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Chapter Text

Harry mutters a curse under his breath as yet another rock is added to the collection of pebbles digging into his heel. He leans against one of the bigger boulders and nudges his boots off for what feels like the millionth time since he started his trek. He narrows his eyes at the ragged stones tumbling into his palm from his overturned boots — rolling them as he snapped his gaze to the path where he thoroughly blasted away the gravel from the jagged, steep hill — trying to understand the bloody irritating impossibility of it all. His trousers are even over his boots for fuck's sake. 

His eyes widen in realization, “I’m going to smash these into his face,” snarling out with gritted teeth, “going to hex his balls off and — and of all the blasted magic in the world, it’s this he chooses to keep people away!” 

He casts a numbing spell on his feet, blisters already forming and stinging, and marches along with a determined fervor.

Once reaching the top, he lets out a delighted whoop at the lack of sharp, pointy rocks. 

Misty fog and a field of indigo flowers with tall thin stems fill his view — a cool gust blows through causing them to undulate like purple-stained waves. Musing over whether this is nature’s beauty or a disgusting trick to trick him distracts Harry for a moment before he peers past them towards the derelict stone cottage a few yards away. 

He pushes his scarf over his nose and snugs his wool hat past his ears to counter the increasing chill and circles the cottage from a distance, spotting a window in a side wall with some light shining through. 

Not wanting to risk passing through the field — it can’t just be pretty, right — he bounces a few of the bigger rocks that were nestled in his foot and winds back to chuck it at the window with a shout, “Hey prat! You better have some tea and a foot rub waiting for me!” The shattering of glass is accompanied by a muffled squawk. 

The door slams open as Remus Lupin pops out in what looks like sleepwear — Harry grins in smug satisfaction for disrupting his slumber and for causing what looks like a nice sized red welt forming on his cheek. 

Wand at the ready, Remus catches Harry standing on one foot with a boot in his hand, “Who the hell might you be? Why are you here?” 

Harry raises his arms in a soothing gesture, “Hard to miss, you’re practically welcoming strays to stroll into your front lawn,” Remus scoffs, “Right… um was in the area and just wanted to check out what could be waiting up here, especially after all that fuss in repelling magic — someone this isolated must have rare company so, hullo” Harry placates trying to pull on whatever charm he has. He wants Remus to calm down before he proceeds to ruin everything he believes in. 

“The isolation is to deter visitors, not welcome them.” The other wizard counters dryly. 

“Well, now I know.” Harry mumbles and hurries to add, “I just was very interested in getting up here and I’m known for my stubbornness if nothing else. What treasures could be awaiting me, you know?” exaggerating a mystic tone. 

An incredulous scarred face and a raised eyebrow answers that, and Harry harrumphs waving a boot at the field between them, “Could you call off your freaky, dancing flowers? I think my feet are bleeding — yeah, definitely bleeding and I’ve spent far too long standing in the cold in what I’m now realizing was an ill-conceived venture,” shivering for good measure with wide pleading eyes. Remus was always a kind person he can’t have changed much. 

Remus furrows his brows, “The wind makes them do that…” speaking slowly as if explaining to a child, he eyes Harry over and grimaces at the small red spots on his exposed sock, “People usually give up on the path, but, I suppose I can patch you up before you leave,” murmuring pointedly and waves him over with a wary expression.

Adjusting his glasses, Harry shrugs and walks over with an exaggerated limp. “Sorry about the window and the face,” he lies easily, “the hike up put me in a sour mood.” 

Remus snorts rubbing at his cheek, “Learned that spell from some old mates. Used to drive me mad when I had to stop between classes to clean out my shoes,” he sighs a bit wistfully. He stands by the door as Harry waddles through, still not relaxed enough to turn his back to him. 

Harry crashes down on the first chair he sees and hooks another with an ankle closer to rest his legs on them. He looks around with a hum enjoying how much warmer it is inside. Books line a fair amount of the walls, a small kitchen holds just enough dishes for one, and a fire’s crackling in the corner. The furniture he does have looks sturdy with some holes or scratches but varying patterned sheets cover most of them giving it an eclectic look. The bed is covered in warm fluffy blankets and a fair number of pillows. He pinches the table cloth beside him, he supposes Remus can afford some small comforts with magic to help. He notes the lack of photos. 

“Cozy little hut you’ve got here,” Harry mutters glancing over at the other wizard who’s fiddling with some bandages by his kitchenette, laying them over a bowl of some liquid. Remus ignores the comment and casually asks, “Do you not have your wand on you?” giving a not-so-subtle look at Harry’s coat full of pockets.

Harry pats his side and takes it out slowly and places it on the table as a gesture of goodwill, “Nah, I’m just pants at healing spells. Never could manage how delicate it is, I’m more of a brute force sort of wizard,” he shares. Remus rolls his eyes and flicks a Reparo towards the shattered window as he walks by. He sits down on the floor beside him and banishes Harry’s socks. Harry ignores the scratches that mar his feet, “Foot rub?” He implores lightly.  

This close he can see the difference the coming years will do to him. Remus's hair isn’t as grayed and lifeless, instead, its a golden brown and thicker with a slight wave that frames his much warmer skin. Still young enough to bounce back from the transformation. He caught him between the lunar cycles so he’s not as pale and — and he looks good not spending as long on his own as the one he knew. His eyes still have some fight in them, they’re hazel and lacking the resignation he’s familiar with, the circles around them not as dark. He pushes aside the feelings bubbling up, blinking away the burning he can feel in his eyes. He focuses instead on wiggling his scratched-up toes towards Moony and raising his eyebrows expectantly. 

Remus gently, but firmly, pushes his foot back to the chair with a flat look. He starts muttering a healing spell that also wears off the numbing on them and Harry hisses in a breath — merlin’s balls that stings. Remus continues to heal his foot up, ignoring Harry’s pain and cleaning along with it. When he’s done, he pokes at the pink healed flesh with his wand gaining a flinch, “Might be tender for a day or two,” he pulls at the bandages beside him, Harry notices they’ve been soaked in some Murtlap Essence, “these should soothe it for now. I don’t have any other potions on me to speed up the process.” He informs as he wraps them up tightly. 

Harry sighs fingering the bandages, “Thanks, Remus, you put mediwizards to shame.” Remus jumps to his feet at that startling a squeak out of Harry. Wand pointed at his face, Remus clenches his jaw and says, “I didn’t tell you my name.”

Bollocks. 

Harry kind of hoped Remus would’ve recognized him by now or at least question it. He knows only his eyes are showing but — come on — everyone says they’re a perfect replica to his mums. “We’ve, uh, met before,” Harry starts, “You probably didn’t recognize my handsome face under all this,” gesturing towards his scarf and hat. 

“I’m sure,” Remus sneers with a disbelieving, mocking tone. The expression doesn’t fit him right. This younger Remus seems jumpier and quicker to doubt, “Go on then. Let’s see it.” 

Harry quickly pulls them off. Hearing Remus chokes out a gasp as he takes him in. His hair has to look crazy but he thinks it’ll add to the resemblance. The werewolf’s face contorts between anguish and confusion, eyes scanning all over,  hands shaking slightly, then he remembers what Harry said and his grip tightens again, “We’ve never met. I-I don’t know why you look like them but — but I would’ve remembered. I’ve never seen you before.”

Harry had mulled over the words to explain to Remus for a while now but he ends up blurting out, “Time travel can explain that,” gesturing a palm by his legs as he rushes to continue, “you’ve met little old me about this high? It’s me, Harry Potter. It-It’s nice to see you again, Moony,” not hiding the fondness in his voice. A small tremulous smile forms on his face.

A shaky breath passes his lips, he’s been relying on false bravado since he got to this time, “I could really use your help.” 

* * *

Darkness envelops around him. He doesn’t think there’s anything else. He doesn’t necessarily feel much. He… he just is. He wonders if there’s more to the Blackness. Change is what you want? whispers the Void.

No, no he denies. This seems nice. He feels the relief of a deep breath but — but without the air. Just nothing. So dull. It’s been so long since he’s felt dull.

A quick, staccato rattle echoes throughout. Almost like sand cascading down leaves of a tree. And what of the others? A smile is evident in the voice echoing around him. He didn’t know the Shadow could be amused.

Others? Longing fills him. Almost crushing him in the realization. Nothing else comes to him but the feeling, but then the Nothing soothes him with impressions. Brief glimpses and flashes of mirth-filled eyes, voices angelic in how calm and reassuring they are, the warmth of long embraces, and the faintest scent of vanilla and spices wafting from the clinking of bottles. 

