a dragon. A dragon is a beast, yes, but that does not mean they are not intelligent or more powerful than us. And no matter their position, a dragon is still a dragon."

"But I'm not a dragon," Rosalind protested. "I'm just a witch who doesn't know where she falls yet."

"And no matter where you are, you will be loved." Salazar smiled wryly as he continued. "Besides, have you ever thought me to be a mere housekeeper or less than your mother?"

Rosalind shook her head quickly. "No!"

"So why would you let these boys make you believe otherwise?"

"I'm not you," was Rosalind's quiet reply.

"Nor would i wish you to be. You are my daughter and your own person, I did not ask the gods for a clone of myself when we had you."

Rosalind smiled slightly and nodded, clearly feeling better. Helga looked around the room and said, "If you ever think you're not strong, come back here and see the room you built with Hogwarts."

Rosalind stared at her mother. "I built? I just needed somewhere to get away and there was a door, I didn't know I made this."

"Hogwarts is full of magic and she cares for those who live here. She made this with you; a place where anything you need will be available. You are not weak, and there is more to life than what status you may hold."

Rosalind sighed and snuggled into the embrace of her parents. She had known the boys were being idiots when they said she was worth less than them but the words had still hurt. Her parents would always be there for her though, and Rosalind couldn't have asked for a better mother and father.

Chapter Text

The cafe was warm and inviting, with just that hint of magic that made it all the more friendly. Inside there were small tables that were occupied by small groups of two to five people, several with animals sitting on the floor next to them or playing in the designated space. A woman was manning the coffee machine and a man was on the till, greeting customers and taking their orders.

Foundation was a popular pet cafe and made even more so due to the gifts that both the owners possessed. Helga—a dark-skinned lady who often had multiple braids tight against her skull that then broke free into her usual curls at the back—held the power of warmth. She was always able to bring a smile to anyone's face and the baked goods she made were infused with comfort and love.

Salazar—a pale man with a sparkle in his eyes and a treat on hand for any animal—held the gift of animal speech. It was he who kept all the non-human visitors behaving politely and the cafe from descending into chaos. He was also the one who more often than not took the orders and passed them on to Helga.

A small bell rang as the door opened and a woman stepped in. She smiled tiredly at Salazar and Helga as she approached the counter. The lump in the front pocket of her hoodie poked its nose out and sniffed the air before burrowing back into the pocket.

"The usual, Rowena?" Salazar asked, already inputting the information.

"Please," Rowena replied, slumping slightly on the tall bench even as the warm atmosphere of the cafe granted her some relief from whatever plagued her.

The guinea pig that resided in her pocket poked her nose out again and decided to take a wander over to Salazar and squeak demandingly. Salazar rose an eyebrow before handing over a piece of lettuce as Rowena huffed a laugh at her guinea pig's actions.

Helga—who had started making Rowena's normal drink as soon as the other woman stepped in the door—placed a cup of mocha and a muffin down in front of Rowena and held out her hand to her friend. Rowena took the hand gladly, both for the comfort of friendship and the sharing of Helga's gift. Nutmeg—the guinea pig—let out a few squeaks of thanks before returning to Rowena's hoodie pocket that was conveniently at the right height with lettuce in tow.

"Go sit," Helga said softly. "Cass is here today and I'm sure she wouldn't mind a few pats."

Cass was the retired service dog Helga and Salazar had adopted and quite a hit with the people who just needed to sit in silence and pat a willing animal. Rowena nodded at the suggestion, picked up her cup and muffin, made sure Nutmeg was secure, and then made her way to Cass' corner of the cafe.

Helga and Salazar watched her go, both worried for their friend but knowing that Rowena wouldn't talk about what was disturbing her sleep until she was ready. Another customer entered and the two of them got back to work—Helga increasing the output of gentle warmth as she did so.

Foundation was a place to escape and know you could be calm thanks to Helga's gift. It was a place you could be assured your animal would be well cared for and perhaps ensure there was nothing wrong with them. Walking into the cafe caused many a sigh of relief as the weight of the world was lifted for a few moments by the wonderful calm warmth sent out by Helga.

Chapter Text

There was an apple tree in the garden that had stood there for several years. It was old and gnarled now, but still provided crisp and sweet apples for those inclined to pick them. The garden was situated behind a small house painted with murals and bordered by useful herbs. A stream bubbled through the end of the garden providing a peaceful background noise. The tree whispered in the breeze as it provided shade for those wanting to rest under its branches without the glare of the sun. Luna, Daphne, and Tracey took advantage of it now.

Daphne was running her fingers through Luna’s hair, braiding and undoing the braids while Luna weaved daisies together in a chain. Tracey had her head on Luna’s lap as she dozed in the shade. Mortimer was playing in the stream that cheerfully ran alongside them, splashing the water and prancing about happily.

It was a wonderful afternoon and perfect for lazing out in the sun. When their schedules lined up and the day was perfect, they always came out into the garden to relax together. It reminded them of days next to the Black Lake at Hogwarts when the tensions in the castle and the world faded away until it was just them.

The tradition was what had brought them together in the first place, and it would always hold a special place in their hearts. Daphne and Tracey had been hiding from the politics and expectations of Slytherin House—along with the constant whispers of Daphne bonding with Tracey to save her from her angered pureblood father—when Luna had stumbled upon them fluttering her hands behind her head furiously as though to brush away shouting thoughts.

She had gone straight for the tree Daphne and Tracey were sitting under and climbed it easily with practiced movements—uncaring about the two Slytherins watching her curiously. They hadn’t spoken that time; Luna stayed silent up in the tree while Daphne and Tracey curled together and stared out at the Black Lake.

The next time the two Slytherins had gone to the tree, Luna was already sitting in its branches. She’d smiled when she saw them, tossing them each an apple from her bag before climbing higher until the branches and leaves concealed her. The quiet acceptance and welcome had been lovely and they had decided then and there to do the same to the quiet Ravenclaw that was often taunted and bullied for being different.

As such, when they next crossed paths at the tree, Daphne and Tracey had offered Luna an ear if she wanted to vent as well as some of the shortbread they had brought with them. Their relationship had grown from there—sharing food and stories of happy and not so happy origins until they knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves.

An apple fell from the tree they sat under now and into Luna’s waiting hand. Mortimer perked his head up when she whistled and eagerly trotted over, still wet from his playing. Luna offered the apple and the thestral took it happily, blissfully crunching the sweet fruit that was his favourite thing apart from raw meat.

“You spoil him,” Tracey murmured sleepily as she shifted into a more comfortable position, now laying face up instead of sideways.

Luna shrugged unrepentantly. “He deserves to be spoiled.”

Mortimer nosed Luna’s hand in a silent request for more, closing his eyes happily as the tree dropped another apple into her hand and she held it out for him. After he had finished the fruit, he knelt down on the grass beside the three women and nuzzled into Tracey’s side (who immediately started patting him—no matter how much she said it was Luna who spoiled Mortimer, Tracey was just as guilty of spoiling him).

Daphne laughed and draped a thin braid over Luna’s shoulder. “We all deserve to be spoiled a little bit. Now, how about some lunch?”

At affirming sounds from the other two, Daphne pulled over the picnic basket and started emptying it of the lunch that she and Tracey had prepared earlier. Egg and lettuce sandwiches were followed by cucumber and mayo ones, which were followed by strawberries and chocolate as well as a chocolate and vanilla mousse with brownies.

Tracey sat up and leant against Luna who was leaning against Daphne who rested against the old apple tree. It was with well-practiced movements and knowledge that the food was distributed between the three of them, each getting their particular favourite (with Mortimer getting a banana).

An afternoon under the old apple tree was an afternoon spent in paradise, and this afternoon was no exception. It was quiet and comfortable, shared between three people who knew their small family and loved them unconditionally. Such an afternoon had seemed almost impossible for each of them at one point and now it was real and happened often.

After eating and relaxing a bit longer, they decided a swim in the stream would be fun. Luna scrambled onto Mortimer’s back and the thestral eagerly carried her over to the stream while Daphne and Tracey laughed and followed behind them. The cool water glittered in the sun as the four of them splashed into the stream.

That night, they would all curl up in front of the fireplace with Mortimer on the rug and Luna, Daphne, and Tracey on the large beanbag. They might discuss their current troubles or something that happened at work—artwork customers commissioned from Luna, passive-aggressive flower arrangements for Tracey, or the latest man to think Daphne as merely a nurse instead of a battle-hardened combat medic.

But that was for later. For now, it was an afternoon of bliss and happiness, the kind that dreams are made of. The day was warm, the water cool, and the family happy—it was an afternoon that could never be duplicated and yet would be repeated over and over in various ways. There had been hardships in the past and there would be hardships in the future, but now there was merely love and happiness.

Chapter Text

Neville was running his hands over the leaves of the harmless plants that lived in Greenhouse One. Professor Sprout had given him a key to the greenhouses at the start of his fifth year and he was eternally grateful for it. The greenhouses had become his sanctuary from everything happening up in the castle.

Umbridge was ruling the school with an iron fist and not allowing anyone to do anything she didn’t approve. There were rules upon rules to follow. Groups that had been in existence since the Founders had had to apply for permission to stay active. Filch was patrolling the corridors along with some overeager students to enforce Umbridge’s rules.

Being friends with Harry Potter had almost never been so dangerous. Association with the ‘bold-faced liar who just wanted attention’ wasn’t something one particularly wanted. But Neville couldn’t find it in himself to care about that. His grandmother had warned him of what might happen before he returned to Hogwarts and he had taken her words under consideration before deciding that friendship was more important than following authority blindly.

He wasn’t going to abandon Harry like the rest of the wizarding population had. If Harry thought that You-Know-Who was back, then Neville believed him. Harry had never lied about anything truly important before to Neville’s knowledge. Plus, Cedric Diggory had died. There was no escaping that fact, no matter how much the world wanted to bury it and their heads in the sand.

The door to the greenhouse opened and Neville froze in his movements, thoughts spinning faster. There were very few people who would come into the greenhouses and Professor Sprout had already left for the day which left—

“Hello, Neville,” Daphne Greengrass said.

Neville closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to deal with this. This was one of the things that sent him to the greenhouses in the first place. Plants were simple, they knew what they needed to live and he gave it to them. They had rules. People had rules too, but their rules were always changing and generally muddy to Neville.

Of course, he knew what Daphne wanted. How could he not? The same symbol of stars rested on their wrists. It was a clear signal that the Fates thought they belonged together and Daphne was one who liked to listen to the Fates. Neville didn’t know—the Fates were as confusing to him as the rest of the people who surrounded him.

He tried to ignore Daphne but she sidled up next to him and looked at the plant he had been stroking. “How are you?” she asked.

Neville thought about pretending not to hear her. Eventually he sighed in slight defeat; that would be rude and his grandmother had drilled into him that he shouldn’t be rude if he could help it. “Fine,” he grunted.

Okay, so he was still a little rude. But he wasn’t doing that great and the presence of Daphne just made his headache pound harder as his brain tried to work through the thick fog and figure out what to do in the situation he was now in.

Daphne rested her hand on his arm, so close to the mark he hid under the band that was common in all people who had marks. He flinched and drew his arm away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

He didn’t know why he was so adamant that he not acknowledge Daphne as his soulmate but he knew he didn’t want to. Maybe it was something to do with her Hogwarts House (though he doubted that, it had never really mattered to him), or maybe it was just that he wasn’t great at people, or even that he had no desire for romance in his life.

“One day, you’ll believe that I love you,” Daphne said quietly.

Neville huffed a laugh. “I already do,” he admitted. “It’s me that’s confusing.”

“I can try and help?” she offered.

And Neville remembered why he never spoke to her or anyone about the whole soulmate situation. The only exception to this was when he was tired and unable to sleep—when he found himself in the kitchen with a cup of tea and his grandmother willing to listen—that he spoke of his feelings and fears. In the quiet of night and the comfort of the warm kitchen, it seemed easier to talk. His grandmother never brought up the chats in the light of day—they were for long nights only.

Neville didn’t want help, and he didn’t think he needed it either. He’d figure it out eventually. It’d help if the world would stop going to pieces around him and he was able to actually think. He shook his head and turned his attention solely to the plant in front of him. He heard Daphne sigh and then slip over to the other side of the greenhouse where her Herbology project sat.

They worked in silence as they often did. Neville liked this part, the quiet presence of someone that he could trust—five years of school and so many times Daphne could have hurt him or his friends and didn’t had led to a trust that had never been spoken but was there all the same. He didn’t trust her as a soulmate, not yet and perhaps not ever, but he trusted her as a human who wouldn’t purposefully cause him harm.

Chapter Text

Tom stared at the dead body of the girl who had been in the bathroom crying while he called upon the basilisk. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time—at least, for her she had been. For Tom, it was almost perfect. He had been researching Horcruxes and here was someone that he could use for his first one.

As soon as she had announced her presence, he had recanted the spell and sped through the ritual buried in an old Dark tome and, when the basilisk looked at the girl and the girl died, felt the magic take hold of him, grasping at his soul and tearing it apart. His soul, for whatever stupid reason, didn't want to go but he pushed it away, rejecting it from his being and forcing it into the journal he had in his bookbag.

The girl was dead, and Tom was one step closer to an immortality no one could take away. He turned his attention to the journal that now housed his soul, only then noticing that the single, incorporeal red thread wrapped around his right index finger had been joined by another—and it was leading directly to the journal held in his left hand.

He frowned in thought. The red thread led to his soulmate, that was true for everyone who possessed such a thread, and now it led to a piece of his own soul. He supposed it made sense for a part of his soul to be considered his soulmate—there were people who theorised soulmates were parts of a single soul, after all.

Then he wondered if Abraxas had gained an extra thread as well and decided it would be best to a) leave the bathroom with the dead girl before he was found and b) talk to Abraxas. He waved the basilisk back into the pipes that led to the Chamber of Secrets and set out into the castle at large, following the red string that didn't lead to his bookbag to Abraxas.

Abraxas was in the library—as he often was—and buried in a dusty tome that must have been retrieved from the very back of a shelf in the very back of the library—or possibly from the restricted section. He looked up when Tom approached and started to smile before his eyes obviously caught sight of two red threads leading in Tom's direction instead of the usual one.

"Tom…what?"

Tom grinned in a way that Albus Dumbledore would consider proof of his evilness. "I did it."

Chapter Text

Luna stepped off the Hogwarts Express and smiled up at the hulking shadow of the castle that would be her home away from home for the next seven years. She worried about her father being alone while she was at school, but he had promised her he'd be okay and they had set up a schedule of letters to follow so that neither of them went too long without hearing from the other. At least one letter per week—even if it was only to say they were doing okay and that their days hadn't been that exciting.

A loud, booming voice called her and the other first years over to it and she smiled when she saw who it belonged to. The large man had an intimidating stature but a smile that said he was kind and always ready with a shoulder should a young student need it. The boats were small but so were she and the rest of the first years, so that was okay. The Giant Squid living in the Black Lake pressed a friendly tentacle against her hand when she let it trail under the water.

When the boats bumped gently against the dock, Luna and her boatmates clambered out and eagerly made their way up to the large front door and through the hall to where a stern-looking woman waited. As ever, Luna's eyes flicked to the woman's wrists. She always looked at someone's wrist, hoping that she would see two or more names written there the same they were written on hers.

She'd never met someone with two names written on them, though her father had said they were common enough; there were just none that he knew or in their general friend circle. The woman's wrists were covered by her robes and Luna suppressed the same flicker of annoyance she always felt when she couldn't check. At the same time, she felt bad for feeling annoyed; people were entitled to their privacy and Luna didn't want to pry, she just wanted to see evidence that she wasn't one of only three people with two names on their wrists.

Following the woman—who had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall—into the Great Hall, Luna found her eyes flicking everywhere, trying to take in the large room she had just entered. Four long tables ran perpendicular to her with set colours differing them from each other and pronouncing what House they belonged to. A long table at the head of room was the Head Table and held the professors that would be teaching her.

As usual, her eyes scanned their wrists and she almost tripped over her own feet when she realised that one of the professor's sleeves ended at her elbows and that there was a name written clearly on each wrist. The crowd around her kept her moving towards the front of the room but Luna didn't turn her attention away from the woman with grey, fly-away hair. There was her evidence.

Luna only managed to tear her eyes away from the professor when Professor McGonagall called her name. She skipped up to the stool and the Sorting Hat, ecstatic now that she had seen with her own eyes that she wasn't an outlier. The Hat fell over her eyes and she could hear it considering what it found in her head.