Of course. Of course, he knows them. The happiness vibrates through him, but then the glimpses warp reeling forward to — fighting with streaks of lights and explosions from wands, the scent of blood sharp and familiar, those charming looks morphing to faces that anguish with mourning. He remembers the struggle afterward, the constant need to feel again to recapture those nicer more pleasant feelings. He never could.

He doesn’t want to remember grief. No, no please go back. Back to the nothing he doesn’t want this. Anything but this. He begs, writhing, reaching towards the Darkness trying to grasp at anything to make it stop. 

The flashes of loving smiles and rich laughter come back. But he thinks it cruel. It’s worse. He knows he won’t have that. He’s drowning in how much he wants it. The dark shifts and curls around tighter. Rescuing him from submerging. And if you could have it back? Would you want it? It rustles around him and he feels a hint of cool gentleness envelop him.

Yes. Yes, he smothers himself by embracing back. The yearning rushing out of him. The Emptiness accepts it all without a change, giving him what he needs.

Anything for you.

A loud groan escapes from Harry as he rubs his head against the cool surface beneath him. Awareness flitting back with the force of a sledgehammer.  Bloody hell, is his head pounding. I’m never drinking again. He doesn’t even remember the last time he did but why else would he wake up like this. He shifts some more and yelps when something sharp and gritty scratches at his cheek. Why is his pillow hurting him, he whines at the betrayal. He hears some disapproving tutting at a distance and the sounds of hurried stomps thunder into his skull.

He quickly opens his eyes to search for the herd of judgmental trolls that somehow ended up in his room. Except all he sees is a bright yellow light and the groaning starts again. He moves away from the light, doing his best to ignore the pain, and peels open an eye slowly. 

He blinks. Then blinks again, but the crowd of legs attached to well-dressed people walking past him down an open street blanketed doesn’t disappear. As his sight adjusts, he sees the light that blinded him wasn’t the sun but emitting from a shop window. Okay, so this isn’t my room. He looks around some more, locking eyes with a few people who grimace away in disgust. Ouch. He assumes he looks as awful as he feels if not even one look is sympathizing. Or recognizing, he must be in muggle London. 

Steadying his palms on the floor, he pushes himself off the ground which he now sees to be litter-filled. He swats at the bottle cap that adhered to his face, sits and leans his back against the wall further into the alley to hide and starts assessing. 

What the hell? 

His shirt is tattered, singed in crosses across his chest and arms. Harry’s brows crease together, It’s like someone whipped him with fire. Oh, shit. He remembers the wizard he was supposed to apprehend had got the jump on him with a long whip of fire sported on the guy’s wand. He doesn’t remember much else. He pokes at the exposed skin beneath his shirt and, strangely enough, the skins unscathed with not a single burn. 

Harry wonders if he apparated away as soon as it reached him and screwed up the distance in his rush. 

Some pats on his person net him his pouch which he always keeps light with a few galleons, a coat and a quill with parchment. His lips tighten in panic as he notices his wand missing. Damn, fire-wielding wanker.

Letting out a gust of breath, Harry stands up. Wavering slightly, his head throbs in complaint reminding him that it’s still splitting apart. He recognizes the street he’s on and know’s the leaky cauldron isn’t far off. It’s late so he’ll have to trust that his partner dealt with the guy and got his wand. He could floo back home, firecall his boss and others to prove he’s alive, and sleep the headache away if he can. 

Wrapping his coat around him he heads off. Ignoring the wide-eyed stares he’s getting from his appearance. He can feel the grime on his face when his face scrunches. 

The Leaky seems not so busy today, Tom’s not even manning the counter.  Sighing in relief at no one catching him like this he walks straight towards the floo. Hand reaching for the bag of soot on the mantle, Harry pauses when the Daily Prophet stacked on the side catches his eye. 

5th Anniversary of the Dark Lords Defeat! Minister Acquits Herself With A Declaration to Party! Reads the headline. Picture of Minister Millicent Bagnold smugly waving midst the ICW. Harry stares at it for a long moment trying to make sense of it. Has to be an older copy. Has to be. 

“Ridiculous isn’t it?” comments a seated wizard nearby, “I still remember that night. Not a care in the world for what the muggles might see as we celebrated. The dark lord is dead!” He finishes with a wistful sing-song. 

“Huh?” Harry eloquently replies. 

“You look like you got enough of the festivities,” the man chuckles, “Five long years and still barely believe it myself. The war is good and over.” Shaking his head and going back to his meal.

Harry ignores the man. Has to be off his rocker. Has to be. 

“Yer holding up my floo! Get outta line if you ain’t got a place to go” hollers Tom from the direction of the bar. Harry looks over his shoulder and notices a line of one person. Rolling his eyes, he faces Tom to reply. “Hardly a line-” his voice peters off when he sees Tom. Tom who isn’t hunchbacked or bald. Tom with a head full of hair, actual hair that’s black and large furry mutton chops that frame the much younger face and that’s giving him an impatient look. 

Has to be a distant relative. Has to be — but he recognized his voice. And he vaguely recognizes those mutton chops. He stumbles back, letting an older witch pass by him who barely grants him a look as she floos out. 

Leaning against the wall Harry tries to gather the breath that was knocked out of him. His vision falters and narrows as darkness slowly encroaches and he remembers. He remembers that blackness and that voice that promised him — no, no this wasn’t what I wanted. 

He hears a faint rattling before a heavy pat on his shoulder shocks him out of it and he inhales, large and shuddering. 

More sympathetic eyes then earlier come into view. “You do got a place to go, don’t ya?” Tom mutters. 

“I-I’m not sure,” Harry gasps out. 

Tom hums, “We don’t got rooms for those that don’t got the coin — but you look like you need a warm drink to gather your wits. Come on, come on sit down,” he gently maneuvers Harry to a nearby seat. 

Harry tries to gather his wits. When that fails, he just blankly stares at the sparks of fire jumping in the fireplace. Tom returns with some warm butterbeer. “First ones on the house,” he gives a pitying look before he leaves him alone.

The taste grounds him which is nice. He recalls the many times he’s shared the drink with friends. Merlin, his friends. His vision blurs and he grabs the daily prophet for something to distract him. 

The article detailing what happened 5 years ago doesn’t tell him much he doesn’t know but he reads it through to put off the impending panic. He flips the page, sipping his drink as he goes, and catches the small mention of Sirius Black’s betrayal of the Potters. 

That breaks through the fog clouding his mind, he taps a finger on the counter as he thinks of Sirius. He’s still in Azkaban, and that fills Harry with a volatile mix of emotions that he pushes aside. He’s getting better at that. Some guilt from his death still lingers as he never did fully let that go. Sirius had maybe two years of partial freedom before dying because of his mistake. 

Helping him gain proper freedom was possible now. More years to distance himself from his time in Azkaban. Even if Sirius was destined to — to live until the same time, Harry reckons that leaving with a fuller life lived is better than not. His mind whirrs through everyone else he could give more time too. It’s overwhelming to consider the possibilities that await him.

Harry finds comfort in it, from all the choices. He isn’t sure if the rules of messing with time apply to him. The circumstances that got him here isn’t something he can research. He wants to believe that even if he mucks things up beyond recognition he’d still be here. No awful things happening, no fading into nonexistence or going mad. Just time moving forward with him. A chill crawls along his spine and he takes it as reassurance. 

Harry steels himself as he stands up, walks towards Tom and pays for a room with the small amount of money he’s got on him. He insists on paying for the butterbeer too to cover his shame at breaking down. 

With wits partially gathered, Harry falls onto his bed face first and his last thought before sleep takes him is how thankful he is at the chance to make things right. A cloak flutters over him hiding his body from view, a ring slides over his finger and a wand settles by his hand under the pillow. Harry is already snoring before they even register. 

Remus has paced the length of his quaint little cottage for the past hour. Muttering under his breath of Horcruxes and Wormtail. Rubbing his bottom lip with a thumb as he tries to process Harry’s whole spiel. Whenever doubt starts forming in his expression, he stops to look at Harry to question him but snaps his mouth shut when he sees Lily’s eyes and James’ face staring back at him and goes back to pacing. 

Harry is amused by it. He’s also dying to ask him something since he'd first seen him and he figures he’d do Moony a kindness and disrupt whatever rabbit hole he’s spiraling down in. 

“Where’d you get that shirt?” Harry questions with a slight teasing lilt.

Remus stalls the restructuring of everything he ever believed in, to make a face at Harry. 

Harry makes it back at him. Then, wiggles his eyebrows, “I was quidditch captain, you know. Best seeker during my time in Hogwarts got my talent for flying from my dad they’d say.” 