She found it hard to focus on the words—still too caught up in the fact that she wasn't alone. She and her soulmates weren't aberrations, just like her father had said they weren't. Only the loud shout of, "RAVENCLAW," managed to jolt her out of her thoughts and she smiled a touch ruefully. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed the Sorting Hat sorting her into the House most known for getting lost in their thoughts.

The next day, Luna was walking along the edge of the Black Lake enjoying the sunshine and preparing herself for the start of classes tomorrow. She caught sight of the professor she had seen the night before and slowly corrected her course so that it would take her close to the lady. Madam Hooch (Luna had asked one of the prefects who she was at the feast) was standing over several brooms and waving her wand over them. Luna hung back and watched her work, fascinated by what she was doing.

Madam Hooch noticed her after a few minutes and smiled welcomingly, beckoning her over. "Interested in brooms, are we?" she asked when Luna approached.

Luna shrugged. "A little. I've never really thought about them before." Then, before she could stop herself, she blurted out the thing that had been on her mind ever since the feast. "You have two names on your wrists."

"Yes, I do." Madam Hooch rose an eyebrow but thankfully didn't seem as though Luna had offended her. "You've got some keen eyes."

Her arms were fully covered by her robes now and Luna found herself staring at where she knew the names were written out. "I have two names too," she said. "I thought I might be one of the only ones. Papa doesn't know anyone with two so he couldn't introduce me to anyone, but he always told me that I wasn't weird or strange."

Madam Hooch's face went through several stages as Luna spoke. At first, she smiled, then the smile turned into a frown that deepened before turning into a relieved smile. She started rolling up her sleeves. "Would you like to see mine?"

Luna nodded and moved closer, eager to see the proof she wasn't alone again. There, on Madam Hooch's arms were two distinctly different names. Aurora Sinestra and Pomona Sprout. Luna's fingers hovered carefully over the bared skin and she smiled at the undeniable proof in front of her. Madam Hooch grinned and let Luna examine her arms until the girl was done.

"Now, how about I teach you a little about broom maintenance, hmm? It can never hurt to know how to look after a broomstick."

Luna nodded eagerly, always ready to learn something new, and spent the rest of the afternoon working with Madam Hooch readying the broomsticks for the first years who would be using them in their lessons and the Quidditch players who would be flying on them during practices and games. A woman who Madam Hooch identified as Aurora came out to find them a little after lunch and greeted Luna with a smile and happily let the girl confirm that she, too, had two names written on her skin.

Luna didn't have lunch in the Great Hall that day. Instead, she ate it with the three ladies who were bound by the Fates in the same way she was bound with her own soulmates (even though she had yet to meet them). Rolanda, Aurora, and Pomona were all wonderful and Luna found herself loving them in the same way she loved her mother.

All three of them were happy to answer her questions about school, soulmates, and whatever else popped into her mind. Luna was extremely glad she and her father had decided coming to Hogwarts would be a good thing—it definitely was.

That night, Luna lay in her bed in the blue and bronze themed dorm room of Ravenclaw first year girls and smiled at the curtains above her. Her first day of Hogwarts had been marvellous and she could only hope that it would continue to be as amazing.

Chapter Text

When he was young, Matt's father would talk about the colours he could see and describe them to Matt. Matt would listen intently, as almost all children did, and look forward to the day when he would be able to see the colours for himself. He would watch his dad's matches on the TV and imagine the colours of the boxers' robes as they entered the ring.

Then he pushed an old man out of the way of a traffic accident and his sight was taken away by the chemicals that had been spilled. Even as he panicked about not being able to see and the deluge of extra information that was battering his remaining senses, there was a quiet voice crying out that he would never see colour.

Foggy followed after Anthea to the mixer that was apparently being held for all the new students in law (and whoever else decided to show up for the free food). Anthea had arrived a week before him and was perfectly happy to show him around the university. He had vaguely hoped that he'd start to see colour with her—but he always found himself vaguely hoping that with everyone new he met that he didn't find downright repulsive.

He could hear the activity in the room before they entered—it was buzzing and loud. Almost as soon as he went through the doors, he was enveloped in a crush of bodies. Anthea grinned at him, gave him a thumbs up, and then vanished into the crowd. Foggy took a deep breath and then dived in as well, greeting people as he went in search of the food and beverages table that had to be somewhere.

Even as he made his way through, he could see the evidence of matchings happening—people staring at each other with stars in their eyes, small groups of two or three huddled together and holding hands as they talked excitedly. Foggy grinned at them; he was always happy to see people find their matches; it was a moment that was generally full of unbridled joy.

Finally, he found the food. There was another man standing by it, holding a plastic cup in a death grip. Foggy nodded at him in greeting as he apologised to the man he had just shoved past. He stopped moving as he realised that the man's jacket—which had previously been one of the many shades of grey he normally saw—was no longer grey.

He looked at the man closer, waiting for him to realise that he could see colour. But he didn't. All he did was continue talking to the woman who wore a shark-like grin as she chatted. Foggy frowned but turned away and proceeded to the food table.

"Hey, man," he said when he noticed the man with the cup hadn't moved and that his cup looked in danger of cracking, "you okay?"

The man didn't reply for a few seconds. Then he said, "Fine. It's just loud."

Foggy looked back over the room and nodded. "Yeah, it is a bit. Tell you what, why don't we grab as much of this food as we can and escape out into the quiet night?"

A party was a party and Foggy was fine with missing out on this one. The dude looked like he was in physical pain from being in the room and Foggy didn't want to leave him alone while he was threatening the lives of plastic cups. He'd figure out his own problem of seeing colours later—almost everyone in the room was someone he'd interact with later, so it wasn't as though this was his last chance to identify his match.

The man nodded and put his cup down so Foggy could start loading up his arms with food. He only registered the fact that the glasses the dude was wearing were more than cosmetic when the man grabbed a white cane from where it had been resting on the wall. Huh, blind.

"You need some help walking out of here or are you good?" he asked, figuring he should check.

The man smiled. "I'll be good. I'm Matt, by the way."

"Foggy." Their arms were loaded up now, so Foggy started leading the way back out of the room. "Let's go."

Foggy never did find whoever he had met that had kickstarted his vision into seeing colour. He thought for a few months that Marci might have been the one but that had been kicked to the curb when she made her match in a mock trial. He did find out that Matt was an awesome human being and also Foggy's roommate for the duration of their uni days.

He found that he didn't mind not knowing though. As a child, he'd always assumed that when he saw colour he would start caring about the whole soulmate deal. It didn't happen though. He still vaguely wished for someone who could understand him but didn't particularly care. Plus, Matt seemed to be filling the role of understanding friend who was happy to be with Foggy and do random shit perfectly.

When Matt told him about his father describing colours and later the world to him, Foggy offered to pick up the habit. Matt had shrugged and said that Foggy could if he wanted to; Foggy knew from his tone and expression that Matt would love it if Foggy started describing things to Matt.

Matt was bent over double laughing as Foggy described the triad chasing after their children who were zooming about pretending to be aeroplanes as they dove through the square's fountain. As Foggy watched Matt laugh bright and uninhibited, he knew he didn't care if he found his colour-bringer. He had Matt and Matt was awesome. Matt was perfect and he knew they'd be friends forever.

Chapter Text

Alice looked down at the photo album she had been flipping through for the past half hour. It was full of friends and happy times before the war broke out. The war was over now, but that didn't mean that the people in the photos would gain back their happy smiles without the shadows of war. No one who had lived through losing friends and family at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters would be able to forget those times completely.

In the pages, they were all smiling and happy-go-lucky. Frank was laughing as he carried Lily into the Black Lake with Sirius following (ostensibly to save Lily from getting wet but really to jump on Frank and cause all three of them to sink under the water). The next photo showed the group playing a pick-up game of Quidditch with Lily batting a Bludger in the direction of James who had been diving for the Quaffle but was now diving out of the way.

Warm arms wrapped around Alice's shoulders from behind, the blue timer shimmering on the left wrist showing zeroes as it had ever since Alice had met the owner on the Hogwarts Express. She smiled as Lily kissed her cheek. Lily laughed when she saw the photos the album showed. "James nearly ran into Sirius' Bludger with that dive," she commented.

Alice grinned. "And Sirius has never forgiven him for almost ruining his perfect line-up to hit the last goal post."

The memory of Sirius playing his own version of Quidditch—one where you had to hit the goal posts in a certain order that changed every time with a Bludger—while the rest of them on the pitch played the usual version around him made them chuckle. The chuckles faded as the reality of now made its presence known.

Sirius had lost an arm and an eye in the war; the rest of his body was prone to frequent spasms of pain that the healers at St Mungo's hadn't been able to stop. He lived with Remus and Marlene now, both of them with their own injuries but all of them quite content in their married life. Frank had lost the use of both of his legs due to a well-placed cutting curse and would never walk again—something his daughter didn't seem to mind as she sat on his lap and squealed in joy as he rolled down corridors at high speeds.

"Come on," Lily said, standing up and holding out her hand for Alice to take, "it's time to go to the Ministry."

Two years after the end of the war, they both finally felt ready to add children to their small family. It had been an easy decision to adopt instead of having a donor, there were still orphans from the war that had been floating in the system for far too long. Today they would visit Frank and Sirius in their office (that was far removed from the austere offices near it and full of toys and pranks) in the Ministry and start the process of adoption.

Chapter Text

The room was dark and cool, lit only by the small windows high on the wall. A cauldron sat in the middle of the room, bubbling quietly as a dark-haired witch watched over it. The walls were hidden behind large shelves—the shelves themselves almost hidden by the bottles and boxes of ingredients and tools stacked on them. A crest was imprinted in the stone above the entrance—the crest of the Black family.

Andromeda gave the crest a slight glare as she entered the room. The pride of her family that encouraged them to plaster their crest, name, and motto everywhere was something she tolerated but would prefer gone. She sighed as she saw her older sister sitting in front of the bubbling cauldron and slumped onto the stool next to Bellatrix—ignoring the voice of her mother in the back of her head that told her to sit up straight.

Bellatrix grinned at her. "Hey, Andy. You ready for this?"

Andromeda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She didn't wanted to do this; she didn't want to know who her soulmate was if they were a pureblood of the type that her family would approve of. But Bella was persistent, and she had finally decided to give in.

"Would it make a difference if I said no?" she asked.

Bella's grin widened. "No."

"Then let's get this over with."

Bella stirred the potion once more and then picked up the ladle that had been resting on the nearby table. She ladled the potion into two separate vials and passed one over to Andromeda. Then she held up her vial, waiting for Andromeda to clink it with her own.

Andromeda couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly then, though she did smile as she clinked the vials. As one, the two of them pulled a hair from their heads and dropped it in their vials. After a few minutes of swirling the potion around in the vials and then letting it sit, the previously red potion turned purple.

Bella passed over a piece of parchment, rolling another one up for herself and placing it in the vial. The parchment pieces soaked up the potion and once all the liquid was gone, they both pulled their parchment out. Bella unfurled hers immediately, Andromeda hesitated for a few seconds before doing the same.

Evan Rosier, it read. She scowled and set it on fire with a quick flick of her finger. Rosier was precisely the kind of pureblood her family would approve of. Someone who was the opposite of Ted Tonks—the person that she actually wanted to spend the rest of her life with and was, in fact, already dating.

Bella looked at her curiously and she shrugged. "I'm not likely to forget, so why keep the parchment?" Then, changing the subject from her, she asked, "And what family are you going to be binding the Black name to?"

"Lestrange." Bella shrugged. "Not bad."

"Did you ever use the soulmate potion?" Ted asked one night as they watched young Nymphadora direct her stuffed badger to claw the lion plushie.

Andromeda considered the question. Soulmates were not a thing they had talked about, and Andromeda didn't know if Ted was of the thinking that those who knew who their soulmates were should be with them, or if he was in the camp of free will and ignoring the Fates.

Eventually she settled on a noncommittal noise followed by, "My sister did."

"Is she happy?"

"I wouldn't know."

Ted fell silent at the reminder that she had been disowned by her family for choosing him. Andromeda called out encouragements to the badger (and the snake when it joined in the fray) as Nymphadora continued manipulating the soft toys.

The topic of soulmates was never brought up again.

Chapter Text

The mists surrounded her as she sat on the boat in the middle of a lake. Small waves lapped at her boat as it rocked slightly from side to side. She couldn't see anything beyond the mists and eventually grew bored. She looked around for something to do and, as the thought crossed her mind, she saw an iron ingot by her feet and smiled.

With years of practice, she picked up the ingot and started manipulating it without the use of her wand. She knew the stick of wood was attached to her wrist in its holster as it always was, but she had no need of it. The iron flowed out of its ingot shape and twisted to her whims. As she pulled and twitched, the iron started taking the form of a large snake with a rooster's ruffle on its head.

When it was ready, she placed it on the bench in front of her and smiled. She didn't know why she felt happy when she saw it, but she did. She looked down at the water to her right and saw the live version of the snake she had just made. It looked up at her with yellow eyes and she held out her hand to it.

The snake wound herself up her arm and around her upper body. She smiled again. "Hello, Aurora."

Aurora squeezed slightly and then released. She knew it was the basilisk's version of a hug and it made her feel warm and loved. Just like she hadn't known why the iron sculpture of the basilisk made her happy, she didn't know how she knew Aurora's name.

The sound of another boat floating across the water made her look up. Through the mists emerged a rowboat similar to her own. A man was rowing it. She wondered idly if her boat would have oars if she wished for them—but she didn't wish and so her boat didn't have oars. The man smiled when he saw her and raised a hand in greeting.

She returned it. "Hello." She spoke quietly but her voice carried clearly over the water.

"Helga!" the man called, relief obvious in his voice.

Helga wondered how he knew her name, for now that she had heard it, she knew it belonged to her. But it didn't matter all that much, and she pushed the thought away as one would push a boat off a shore.

"Thank the gods I found you. I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen."

Helga cocked her head to the side in slight confusion. "Never meant for what to happen?"

The man stopped rowing and their boats floated next to each other. He placed a hand on the edge of her boat, keeping them from floating apart. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. "I didn't see how much our fighting was affecting you."

A flash of two men and a woman arguing with each other crossed her mind and she frowned, shaking her head to clear the image from her mind. She drew her fingers across the scales of the basilisk still wrapped around her for comfort.

"I'm sure it's fine," she reassured the man. "Whatever you wish to apologise for, I forgive you. I don't even remember what it is you believe you've done."

"Please come back. I miss you." He glanced at the snake curled around her. "We miss you."

"I wouldn't know where to go," she said.

The waves picked up, pulling at their boats. The man tightened his grip on her boat, trying to keep them together. She considered doing the same but decided not to. She could feel a headache forming and more flashes of the same three people were popping up.

She grimaced in pain at the multiple arguments crossing her mind and the man let go as if her boat had burned him. She saw more images of him than any other, all of them coated with feelings of pain and love. Their boats drifted apart. The man's vanished into the mists and Helga was once more floating on her own.

Aurora was still with her. Helga smiled and ran her hands along the snake's long body, looking at the sculpture she had created before. It was a perfect replica of Aurora. She had known the basilisk before now. But where had she met the man and the snake? And who were they?

When Helga woke up, it was to the long nose of her horse and the phantom weight of a basilisk wrapped around her shoulders. A name bubbled up to the surface of her mind and she was speaking it before she even realised it was there. "Salazar."

Chapter Text

Sirius stared out of the window of his room at the Potter's. He wasn't seeing anything in front of him—not the birds and bees flying around the trees and flowers, not the fountain spouting water out into the sky, not the dogs chasing after each other, not even his best friend, James Potter, swooping through the air on his broomstick.

His thoughts were with another boy, one that he hadn't seen since the Summer holidays had begun. He sighed as he thought about what Regulus might be doing. His younger brother had been all that his parents wanted Sirius to be—obedient and a Slytherin, proud of his heritage. But Sirius knew that when it was just him and Regulus, his brother was much more like Sirius than their parents knew. Or he had been.

When Sirius had gotten himself sorted into Gryffindor, his brother had placed all the responsibility of being a proper Black heir on his own shoulders. No amount of insisting that Regulus could be his own person, that he didn't have to do everything their parents demanded, managed to get its way through to Sirius' baby brother.

The boy was a stubborn idiot and Sirius loved him above all others despite Regulus pushing him away. There was no place for a Gryffindor in the Black family, even if that Gryffindor was the Black's own brother and soul-bonded. Sirius felt his heart clench as he thought of the day Regulus had stated in no uncertain terms that he could no longer have anything to do with Sirius.