Remus sputters and flushes, “He got me this shirt that self-entitled tosser. Your fa— James got everyone this shirt when he made captain. Even Lily, who proceeded to hex him for it.” He looks down at his shirt reading Save a Broom, Ride a Quidditch Captain.

“I wear it to bed because it’s comfortable,” he sniffs haughtily. 

Harry laughs at that. Eventually joined by Remus who starts acting out his dad’s whining at how much he thought Lily would’ve liked it and how she couldn’t handle a joke. Which she obviously heard since she had a sixth sense when it came to James and chased him out of the common room. 

Remus lowers on the seat by Harry as the laughs die out. He plops an elbow on the table and rests his cheek on his hand and just stares. Harry stares back then flicks a tongue out when he starts getting fidgety. 

Remus gives a low chuckle, “You laugh just like him. Maybe a bit higher pitched.” He muses then eyes the area just a smidge above his head, “you’re much shorter, though.” Harry restrains from making the rude gesture he wants to respond with but Remus catches the aborted motion and smiles at it. 

Remus draws a large breath through his nose, “I believe you. Even as much as I want to believe he’s dead. I believe you.” He turns his face away, “I had doubts about Sirius, but — but everyone was so sure and I don’t think anyone would’ve heard me. There’s not many who I can turn to for trust anymore.” He finishes quietly. 

Harry hurts at that. He can’t imagine how lonely it must be to lose everyone, well, now he can but that’s why he’s here. He forces a cheerful smile, “I’m glad. I’m on the same boat as you so it’s nice to not be dismissed,” reaching over to pat at Remus’ knee. The tension he didn’t know he was holding slips from his shoulders as he slumps back into his seat. 

The werewolf notices and his eyes go soft, “What about Dumbledore? He’s always been a bit barmy but I think that means he’d believe the word of someone 20 years from the future.” 

Harry hums, trying to delicately form the right words, “I don’t trust him,” Remus widens his eyes at that — okay more delicate — “I mean, I trusted a version of him that I grew up with. I don’t know if I can trust him now that I’m older and know things he never told me. He’s not as perfect as I had always believed and if he only ever bothered to be more open with his plans — which heavily involved me — it would’ve made things so much easier.” 

Remus still looks wide-eyed. There must be something bitter in his tone.

“Listen, I’m sure he can help I mean the old coot’s trying to fix his mistakes from his infatuation with Grindelwald and some guilt from how he handled Tom — Voldy that is.” Harry ignores the strangled sound coming from Remus,“ I just rather he stay out of this or at least from knowing I’m here. He’s already messed with so much of my life even if he had good reasons.” 

Remus rubs a palm over his face and sighs heavily. “Let's not unpack that. Just you and me. Got it.” he laments miserably. Harry feels a little guilty at all these truths he’s throwing at him.

He nudges Remus with his foot. Then, kicks him in the shin when he doesn’t react. At Remus’ grunt, he quietly says, “You and me and Sirius when we get him out and kid me when we rescue him. One big happy family.” Unable to stop his smile at the thought. 

Remus, too, smiles at the picture he paints. Not even hiding the hope it fills him with. 

Chapter Text

* * *

Hermione unwraps her scarf, cheeks flushed from the cold and greets Harry with a bright smile. “Harry, It’s so very nice to see you,” she leans over to him for a hug before taking off her coat and laying it beside the seat she takes across from him. “I’ve only got a moment to spare so bear with me if I’m a bit scattered brain.” 

Harry smiles back, “You too Hermione and I’ll cherish any time you’ll give me,” voice earnest and bright. He nudges the second butterbeer he’s holding towards her. 

She scrunches her eyebrows at it, “Oh, you haven’t heard the news, then. You really should start coming to dinners more often,” humming as she takes her eyes off it and primly states, “I’m pregnant. 8 weeks exactly to this day.” Eyes brimming with joy. 

Harry matches her excitement, “Congratulations! Last I heard, Ron was moping at how he couldn’t — how hard it was to start a family. Feeling he was shaming the Weasley name.” 

Thoughts of awkward dinners, weeks of silence and — how time must flow so much faster for everyone else if he’s the only one bothered by it —  are pushed to the back of his mind as he squints at his drink, “Does butterbeer really have alcohol?” 

Hermione rolls her eyes at the mention of Ron’s plight, “He’s been unbearable since we’ve found out. It’s a mystery how he doesn’t smack his head over each door he crosses with how big it’s getting — you’d think he’s saved his family from extinction,” she turns those eyes towards Harry with the same look she’d get after she’s read over one of his essays, “It’s in its name, Harry. Surely, you feel the warming effect when you drink?” 

Harry frowns at that, “I thought that was magic,” voice soft in its disbelief, “not — not inebriation. We drank these as children! ” 

She nods at that, “Wizards are so lax when it comes to some things, it's still so disorientating. Part of it is magic but there is alcohol in it, no matter how minuscule,” she tilts her head as if reaching into the knowledge stored in it, “It came up when I researched elves during 4th year. You know they could get very drunk off it. Families used to have them create their own batches before they realized the elves had to sample during the process and would hurt or kill themselves in the toxicity. Antidotes were made and a ban was enforced from having elves consume or taste any alcohol. It’s one of the only laws that considered their health.” Finishing with a sigh. 

She stands up at that thought, “That reminds me. I’ve just got Cecilia Babington to admit that elves are capable of feeling pain — she’s a bit slow when it comes to empathizing with magical creatures, I can’t believe they’ve got her managing that department. You know how hard I’ve been trying with her, I’d like to catch her before the day is done.” She gathers her things together in a hurry.

Harry has no idea who she’s talking about — he doesn’t know much of anything it seems. He tries to be supportive regardless, “Good luck with that. I suppose I’ll end my lunch early and try to find some work to do.” 

Hermione pauses to bite her lip, mulling over the right words to say — Harry knows that look and already knows he’s going to disappoint her again. “You would be busier if you didn’t turn down Head Auror, Harry. We all think you’d do wonderful at the job, you’ve always been a great leader.” 

Harry hasn’t ever voiced that being a leader is exactly what stops him. He has been trying hard to not notice the absence of those that died in the war, but he knows it’s fruitless and he knows the others try too. He can’t have another group of people turn to him to save them again. He recalls how everyone reacted when he said he wanted to quit working and spend his days living off his inheritance. He quickly brushed it off as a joke when it was met with quiet disappointment. 

Harry tries to ignore his thoughts on that and instead claps her on the shoulder with a cheer, “You’ve got creature's rights to advocate about. I’m sure Cecilia would love to hear about that instead of me becoming Head Auror.” Shooing Hermione off, no matter how badly he wants her to stay and talk of other things. It’ll likely be another few months before the next time they meet. 

Hermione brightens up again at the reminder — but something must show in Harry’s tone or maybe a dreadful emotion has leaked into his face because her eyes are soft as she looks over at the butterbeer on the table. She promptly grabs it and turns towards the counter, “I think I can catch her on some other day. Let me switch this out for something else and you can help me think of a way to politely tell Molly that I do not want to name my child after her if she’s a girl. Ron has been of no help in that matter.”

Harry looks at her back with a surprised smile, warmth blossoming in his chest. She returns with a cup of tea and a knowing look before opening her mouth and — and disappearing. Harry blinks at the spot she was in. His eyes trail down to the table where the butterbeer lays there still, untouched as she left it. 

Harry wakes slowly. Breathing deeply as his awareness comes back and he settles into the warm, softness that surrounds him. Blankets wrapped loosely over his waist, he stretches and indulges in the luxury of not having to wake up in a grimy street or in a panic from having death’s hollows on him — he only noticed that his arm was missing when he had opened his eyes, not that the cloak was over it. 

He feels something silky and scented of warm spiced herbs on his chest. He opens his eyes to a flurry of wavy hair with a color that shines from the sunlight peeking through the window — revealing deep mahogany complexities and golden hues. The gradation puts autumn leaves to shame Harry thinks. 

The contorted head attached to it is another thing entirely. Laying horizontal to him Remus’ head is face down and nestled near the crook of his shoulder. Harry looks at the rest of him and notes that he, too, has blankets wrapped around him, but they are so tightly wound at his legs that they morph his shape into something more bulbous and alien. His knees are bent and his bum is in the air like a deformed caterpillar mid-crawl. 

How on earth is that comfortable?

Wetness at his neck snaps him out of his thoughts — ugh, drool — and he shoves at Remus to wake the prat up and gets out of the bed. 