They had been all each other had for all their lives and then the prejudices and rules of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had split them apart. Sirius had held onto the hope that Regulus still wanted more to do with Sirius. Their family and the expectations created by them were the only thing keeping his brother away. Sirius had even asked Regulus if him being gone was what his brother had wanted—knowing his brother couldn't lie to him even if he wanted to.

Regulus had shaken his head, tears forming in his eyes as he backed up. "I can't, Siri," he'd said. "Mother and Father…"

That had been all Sirius had needed to hear to understand. He'd felt this coming and his own eyes started tearing up as he looked at Regulus. Unable to stop himself, he'd moved forward and pulled his brother into a hug—it was the last hug they had shared for over three years. Did Regulus play it over in his mind every night before going to sleep like Sirius did?

Something hit the window in front of Sirius and he startled out of his thoughts. James was hovering outside, grinning and preparing to throw another pebble. He gestured at Sirius to come outside when he saw he had Sirius' attention. Sirius smiled back at him, shaking his head to dislodge the heavy thoughts of his brother and ran to join James.

In the darkness of night, it was impossible to see the Gryffindor pride splashed all over the walls of Sirius' room. The red and yellow melded together into the same shade of slightly lighter grey than the shadows cast by dim moonlight. The silhouettes of the posters, scarves, and lion-shaped paraphernalia made him smile all the same. A corner of the room was dedicated to Regulus—filled with Slytherin colours and pictures from their youth, even some books that Sirius thought Regulus would love were sitting on a shelf.

The corner always made him smile bittersweetly. It reminded him of his brother and that was both a good and a bad thing. Sirius would take all the pain in the world if it meant he could hug Regulus again—hell, even just to see him again without the entire population of Hogwarts milling about—but that was practically impossible. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the last time he'd interacted with Regulus as he always did before falling asleep.

A pop sounded next to his bed and Sirius jerked up, hand grasping for his wand even as he registered the sound as a house elf arriving. Wand in hand, Sirius cast a light spell and stared at the familiar house elf alternating between sneering at him and sniffling into his uniform.

"Kreacher?" he asked incredulously.

Kreacher scowled and held out a ragged piece of parchment to him. "Master Regulus says to give you this before Kreacher returns home. Master Regulus makes Kreacher leave him in the cave alone to give letter to worthless brother."

"Cave? What cave?" Sirius accepted the parchment as he asked the question and skimmed through it before Kreacher could reply. He almost dropped it when he realised what it was; a goodbye. His brother was certain he was dying and he had written Sirius a letter to apologise and beg forgiveness before he did so.

Kreacher was fiddling with a locket around his neck as he answered the question Sirius forgot he even asked. "Master Regulus had Kreacher take him to the cave the Dark Lord took Kreacher to before. Master Regulus is dying but Kreacher cannot disobey Master Regulus' orders."

"Do you still obey me?" Sirius asked, desperation tinging his voice as he dashed around his room grabbing things he might need.

Kreacher sniffed. "The traitor brother is still a member of the House of Black, Kreacher must obey."

The fleeting thought that his parents hadn't yet blasted him off the family tapestry and disowned him was abandoned as Sirius grabbed Kreacher's left hand. "Take me to Regulus," he ordered.

Kreacher smiled—a strange sight for Sirius—and snapped his fingers.

Sirius barely took in the cave they appeared in. All he could see was his brother leaning against a stone pedestal and breathing heavily, tears running down his face. He dropped down next to Regulus, hands hovering over his brother as he tried frantically to think about what he should do. Regulus letting out a small whimper jolted him into action and he grabbed one of his brother's hands.

"I'm here, Reg. You're not alone."

Regulus' turned his head in the direction of Sirius' face, his eyes looking at him sightlessly. "Siri?" His voice was merely a whisper. "I'm sorry. I didn't…"

"I know, it's okay. Don't try to talk." He glanced around him, finally taking in where they were. He could see movement in the water surrounding the small stone island they were on—something below was waiting for Regulus to die. Kreacher was wringing his hands nearby; Sirius held out his hand to the elf.

"Take us out of here, Kreacher, back to the Potter's," he said.

Regulus stirred, his grip tightening on Sirius' hand as he croaked, "No! I have to—"

"We're getting out of here, Reg," Sirius interrupted. "Do you want to die here?"

The question was rhetorical but he still heaved an involuntary sigh of relief when Regulus murmured a negative. Kreacher took this as permission to grab hold of the two of them and snap them out of the cave.

They arrived in Sirius' bedroom and he immediately sent Kreacher to wake up James and tell the other boy what had happened. Sirius didn't know what was wrong with his brother, but he knew he wouldn't be able to help him without help himself. Soon enough, he heard the hurried footsteps of not only James, but the elder Potter's as well, approaching his room.

He cradled Regulus' head in his lap and brushed the sweaty hair back from his forehead. "Hang in there, Reg," he whispered. Regulus had passed out almost as soon as they had arrived and Sirius could only hope the Potter's would know what to do—or would Apparate him and his brother to St Mungo's for treatment.

"You're going to be okay." It was the truth, it had to be. He had said it to Regulus and neither brother could lie to the other. Regulus was going to be okay. There was no way he couldn't be, not when Sirius had said otherwise.

Chapter Text

Luna stared into the mirror, watching the small figure shown inside move about outside the darkened house. Padma leaned over her, scribbling down what Luna said as she always did, occasionally prompting with questions. She did that now.

"Any sign of Roturn?"

Luna moved her gaze from Ginny to the surrounding area. There was Daphne and a flash of Blaise's coat. No sign of the wizard the team had been sent out to apprehend. She shook her head and said, "Nothing."

Beyond her cubicle were many others—each of them with their own pair of watcher and scribe. Soulmates were highly sought after in the more dangerous and active roles in the Ministry of Magic. Having a soulmate out in the field and in the office meant that they would never lose visual contact due to the inherent magic of soulbonds that allowed the bonded to view each other in a reflective surface.

Luna could hear the hum of voices hidden behind multiple muffling charms but she paid them no attention. It was both a blessing and a curse being able to see Ginny in the field. She never had to wonder if her wife was safe, but she was always one of the first to know when she got into trouble. She knew now, as the dark sky light up with a brilliant red light streaking towards Ginny, that she was in trouble.

Even as she watched, heart beating faster in anxiety, she rattled off what she was seeing and Padma noted it down. A second team would be sent in to back them up if Luna or Padma deemed it necessary; thankfully, this time it wasn't needed.

Ginny dove and had a shield up before the spell could hit her, another shield coming into existence from Blaise's wand. Daphne came up behind Roturn and stunned him, eliminating the immediate threat. Luna smiled as she relayed the information, imitating the one Ginny was wearing. Ginny pressed her fingers to her lips and then held them up in the air. Luna kissed her own fingers and placed them lightly on the mirror.

The mission was done and Ginny was safe. Luna dreaded the day when Ginny wouldn't be okay, when Luna would be forced to watch Ginny die in the mirror on a mission. But for now, there was no more danger and Ginny was already on her way back to the Ministry. Safe.

Chapter Text

Andromeda rolled her eyes slightly at the giggling groups lightly pricking each other with pins and other such sharp objects. As humans so often did, they had worked out an easy method to discover a soulmate. It was common knowledge that whoever they were, a soulmate was incapable of harming one they were bonded to. So, the inventive race of humans had started carrying around small, sharp objects such as a pin just in case an occasion arose where there was a suspected bond.

Personally, Andromeda thought it was all a tad ridiculous. If you liked someone enough to think about pursuing a relationship and they were also agreeable, there should be no need for anything more than that—no sign from the Fates or a warning that perhaps this person isn't the premium match for you (no matter that they're at least a grand match).

But then, she was at a school populated by teenagers who mostly still dreamed of finding a soulmate despite the rarity of that happening while in your teenage years. Andromeda herself had found her soulmate while she was still a child—her sister, Narcissa. Once their bond had been discovered, Andromeda had become Narcissa's official caretaker; given that Andromeda could not cause harm to her sister, it was a logical appointment.

Andromeda came to a halt at the entrance of Pomona Sprout's office and knocked twice. The door opened to reveal a flustered Professor Sprout and a sitting Nymphadora—the reason that Andromeda had come to Hogwarts. Her daughter had apparently been experimenting with manipulating her vocal chords and sounded like Professor McGonagall just as the woman herself was passing by.

The Scottish woman had apparently struck first and then dragged Dora to Pomona to deal with. Pomona had asked Andromeda to come up to Hogwarts in the hopes that a parental figure would help drive the point home that Dora should not imitate the voices of staff (Andromeda knew differently, but it was an excuse to see her daughter, so she didn't mention that).

"I'm sure this is all a bit over the top, but young Nymphadora's mistake could potentially cause trouble in the future, so we're all hoping that she realises this is a very unique gift and should be used with responsibility."

Andromeda ignored the muttered, "I can't really call it a mistake when I'd do it all again in a heartbeat," next to her and smiled at Pomona.

"Of course, Pomona. Ted and I have told Dora to be responsible when using her skills, but she must experiment with them so that she understands them fully." This was, mainly, what they had spoken of when they had had the talk with Dora about her ability—that and to have fun and use them to help get her out of trouble or merely not get caught.

Andromeda saw Dora smiling out of the corner of her eye and knew her daughter was thinking of the conversation as well—probably her father egging her on to get into trouble looking entirely different to how she normally did. Those two were incorrigible together and it made complete sense to her that they had a father-daughter soulbond (something that had been discovered when Dora declared that when her father brushed her hair, there was no pain at all even if he dealt with a large matt that had formed).

"We do not approve of Dora imitating staff in this manner," Andromeda continued.

Pomona smiled and relaxed. "Well, if that's all sorted then. No more copying the staff, Nymphadora."

Dora grinned and innocently said, "Of course not, Professor Sprout."

Andromeda knew that that meant Dora would be doing it at any opportunity she said where she wouldn't be caught, just as Dora knew that Andromeda and Ted approved wholeheartedly—practice was always good and knowing the voices of those in authority could always prove useful at some point, especially for pranks.

Chapter Text

Harry stood on the middle hoop on one side of the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. Below, there were people enjoying the sun by the Black Lake and clumping together at various places on the grounds. It had been over two hundred years since he had attended this school and it was much the same. Children still learned and played here, ghosts still wandered the halls, teachers still shook their heads and sighed at the terrible handwriting of some students.

Luna was down there now, she taught Care of Magical Creatures as she had always done in some manner. She looked up at him and waved—uncaring that he was currently only visible to her. He waved back and grinned, floating down to the ground and her.

He would forever be grateful to Death for allowing her to regain her memories of past lives while he lived on, unable to die. It meant that he would always have her and she him. Of course, the memories where almost always regained once Luna was no longer a child and could handle hundreds of years suddenly there in her memories, but he could live with that. He watched over her when she was young, hidden in the shadows, and when she remembered and sought him out, he came.

When his feet touched the grass of the pitch, he pulled the power of the invisibility cloak away from himself and was visible to all who cared to see. Luna held out her hand and he took it happily. She smiled at him, pulling him away to the Forbidden Forest where Mortimer and his herd would be waiting for cuddles and raw meat.

The thestral had been adopted by Luna when he came limping up to her on one of her wanderings through the forest and nuzzled into her. He had never seen fit to leave them alone since, the magic of Death hovering around Harry and Luna a comfort to Mortimer and his kind. Once upon a time, Harry had been scared of thestrals. Now, he loved them with all his heart and was always happy to spend an afternoon with thestrals curling up next to him and Luna.

Chapter Text

Charlie had no idea what the squiggles on his arm meant. He knew what they were; they were the words his soulmate would say upon first meeting, but as for what those words actually said, Charlie was clueless. He had worried that his words were broken when he was younger but his father had told him that where simply not in English.

This made Charlie excited. English was boring, he had a soulmate who spoke other languages! Bill had another language as well, but his was partly French and partly English, so whoever they were they obviously weren't as awesome as Charlie's soulmate. Percy's words were all English and Charlie felt vaguely sorry for his younger brother. What was the point in having a soulmate if they weren't cool in some way?

He didn't tell Percy that though. He didn't want his brother to be jealous of him and Bill. He clasped his hand over the squiggles and grinned to himself. He was going to find out what they meant and where they were from. And then he was going to go there and learn the language so that he could be awesome like his soulmate and also talk to them in the squiggle language.

Bill came pounding up the stairs then, holding the broom that they had gotten a few months ago and brandishing it with triumph.

"Ma says we can go out and fly if we let Percy fly too," he said.

Charlie grinned and jumped up from where he had been curled on his bed. He zoomed past his brother, who quickly ran past him. Percy was waiting impatiently at the bottom of the stairs, bouncing up and down as he waited for his brothers, and Charlie grabbed his hand to pull him along. Their mother smiled at them from the kitchen as they raced past her to the front yard where they could fly and she could still keep an eye on them.

Right now, Charlie didn't care about the squiggle language; flying was way more important than learning to read squiggles.

Chapter Text

Hannah sighed and turned her head slightly so that she could look at her bedside table. On there was a book—a book that she kept for those times when she was just that too much tired of the world. She wondered if this time she would be able to finish it. As she stared at the dark shape of the book, she wanted to finish it.

It always sat there. Reminded her of its existence and its purpose in her life. Similar to how one wants to throw themselves off a cliff when staring over one, Hannah wanted to read the book until she said her final word. She had been stopped multiple times, both by herself and others. Would tonight be the one where she finally spoke all the words she needed to close this chapter of life?

Groaning slightly, Hannah pulled herself up out of her cosy blankets and propped an extra pillow behind her. Then she flicked on the lamp on the bedside table and picked up the book. It was a fairy tale retelling, one of the many ones that had popped up. Hannah caressed the spine and cover before gently opening the book.

She told her empty bedroom of the woman who was the perfect archetype for Cinderella who turned away from that path to become an authority in her world. She read aloud as the would-be Cinderella learned how to guide the paths of those others in her world who also fit fairy tale archetypes.

It took most of the night to read the whole book out loud but that was okay by Hannah. She kept reading even as her voice grew hoarse from use and her eyes tried to close. It was a peaceful night and something about it was calling to her to finish reading. When she closed the book and looked down at her wrist to see how many words she had left before the soulmate curse took her, there was shimmering number one staring up at her.

"Huh," she said.

Chapter Text

Bill stood outside the tattoo shop and fidgeted with his earring. Across the road there was a café and he watched them as he waited. Several people gave him and the shop dirty looks while others seemed fascinated and yet more simply didn't care one way or another and just wanted their caffeine.

The door to the shop opened with a cheerful jingle and out stepped Fleur. She grinned at him and held out her hand for him to grab. Her arm was covered in swirling designs of ink that Bill always enjoyed tracing over. He could never get a tattoo himself—the thought of having something foreign permanently on or in his body was something that caused his brain to break down—he adored the colours and patterns that other people could have drawn.

He grasped Fleur's hand in his own and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She grinned and pulled him in for another kiss before waving goodbye to her co-workers in the tattoo shop. Then they walked over to the café Bill had been watching for their own caffeine hit.

Chapter Text

Fleur was standing with clenched fists in the middle of her bedroom on Beauxbaton's carriage. Gabrielle was huddled in her bed with multiple blankets wrapped around her, still slightly terrified from her experience and now from the rage her sister was emanating even though she knew it wasn't directed at her.

"They had no right,"' Fleur spat in French—not even attempting to remember English as her anger grew. "You are mine to protect, you are here to cheer me on, not be a part of this death festival."

She could feel her features changing, elongating and sharpening her teeth and nails into fangs and claws. Her own sister had been thrown into a freezing cold lake without care and Fleur hadn't even known until she couldn't find Gabrielle's face in the crowd and Cedric Diggory had surfaced with his girlfriend.

If it wasn't for the strong barrier Madame Maxime had placed on her bedroom door, Fleur would be clawing at Dumbledore's face along with anyone else that had had a part in her sister being deliberately placed in danger. Fleur had agreed to risk her own life in this tournament of death, not that of her sister's.

Gabrielle wormed a hand out of her blankets and held it out to Fleur. "Fleur," she whispered—the highest volume her voice would currently give her.

Fleur heard it anyway and her hands relaxed out of their fists as she clasped Gabrielle's still cold hand in her own. Gabrielle pulled Fleur closer and wrapped herself around her sister. Fleur went willingly, brushing her hand through Gabrielle's drying hair and reassuring herself that Gabrielle was safe.

Even as her hands gently caressed her sister, Fleur's eyes blazed with ongoing anger and fear. No one would bring her sister into a play of danger and death again and she would make any who tried to do so pay.