They’d gone to bed shortly after a day of getting acquainted with each other. Remus insisted that he just wanted a few hours of normalcy before they went and did what they had to do. After some needlessly polite posturing over who will sleep on the floor, Harry pointedly transfigured the bed larger and plopped down on it — dragging and pushing Remus to the opposite side. 

The hard shove only got a light snore from Remus, ignoring him Harry washed up taking special care to his neck — ugh, drool — and goes to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. There wasn’t much else to make and that was the problem they were going to try to tackle today. Money. 

Remus hadn’t been looking for a new job this month as his last position of archiving records at the ministry was solid enough pay to ease up for a month or two. He always took those type jobs around this time — even if they were beyond dull —because it was hard for him to focus during the holidays, especially, with how much the wizarding public revered October 31st. It was never a day of cheer for him.

“You’re still technically a Potter,” Remus had informed, “You should have the same access to any vaults under that. Goblins are known for how little they care for us, a time-traveling wizard should be the same as any other bloke to them.”

It seemed like the easiest solution and it makes his eye twitch with how he decided to hike up the desolate hills of Yorkshire instead of doing that first. He could’ve bought a broom. 

Harry briefly registers Remus limping over and grabbing a cup of tea as he sorts his thoughts. He very badly wanted to kidnap his tinier self. Around this age, he had just learned his name from a teacher. Had already been showing signs of magic and was being dismissed as a problem child.

Remus had told him yesterday that it was a very stupid idea. Swatting the stinging hex aimed for his face aside with a swish he had continued, “Where would we keep him? What if Dumbledore finds out?” rattling on and on a list of questions that proved his point. This was exactly why he came here.

Harry hated it. He scowls over at Remus who’s becoming more awake as he sips his tea, “You know you drool? You also contort in your sleep like a demon. You drooling know-it-all demon.” 

Remus barely reacts to that, “I’ve been told,” he states dryly as he finishes his cup and gets up to get ready for their day.

Harry does not pout at the non-reaction. He maturely expresses his displeasure. 

“Harry we cannot kidnap a child,” Remus hisses under his breath as they walk through Diagon Alley. He ignores the petulant why not and shoves Harry into the entrance of the bank. 

“We won’t kidnap him. We’ll just stop by and say hello,” Harry compromises with a tut as if Remus is the unreasonable one, “I know we have to get our ducks in a row but that doesn’t mean we can just — Oh, hello sir goblin. I’m looking to check if any vaults were left in my name — leave him there. He’s awfully lonely. I should know.” 

The goblin hands Harry a slip and gestures to a side waiting area with a dismissive sneer. Remus feels bad for little Harry but he thinks if they talk to him before they’re ready, Harry won’t be able to resist himself. 

The area has a few seats and they settle down beside an emotionless witch with a giant wide-brimmed hat that a puffskein is sleeping in. Remus turns and pleads to Harry, “Can you honestly tell me that you would resist kid-” he glances back at the stoic woman, “rescuing him if you were to speak? If he’s as lonely as you say then I don’t think even I could stop myself.”

Harry grumbles, “I do have some self-restraint,” Remus snorts at that, “Whatever, fine. Can we at least check up on him? I just want to see that’s he’s alright.” A high-pitched humming startles Harry and he follows the sound to the puffskein who shakes itself awake — how cute. 

Remus tucks his chin and drops his gaze to the floor. Tapping his lips while he thinks about that. He would like to see how the kid’s doing and checking him at a distance shouldn’t be so bad. After a moment, he lifts his face back up to Harry and starts, “How is your disilu-” stopping abruptly when he notices the horror in Harry’s eyes. He follows his gaze quickly, thinking some threat is coming. 

He sees the long pink tongue of the puffskein trail down the hat and sneaks into the owner's nose stealing a booger to munch on. The witch remains steadfast in her impassiveness. He sighs and scuffs Harry on his head, “Stop staring, they do that. How is your disillusionment charm?” 

Harry bristles and whispers harshly, “I certainly haven’t seen any of them do that,” he gestures frantically at the woman, who stands up primly when she's called away not sparing a glance at the two. 

Shaking his head, Harry continues, “I’m awful at it. Never really had to practice when I have this,” he pats his coat for a second before he pulls out a shimmering cloak from inside a pocket that Remus recognizes instantly. 

“Alright, we’ll go look. If we keep our distance.” Remus agrees without complaint. 

Remus figures the blinding smile he gets in response might be worth it alone.

Remus is pacing again and trying his hardest not to look at Harry. They’re in the office of one of the goblins, left alone as they confirm the Horcrux they have in one of their vaults. That isn’t what bothers him, it's the complete lack of tact with how Harry told them about it.

Harry’s voice rings out breaking the silence between them, “Do they really just get up in your nose like that?” 

Remus is seething. “Not the time, Harry,” he grits out. He glances over at the absolute halfwit of a man that he’s aligned himself with. 

“Some mates of mine bred them to be smaller. Called them pygmy puffs. They must’ve bred out the booger licking. Probably wouldn’t have been marketable if they still did that,” scratching at his nose with a casual aloofness. 

Remus holds back his snarl, he waves his arm madly at the room, “Are you not worried? They could be gathering together to execute us. Or getting the Aurors down here, how would you explain your existence? Did you really have to mention the dragon? Goad them on like that?” he hisses out. 

Harry grimaces at Remus, “I won’t let them do anything to you,” he tries to pacify. 

“That’s not the point!” Remus lashes out, “You told them a dragon tore through their bank and their livelihood was threatened when people found out they housed things such as Horcruxes. Then promised it would happen again if they didn’t act on it!” 

Harry purses his lips, “It was the only way to make them cooperate. They worry about their money and it will happen again one way or another. The thing had to go, I was at least being honest about it. They don’t lose favor from the public and we are another step closer to Voldemort staying dead.” 

Remus stops pacing, huffing out with flared nostrils, “Do you even consider the consequences of saying things like that? You practically threatened them! Right at their front door. It’s as if the idea of death is a flippant concern to this game you seem to be playing. Casually handing out life-changing truths and ultimatums just to see everyone scramble around them.” 

Harry turns his face away at that. A pained look twisting on his face. 

He isn’t trying to be flippant. It’s just what I have to do for the good of the— he stops that thought, blanching when he realizes how similar it sounds. He doesn’t want to have that control over people. He digs his nails into his palm. He just wants things to be better than they were. He wants to help. His breath shallows to short, broken breaths. All sound is drowned out by the erratic, thumping in his ears. 

A cool hand brushes over the top of his palm, gently nudging at his fingers. His vision is narrowed to the prodding as the hand guides his fist open to reveal blood-stained nails from how tightly he was gripping. They’re shaking and he’s trying to get more air in his lungs but it’s not enough and he can’t — he can’t breathe. He hears faint shushing, his hand pushed against a chest and a voice telling him to follow his breaths. 

Knuckles brushing against his cheek, drying hot tears he didn’t know were falling, gets a shuddering gasp out of him. Huge sucking breaths that tremble into his chest. He sees Remus in front of him, concern so clear in his eyes. 

“S-sorry,” chokes out Harry as he pushes away and wipes at his eyes with the back of his palms angry that he’s breaking down again, “I didn’t know I was a-acting like th-that.” He spends a few moments taking large heavy breaths to center himself again. 

When he pushes the palms from his face, shame flushing his cheeks, he looks at Remus to apologize again. Remus just hands him a handkerchief he materialized from somewhere and gives him a small smile. 

That’s when the door snaps open startling the two while Griphook stomps on in. Giving the two wizards the slightest of eyebrow raises at their appearance and nothing else, he grumbles out, “The Horcrux is destroyed.” 

He settles into the seat across them and flicks files towards the two, “Now, Mr. Potter, we have a few ways to handle the dividing of the funds between you and your younger counterpart. How do you wish to proceed?”

They leave the bank in a sullen mood, stopping at the Leaky Cauldron to get a meal. The only sound between them is the clinking of forks against their plates. Harry doesn’t know what to say. 

Remus is the first to speak, “James once bribed a few Gryffindors to let him borrow their puffskeins for a night,” Harry glances up and sees a crooked smile start to form on Remus, “he told us it was for some elaborate ploy to impress Lily. We left him to it thinking nothing of it.” Remus shakes his head.

“The first scream of the night came from Wo— Peter.” eyes tighten but he quickly follows with, “which woke me up to the sight of three of those blasted things on my chest with their tongues all up my nose. It was the slimiest and most uncomfortable wake-up call I’ve ever had.” 

Remus’ grin widens at the memory — Harry hasn’t noticed his dimples before — then he laughs as he continues, “Sirius told me later in confidence that he actually quite liked the feeling.” 