Chapter Text

Remus watched with slight anxiety and overwhelming love as Dora and Teddy cut up lemons to squeeze. Small chubby fingers that were still figuring out how to properly work all the time were carefully sawing through lemons while more slender fingers that were also figuring out what they were doing half the time were guiding Teddy's cuts. Remus himself had been given the task of squeezing out the juice from the cut lemons Teddy proudly handed him.

Teddy grinned at him as he passed another halved lemon to him and Remus grinned back, ruffling his son's currently blue hair uncaring of the slightly sticky lemon juice on his fingers. Teddy giggled and held up his own hands to do the same but couldn't reach. Remus obligingly ducked his head lower down and the beaming smile Teddy gave him was worth the sticky fingers now combing through his hair.

Dora flicked a lemon pip at them and Teddy assumed a serious expression—though still giggling through it—as he went back to helping his mother cut lemons. Remus chuckled and nudged Teddy slightly, nodding his head in Dora's direction. Teddy's expression turned into a grin that spoke of mischief and turned around so he could jump on his mother and run his sticky fingers through her hair as well.

Remus, prepared for this and ready to act when Teddy made his move, quickly removed all sharp objects from the vicinity and then joined the sticky hug as each member attempted to make the others stickier than they were themselves. If the lemons were capable of sighing, they would have as they waited for the trio to finish playing and return to the task of making lemonade—although, perhaps the as of yet uncut ones would celebrate the slight elongation of the life as a whole fruit.

Chapter Text

Florean hummed to himself as he slid the tubs of ice cream into their respective slots of the display case. He knew by the end of the day he would have done this same thing multiple times as one by one, the tubs were emptied of their sweet treat. He grinned at the thought; it was always nice to bring a smile to someone's face and ice cream was an almost guaranteed way to do that.

The door to the ice cream parlour opened and he grinned in greeting as Meredith walked in. She waved at him before placing her small bag on one of the tables he had set out before. She pulled out a cream-coloured tablecloth from the bag and lay it over a nearby table before continuing the process—humming along in harmony to him.

When all the tables had cloths and all the tubs of ice cream had been placed, Florean came out from behind the counter and handed over a cup of apple and blackcurrant sorbet. Meredith smiled gratefully at him and he sat down next to her as she started slowly spooning up the sorbet. It was a special blend—one for people that had trouble eating in the mornings and those who didn't get enough nutrients.

He had created it for Meredith when he had discovered her hunched over a dressmaking mannequin and clutching to it for dear life in order to stay upright one night. He had originally gone into Madam Malkin's to see if he could get some tablecloths but had decided that the proprietor of the establishment was more important than tablecloths.

Since then, their routine of setting up for the day had begun and carried on strong. Florean knew that if it wasn't for the sorbet, Meredith was more than likely to have forgone breakfast due to nausea or boredom. Meredith knew that Florean's tablecloths would last longer with proper care and she could bundle them in with her own washing so it was hardly a hassle.

Soon enough, Meredith's cup was empty and she was waving goodbye with a smile as she slipped out of the parlour to her own shop. Florean smiled after her before finishing the cup of tea he had been sipping and returning to work. The quiet mornings with Meredith were one of the best times of his day but that didn't the rest of it couldn't be as enjoyable. There were plenty more people who needed a boost and he was one of many who could provide it which to him was more magical than anything he had ever learnt at Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

"I think they're getting along nicely," Luna said.

She was leaning on the balcony rail with a cup of tea in her hand with Harry on one side and Blaise on the other. All three of them were looking out into the garden where a thestral was prancing after a fox who in turn was bounding around the thestral.

Mortimer had been with them for several years after Luna had found him with a broken wing and nursed him back to health with Harry's help. The thestral had stuck around once he was healed and become part of the family, happily helping around garden and giving lifts when needed.

Now he nosed at the fox Blaise had brought home and Felix wound his way through Mortimer's legs before laying down. Mortimer quickly followed, curling up slightly to encircle Felix. Blaise wrapped an arm around Luna and nodded.

"Thank the gods for that."

Chapter Text

Harry stood over the dead body of Lord Voldemort and felt like a huge weight had lifted off his shoulders. Just as suddenly as it lifted, it came crashing back down as he saw the worshipping faces of those around him and felt a sharp snap within him that opened up a connection to Magic. It would never be over; the weight would continue pushing him down and he'd be alone through it.

Even Hermione and Ron looked distant now—stunned that Voldemort had actually died and linked together by tightly held hands that left minimal room for Harry. Everyone around him was placing him up on a pedestal and they would keep him there—a hero they would worship from afar but never dare get to know.

And then a slight girl with flowing blonde hair bound in braids pushed her way through the crowd and stepped up to his side. She held out her hand in offering. There was a glimmering light around her that he had never seen before but knew meant she could see beyond the things that ordinary people saw. She tilted her head slightly and looked at him patiently. He took her hand.

Another person stepped out from the crowd. He was clad in green robes and a violet colour shimmered around him. He, too, stepped up to Harry's side and held out his hand, smiling slightly. Harry returned the smile as he took the offered hand and knew that he wasn't alone. The world would continue running after him, demanding he give more and more and would then throw him into the deepest pits when they were through with him.

But he didn't have to be run aground alone. The two beside him would run alongside him and help him up when he fell. They had dared where others hadn't to look at him properly and see him as more than a far-off hero. As he looked over the crowd, he knew the running would start soon; he found he didn't mind as much now that the weight that had fallen on him was shared between three.

Chapter Text

Luna sat down on her bed and pulled her soft dragon plushie close to her chest as she flopped across her mattress. Around her, her walls were bare once more and ready to be painted. She had decided that morning that it was time to start again and her father had obligingly cast a spell to preserve the images and reset her walls to blank.

Her mother had created the spell and the paint that Luna used. Anything painted with it would be transferred into a book if the correct spell was cast and it could also be removed with a different spell just as easily. As Luna had been prone to painting everything she could reach including editions of the Quibbler, it had come in handy (though Luna's father had never minded her painting on the Quibbler and had even encouraged her to at points).

Luna smiled as she looked at her blank walls. Then, she closed her eyes and followed the mental path to her soulmate. Harry was often lonely and sad, but Luna knew he liked it when she joined him in their shared space. She had taken it upon herself to teach him how to paint and had started to recreate some of his paintings on her walls as best as she could.

Harry waved at her when she arrived. The space was a dim expanse that didn't hurt Luna's eyes or cause Harry panic. In a corner was a large purple beanbag and next to it were the painting supplies Luna had created. She plopped down next to Harry on the beanbag and he leant into her as he continued painting.

She pulled the paints to her and created a canvas to work on. They worked almost silently, with Harry occasionally asking questions and Luna humming a few notes every now and again. It was calm and peaceful—exactly what they both needed.

Chapter Text

Filius perked his head up when he heard the front door open. Father was home! He looked over his work again and then nodded to himself. He would do this. He'd show what he'd done to his father and hopefully the man would be pleased. He grabbed his wand from where it had been sitting on a piece of parchment and ran downstairs.

His father was hanging his outer coat on the rack and Filius slammed into him excitedly, forgetting for a moment that such a thing was unforgiveable. His father glared down at him.

"There is to be no running or exuberant actions in this household, Filius. Remember that."

Filius nodded shamefully. "I'm sorry, Father. I just…wanted to show you what I was working on."

His father gave a disapproving hum and then moved into the kitchen where Filius' mother was rolling out some pastry dough. She smiled at Filius' father, abandoning her dough for a moment to wrap her arms around him.

Filius gave a quiet sigh as his father stepped smartly back out of reach and said, "Please don't touch me, this suit is designer."

Every time his father had to go out and mingle with the upper crust, he took on a posh persona that took time to take off. When his father was mingling, he hated all things non-wizard. There was no love for those like Filius and his mother—those with goblin ancestry—in the heart of the father that attended parties at the Ministry of Magic.

In a few days time, he would get his dad back. That was when they'd be racing around the house together or Filius would be attentively listening to whatever his father decided to teach him that day. Those were the fun times. But they wouldn't arrive for some time and even when they did arrive, they could just as easily vanish with a letter from the upper classes. Round and round they'd go; the same pattern that would seemingly never be broken.

Filius wrapped his arms around his mother as his father went upstairs. She smiled and kissed his forehead before pulling away to continue working. Filius always wondered if the times they had his dad all to themselves was worth the times they lost him to the prejudices and ignorance of higher society. But when his dad came back, he always forgot about the other version of his father until the man had to become him again.

Chapter Text

"Is this where you've been disappearing to every night for the past month and a half?"

Salazar looked up from the mixing bowl, frozen in mid-motion as he stared at Helga leaning against the door frame. His flicked back to the bowl and he slowly placed the wooden spoon back in before shrugging slightly—going for calm as though Helga hadn't just frightened several years out of him.

She smiled and pushed off the door, walking closer to inspect the batter Salazar had been mixing. It was still slightly lumpy and she could see that it was too dry but overall, it was a fantastic result from a man who previously burnt every pot of water he placed over the fire and often resorted to magic when needing hot water.

"Am I satisfactory, o' Ruler of the Kitchen?" Salazar asked.

Helga grinned down at him and rose her eyebrows. "Why don't we bake it and see what comes out?"

"I'm sure if that's wise," Salazar said, side-eyeing the batter slightly. Presumably, his previous attempts over the past month and a half had all turned out as a bit of disaster.

"Ah, but this time you have me and as you say, the kitchen is my domain; it knows to behave while I'm here. Now bake the cake."

The cake, for whatever reason, took Salazar until dawn to finally declare ready. Helga watched him move around the kitchen in a fluster with all trace of his normal elegance gone and smiled. She recognised the batter as belonging to the lemon cake she created for special occasions or when she was missing home more than usual. Salazar had taken it upon himself to learn how to make the cake that meant the most to her and that almost meant more to her than the cake itself did.

Eventually, the cake was ready to be eaten and Salazar hovered nervously as Helga inspected it. She grinned at him before grabbing the cake and walking out of the kitchen with it. There was the sound of scrambling as Salazar hurried after her, falling into step as she led them out to the grounds where the sun was now starting to shine.

She settled down a sun-bathed rock and gestured for Salazar to join her. Once he had, she finally relented and took a bite of the cake, leaning against Salazar as the flavour and texture reminded her of home and she felt love for the man next to her well up. It was a perfect way to start the day.

Chapter Text

"Saying you're sorry doesn't fix anything."

Tonks heard the words before the scene fully formed in front of her. She stared in horror at what she was seeing, still slightly woozy from the sudden change from Order of the Phoenix Headquarters to this mental image of a boy hiding behind a woman as she berated the man in front of her.

"You know this is because of you and your stupidity. You can't even look at your son, can you? He was someone you loved just a few days ago and now because of a bite that you might as well have given to him yourself, he's not worthy of your attention. And you call yourself a good man. You're pathetic."

"Hope—" the man tried, but Hope cut him off.

"You've had your chance. I'm taking Remus to Adri and if you decide you can accept your son, you can find us there. Otherwise, stay away from us. My son will not have such a negative influence in his life as you. You will not make him believe he's less than he is because of a monthly loss of control."

The vision faded as Hope pulled young Remus away and ushered him out of the door as his father watched emotionlessly. Tonks blinked the last vestiges away and found herself looking up at the teary face of one Remus Lupin. She wondered what he'd seen in her own memories to make him look like that. The day she had stood in front of a mirror and tried multiple versions of herself and breaking down when nothing fit? Or maybe it had been when they had lost Helen—her aunt.

Whatever he had seen, it had clearly hurt him as much as what she herself had seen. Silently, she lifted her arms in an offer of a hug and he fell into them. Both of them gripped tightly, misery of the past being soothed by the comfort of the present. There was a meeting they should probably attend but right now that didn't matter one bit.

Chapter Text

I swear, if you give me another error, I will destroy you.

Over mountain, and meadow, and glen.

Do you want me to just get rid of you entirely and start again?

Tradition!

Where's my duck?

I am not throwing away my shot.

Clint wondered what kind of person was on the other end of the sentences that appeared on his skin every day. There were death threats, various song lyrics, and the occasional worshipping of coffee along with the inevitable out of context fragments of conversation.

He rubbed a hand over his face as he hit the button to open the door and stepped into the theatre building. He took the longer route through the auditorium to see what the backstage crew had done over the past week and grinned when he saw the overabundance of gold that was for the Pharaoh's scenes of Joseph. It was going to be brilliant when it all came together.

When he entered the break room to make himself a coffee before locking himself in one of the labs to work on his assignment, Clint found himself staring at another man curled up on one of couches with paper strewn all around him. One glance at the papers showed an intelligible collection of gibberish—words and symbols mashed together as though they belonged together.

Clint shrugged and left him to his sleep. The boiler was warm and Clint quickly poured water into his plunger/go cup combo that already had coffee grounds in it. Leaving that to steep, he opened the fridge to see if there was any food a kind soul had left there and marked free for the taking.

There was and Clint grinned when he saw the pizza box. He froze when he turned around and noticed the previously asleep guy watching him blearily. "Uh…hi," he said.

"Hi," the guy returned. "Don't suppose you know anything about C?"

"I know the note. And the letter, I am intimately familiar with the letter. It's in my name, after all."

The guy huffed lightly and dropped his head back against the couch. "Good to know. Not what I need though. Lists are bloody confusing and no one in my class is having much luck and our teacher is terrible at explaining it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about but I feel your pain." Clint waggled the box he was still holding before shoving it in the microwave. "You want some pizza?"

"Sure, if there's enough."

Clint nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I can get you come coffee as well if you want. You look like you could use it."

"You just happen to have coffee making facilities on your person?" the guy asked.

Clint grinned. "Coffee is a gift from the gods, it would be rude not to always carry around the tools needed to craft it."

"I don't even know your name and I already love you."

Clint winked. "I don't know yours either, but I know you like coffee and pizza so that's enough for me. Wanna date?"

"If you make good coffee, sure."

After pouring the ready coffee out of his mug into a clean cup, Clint handed the cup over to the guy. "Moment of truth then."

The guy took a sip of the coffee and closed his eyes in bliss. "Oh yeah, we're totally dating now."

"Good to know." Clint washed out the used ground from his mug and grabbed his stash out of his bag to make another coffee. "Does this mean we should exchange names now?"

"Hmm, probably. Phil."

"Clint."

They chatted some more as they drank the coffee and ate the pizza once it had warmed up before Clint declared he should probably work on his blasted assignment and Phil groaned but agreed and gathered up his bits of paper.

"Why are you in this building if you're doing coding stuff?" Clint asked as they made their way to the lab.

Phil smiled wearily. "Double degree. ICT and theatre. The computer labs in the ICT building are always busy so I come over here to do most of my work."

"Makes sense."

It was only when Clint was staring at a wall of text and not taking anything in as Phil cursed on the other side of the bench at his code that Clint realised just who Phil was to him. "There is a bloody semi-colon there, you stupid thing," Phil had said.

The exact same words showed up moments later on Clint's arm. Seemed it had been a good idea to date Phil, no matter that it had been a joke when he asked. And now Clint understood why so many death threats appeared—coding was hard.

Chapter Text

Cedric started with an owl. He rather liked the outline of the nocturnal bird on his shoulder. It helped that the first signifier of his soulmate was related to flying—an activity that he liked more and more as he practiced. The owl didn't change for several years and even when he arrived Hogwarts it stayed the same as it always had.

In his sixth year, the owl was joined by a duck. He traced the faint lines lightly, wondering which member of the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons delegations had caused it to appear. It wasn't the best circumstance to find a soulmate; when you're trying to stay alive in a tournament bent on killing you, one tends to have more on their minds than finding those that they're linked to via the Fates.

After the Yule Ball, the owl and duck were joined by a swan and Cedric was seeing a definite pattern in the designs that continued expanding. He assumed by the animals that his soulmate liked flying as much as he did; it made him grin to think of flying together once they had figured everything out and after the tournament was over.

He lay back on his bed in the Hufflepuff dorms and flipped through everyone he had talked to at the Yule Ball. Somewhere in there was his soulmate and they had gotten along well. It wouldn't have just been a hello—that had been when the duck had appeared.

He could rule out any Hogwarts students as he had never had a reaction from his soulmark while at school before. Which, as it had done when the duck appeared, left the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. The only ones who he had really talked to properly from that pool were his fellow champions—the rest of them refusing to get along with their school's rival in a show of support to their own champion.

So. Fleur or Viktor it was. Both were viable candidates for while Viktor was the Seeker for Bulgaria and flew professionally, Fleur was rumoured to have Veela blood and that gave her an affinity to flying (plus she played a mean game of Quidditch according to her sister).

Cedric traced the designs that were slowly becoming a veritable zoo on his arm and pondered. What would be the next design to show up? Would it help him figure out who the Fates had bound him to?

It was only when he caught a glimpse of a dove on Fleur's shin and an emu on Viktor's ribs that he realised he was linked to the both of them. Fleur rolled her eyes when he blurted it out as they were walking down to the Quidditch Pitch for an informal game of throwing the Quaffle around and Viktor chuckled.

"I hope you're better at Quidditch than matters of heart," Viktor said.

Fleur grabbed the Quaffle from Cedric and was on her broom and flying away before he react. She cackled as she circled above them. "You can't judge him, Viktor, with how long it took you. Are we playing or not?"

Chapter Text

Tony's shadow had always been pretty normal when he was younger. His head had more curls than he could see when he looked at himself in the mirror but otherwise, it was just a blob of shade caused by the sun being blocked by his own body. He had always thought the idea of your shadow showing you your soulmate a bit ridiculous.

Honestly, unless your soulmate was something other than humanoid, how could a shadow truly help in identification? Somehow, it worked. Somehow, people kept finding each other and being able to go: "Yes, that is the shape my shadow would make if it was being cast by me."

Tony was mainly confused and decided to ignore it for things that he could understand. Mainly, rocket science and other things most people found beyond their abilities. But then, one day, his shadow rippled beyond the normal realms of a humanoid roughly the same size as Tony himself.

Tony's shadow became that of a giant. A great big hulking giant had possessed his soulmate and made them change form. Tony stared at his shadow, one hand still holding the welding torch close to the metal he was working with. The clatter of metal on the ground forced him out of his staring and he cursed as he realised he had kept the metal under the heat of the torch for too long and destroyed the piece.

Later, mind still running through possibilities, Tony flipped through the channels on TV already bored and slurping down coffee to try and avoid sleep. Then a news channel showed a clip of a great big hulking giant defending himself against some branch of the military.

Tony spit out his coffee and stared. This giant green man was an exact match for the shape his shadow had taken earlier that day. He checked the scrolling banner at the bottom of the screen—the footage had been taken roughly the same time he had noticed his shadow's change.

Well. Looked like Tony needed to find a green giant. Shouldn't be too hard, right?

Chapter Text

Tristan was flying. It was an exhilarating and terrifying experience. All he had done was light a candle and now he was zooming through the sky towards what was hopefully a star's crash site. He had no idea how his father had kept this secret from him for all these years but now he knew he had come from behind the wall and he was going there now.

He would find a star and he would bring it back to the village, back to Victoria. After that…well, Victoria had promised to marry him so he guessed that was what would happen. He grinned even as he realised he was descending without slowing overly much. He started screaming when he was skimming the tops of trees and still hurtling along faster than safe.

His fall was broken by a woman who he crashed into and fell upon.

"Sorry," he said, getting up and looking around him. "So sorry. I don't know what I'm doing. I just lit a candle and now I'm here—where am I? This looks like a crater, doesn't it? So I must be where the star landed. Quick, look around, I need to find a fallen star so that I can take it back to Victoria."

The woman didn't move. She was propped up on her hands and staring at him in slight disbelief and he flushed as he realised how much he had babbled.

"Sorry," he said again.

"You've got a star on you," was the woman's response.

Tristan immediately started patting himself down and trying to crane his head around to see if there was stardust on his back. "I do, really? Where?"

The woman pointed at his hand and he stared at it in confusion for a few seconds before she mimed flipping it over. He did so and then stared some more at the star design that hadn't been there before he had flown via candle. Was this some kind of candle magic?

"Well, Tristan," the woman said as she looked at her own palms. "I guess falling served a purpose. I'm Yvaine, by the way. In case you're curious about the name of your soulmate. Now help me up, would you?"

Chapter Text

The shop was small and cramped and filled floor to ceiling with stuff that she was pretty sure was illegal. It was also the perfect place to find an artefact. Myka shook the thought out of her head and proceeded cautiously into the dusty shop.

She wasn't here on Warehouse business. She would probably never go anywhere again on Warehouse business. She no longer worked at Warehouse 13. She couldn't. A few weeks after HG Wells had been de-bronzed and released into the world, Myka had noticed she was getting older.

Myka had worn the visage of an eighteen-year-old for almost ten years and now those years were catching up—the sign of soulmates meeting. Three weeks after she had met Helena Wells, Myka looked her age and she wondered how she could ever forgive herself. It had been hard enough trusting Helena then finding out she shouldn't have, but soulmates?

She shook herself and traced her hand over the dust-covered books in front of her. Books had always been her comfort and when she saw these through the window she had decided to step in and have a look—determinedly ignoring the voice in the back of her head telling her to keep a look out for potential artifacts.

She froze when she saw a familiar wallet sitting on a lower bench. The wallet escaped often—a consequence of having belonged to Harry Houdini—but she was nowhere near the Warehouse so how had it gotten this far?

"Myka."

The voice made her freeze even more than the sight of Houdini's wallet had. "Helena?" she whispered as HG Wells stepped out from behind a shelf. "Why are you here?"

"The Warehouse needs you, Myka. You can't leave it behind because of my sins. You enjoyed working there, I know you did. Don't abandon that because of me."

"You don't know anything," Myka hissed. "Why don't you go hike your way back to wherever you stay now."

Helena spread her hands in a gesture. "I'm already there. This is one of my little projects from before I was bronzed. They said I could stay here if I kept to myself and didn't do anything world-threatening."

Even as she turned on her heel and stormed out of the small shop, Myka wanted to return. She wanted to know Helena more and understand her. The short amount of time she had already spent with the other woman had told her that she liked Helena. She turned and glanced back before turning a corner. Maybe she'd return one day.

Chapter Text

There was a cry of pain and everyone stopped chatting amiably to turn and see what happened. Blaise was clutching his hand to his chest even as he waved it in the air to try and get rid of the burning pain. Harry passed Teddy over to Andromeda and joined Luna as she approached Blaise.

They both wrapped arms around him, leeching off pain as soon as they were in contact. Then Harry turned to take care of the barbeque still sizzling away as Luna led Blaise into the kitchen to take care of his burnt hand.

Seeing that the situation was well taken care of, the throng of people turned back to their conversations. Harry hummed lightly to himself as he turned over the patties and mixed around the onions slightly, avoiding the spitting grease that Blaise had fallen victim to.

Blaise and Luna were only gone for a few minutes before returning. There was no sign of the attack the grease had launched on Blaise left and Luna hugged him lightly before walking over to join Andy and Teddy. Blaise returned to the barbeque and slung himself over Harry as he watched the other man tend to the food.

"You're much better at this than me," he said after a while.

Harry chuckled. "I've had more practice. Or maybe the barbeques more frightened of me than it is of you."

"Do you come out here by yourself to threaten our barbeque often?" Blaise asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I'd more like to know how to avoid murderous grease."

Harry chuckled and handed over a pair of tongs. "Then stop staring at me and help me."

"As you wish. Does this mean I can join you when you threaten the barbeque as well?"

"Depends if Teddy says you can."

Chapter Text

Willow had known nothing about vampires and magic beyond myths and legends before Buffy Summers came to town. Now she was surrounded by them on every corner and spent her time researching them or helping Buffy fight back whatever terrible monster had been drawn by the hellmouth that week.

Anyone could stake a vampire to death but only Buffy could truly fight them and go against their strength and speed. Well, Buffy and Willow. For years, Willow had tried to find overlapping talents between her and Xander and now she realised that would never happen. Willow had the ability to have a relatively even match against a vampire and there was only one other person in the whole world who shared that talent: Buffy.

Not that Buffy knew Willow could face off against a vampire and probably win. Giles had no idea either. Willow kept it to herself, afraid of what would happen if other people knew and thankful that anytime she had had to defend herself against the supernatural, she had been alone or Buffy herself had arrived at the last second.

Willow didn't want to be thrown into the Slayer's lifestyle. She knew what that was like from Buffy and she didn't want it for herself. She also wanted to provide Buffy a place that was free of Slayer related things and if Willow revealed she could use Buffy's skills, Giles would just demand they both practice.

Of course, not revealing Willow could Slay as well as Buffy meant that she also couldn't reveal she knew Buffy was her soulmate. Which was fine. Completely fine. No matter that Willow had felt the urge to throw Xander through a wall sometimes when he drooled over Buffy. Willow could control herself. Although if Xander kept drooling over her soulmate, he might find a harmless but excessively annoying virus on all the computers he used. Slaying wasn't the only thing Willow was good at.

Chapter Text

You know what I like about you?

The words taunted him every day. He hadn't noticed them for quite some time as they were emblazoned on the bottom of his sole but ever since he realised they were there, they never left his mind.

You know what I like about you?

What did his soulmate like about him? He was a convict now, driven almost mad by the dementors at Azkaban. Even before he had been thrown away without a trial for betraying James and Lily, he had been a Black. Anyone who would be drawn by the name of Black wasn't really anyone he wanted to associate with.

And even when he met his soulmate. He wouldn't ever hear the continuation of their words. They'd never be able to tell him what they liked about him. They would ask him if he knew what they liked about him and then that would be it. They'd be dead before they could finish.

You know what I like about you?

Just as he had during the first wizarding war, he was always on the alert for those words. He was preparing himself to be having a normal conversation before either a Death Eater or the Dark Lord himself burst in and killed his soulmate right in front of him. It was just as nerve-wracking the second time around and he hated that he was searching for his dreaded words so intently, even as he knew all the others around him were doing the exact same.

"You know what I like about you?" Kingsley said as they sipped spiked tea in front of the fire.

Sirius nearly dropped his cup because those were the words he didn't want to hear. And they were from Kingsley; of course they were from Kingsley. A silvery patronus burst through the wall and shouted in Dumbledore's voice that there was an emergency at the Ministry of Magic and that Harry was there.

Sirius did drop his cup then, grabbing his wand and shoving Kingsley into the fire as he threw down some Floo powder. Just before they split after arriving in the atrium of the Ministry, Sirius grabbed Kingsley's hand.

"It was the tea, right? I did say I make a mean cup of tea."

Kingsley let out a burst of surprised laughter before sobering almost immediately. Sirius gave him a mock salute and then turned to run in the direction of his godson.

Chapter Text

Clint stared after the child that had run past him with an entire chocolate cake in her hands and giggling for the second time in as many days. On instinct, he pulled her back before she ran out over the road just as he had the previous time. Exactly as it had happened before, the cake flew out of her hands and was squashed under a speeding car and a hyperventilating mother came to a halt next to him and clutched her child tightly to her.

"Thank you," she said tearfully to him before ushering her child back to their motel room—still running her hands over the child to make sure she was safe and it was just the cake that had fallen victim to the idiot on the road.

Natasha came up behind him and watched the duo walk away. "This has happened before," she said, and Clint nodded.

"Yeah, it has. You repeating as well?"

"Somehow," was Natasha's response.

Clint frowned but didn't comment on her assumption that she wouldn't have a soulmate. "You want to find them?" he asked instead.

"No."

"We better get out of range then." Clint led the way back to their own motel room and grabbed his bag, throwing Nat's over to her. Then it was into the car they had picked up a few days ago and towards the meeting point Clint hoped Phil had gotten and understood the clues to.

Phil was waiting in the parking lot and Clint let out a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar cherry-red car. That car had been his getaway vehicle more times than he could count and the man in it was someone he easily trusted with his life every mission they went on together.

"Clint," Phil greeted when they approached his car. "Widow."

"Agent Coulson." Natasha waited until Clint nodded to slip into the car and Clint soon followed her.

"Let's get out of here, Coulson," Clint said as he hopped in as well. "It's gotten a bit loopy here."

"I'm aware," Phil commented as he pulled away from the mud beach.

His comment made the car quiet until Clint said, "You too?"

Phil gave him a wry smile. "Me too."

Chapter Text

"You're an idiot," Helga told Salazar fondly.

He clenched her hand tighter and smiled weakly. "And yet you still love me."

"I must have scurvy," was her reply. "Illness is the only explanation someone would leave the safe docks of a harbour town to sail the seas with a pirate and his crew."

"You didn't even ask permission," Salazar croaked. "You just stole aboard and didn't come out of your hiding place until three days had passed and we were too far away to dump you back where you belonged. Though that didn't mean we couldn't throw you overboard."

Helga grinned as she helped Salazar drink some water. "We both needed a wash and Godric was right there. He was asking to be pulled over with me."

Salazar looked down at his chest and groaned, throwing his head back onto the pillow in despair. "This was my favourite shirt and now it's covered in blood and torn everywhere."

"That's what you get for engaging in a battle in your favourite shirt and getting sliced across your stomach," Helga informed him. "Like I said, you're an idiot."

"So why are you wasting your time sitting around and helping an idiot heal from the wound his idiotic actions got him?" Salazar was smirking now, Helga decided he was healed enough to whack him lightly.

"You're my idiot and what would I do with a dead idiot? Besides, you haven't told me where all your liquor stashes are yet."

Salazar laughed before wincing slightly and covering his stomach. The wound was healing, but slowly. Helga's touch could only do so much but it accelerated the healing process by a significant and sometimes Helga wondered how Salazar had even managed to stay alive until he met her.

"Of course, the liquor. That's the important stuff."

"Yes, so heal up quickly and show me where your stashes are."

Chapter Text

Blaise hissed in pain when his hand started stinging. He stared down at it in confusion and slight horror. What was happening? Across the back of his hand were the faint words, I must not tell lies. They faded in a second but returned with more stinging pain. They were written in his soulmate's hand but what in Merlin's name was his soulmate doing?

When the words started leaking blood, Blaise shot up from the couch in front of the fire and raced up to his dorm. When he got there, he bundled his hand up in a shirt to stem the bleeding and started working through things that could cause bleeding words.

His mind flashed back to what Pucey had said in passing a few days ago. "I hear Umbridge has brought a Blood Quill into school. Stay on her good side and don't get a detention."

Blood Quill. Professor Umbridge was using a Blood Quill on the students of Hogwarts and more importantly than that, she was using a Blood Quill on his soulmate. In her office right now, his soulmate was being forced to write words in their own blood and the magic of the Blood Quill would make the words written similar to an Unbreakable Vow.

There was a reason Blood Quills had been outlawed by the Ministry and now the Ministry dog was using one in a school against minors. Blaise swore to himself and grabbed a piece of parchment to quickly write a note to his mother and alert of what was happening. Then he raced out of the Slytherin dorms and up to the owlery to hand Pluto the note.

He was waiting outside of Umbridge's office when Harry Potter stepped out looking pale. Blaise knew why from the bundle of cloth around his own hand that blood had seeped through. Before, Blaise had always respected his soulmate's wish to remain hidden and away but this had gone too far.

He showed Harry his own hand and then offered the unscarred one out to Harry who took it with minimal hesitation. Blaise pulled him into a nearby classroom that was used by all the Slytherins as a remote hospital wing and directed him to sit down. He'd take care of Harry's hand tonight and hopefully his mother would take care of Umbridge tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Cedric stumbled through the Floo entrance of the Ministry of Magic and groaned tiredly as he entered the silent building. The atrium was lit only by the soft lights along the wall and almost utterly silent at this time in the morning. He fell against the wall near the fireplace he had come out of and clutched the travel mug tighter. The smell of coffee wafting out of the mug woke him slightly in the early morning and he sighed in slight grief that the coffee didn't belong to him—he had already drunk his back at home.

He pushed off the wall and started walking, nodding in greeting to the sleepy Gilderoy Lockhart who was the night wand-weigher. The man had been released into the world a few years after he had been admitted to St Mungo's for complete memory loss and had utterly abandoned his previous lifestyle. If Cedric was honest, Lockhart was one of the best wand-weighers he had interacted with due to his constant joy and ability to read people and react accordingly. Gilderoy waved happily at him, mirroring Cedric's smile and gestured him through the gates. Cedric's footsteps echoed through the silence as he made his way to the elevators. On this level of the Ministry there was no sound of life beyond the occasional humming of Gilderoy Lockhart.

As he waited for the lift to arrive at his destination, Cedric closed his eyes and smiled. The getting up early was not his favourite thing in the world, but the result of him doing it was a definite contender. The bell dinged and Cedric opened his eyes as the door opened to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Here, the silence was broken occasionally by the shuffling of parchments along with the inevitable sounds of human occupancy.

He waved at those that looked up when he passed them but said nothing. He was not here for them. The one he was here for was scribbling on a piece of parchment and growling about people not understanding how broomsticks worked. Cedric smiled and knocked on the doorframe, leaning against the wood as Viktor looked up.