That gets a chuckle out of Harry. His eyes crinkle as he laughs with Remus. They grin at each other for a moment before Harry’s softens into a tiny apologetic smile, “I’ll try to be more upfront with what I’m going to do,” he waves his fork at Remus, “I came to you because I knew I couldn’t do this alone. I know, now, that I unloaded all this on you so I’m sorry for not considering that. I think I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that this is all real.” He whispers the last part then turns his face away as his ears redden from the uncomfortable sincerity oozing out of him. 

Remus hums, “I really wouldn’t be doing anything else with my time if I’m being honest. I was worried for a bit there that you were bonkers and not facing the reality of the situation — I’m sure I won’t think that again,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his butterbeer also uncomfortable with the sincerity, “It’s exciting if nothing else… I forgive you.”

The table falls silent again but it’s much more pleasant. Harry eventually clinks his glass with Remus’ and says, “Did you know butterbeer actually has alcohol in it?"

Boy was working in the garden — wait, Harry, I’m Harry now — tending to his aunt’s rose bush. He pricks his finger on one of the thorns and puts it in his mouth after a hiss. Harry’s always liked working outside, it’s usually quiet and if the sun doesn’t burn at his skin he finds it one of the best chores. He wishes he had gloves — Aunt Petunia said bad boys don’t get gloves. 

A butterfly lands in one of the roses in front of him, Harry gasps out at the colors from it — he’s never seen one so orange. He shuffles with his knees closer to try to see it better. When it flaps its wings slowly he can see the bottom side has black edges. He only has a blue crayon in his cupboard, he wonders if he can find a piece of orange and black in Dudley’s room. 

He’s close enough to it that he can reach out with his hand. He does so. Smile wide as it slowly lifts from the bush and lands on his hand. He doesn’t know it then, laughing from how it tickles his fingers, but the cuts in his hand begin to heal. He moves his hand around, making a zooming noise as the butterfly flaps faster but stays perched on him, when another one lands on his shoulder. This one is bright green with a purple underside, Harry is beside himself with wonder. 

Before he knows it a multitude of butterflies are slowly flying around. Different colors shining through their wings, small tiny ones land on his pinky fingers while the bigger ones land on the bush making it look like flowers have just blossomed. 

A slam of a glass door sliding open startles him, “Boy! Dudders wants a grilled sandwich. You can finish pruning later!” shouts his aunt. 

“Coming, Aunt Petunia!” Harry shouts back. He frowns at the butterflies as they slowly fly away. Then he gets up and heads inside. He hears the faint sound of popping in the distance. 

Chapter Text

The scratching of quill against parchment is the only sound echoing throughout the cottage. Harry finishes it with a flourish, hand moving to sign a common muggle name. He taps it gently with his wand, after a quick once over to assure himself that the words read genuine and not mocking, to dry the ink and fold the letter into an envelope. He stamps it with a wax seal — he scoffs at how much money he spent on it — that held no similarities to any important family crest but instead gently signifies of wealth with its intricate designs of vines twirling about.

He ties it to the owl he has procured, with a pouch of galleons, and whispers, “to Severus Snape, please,” and watches it take off. 

Harry tried to lean on the fact that he had gained a potions mastery at such a young age and not mention that he was a professor at Hogwarts besides a small acknowledgment that empathized over how busy he must be. He hopes young Snape likes having his ego stroked.  

He wrinkles his nose at the thought of anything stroking the dour man, and walks back to the kitchen to start preparing something to eat. They’ve spent the past few days properly stocking the cottage with various things and foods — Harry couldn’t help himself adding some posters of Quidditch teams that were more vintage in his youth. Remus vehemently opposed any spending on his behalf and Harry ignored him. Once the bacon begins to sizzle, he cracks some eggs over them to marinate in the fat popping about. Lovely thing, bacon is.

In the corner of his eye, he catches the mound of pillows and sheets that have huddled into one corner of the bed start shifting, first a hand slithering out to pull blankets away slowly and just a skosh too aggressive, then the head of the softhearted man emerges from the cocoon of bedding. Eyes peeling open to half-mast, as he crawls out and up towards the table. 

Harry coughs away the laugh at his unintentional summoning and plates the food for them to eat. Tea and plates of toast with butter float towards the table with him. Remus begins eating immediately, nibbling at the strips. While he gathers himself into consciousness, Harry can’t help but smile at the sight. 

Harry uses the burn of the tea to settle the tender feelings that flutter in him. They started when Remus had to go and heal his younger counterpart, with the magic of butterflies of all things. He remembers frowning at the young tiny child — was he really that frail-looking — with clothes far too big for his body. His mind had flashed back to his own time spent doing the very same task. He could practically read the thoughts on the kid's face — appreciating the cloudy day that blocked the harsh sunlight, wishing he had gloves to stop the cuts from thorns and hoping he could spend more time in the quiet of it. It all rushed back and settled in an unbearable weight in his chest and a drying that itched at his throat, he was glad Remus was there to stop him from doing anything rash.  

Then Remus, rashly Harry felt, murmured a spell and sent out the insect to float towards the boy. Harry turned to ask what he was doing, mouth closing when he noticed how heartbroken the man’s face was. Both huddled under the cloak seated at the trunk of the tree not far from the garden, Harry could see so clearly the guilt and anguish that formed in the man. The childish laughter broke his gaze, and he could see the soft tendrils of magic heal the fingers that were waving about in glee. 

A longing, he had forgotten about, for any kindness he never received burned in Harry’s eyes. He breathed in slowly, the child’s laughter was warming as it replaced the uneasiness in his chest. Then he sent out his butterfly, much gaudier, and eventually, both of them competed over who could conjure the most unique one. 

“S’good, thanks for the meal,” Remus tones out lifelessly. Eyes still glazed, not quite fully awake  — cute. Harry pauses, an interesting thought, that, but he doesn’t want to mull over it. It isn’t life-changing just the pure truth so he throws it at Remus to ruminate in it instead, “You’re so cute in the morning — all dead-like it’s as if you don’t have feelings until the sun is fully up.”

Blinking slowly at the words, a faint pink starts dusting on Remus’ cheeks once they finally register, “I have feelings,” he says without feeling, “I’m also very much alive, thank you, it just takes me time to get there.” He stands to wash up, abruptly as if he was escaping, but his limbs aren’t fully cooperating yet so he mostly limps briskly to the bathroom.

Harry hums from how cute he finds it. 

Tying the bundle of twigs together with one of the stretchier reeds of grass, Percy finishes the knot and gingerly lowers the final piece into place on the slightly muddy ground. He stands with hands on his hips as he inspects his creation. Nodding with satisfaction, he grabs a few treats and puts it in the center of the maze. He reaches into his pocket for the chubby, dozing rat nestled in it. Once his hands cradle around the massive lump of fur, he lifts it — level with his gaze — and stares at its beady eyes.

“I believe in you Scabbers,” Percy says with all the sincerity his 10 year old body could muster. He then places the rat at the corner of the maze and waits. 

Harry never thought he’d find Percy so endearing, yet, here he is. The maze really is complex, meticulously crafted together with the various things Percy could find around the burrow. 

All for his rat, it’d be a cute sight to anyone watching. Harry — who knows the sniveling rat to be a sniveling man — feels another feeling shiver in him instead. He can’t help but think its quite creepy. 

“It’s quite creepy,” he whispers to Remus, underneath the cloak, who nods back with a pained look. 

The animagus twitches it’s whiskers and looks at the walls of twigs around him. He peers up back at the boy, who’s waiting with bated breath, and pushes at the walls until they collapse and scuttles out of the maze to rest by the boy's feet. Percy groans and puts the piece back to place, he looks at the direction of his dad’s shed and wonders if he can find something to make the walls sturdier. He leaves the rat on the ground, throwing a treat by it, and heads out to do just that.

“Now!” Remus whispers harshly. 

A bolt of red light springs from the bushes to hit the rat square in its middle. It freezes and collapses to its side. Another murmur has the body whizzing towards the bush. Remus and Harry both cast spells that put the rat into stasis. Harry reaches into his pocket for the replacement rat they’ve arranged. 

He floats it back into place while Remus shoves the animagus into a cage. Percy turns the corner at that, just missing the plomp of the new rat as it falls. He drops the hand shovel on the ground, so he can burrow the walls deeper into place, and picks up Scabbers to put him in his pocket. 

He pauses. “You’re not Scabbers,” eyebrows pinched together in confusion as he prods at its paws. He puts the unknown rat down absently, at the entrance of his maze, and looks around. 