"Still awake?" he asked jokingly.

Viktor huffed a laugh. "Of course, I have very important meeting to keep."

"Coffee?" Cedric pushed off the door and handed over the travel mug, kissing Viktor quickly before placing his hands on the other man's shoulders and giving them a squeeze.

"You are amazing."

"Well I certainly do try."

Viktor sipped at the coffee and moaned in appreciation, sinking further into the chair as Cedric continued massaging his shoulders. It was a tradition they had started when Viktor had been moved to the night shift to correspond with their counterparts in different time zones. Cedric was awake early anyway most days to head to the bakery he worked at, so two hours before his usual wake up time wasn't the worst thing in the world. It didn't mean he loved waking up earlier than he had to, but he knew it was worth it.

The quiet moments in the silence of early morning were some of his most treasured moments and he would never trade them in for a few more hours of sleep. Cedric kissed Viktor's temple and then dropped onto the couch set to the side of Viktor's office for precisely that purpose.

"Talk to me."

Viktor smiled and sipped his coffee before launching into a tirade of minor aggressions that had built up over the night he hadn't been able to get out to anyone else, along with funny moments and comments from his friends over the pond. Cedric settled in and welcomed the information (and the coffee Viktor shared with him).

Cedric was curled up on the couch in front of the fire slowly flipping through The Tales of Beedle the Bard and wondering how he could turn some of the stories into edible creations that brought joy and a touch of nostalgia to those who ate them. He was contemplating a fountain shaped cake with a hidden design inside spilling small chocolates out when Viktor shuffled out of their bedroom and collapsed on the couch beside him.

He moved his book out of the way for Viktor to place his head down on his lap and started running his free hand through Viktor's hair. "Can't sleep?" he asked.

"No," Viktor grumbled. "Too many thoughts."

Cedric hummed and continued running his hand through Viktor's hair as he flipped to the beginning of The Fountain of Fair Fortune. He started to read the tale aloud as Viktor closed his eyes with a sleepy sigh. They had discovered that Cedric reading to Viktor was good for the both of them after too many sleepless nights after nightmares from the Triwizard Tournament or the war that followed it.

Even so many years after Cedric had graduated from Hogwarts, a sudden flash of green light still made him duck and head for cover instinctively—it was only the quick reflexes he had honed as Hufflepuff's Seeker that had saved him that night at the graveyard when Voldemort had resurrected himself. Viktor still had trouble with orders and feeling like he wasn't in control of his actions.

The stories they buried themselves in after nightmares took them away from such fears. For Viktor, he preferred listening to the story and losing himself in the world that way; Cedric loved speaking the words aloud and painting the world for another. It worked and it had changed from something that happened purely after one of the ever-decreasing nightmares to something that happened when one or the other struggled to sleep.

When Cedric was halfway through Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump, Viktor was snoring softly. Cedric smiled and continued reading—though silently now. In the back of his mind, he was still constructing the cake inspired by The Fountain of Fair Fortune but that could wait to be fully realised when he had his notebook in front of him and no sleeping husband on his lap.

Chapter Text

The dizzy spells started when she was young. She was only six years old when the first wave of blackness came over her and she opened her eyes to see a completely different scene to that which she had been in before. There was no longer any bare green hills spreading for ages in front of her with the occasional sheep and cow dotting the landscape in the distance. Instead, there was a large castle with older children wandering the grounds and a tall forest climbing up to the sky to her left.

She stared in wonder at the scene, unsure of what she was seeing. One of the girls sitting on the grass waved at her and just as she went to return the wave, blackness came back over her and when it was gone she was back in front of the meadow with far off cattle. She fell down onto the grass as she tried to remove the dots in her vision and stared blankly ahead of her.

For a few days, she believed it hadn't happened. Maybe the sun had gotten to her and caused her to pass out and dream of a castle and a forest and people milling about. She believed it to be a one-off circumstance and that perhaps it would be best to refrain from standing in the sun for too long from now on. That belief lasted until the next week when she once more lost her equilibrium and vanished to another scene when she had been brushing her hair at night with no sun in sight.

This time she seemed to be inside the forest beside the castle—she could see the tall spires of the building through the trees. The forest seemed ancient now where before it had still been relatively young. There was movement to her right from an unseen creature and the magic emanating from that space told her what was there.

She smiled and held out her hand, letting out a breath of slight relief when the familiar-feeling leathery nose pressed against her palm. She may not know what was happening but at least she knew she was safe—a thestral would never allow those in their protection to be harmed. There was a loud crashing coming towards them and she turned towards it—unafraid due to the feel of the approaching magic.

A unicorn burst into the small clearing, frightened and exhausted. She forgot that she was in a strange place for reasons unknown to her and focused all her attention on the terrified unicorn in front of her. She was still young, but she would not allow a creature to be harmed if she could do anything about it—especially not a unicorn foal.

The magic that approached the clearing now was dark and diseased. It flickered between two states of hunger and desperation to devotion and fear. The changes gave her a headache but she frowned and focused harder on the magic, demanding it leave in peace. She would have lost the battle if not for the thestral and unicorn coming to stand by her, nuzzling into her sides and lending their own inherent magic to hers.

She collapsed over the back of the thestral when the diseased magic faded away. The unicorn foal knelt on the grass, still breathing heavily but calming now. She didn't register the dizziness as anything strange for a few moments; she had just exerted a large amount of magic and it was natural to be a bit out of it. She noticed it when it was gone and so was the thestral holding her up, the unicorn regaining equilibrium, and the forest surrounding them; she was back home, lying on the floor breathing heavily with her hairbrush lying next to her where it had fallen from her hand.

Over the years, she grew used to the dizzy spells taking her away to places that she was still not sure truly existed. It was always the same area. A castle, a forest, a giant lake she saw on the tenth trip there. She had even been inside the castle a few times, though she always seemed to leave before she could talk to any of the people she saw wandering the halls.

It was the centaurs who convinced her that what she saw was real. They told her she had been continuously pulled through time by Magic. That she had been placed in places and times that needed her, that those people she saw had needed her in some way and she had helped them. The girl that had waved during her first trip had been close to giving up but seeing her had given the girl enough strength to carry on. The unicorn foal she had met on her second trip would have been killed that night by the one hunting it and drained of its blood.

It was a centaur that showed up on her doorstep to lead her to the place she visited at different points in time. Magic had declared that it was time for her to start the chain that would create the castle, lake, and forest for magical beings to be safe and secure; a place for learning about other cultures and their heritage. She was the lodestone Magic had chosen.

There was a young forest starting to grow near a lake rippling in the wind when she came to a halt next to the centaur—Alin—who had been her guide. There was a herd of centaurs waiting for them and she smiled in greeting, bowing her head in respect. Unicorns stood about grazing the grass that would soon hold a mighty castle. A man stepped up beside her, followed by another man and a woman.

He smiled and looked around with wonder—the expression was mirrored on her other companion's faces. She had already seen this place many times but never like this. Always, she had arrived after the castle had been created and the forest grown. It didn't matter. To her, this was as much a home as the house she had left behind so many miles away.

A unicorn approached and nosed at the outstretched palm before pressing more fully into her body. She laughed and stroked the unicorn's side, black against white as the unicorn sighed in contentment and the magic of the meadow sank deep into the four human's bones. This was where they belonged.

"Are we ready?" Godric asked from where he was staring out across the large lake.

Salazar grinned as he watched unicorns and thestrals play. "Not scared are you, Godric?"

Rowena joined Godric by the lakeside and skipped a stone across the smooth water. "If Magic chose us, she must know we can do this."

"This is our home now," Helga said. "We just need to make it everyone else's home as well."

Chapter Text

Stairs, Salazar reflected balefully, where his worst enemy. Not that Aurora didn't keep him updated on when there were stairs around or when he was close to the beginning or end of them, she did. But when Aurora wasn't around, stairs became places ripe for the tripping and falling of his person. So why, he asked himself, had he agreed to let Rowena play with the stairs in Hogwarts Castle and make them mobile?

As soon as he heard the rumbling groan of moving masonry and felt the magic imbued in the moving stairs, his steps became cautious and he always tested the ground before him even if he knew there were no stairs in his current vicinity. The knowledge didn't help. What if the stairs had decided to go for a wander? Rowena said herself she hadn't worked out all the kinks in the magic yet.

It was easy to move as though he had perfect vision when there were no stairs around—he had no desire to become a figure for pity from his students. As soon as there were stairs, all of his wariness returned. His magic instantly stretched out to try and aid him, trying to draw a picture of the landscape he could see without using eyes. He heard the rumbling now and his brisk walk slowed immediately. Why had he allowed Aurora to go off hunting again?

There was the sound of a door opening to his left and he knew it was Helga coming out by the strong scent of lavender and orange along with the feel of her magic spreading out into the corridor.

"Salazar, my dear," she greeted happily. "On your way down?"

He smiled, "I thought I might take a stroll around the grounds, and perhaps pick up a wayward basilisk at the same time."

"Would you care for some company?"

"Now when have I ever said no to your company, Helga? Shall we?"

She laughed and fell into step next to him, accepting the arm he offered—knowing it was mostly for his own comfort as it often was when Aurora wasn't around but saying nothing, as she always did. Almost every day he thanked the gods and Magic that he had found someone like Helga; a person who didn't see his blindness as a detriment to his abilities or something to be ridiculed was all he had wanted when he was growing up and now he had one in the form of Helga Hufflepuff.

They talked about the various experiments the both of them were carrying out as well as thoughts for future combined experiments as they made their way down to the ground floor of the castle—Helga interrupting occasionally with a warning about potential hazards before continuing on. Rowena's moving stairs were not so terrifying with Helga by his side.

Chapter Text

Daisy strode into the silent office and slammed a bonsai tree down by the sleeping head of Jonathon Sims. Jon jerked up and stared blearily at her, sleep crusted at the edges of his eyes. She glared at him and jerked her head at the bonsai tree.

"Trim it," she said. "Helps with the urges."

Jon stared after her as she stormed back out of his office before turning his gaze to the small tree she had left on his desk. He lifted up a hand to brush a finger along the branches, wondering what he was meant to do with them. Daisy had told him to trim the tree and he knew that was the general practice with bonsai tree.; he also knew that there were specific ways to trim the tree and those he didn't know.

He supposed he could, if he really wanted to. He briefly considered it but remembered Daisy's words about how trimming the tree helped with the urges. Seeing with the Eye was probably the opposite of what Daisy intended. Even as he settled on that course of action, the knowledge of how to care for and trim a bonsai tree trickled into his mind and he groaned, thumping his head down on his desk.

He glared up at the silent tree he could feel judging him with all the power of Daisy Tonner. "Sorry, Daisy," he mumbled at the tree. "I'll keep trying."

A few months later, Jon was sitting in a safehouse in Scotland in front of a window staring out at the scenery. In front of him was a bonsai tree that he was running his hands over and thinking about the friend that had given it to him. She had given into the Hunt in order to help him stop Peter and Eli—Jonah and save Martin.

A cup of tea settled gently at his side and Martin wrapped his arms around Jon from behind. "You alright?"

Jon hummed. "Yes, just thinking about Daisy. She gave me this to help fight against the Eye."

"She'll be okay," Martin said. Jon knew it was a lie, but he also knew that that was pure Martin all the way. Still, the lie helped him feel better, so he accepted it for the moment, stroking the bark of the tree to avoid Knowing anything.

"Thank you, Martin."

Chapter Text

The forest was large and sprawled over much of the nearby land. It was a dark and forbidding forest—the type of forest where you wanted to be sure of your welcome before entering. There were tales of this forest. The tales spoke of a siren who lived in the middle of this dark forest who either sheltered you or threw you back to the forest’s unkind embrace. 

Some said the siren was trapped by dark beings in the forest, a prisoner of some devil who had become enamoured with the siren. Others said the siren was the devil of the woods. Some ventured in to try and rescue the siren, while others entered with the intention of slaying the siren.

But the siren was not easy to find for the purposes of either saving or slaying. She was hidden deep within and protected by all manner of beings. Centaurs—those beings that were half-man, half-horse—patrolled the trees and threatened unwelcome visitors with sharp arrows; invisible winged horses trotted through shadow and you could never be sure you weren’t being watched; deadly snakes stared at you from the underbrush or tree branches. 

If you were welcome, these beings and more would act as guides. If you were not, then you were surely heading to your demise. It was a forest for the foolhardy and boastful. It was a forest that children dared each other to enter on dark nights or cloudy days. It was full of the unsightly, the dangerous, the outcasts. Those who called the forest their home were those who were only good for killing, some people claimed.

In truth, the forest was a guarded sanctuary with a kind woman at the heart of it. She had created the forest from a small glade she had stumbled into—bleeding and close to death. Her blood had soaked the earth and the earth had responded to the desperation and fear it heard. Protection had been sought and given. 

Seeds long ago taken by the earth were given life from the woman’s blood and grew tall and far. Shadows grew to hide and protect the weary human who had cried out for help as she collapsed too close to her attackers to remain safe for long without aid. 

Where once there had been fields of green grass, there were now looming trees that obscured all within their domain. Vines hung just so in order to catch any who were not welcome—who did not know the way. Wildlife flocked to the new forest that had grown in a day and thrived, safe from any hunter that might want them for a stew. 

At the heart of it all, a woman who had given her life blood to the earth for protection. She lived simply now—grateful that she lived at all after drunken ranting about the colour of her skin and her ungratefulness had escalated to deadly attacks. She walked the forests with her companion—a basilisk she had happened upon during her second day of living in the forest and healed of a deep gash caused by a shovel.

She did not wander outside of the protective trees. It was safe in the shadows and while she may not be able to change the opinions of the ignorant while within her forest, she would at least be safe from future assaults. The first visitor she had was a curious thestral touching down to investigate the forest that had not existed the last time it had flown by. 

She had greeted it kindly, not at all afraid of its skeletal appearance. She knew better than to judge by appearance alone. The thestral had flown off and she'd thought it gone forever, but it soon returned with a herd behind it. The forest was a sanctuary, and not just for her. 

The next to come were the centaurs, citing movements in the skies and the call of magic. She greeted them all and welcomed them to her forest. After the centaurs came her first human resident. A giant of a man barrelled into the trees with arrows pursuing him and jeering calls. It was the first time someone had been driven to the dark forest by hatred and blindness. It would not be the last.

The man was welcomed as all others had been and it was he who set the ideas whirring in the woman’s mind. This forest had been created as a sanctuary for her and had already accepted those who were considered abominations by some. Perhaps she could make it truly a sanctuary—for any who were cast out from their homes or unwelcome anywhere else. 

She knew she would not have hesitated to leave her previous home had she known there was a better one out there---one that accepted who she was and did not give her the most demeaning chores purely because she looked different to the others around her. The place she had lived had never truly been her home, merely a place she had been taken to when her parents had been killed by brigands. 

It would have changed her entire world to know there was a place where she would be welcomed no matter what. There hadn’t been such a place for her in her youth, but now she could provide that place for others who struggled. 

The man—who confessed he was half-giant and was called Godric several days after she had patched him up—was eager to help, as were all the others she and the forest had previously welcomed. Centaurs patrolled the outskirts and would fire back at anyone chasing a so-called freak into the forest; thestrals flew out to find those in desperate need of help and carried them back; birds flew out and spread the message of sanctuary to those who needed to hear it—acting as guides should one have need.

To outsiders of the forest, it was considered a deadly place, full of monsters and abominations, all of whom wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you stepped foot inside. There was a siren who called these freaks to her and controlled the dark powers of the forest.

To those who lived within the forest, it was a haven. A safe place to be who you were without care or worry. There was a kind woman who sent out word to any who needed it, who healed, listened, and comforted. There was a community of those who had been shunned by society and had founded their own society away from the cruel world outside. 

It was only a small part of the world, but it was theirs and forever changed. There was no hatred for each other beneath the sheltering trees. There was no fear that the breaking point would soon be reached, and one would find themselves without a home, being pursued for something they couldn’t help—for merely being themselves. 

Helga—a woman who had been chased out of her home by stones and swords—had created for herself a safe place and then opened her arms to everyone else who needed one just as she had once. There were even talks of building a castle in the centre of the forest to act as a more permanent gathering place of the residents. Rowena—shunned for her twisted spine and carried to the forest by a thestral—was already fiddling with plans for such a place.

Salazar, with his ability to talk to snakes and his otherwise mute voice, patrolled the forest with the centaurs and the serpents that had brought him to this place. All of them worked together to create and protect their home. They planned to help everyone who was like them—who stood against the world alone. 

They planned to make sure no one had to stand alone when the world came crashing down on them. And eventually, they planned on turning the world around so that there would be no need to stand against it at all. A forest now, the world later.

Chapter Text

Hogsmeade was a lively village in the daylight. It held bustling people going to and fro from shop to shop, attending to their daily needs or merely enjoying a stroll. It was a peaceful town with few complaints. Only a little while away sat the castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where young wix went to learn the beginnings of the craft of magic. The castle and its occupants were also the main providers of Hogsmeade's business.

There were three restaurant types in Hogsmeade, one joke shop, one post office, one sweet shop, and a few private residences. Other businesses had come and gone—the students at Hogwarts had little need of a private boutique or bakery and the residents were wary of new settlers (they also had no desire to share the small amount of business they got with even more competitors).

The village was picturesque and exactly the kind one would expect to see only in a fairy tale. And like every fairy tale, it had a different side not seen at first glance. Just as a beast could be a man, a beuatiful village could be a nightmare. This, of course, was a take on Hogsmeade that the residents did not endorse. The village could not possibly be more charming and was never in the least bit terrifying.

If you were a resident.

If you weren't a resident, the night brought along its herd of nightmares and overshadowed the sparkling visage the day drew over Hogsmeade. There were no secrets in the day while there were only secrets in the night. In the day, that line of footprints with no visible owner was merely someone with a disillusionment charm on them. In the night, those same footprints were the result of a thief stalking the shadows, casing buildings and potentially waiting just around the corner.

Alicia Spinnet had seen both sides of this peculiar phenomenon. She had spent her Hogwarts days happily wandering through the streets of Hogsmeade during the day and hurrying back to the castle as night fell. There were unsquashed rumours of just what kind of place Hogsmeade turned into at night and at age seventeen and younger, Alicia had no desire to be in a village with dangerous curses activated at night.

Now, as an adult who had moved into Hogsmeade with her wives, Angelina and Katie, Alicia saw the other side. The nights in Hogsmeade were only scary because everything was shrouded in a mist of darkness. There were no bright lights to ward off the fears that grew when it was impossible to see much further beyond your own toes. Every movement was made by a creature, every noise was someone preparing to attack you. Nothing was safe.

Hogsmeade was a town built with quirks and then accessorised with more quirks. There were the usual signs announcing the purpose of a business—The Three Broomsticks' sign was a marvel of broken bristles and bronze letters—and then there were also the signs announcing small tidbits of information and history. There were the decorations placed on each lamp post regardless of season. The post office had birds of all sorts flying in and out without a care—some of them deciding it was fun to randomly swoop on passers-by and cause a small amount of mayhem.

It was a village that took time to learn and consequently know. The days when Hogwarts allowed its students to leave and wander through the village were simply not enough to facilitate that process. It took Alicia, Katie, and Angelina six months of living in Hogsmeade to no longer feel apprehensive of walking through Hogsmeade at night—a time they had always believed, along with the rest of the students at Hogwarts, to be extremely cursed and potentially fatal.

Friends who came to visit would still either leave as soon as the sun looked like it might start giving way to the moon or refuse to leave the house until the next day. Even with the assurances of all three of them, not one friend would accept an offer of a walk through the streets of Hogsmeade at night—not even when Hogsmeade decided to deck itself out in festive lights and banish the darkness in the process.

It became a joke after a while. Either Angelina, Alicia, or Katie would bring up the idea of a walk after dinner knowing that the answer would be a firm no. The response was almost always a laughing 'I'm not as brave as you three', or a 'not a chance in hell am I stepping outside this house at night.' Alicia could relate. There was a time when she had been just as afraid as her friends were.

The night hid much of Hogsmeade away. Unless you were already familiar with the place, it was easy to get confused, lost, or to walk head-first into a swinging sign (something that Alicia had done many times, she was sure there was an actual dent in Zonko's sign with the number of times she had bumped into it).

And as Alicia walked down the main street of Hogsmeade with only the dim light of the street lamps to light the way, she smiled. It might not be as bright and all-revealing as the sunshine of day, but it was quiet and comforting in its shadows. Angelina was wheeling beside her as Katie clung to Alicia's back in the piggyback ride she had demanded and subsequently received.

As Angelina vented about the rude people she had encountered at work, bartending at The Three Broomsticks, Katie gave snarky remarks about their characters and livelihoods while Alicia struggled not to drop her by laughing too hard or giving in to the urge to find these people who thought making fun of someone in a wheelchair was a grand hobby and punching them right in the face—there was a reason Katie insisted on a piggyback when Angelina had had a bad day at work.

Maybe, Alicia considered, she could add some truth to the fears of young Hogwarts students and actually curse the nights at Hogsmeade. She could craft a spell that would target anyone who so much as thought of making fun of her wife.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't do it," Angelina said, breaking into Alicia's thoughts.

Alicia blinked, still dreaming of her curse. "Huh?"

Katie laughed and kissed the side of Alicia's head. "You have your scheming face on, darling, and considering the topic of conversation, we can only assume whatever you're planning wouldn't be good for people other than us."

Alicia grumbled slightly. "I don't always think about cursing people who hurt you," she said. "And I don't have a scheming face!"

"Uh-huh," Angelina said, grinning. "So you weren't just thinking about how to curse the people who annoyed me during my shift today?"

"Shut up."

With the combined power of both Angelina's and Katie's laughter, Alicia couldn't keep up her scowl for long. As she laughed with her wives, she thought maybe she'd let Hogsmeade do her work for her. After all, the town was lovely and friendly in the daytime, but terribly cursed and dangerous at night. It wouldn't do for some rude patrons of The Three Broomsticks to not realise the time and have to walk the dark streets all alone without even the help of the streetlamps (which would have mysteriously stopped working only a few moments beforehand).

Such a lovely place Hogsmeade was. Able to be one thing during the day, and the complete opposite of that at night.

Chapter Text

Percy was running and praying that he wasn't too late. He barely paid any attention to the bodies and rubble strewn across the ground of the castle he ran through, only glancing at them to make sure they weren't who he was searching for. So far, he could be glad that he hadn't recognised any of the faces now staring blankly into the distance. They were both enemies and allies, he knew, but Percy did not care.

He did not care about the fallen group of Death Eaters. He did not care about the fallen student who had to be in her fourth year or lower. Some part of him thought he should care, but he couldn't. He could care about the strangers later. Right now, he only cared about finding his family and hoping that he hadn't missed his chance to be with them again.

The Great Hall was just in front of him now and he skidded to a stop as he entered it. Bodies were spread out in rows, covered in whatever types of cloth that could be found—blankets, tablecloths, sheets, cloaks, banners. Eight people were not covered. Eight people stared at him accusingly with their dead eyes as he fell down in horror and grief. His family were all dead.

"Percy!"

Percy gasped as he woke up, shivering wildly and fighting back the urge to vomit. He was in his room. He had had a nightmare. Ron was right there with him, still holding his shoulder and sitting right where Percy could see him. The clock behind Ron showed that his family was where they each considered home and safe. They were okay.

He nodded weakly at Ron to tell him that he was on his way back now and got a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder in response. "Come out when you're ready," Ron said, smiling gently at him before moving out of the room to the kitchen.

Percy continued going through the steps he had figured out long ago. He was in his room. Ron was with him. His family was safe. Everyone was okay. The clock showed everyone was fine, there was no mortal peril. Fred was, as he always had been since the battle, making mischief, and Percy was never more grateful for that enchantment than he was during these nights.

He could hear Ron moving about in the next room; the kettle was already boiling and Percy knew that Ron was grabbing mugs and chocolate powder. Both a calming and dreamless sleep potion would also be silently offered with the drink should Percy decide he needed them. Ron's dressing gown was laying over his knees where Ron had left it, replacing it with Percy's so that Percy could surround himself with the fluffy orange Cannons robe that was so undeniably Ron.

He pulled the robe to him and hugged it tightly. After a few moments, he slipped out of the bed and wrapped the robe around him, feeling the soft material and burying himself in the remaining body heat Ron had left behind. With one last look at the clock—still home, still safe, still making mischief—Percy shuffled out of his room to join Ron.

There were two potions sitting on the kitchen bench and Percy ignored them for the moment. He went straight for the mug of hot chocolate that was sitting next to them and clutched it tightly; he didn't feel up to drinking it yet, but the warmth of the ceramic and the smell of the hot chocolate was enough to soothe him for right now.

They stood in silence like that, Percy holding his mug close to his face but not drinking and Ron leaning against the counter taking the occasional sip from his own mug. He looked tired, Percy thought with a stab of guilt. He knew the nights weren't easy for either of them and that there were times the current scene was reversed, but it didn't make him feel any better for disturbing what little sleep his younger brother got.

Ron nudged him with his shoulder, bringing him out of the thoughts he inevitably spiralled into, and nodded at the mug Percy was grasping tightly. "You gonna drink that or what?" he asked in a way that said Ron knew Percy had veered too far and was bringing him back.

Percy grinned as best he could and responded, "I wasn't sure if it was safe to drink."

Ron sniffed in indignation. "I'll have you know that my hot chocolate has been through the most rigorous testing and deemed the best in the world. By Teddy and Victorie."

"Such high praise, I'm honoured you'd share it with me," Percy responded, letting the faux argument settle him even more.

"As you should be," Ron said. "I don't make it for just anyone, you know."

And Percy did know. Even through the mocking and snobbishness, Percy knew that only family was allowed Ron's hot chocolate. It had started when Ginny had had a nightmare while Dad had been working late and Mum had gotten a severe cold. There had been no parent to help Ginny and she had turned to Ron in tears, so Ron had very determinedly and carefully used the small step stool Mum kept around to reach the kitchen counter and prepared the only thing he had known how to make—hot chocolate.

Percy had come downstairs to see what was making the noise in the kitchen and found Ginny clinging to Ron's dressing gown as Ron tried to pour boiling water from the kettle into a mug, his tongue stuck out in concentration (he had then firmly refused Percy's offer of help and insisted that he could look after his sister just fine, he didn't need his brothers to always help him). Since then, Ron had taken on the role of Hot Chocolate Maker whenever someone was up in the middle of the night for whatever reason.

Bill had tried to take over the role once when Percy had been stressing about his first year at Hogwarts and Ron was utterly exhausted from playing Quidditch all day in the back yard. It hadn't been the same, even though Bill had made it with the same things Ron used. Percy and Bill had used that fact as a distraction from attending Hogwarts and had come to the conclusion that Ron's hot chocolate was infinitely better because it came with an earnest stare and a belief that the receiver would feel just fine if they only drank their hot chocolate.

When Ron had found out that Bill had taken over his job for a night, he had been furious and made a rule that he was the only one who could make comfort hot chocolate. Given their conclusion from the night before, Bill and Percy had happily accepted the rule and the rest of the family had mostly just followed their lead.

Even now, when Ron was an adult and had completely lost the innocence he'd had as a child, his hot chocolate was accompanied by a steady belief that the drink could fix just about anything. And he was right, Percy knew. He would continue to be right so long as he still believed that, because it was his utter certainty in the healing properties of his creation that infused those properties into it.

When his cup was eventually empty, Percy pushed off the counter and away from the comforting warmth of his brother to put it in the sink. It had, as it always did, performed its task perfectly and there was barely a whisper of the nightmare Percy had had left.

"Night, Perce," Ron said softly.

Percy smiled gratefully at him. "Night, Ron."

Still wearing Ron's fluffy robe, he made his way back to his room, leaving two full potion bottles sitting untouched on the kitchen counter.

Chapter Text

In all his ten thousand years of waiting, Harry had never expected to find Blaise dangling a young girl out of a window on the university campus. Blaise had promised him, on that cliffside so many years ago, that they would meet again and now here he was, ducking out of sight even as the girl fell the short distance to the ground. She was laughing, so Harry assumed she was alright, but it didn't stop him from approaching her to double check.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he offered a hand to help her up.

She smiled at him, dusting herself off and readjusting the purple beret she wore. "Oh yes, I've always liked flying."

A quiet meow caught Harry's attention and he had to slam his hypothetical mask on when he looked down to see the familiar form of Neville. The last time Harry had seen Neville was ten thousand years ago, with the cat Durmstrang sticking as close to Blaise's side as Harry did himself. If there had been any doubt that the face he'd seen in the window was Blaise's, that doubt was gone now.

He crouched down and offered Neville his hand, smiling when Neville deemed him worthy to bestow pats on his being. Another hand joined his on Neville's back and Harry had to stop himself from both launching forward to hug, kiss, or merely cling as tightly as he could to Blaise and Apparating as far as he could get because he had waited ten thousand years and wasn't even slightly prepared to see this man again.

"He's remarkably well behaved today," Blaise was saying. "Normally, he'd be putting up a huge fuss. You must be magic."

The smile aimed at Harry was so familiar and yet so foreign. There was no recognition in those eyes. Even Neville, accepting as he was, was acting as though he didn't actually know Harry. But then there was the teasing jab at Harry being magic, something which Blaise knew (or had known) very well Harry was. Harry wasn't even a normal Hogwartsian, he was the blasted Saviour of Hogwarts because he had fought the Rebels who had wanted to claim Hogwarts and Muggle for Hogwartsians only.

Harry ducked his head and stood up, removing himself from Neville's comforting presence and hoping that the professor mask he had taught his face to make was as effective as the mask he had worn into battle to hide his emotions. Blaise stood up with him and offered him a business card.

"Blaise Zabini, Chief of the Unspeakable Division. Were you around the campus last night?"

Harry took the card with hands that were thankfully steady. "No, I was… Home. Grading."

Technically he wasn't lying. He had been home, that home just happened to be Hogwarts—the world that lived under Muggle and considered a myth by most Muggles. And he had been grading, after a fashion; he'd been assessing the protections and barrier around the pillar that held the spirit of the Rebels Leader, making sure that the man inside couldn't break free and cause chaos.

"Did something happen?"

Blaise nodded. "There was an attack last night. Padma Patil was walking from the library when she was attacked. We wouldn't even be involved except she said the attacker kept asking about 'the Cup' and we like to keep an eye on mysterious artifacts that might cause innocent people to be jumped."

Harry wanted to close his eyes and curse. Of course the Founders Tools would resurface when he was down in Hogwarts. Parvati Patil, Padma's sister, was in one of his classes and he wondered if he could use that as an excuse to check in with them and see what else Padma remembered about her attacker. If the Founders Tools landed in the wrong hands, it could possibly lead to another long war that he'd be forced to participate in.

The ringing of a phone pulled Blaise away as he answered it and Harry took his opportunity to leave, smiling in farewell to Blaise, Neville, and the blonde girl he hadn't gotten the name of. He needed to investigate this himself and make sure Hufflepuff's Cup—for that was undoubtably the cup Padma's attacker had been after—wouldn't end up in the hands of someone who would use it for evil. As they always seemed to do, their duties pulled Harry and Blaise apart once more.

Chapter Text

The castle was shining in the setting sun, the stones it was made from glowing their signature redness in the dimming light. Helga swooped closer and smiled at the sight of her home beckoning her closer. She had built this; with the family she had found and claimed, she had built a sanctuary that would stand for many, many years. It was a wondrous thing to call her own and protect, and it was only highlighted by the people within.

With one more powerful beat of her wings, Helga glided down to land on the highest tower and shifted smoothly to her smaller, human, form. As ever, she felt slightly squished during the transition and missed her scales and wings. She had grown used to her two forms at this point after a hundred or so years of practice and both had their benefits and downsides. She wouldn't trade either of them away for anything, however, not even a whole garden of herbs to add to her collection (or hoard, as her Salazar called it).

Rowena was waiting for her when she landed. She was sitting in the large chair covered in pillows and blankets they kept up here for when they wanted to appreciate the view or when someone was waiting for Helga's return. She took many trips out over the surrounding forest and the nearby hamlet, keeping watch over her home to make sure it remained safe. Rowena held out a steaming cup to her and she accepted it gratefully. A perk of the human form was definitely the variety of food and drink available and Rowena always knew what drink she needed at any time.

"All calm?" Rowena asked as Helga settled down next to her.

Helga sipped her honeyed orange and ginger tea and nodded. "All calm, no storms on the horizon to be seen."

"A good thing," Rowena commented. "I would not like to weather a storm just now."

"Any storm that would threaten this place and bring danger to my family would not live long enough to see their destination," Helga said, feeling her ire rise at the very notion of an attack.

"Calm, my dear," Rowena soothed. "No storms on the horizon, remember?"

Helga drank her tea and focused on the calm it brought her. "No storms yet," she corrected. "I am sure they will come in time. No sanctuary is safe and hidden for all time."