Harry turns severely towards Remus, voice mocking and hushed, “ A boy wouldn’t care about the number of toes on a rat,” and pokes repeatedly at his shoulder, “does that look like he doesn’t care.” 

Remus grunts, “It’s not like it’ll change much,” poking back with equal force, “besides you couldn’t even bring yourself to cut its toe off. You tried to hoist the task on me, you prat.” 

A delighted gasp stops their whispered argument, they both turn towards Percy. 

The new rat was running through the maze, stopping only at intersections to wrinkle its whiskers, before continuing on its path with energy that Percy has never seen come from such a small animal. Giving the tunnel of leaves not even a second glance before blazing through it — Percy’s hand is at his mouth as he waits for it to reach the other side and — and it does. Percy’s whoop of joy is interrupted once the rat reaches the bridge of pebbles, it’s paw had slipped causing it to partially collapse. Percy shakes his head in worry over the foolish addition to his maze — but then the rat scuttles on through, rocks bounding about in a flurry that doesn’t deter it in the slightest. It turns one last corner and reaches the prize of goods. 

Percy pumps his fist, “Good job, Scabbers!” He grins and adds more treats to the pile. The two wizards quietly slip away as the boy and rat celebrate.

* * *

“Malfoy?” Harry questions, not even trying to hide the incredulity in his voice. He plucks the jar in front of him and shakes it towards Ron with an eyebrow raise. “You hate Malfoy.”

Ron nods sagely, “I sure do, mate,” and grabs the jar to unscrew it and sniff at its contents. He squints with a thoughtful hum and tilts the jar towards Harry, “Does this smell like mint to you? She can’t do mint right now it makes her sick up.”

Harry closes the jar of mint leaves and puts it back at the shelf without a sound, waiting for Ron to elaborate. When he doesn’t, Harry sighs heavily, “Why are you insisting I take him out on a date? If you say it’s ‘cause we’re both poofs I’m going to knock your teeth in Ron.”

Ron’s silence is telling as he continues down the aisle, poking at a few of the other items. At Harry’s growl, he placates, “It’s not just that. I know you two duel now and then. Even I can see it’s doing him good. The ponce looks loads better, especially now that he isn’t greasing his hair back. It makes him look less of a ferret,” Harry would believe him if his lips weren’t trying to hide a grimace, “and he's probably all appreciative of the attention you’re giving him.”

Harry holds up a tin of biscuits and at Ron’s head shake, he responds, “Ron, our duels are full of anger and derision. Insults are thrown out as much as spells are. It’s what makes him a good duelist, he’s not afraid to hurt the savior,”  gesturing towards himself with a roll of his eyes, “besides I highly doubt he’s interested — well, he did say my form was good the other day but he had to be talking about my stance. He couldn’t possibly be flirting with me.”

Ron snorts as they head towards the exit of the store, “I don’t think he flirts, he wouldn’t even admit he was attracted to your speckled arse. He’d deny it if you ever dared to mention it then use it as fuel to mock you with a sniff from his beady little nose.” 

The brisk air gives them both a shiver as they walk through the door. Snow falling gently over the streets and roofs of Diagon Alley. Harry glares at Ron, “You’re not really selling me on this whole thing. What is this about, Ron?” 

Ron grimaces, “I know everyone’s been hounding you to settle down, Harry. Not that I don’t agree that you should find some nice bloke, but I don’t think you’ve had a chance to enjoy your… options,” he finishes with a cough. They continue to walk by stores now and then pausing at a window. 

Harry considers that. After Voldemort died, they were rushed through the re-building of Hogwarts while attending classes, and after finishing his exams he headed right into Auror training. Harry wanted to relax after everything but Hermione’s insistence and Ron’s assurance of being by his side let him move forward. Ron dropped out of training once he realized he had to go back to protecting, still bitter over leaving the two as he did, he didn’t trust himself to continue and Harry never mentioned how abandoned he felt from that.

He barely realized that the reason his relationships have so-far failed or never continued when a fellow trainee had kissed him after all the staring Harry was doing — he had always liked uniforms. It was very similar to the kisses he’s had before, awkward and rushed, but the heated trembling from Harry was new. It didn’t pan out into anything as Harry had to cope with that. Now years later, he hasn’t had a chance to try again, feeling sleazy over how some wizards revered him.

Ron’s voice distracts him from his thoughts, “I think with Malfoy it would be —” he squints as he looks for the polite way to say the words, but shrugs as he doesn’t care, “easy. You should sow your oats before you settle.” He waves an arm in front of them. 

Harry chokes out a sputter and with pink cheeks, he says, “Let’s not talk about my oats. We’re here because of your oats.” 

He punches Ron’s shoulder, the snow on it jumping from the impact, because of the visible preening from Ron, “She’s suffering because of you, you big oaf. At least try to look concerned.”

“She is, isn’t she,” that nets another punch from Harry, “Oi! I know, I know. Hermione just said she wanted something soothing. Bugger if I know what that could be. She’s spouting things like that lately, she’s out to here you know.” He motions with his hand around his belly with a proud grin. 

Harry doesn’t. He hasn’t seen her in ages. He’s also only here because he ran into Ron while he was doing his own shopping. Harry wants to mention that as they turn the corner, but he closes his mouth when he sees Ron's face fall. 

In front of them, with lights off and windows shuttered closed, stands Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. George said he needed some time before running the shop again, but aside from opening around holidays or special days, this is usually how it’s left. 

The quiet between them is staggering to Harry despite it only been a few seconds, and he can feel Ron turn his gaze towards him but he tries to remain impassive and stare expressionlessly at the shop. He knows Ron wouldn’t, or he wants to believe it so, but he can’t risk looking back and seeing any hint of blame on his face.

It would be nice if it was open, and he, Ron, and George could sample the products. Reminisce about pranks played, and good times had. They never chat about the past, it’s always rushing forward to the next thing. He breathes in to shake away how much he’d like that, “How’s George doing?” proud of how his voice is steady. 

Ron sighs quietly and continues down the street. Feet drag slightly as he trudges a path through the snow, “He and Angelina are overseas. On holiday.” voice quiet from disappointment or relief as they don’t acknowledge the moment. Harry doesn’t know which.

Harry marches forward with him and pulls at Ron’s sleeves towards a nearby candy store, “Let's get her some Every Flavour Beans. Hermione would always pick out the grass ones and save them to munch on when we revised, remember?”

Harry picks up the box of Bertie Botts and puts it in the basket hovering beside him. He’s also got a blanket — the heaviest and sturdiest he could find — some books he thinks Remus would like, and various other items of comfort. While he was busy walking down the streets of London, the owl from Snape came and provided him an invoice and a note of when he’ll deliver the batch of potions. He sent the owl back in confirmation, telling him to use it for the delivery. 

Remus should be done soon, Harry had left him on his own to call the Aurors. When they returned to the cottage, they had undone the transformation on Wormtail and blasted him with a few confundus charms, light obliviation and other spells which bruised his body — for the effect of the story they were going with obviously. 

Harry then, had the pleasure of watching as Remus, badly acting with a voice barely hiding his contempt, wake the traitor up and ask how Peter had found him — and how shocked he was to see him alive and how terrible it must’ve been to hide for so long. It should manage under the scrutiny of the Aurors, they didn’t want any attention to go to the Weasleys.

Remus was to say how he had led his dear friend in when he was suddenly attacked, that too was acted out for Wormtail with some compulsions from the two but the spell was a harmless spark of light. That’s when he noticed the dark mark and stunned him immediately calling them after. One look at the brand should be evidence enough for questions to come up as to why Sirius, a believed death eater, would go after someone on his side.

Remus was the one who suggested they do it this way instead of leaving him in the ministry steps, bound and gagged as Harry wanted. That way he could call in someone he knew James and Sirius trusted at the force. Amelia Bones was still head Auror at this time and had mentored the two at one point alongside Moody, who they wanted to avoid as he was bound to notice something afoot. 

Harry thought it was a little grand, but he agreed, it would get Remus to ask questions about Sirius confinement to the people who mattered and an invitation to the eventual trial.

Shopping done and paid for, Harry decided to head towards the Leaky Cauldron to wait for Remus where they agreed to meet. 

Remus puts his book down as an owl flies in with a package, he turns to Harry, “What did you order? More posters?” 

Harry hums but remains silent as he takes the package, unwrapping it and peering inside the box before snapping it shut, to put it on the table between them. He then stands up to take out the goods from his shopping he’s done a few days ago, that he shoved in a corner cupboard. He also settles that between them and nudges the box towards Remus. 