"And you will be here when clouds darken our skies, my love," assured a new voice. Helga felt the tension that appeared in her body every time she was away from her heart release at the sound of it. Salazar stood behind the two of them and rested his hands on Helga's shoulders, dropping a kiss on her head. "Welcome back. Godric's been in the kitchen cooking frantically while you were gone. Something about needing to prove himself?"

Helga laughed. "Good. He insists he be allowed to aid me in providing meals for us. This is his test."

Salazar made his way around the chair and held out his hands to both of them. "Then shall we go judge his performance and put him out of his misery?"

Rowena and Helga gladly accepted the offered hands and lifted themselves out of the fabric nest that was their resting place. As one, the three made their way down the long set of stairs from the highest tower to the ground floor where the dining hall was—with some stairs shortening themselves to speed up the descent.

Surrounded by the stones of her creation and two of her family members close by, Helga felt extremely comfortable and relaxed. Her mother, Jaz'meen, had often extolled the wonders of having your own collection to settle the soul. She dragged her hand along the closest wall, extending her claws a little to heighten the connection between her and her collection. Recognising the grounding behaviour, both Rowena and Salazar initiated physical contact as well—Salazar by tucking his arm into her free one and Rowena by jumping onto her back and clinging on (a perhaps odd position, but one familiar with them and Helga was more than strong enough to carry adult humans).

It was in this array they arrived at the dining hall to see Godric frantically setting the table with various dishes. He looked up at their entry and grinned. "Just on time!" he exclaimed happily. With a bow, he gestured them to the table. "Be seated, my friends, and delight in my creations."

"We will see how much delight we get soon, Godric," Helga said.

Godric gave her a confident wink. "While it may not be quite as good as your cooking, my friend, it will certainly be a close second."

"Yes, yes, Godric. Let us just eat and you can receive your feedback afterwards. The kitchen may yet become a shared domain between you two," Salazar said dryly.

Helga dropped Rowena off next to her chair and moved to her own. Before settling, she picked up Salazar's hand and placed a kiss on the back of it, right where the shape of one of her golden scales shimmered as a sign of their bond. His presence was a blessing to her life and she hoped there would never come a moment when time would pull them apart.

In front of her now was a feast prepared by one of her dearest friends, for the other people she held tightly in her heart. All of them were sheltered in a strong fortress of beautiful stone they had created together. Outside but still protected were her gardens, her plants that she tended to carefully as they were precious to her.

She was surrounded on all sides by things precious to her and she knew they were safe with her watching over them. There were no storms on the horizon, her heart and her collection were protected. As long as they lived, so too, would she. Across from her, Godric piled a plate high with his offerings and handed it over to her, clearly waiting for her judgement on his performance. With great solemnity, Helga took a single bite of the food presented to her, aware that she was being closely watched.

She smiled. "You are welcome in my kitchen at any time, Godric."

Chapter Text

Helga stood above the main hall of the House and waited for the inevitable sound of a person displacing air with their arrival. It was now a common occurrence in this House for that sound to echo through the halls and it was her mission to keep the echoing to a minimum. The timing was irregular, and she had now spent many days posted up on the balcony she claimed as her own looking over the entrance point.

A shimmer in the air suggested an appearance was imminent. Helga straightened a little from where she was leaning on the banister and pulled her magic towards her. As the form of her dearest friend came into being, she sent her magic outwards to envelop him and hide his return. Salazar's shoulders were slumped in disappointment and Helga felt her heart go out for him even as she wished he would give up.

He looked up at her, knowing she would be there—as she always was. His footsteps were silent thanks to her magic as he made his way to his room. Helga joined him, jumping over the banister and landing softly on the floor below. Easily, instinctively, his hand found hers and squeezed it in comfort. He knew how much she hated his desires, and she knew he couldn't let them go.

"How did you fare?" she asked him as they walked.

He sighed and cracked his neck to relieve some stress. "A little farther, the pillars are still building themselves as I destroy them. There is no escape for us as yet."

"An escape is not required; the world continues to run without us there to look after it."

"And yet, my dear, I still feel the fear of our people resonating in my bones."

"This House still stands," Helga said, as she often did. "It is our people who hold it up. It is them who create the pillars you so fiercely destroy every day. If they are as afeared as you feel, would these pillars continue to hold firm against you?"

As ever, Salazar had no answer, for there was no answer that could be granted with the limited information they had. Further conversation was halted by the arrival of Rowena who appeared out of the dining room with a goblet in her hand.

"My dears," she greeted. "How fare you this fine evening?"

"As we always fare, Rowena," Helga said. "There is no change in this place as you well know."

"Change in the place, perhaps not. However there is always change in people. Do you not agree, Salazar?"

"Humans are, as ever, the greatest question in this universe. Even for those who are no longer on the same plane as them. I am certain you are as intrigued as you always were," Salazar returned.

"Indeed," Rowena said calmly. She tipped her goblet in their direction with a smile. "I'm sure my interest is far less than yours, though. Have a good night."

She walked away and Helga and Salazar both felt some tension leave their bodies—though Rowena's final words did not help with that process. It seemed likely that Salazar's constant attempts to batter his way out of their locked home were known by at least one of their companions. While not forbidden by any means—nothing was truly forbidden in this House—it would be looked upon with disapproval by the other occupants of their home.

The stability of where they stayed was due to their work and that of the ones they left behind—the same ones that Salazar was desperate to return to in order to aid them. Helga did not share his hunch they were in danger, though she had never been as connected to those outside of her sphere as he, but she was always ready to support him in his endeavours. As much as she didn't understand, as much as she wished he would stop hurling himself against indestructible walls and causing harm, she loved him for his efforts just as much. Still, it hurt to keep secrets from their friends despite knowing that it was the only way to keep peace in the House.

They arrived at the door to Salazar's room and she turned to face him. "Rest well, my love. You'll need your strength if you continue your campaign."

Salazar leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "As ever, I will continue to fight for our people until I know they are safe. Your efforts to keep me protected on my journey are forever appreciated and I apologise for the pain that I know I cause you."

"My current pain is nothing compared to that which I know I would feel if your heart were to lose its drive. Though I wish you would stop, I also wish for you to succeed. The duality of humans, my love, it is a remarkable thing."

"If I could relieve you of your conflict, I would."

Helga smiled at him, placing her hand on the side of his face. "You are enough for me, in whatever form you come in. Now, go rest; those pillars may build themselves, but they will not tear themselves down."

She patted his face and then turned away to her own room. Every time she left him, she wondered if it would be the last time she would see him. He often left as soon as he woke and never said goodbye as he continued his crusade. Every day, Helga would stand on her balcony and wonder when or if Salazar would return to her.

He would often tell her of his progress, and he would be excited whenever he progressed farther than he had the previous attempt. There would also be times, like today, where he would refrain from explicit details, knowing that to hear tales of his exploits would be more than she could handle on that day.

Upon reaching her room, she entered and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she let herself sag now that she no longer had to keep up appearances for those she encountered outside of these walls. What she had told Salazar was true—the pain was worth it, and she did not desire to lock Salazar down further—but pain was exhausting, and she was tired.

With a sigh, Helga pushed off her door and went to curl up in her bed. She would need her energy for the next run just as Salazar would.

Chapter Text

The library was quiet, and Arthur found himself in it more and more in the recent days. Ever since the night he and some other Gryffindors had sat up playing games and drinking smuggled alcohol, he had noticed an unwelcome increase in interest from a girl. Arthur had been avoiding her ever since she'd cornered him in a corridor and suggested there be something between them. While Molly Prewitt was a fine girl, she was not at all someone Arthur had an interest in.

Arthur had zero interest in a relationship right now; he would much prefer to spend his time with his experiments and reading up on the runes he could use to progress his theories. Molly was far more interested in settling down and starting a family right after Hogwarts—she had already informed Arthur of 'their' life plan that she had imagined up for them.

Fortunately, Molly tended not to visit the library as it limited her ability to chatter on about nothing as she liked to do. The library had become his sanctuary even more than it had previously been; its status had risen from that of the most wondrous place that held the answers to all his questions to a haven above all other havens. A familiar figure plonked itself down across from him on the window seat and Arthur looked up from his book.

Xenophilius held out an apple turnover to him that he had clearly just fetched from the kitchens. "Still hiding?" Xeno asked.

Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed the turnover from his friend. "I will be hiding until there is nothing more to hide from."

"You know, you could just tell her no."

"Tried that," Arthur said, his mouth already full of apple turnover. He swallowed and continued. "She said I just didn't know my own heart yet and she'd show me the way to it, whatever that means."

Xeno whistled softly. "Well she sounds completely rational. I'll bring you food for as long as you need."

"Appreciate it, Xeno. Hopefully she'll move on from me soon enough."

"Hey, I know you. She's barking up the completely wrong tree." Xenophilius noticed that Arthur had finished the apple turnover and tossed another pastry at him. "And if you ever need a reason she'll accept, you know I'm always here."

Arthur chuckled and toasted Xeno with his new turnover. "Why thank you, my friend. Though won't Pandora be upset about you making such a splash like that?"

Xeno laughed. "Please, you know Pandora. She'd be all for it and would probably help make the splash bigger."

"If I wanted a relationship, I couldn't ask for a better one than one with you and Pandora," Arthur said, reflecting on how much he loved his friends and their unconditional acceptance of him.

All three of them were slightly odd according to the rest of Hogwarts, and they had gradually drifted together during their years here. In fourth year, they had truly cemented their friendship together and had become each other's closest companions. Their friendship was what Arthur wanted for his life, far more than the life Molly Prewitt had dreamed up.

Arthur wasn't sure what was happening to him. For the past few days, all he'd been able to think about was Molly and her beautiful eyes. Her dreams were so beautiful as well, and he wanted nothing more than to help her fulfil them. He remembered thinking her silly and annoying but could not possibly understand why he thought that now. What was friendship compared to the love that Molly offered him? What possible reason could he have to spurn the chance to settle down with the most beautiful woman in the world?

He sat under a tree on the grounds now, staring at Molly surrounded by her friends, laughing her perfect laugh. He could go over there, he knew, but he wanted to spend this time reflecting on his love for Molly and the life they would have together. She had it all planned out and it was perfect—just like everything else about her.

"Hey Art," Pandora said, plopping herself down next to him. "What'cha doing?"

"Dreaming," Arthur responded. "Isn't she just so perfect?"

Pandora followed his gaze. Wrinkling her nose, she asked, "Who, Molly Prewitt?"

"Yeah," Arthur sighed dreamily. "I'm going to marry her."

"Arthur," Pandora said sternly. "That girl has been throwing herself at you for weeks and you've been avoiding her like the plague. The whole time I've known you, you've said that romance means absolutely nothing to you. Experiments are more interesting than people, according to you."

Arthur waved his hand at her distractedly. "Who cares about my experiments anymore? Molly says they're stupid and worthless. I've stopped working on them for her."

"You've gone from wanting to merge Muggle inventions and magic together to allow Muggleborns to be more comfortable here, to wanting to marry an annoying girl who stifles your creativity?" Pandora asked incredulously.

Arthur whipped his head around to glare at her. "Don't you dare talk about Molly that way. She is perfect in every way and if I have to change myself to be perfect for her, then I will. Happily. There is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for that goddess. Yes, previously, the very thought of marriage involving myself was anathema to me. Now, with her, it is everything I could ever want."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Pandora looked very concerned, and Arthur couldn't work out why for the life of him. "You're positive you don't want the nurse to give you a look over?"

"Of course I'm fine," Arthur said. "I'm in love. You know what that's like; you know that when you're in love, there's nothing that can make you feel bad. Love may be a disease, but it's a disease I want."

Pandora sighed. "I'm just not sure you contracted this disease naturally, is all. Xeno and I are worried for you, that's all."

Arthur sighed as well. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this—that his friends could just be happy for him—but just as Molly had said, they couldn't accept his relationship with her. He had to let them go.

"I think it's best you and Xenophilius stop caring about me if you can't care about Molly as well. Until you can accept me being with Molly, we are not friends."

With that said, Arthur got up from the grass under the tree—the tree where he, Pandora, and Xeno had spent so many afternoons together—and left Pandora there. He moved away from his old life and almost skipped his way over to his new one—to Molly.

Chapter Text

The wind was whistling through the cracks in the stone, joined by the rising and falling notes of a melancholy flute. The building was old and crumbling down but it was stable. There were loose stones occasionally falling down from their positions on the walls, though the floor was only lightly scattered with their remains. Outside, trees were swaying in sunlight, casting heavy shadows on the grass beneath them.

Inside the majestic stone building was a single person. Sitting alone with patches of sunlight providing light and warmth, the figure was perched on a fallen stone with a flute raised to their lips. Both figures—one of stone and one of flesh—shared the similarities of falling apart but having a spine of steel holding them up.

The music ended and the wind took over completely, creating its own music as it raced through each crevice. In the waning sunlight, Herra sat and remembered the past. This building was her home and had been for a long time, but it had also been home to other people once. The halls had been filled with more than the sound of her flute and the wind. There had been laughter and dancing and life.

Now most of her tunes were lonely. There was no laughter. There was no dancing. There was no life.

Even she could not truly be called life as she inhabited this place of memory. Death had abandoned her long ago and there was no life without death. She was not living, she was merely continuing.

With a quiet exhale, Herra stood up. She replaced her flute by the annex's door and made her way outside; as it always did, the door got stuck on rusted hinges and released a shriek that was not in harmony with the wind's song. The annex was merely a small part of her home and the place she spent most of her time. She rarely visited the larger structure attached, but perhaps today was a day for reminiscing and dreaming.

The grass was warm against her bare feet, a welcome change from the cold stone inside. Herra paused for just a moment to soak in the warmth and solace the outdoors provided. Even here there were memories of brighter days where there was more than just her in this place. Many nights around a large fire had been held together here.

They could happen again, if Herra let them. If Herra opened her heart and home once again, she could feel the warmth of friendship and family once more. Every moment of every day and every night, she thought about it. And every moment she stopped herself from thinking about it further. There were only so many times she could say goodbye before she broke irrevocably and she was wary of reaching that point.

Shifting away from those thoughts for the moment, Herra continued on her way to the larger stone building. These doors did not have rusted hinges—Herra would not allow them to rust away. They swung open easily despite the large size and heavy weight of the wood. Inside there was no evidence of the wear and tear from age that showed in the annex.

The wide welcome rug was in perfect form with no frayed edges or tattered holes. Banners still hung from the walls, dust-free. As Herra stepped in, the enchantments built into the stone came to life and flames flickered in the sconces, lighting the room up along with the sun coming from the high windows.

Ghosts walked these halls only in Herra's memories. The main hallway looked like it was just waiting for the next group of people to walk in and start living. When Herra walked along, she could hear echoes of laughter carried by the wind singing outside, she could see familiar figures out of the corner of her eye. The yellow dress of her dear Mela flickered in a doorway and made her heart ache with memories.

Mela would be disappointed in her now, she had begged Herra to promise her she wouldn't stay alone once everyone was gone. The pain from losing Mela and everyone else was still sharp and present, but perhaps soon, Herra could let it go just enough to try again. Perhaps, Herra could find a family again. Perhaps, Herra could harmonise with more than wind.

She reached the Great Hall and felt her heart fill with emotion at the sight of the tables sitting ready for meals. She longed for laughter to fill this space again. The raised stage off to one side was there for music, for the bardic inclined to play their songs and give everyone else the chance to dance.

Perhaps it could be time to start trying. With a flick of her wrist, Herra called her flute to her and raised it to her lips again. As she made her way to the stage, she played. She started slow, matching her pace as she walked. She was hesitant to take this step but also eager. She'd been alone for too long and she didn't want to be alone anymore.

As she stepped up to the stage, she changed her tempo—making it lighter, brighter, and more energetic. The beginning stage of starting a new life, full of hope for the future. Once on the stage proper, Herra kicked her feet up and started dancing as she played. She remembered the people she'd played with before and imagined the people she would play with in the future.

The future would come and she would be ready for it. It was time to put Herra away and bring a new Herra to light; Herra was merely the latest name in a string of different ones, of different people. A new name helped her put the ghosts of the past away and let in the new people who would, in time, become more ghosts.

Dancing across the stage, letting the flute music wrap around her, she let herself give in to the temptation of welcoming people back into her life. She manipulated the notes of her music to reflect the future she hoped for. The music was entirely different to that she had played before. She had been lonely then, and while she was lonely still, she would not be for long. She would fulfil her promise to Mela.

As the final note from her flute drifted off to silence, Herra felt the new name settle over her just as peace did. Helga. She would be Helga for this new life.