Remus scratches above his eyebrow in confusion, eyes trying to make sense of the pile before him. He grabs the box and slowly lifts the lid, a strangled gasp comes out of him, “Harry this is beyond expensive, I couldn’t possibly acc—” he shushes when Harry lifts his hand. 

“It barely makes a dent at my inheritance, Moony,” that’s a little lie — it’s a noticeable expense but still plenty manageable — from the look Remus gives him he guesses it doesn’t hold up so he adds, “I’ve been living here rent-free and you’ve been far too hospitable considering I’ve basically upended your whole life. It’s my money, let me do this for you.”

Remus looks to argue again but sighs at Harry’s pleading look. They haven't talked about his transformation coming up, he knows Harry’s aware since he’s made a passing comment of his furry little problem. He was dreading it as he usually does, the lead up always makes him grumpy and the aftercare is spent sulking in his bed. He didn’t want Harry to see that. 

With this, though, he looks down at the seven containers of Wolfsbane potion, it was said to be far easier. He’s only ever had the chance of trying one potion, never the full seven days of the recommended dosage, and it had done wonders for his mood and aches despite the foul taste. 

He looks over the rest of the pile, still not understanding what it’s for, “What’s all this then?” 

Harry clears his throat, “I’ve seen your shed,” waving a hand in the direction of the small side building he cages himself in, “it’s sad, Moony. It’s just metal bars and a small bundle of rags in the corner. Now with that potion, you should still be you so I was thinking since the sheds big enough for both of us we co—” Remus slams the lid of his box shut and growls out, “No, Harry! You’re not staying with me. You’ve never even done the animagus transformation. Why would you even suggest that?” shaking his head at the idiotic idea. 

Harry glares, “I didn’t have any reason to do it! But, as I said, that potion makes you keep your wits about you. It shouldn’t even matter.”

“I have never drunk these before you don’t know how clear-headed I will be. I’m not going to put you at risk just so you can comfort me. I’ve been doing it alone this whole time!” Remus argues back. 

Harry points at him, “That’s the point, you dolt. You shouldn’t have to be alone now that I’m here,” he powers on when Remus opens his mouth, “I’ve already seen you transform before. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

Remus is displeased at that. He looks away, he doesn’t want anyone to see the miserable werewolf in him. He was grateful when the guys joined him, but he disliked any mention of it. It’s been nothing but a burden, hearing them talk about chasing each other always chilled him. He grinds his teeth at Harry having seen him like that, he was hoping he wasn’t an idiot in the future.

Harry leans over and pokes at his cheek startling Remus, softly he continues, “You’ll grind them down to nubs if you keep doing that. We’ll take all the precautions you want, Moony. I’m sure you can think of more than I could, but I’m not going to lock you away in that shed when I know I can help you through it.”

Remus stands up and walks towards the door, Harry’s shoulders droop in disappointment, but then he hears, “Come on. Bring the defense book you bought, there should be wards in them.” Harry does so with a grin. 

From behind him, Harry hears the rustling of clothes fall onto the ground. A nudge from his shoulder has him blindly grasp behind him to collect them and with the clink of the gate shutting he walks towards the exit, “Alright, I’ll just be on the other side here while you do your thing and I’ll come back.” A pointed cough makes him add, “after I knock and hear your signal.”

“And, if you don’t hear it?” Remus questions so similarly to the professor he once knew.

Harry draws out a sigh, “If nothing but the snarling of an uncontrollable beast answers my knock, I’ll be sure to leave you alone. It won’t though” and he walks out and shuts the door behind him.

Harry casts a warming charm on himself as he waits for the moon to show. 

He’s squinting at the ears of what he thinks is a rabbit in the clouds when they shift and reveal the full moon shining. He frowns at the groaning he hears from the shed and winces at the scratching of the floorboards. He thinks the sounds aren’t as bad as that night so long ago but he can’t remember.

He gives it a moment after the sounds have stopped before he gives two sharp knocks at the door, “Knock knock!”

The sounds of claws tapping against metal bars reverberate from within— Harry waits for a snarl just in case — and smiles as he opens the door, “It’s me, Harry!”

The werewolf fully underneath the wool blanket — nice, it hasn’t torn — huffs at him. “That you, Moony?” He walks towards the gate after the nod he receives, intending to open it. A vicious growl stops him. Eyes wide he looks over at the werewolf who is shaking his head and staring at the gate. 

Harry rolls his eyes, “Fine, you won’t be receiving any pets or ear scratches from me,” and sits by the other side of the bars between the pillows and blankets he stole from their bed. 

Moony just looks like him like he’s an idiot, at least Harry thinks he is — it’s a very common look from him. He shifts a bit to get comfortable and picks up one of the books he bought. With a leer he asks, “Want to hear me read trashy romance?” 

He already begins before the werewolf could attempt a response. They only get through a few chapters — Harry giggling and flushing the whole time — before he can’t bear to read another word of fleshy wands and crying flowers. He starts practicing some of the spells from the defense book, looking at Remus to check if he’s boring him but his eyes never stray from him. 

The practicing eventually morphs to re-enacting out some of the duels he’s been in before. 

“... the slimy git then shoots out a wave of birds at me! Wings set aflame from the fire around him and they all start flying towards me...”

Stories of quidditch start soon after. 

“... so I’m tumbling down. I start heaving, the whole crowd thinks I’m about to sick up when I spit out the snitch and...”

He eventually starts sharing some things he hasn’t spoken aloud before.

“... listen it’s not that I’m afraid of them. That’s unreasonable and I’ll have you know that I only fear, fear itself, but their red noses are just so creepy, I’m glad wizards have never thought clowns were necessary to their society.” He ends with a shake of his head. He glances over to see the werewolf already asleep. He hadn’t noticed Remus come out from his corner, but he’s close enough to reach a hand through the bars and give his head a good pet. 

Tempting as it is, he doesn’t and relaxes into his sheets. Sleep comes easily once his eyes shut.

Harry studies the defenses before him, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. His eyes follow the gentle rotation — that’s it! — he tosses the jelly bean and cheers out in victory as it ricochets off the back of the spoon and into Remus’ mouth. He twirls his wand until an orb of light forms and flings it towards the other four spinning beside them. It’s 5—3 and he’s leading. 

Remus cancels the incantation holding the various utensils up and lets them neatly stack back onto the table. He frowns at Harry as he finishes chewing the soap flavored bean. 

Harry taps the wand against his lips as he ponders on the choices laid throughout the table. He brightens when his gaze focuses on the teapot. With an ever so familiar swish and a flick, he levitates it towards him. He rotates it just slightly so the long spout is facing Remus and takes the cap off. He positions himself accordingly in front of it, Remus could go for an easy overshot but if he gets it into the spout — well, it’d be really cool.

Remus grins toothily at the challenge and picks a jelly bean randomly from the box. He holds it between his pointer finger and thumb, lifts it near his eyes and bites his lips in a look of intense concentration. Hand teetering back in forth to get the momentum going, before finally winding back for the toss — a tapping at his window breaks his focus and his aims shifts. Hitting Harry square in the eye gaining an indigent squawk and a clatter from the pot as the spell fizzles out. Remus muffles his laugh and lets out an insincere sorry as he rises to grab the letter from the owl outside. 

He opens it and scans its contents, he feels Harry’s head hook onto his shoulder to peer down at it as well. 

Dear Remus Lupin,

As requested, this letter is to inform you of the upcoming trial of one Peter Pettigrew. Dated to commence on 5th December 1986. It is to begin at 9:00 AM sharp. If you wish to be seated, I suggest coming early as this case has created quite the stir in the ministry and many are expected to come.

There will be a trial afterward for Sirius Black as this investigation has led to new facts concerning his imprisonment.

I hope to see you attend. 

Sincerely,

Amelia Bones 

Chapter Text

Seated in front of a generous meal was Sirius Black. His skin still sallow, from the debilitating aura of the dementors, eyes sunken in from a lack of sleep in half a decade. His hand tremors as it reaches for the spoon, he refuses to let any emotion slip from his face, if death was what awaits then his spirit will remain unconquerable until the very last second— he at least owes them to not give in and welcome it, they didn’t have that choice. 

As he swallows the broth of soup so similar to the one they made in Hogwarts — he wonders if that’s where they get their meals and if it’s a kindness or cruelness to do so. The guard station near him gives him pitying looks, better than the scathing ones from those that passed by his cell, but with it comes another wave of unease. He’s remained silent since they dragged him out of his cell, welcoming the change of routine but curious as to why. When they bathed and clothed him he groaned at the feel of hot water blasting away at tension. The soft cotton of his shirt and pants almost put him to sleep, swaying as his dressed, eyes peering around him as if waiting for the punchline. 

When he entered the room and saw the meal he froze. My last meal before I’m kissed — his mind immediately supplied. Sirius was grateful that at least the chicken was tender, it was hit-or-miss at his time in school. Hunger thrummed in him, ravenous for a meal, and his macabre thoughts slipped away as he finished eating. Once done, his eyelids started drooping — a harsh nod waking him before his face meets the table. His eyes shut again and he steadies himself with a hand, elbow firmly planted on the table, dozing in the fullness — this is why they give them a last meal. What a way to go. 

The door slipping open startles him, in walks in a woman he hasn’t seen since his training. She eyes the empty plate and Sirius’ rubbing of his belly with a small smile. Amelia Bones sits promptly beside him, “Sirius, you’re here for the trial that you were never given,” he blinks owlishly at that, “maybe if it had happened then we would’ve seen your confession to be motivated from grief instead.” She gazes at the distance then shakes her head in regret. 

“We’ve captured Peter Pettigrew, his trial has just ended and he’ll be sitting in a cell in Azkaban soon, so this trial is more of a formality. You’ll sit there, and after a few apologies and talks of change you’ll be free.” Amelia smiles at him. “I, for one, am deeply sorry to have doubted you for even one second, Sirius. The others should be trickling back into court now. I’ll see you in a few moments.” She pats his shoulder as she stands and walks away. 

Sirius stares blankly as she leaves. 

Remus rushes out the room once the trials over, his smile blinding for those that turn to look, and heads towards the side room Amelia had told him Sirius would be in before spending time to heal at St. Mungo’s. He feels a pulling at his sleeve from Harry underneath his cloak, he slows down once he turns the corner to an emptier hallway. As he reaches the door at the end of the hall, he hears the tail end of a conversation between Sirius and Dumbledore. 

“— endeavor to make it up to you in any way I can, Sirius,” the muffled speech rings in his ear with honest sincerity, “We have much to discuss, but you deserve some time to enjoy your freedom. I do believe you have visitors now that are going to help you with that.” 

Remus opens the door, coughing out a sheepish headmaster in greeting. Dumbledore peers from over his glasses at Remus, a small smile present on his face, eyes flicker over his shoulder to the empty space for the briefest of seconds before settling back on him, “Ah, Mr. Lupin, It’s wonderful to see you in such good health. I’ll leave you two to catch up. I best head back to the castle, I never enjoy parting from Hogwarts for long.” 

Dumbledore nods genially at the two, as he steps out of the room. 

Remus lets out a shaky breath, as he takes in Sirius. Both eyeing the other, cataloging the changes the years have done since last they met. Sirius still carries an air of confusion that was present in his trial, his gaze distance before focusing back on Remus when he sees something new. Sirius looks like a withered remnant of the man he knew, but despite the drastic changes, he seems alert in a way Remus wouldn’t have thought. 

A guileless smile from Sirius, shaky as It may be, prompts Remus to rush to him and wrap his arms around the wizard. “You do look good, Remmy.” Sirius squeezes back, rubbing his face against Remus’ shoulders. The childish nickname — merlin, last he heard it was around 3rd year — only makes him hug tighter. “Glad to have you back, Siri.” 

A harder tug on his sleeve than before forces a huff of breath out of Remus, he steps back from Sirius reluctantly and begins with, “Sirius, there’s someone I’d like you to me-” he’s interrupted by Sirius’s startled shout. He turns his head behind him, a glare already forming, and watches as Harry peels the rest of his cloak off him with an unnecessary flourish. 

Harry gives Remus a bright smile at his look. He steps closer and waves at Sirius whose eyes are snapping between the cloak in Harry’s hand and to his face. Harry thinks the look of disbelief is funny, but then, Sirius’ gaze settles to the area just a smidge above his head — Harry’s hackles start immediately raising — and he turns to Remus, “I’m still confused, but you’re seeing the shrunken Prongs in front of us, yes?” 

Remus’ attempted explanation is interrupted yet again by Harry, “I’ll have you know that I’m of perfectly average height for a strapping man of my age. It’s unreasonable to compare me to my giant of a father,” Sirius chokes out a gasp and Remus groans into his palm, “Yes, I’m your godson. Hello, thanks to some inexplicable circumstances I have ended up in the past and decided, among other things, to free you from your imprisonment. With the help of Moony, of course.” 

Harry’s tirade peters out as he notices the shocked look from Sirius and the disappointed one from Remus. Right, he was going to ease Sirius into that. He aims an apologetic smile to Remus — but they both jump when they hear a loud laugh come from Sirius. It’s a little tinged with hysteria that worries them but then Harry’s lifted into the air when Sirius rushes forward to grapple him into a hug. Harry squeaks out, “Sirius, stop!” but it’s unheard as Sirius spins him. “Look at you, little Harry has grown up! Well, not that much,” gaining a sputtered piss off from Harry, “Only a Potter could get themselves into a mess like this.” 

“I am not a child. Put me down!” Harry's insistence is sullied by the smile gracing his lips. 

Sirius’ handling of Harry burned the remaining energy he had for the day. He was guided to a nearby couch by Harry, while Remus rushed out to get the mediwitch that was going to transfer him over to the hospital. They promised to be there when he woke as he was already dozing off. 

The next week was spent at St. Mungo’s, Sirius needed healing to counteract the effects of his time in Azkaban. They spent it catching Sirius up on Harry — who handled it with ease and grace that had Harry give Remus pointed looks who only rudely gestured back. Sirius was more eager to hear about how Harry grew up, so a lot of time was spent on stories of his past. They played a few games as Harry casually passed over anything unpleasant, and mentioned only briefly of how he felt before he got to this time. Remus gave him long stares at that. He pivoted back to their plans to ignore any questions. 

Harry informed the two others of the locket in Grimmauld Place that they needed to receive. He thought it would be as easy as Sirius calling for Kreacher, but, the elf didn’t answer his call — Sirius didn’t find it too strange since they’ve held virulent hate for each other for years. 

“He should still answer you, you’re head of the house and all that.” Harry frowns as he tilts the chessboard towards Sirius after losing horribly to Remus. 

Sirius shakes his head as he places the pieces into place, “That’d be my grandfather Arcturus, besides I’m pretty sure I’ve been disowned.” Grinning at the mention. 

Harry blinks at the name, he has a brief memory of it coming up but he was pretty sure he had passed away long before he even knew of Sirius. He chews on his lip, “We could go visit Grimmauld — I could go visit,” he amends at Sirius’ pained grimace, “I think I can get in fine. There’s nothing too dangerous there that I can’t handle.” Remus looks ready to interject when a mediwitch pops in, stopping the conversation from continuing. 

She takes in the smug look from Sirius and the chessboard between him and Remus — who’s trying desperately not to pout as his attention snaps back to the board to see yet another piece of his gets destroyed.

“It looks like you’re doing better. I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that we’ll be sending you off shortly.” Magic and potions were rather good at healing some of the more pressing worries of Sirius’ health. After the immediate needs were met, they’ve no reason to keep him and she sends him off to rest at home with — a potion regimen, diet restrictions, and a reluctant confirmation from Sirius that he’d visit their healer periodically to go over any lasting effects from the dementors. They start packing up and walk out of the hospital.

Once outside, Harry tells the two should head to Diagon Alley for Sirius’ new wand while he checks out Grimmauld Place and that he’ll meet them back home at the cottage. He disapparates away before Remus can get a word in. Remus sighs at the reckless man. 

“He probably won’t be able to get in, Moony. Forgot to mention all the wards in the place,” Sirius cheerfully enlightens, “I am dying to see where you two have been shacking it up, though.” 

Remus flushes, “We’re not shacking it up.” His denial must come on a little too strong he thinks, judging from the way Sirius' eyebrows raise to his hairline. “Let’s just get you your bloody wand, yeah?” He takes a note from Harry and apparates them to Diagon before Sirius can open his mouth. 

Sirius walks calmly out of the floo, spelling away the ash he’s covered in and looks over the cottage Harry and Remus have been living in the past month. He sees Remus fiddling in the kitchen, “Tea?” he asks already making his own cup. 

“Got anything stronger? I’m a free man, that’s a proper reason to celebrate if I’ve ever heard one,” giving Remus a roguish smile. 

Remus tuts at him, “I was there, Sirius, she said no alcohol until you get back up into a healthy weight. We can celebrate when you no longer look a malnourished waif.” 

Sirius stomps dejectedly over to the table, “Help enjoy my freedom, my arse,” he mutters out. He looks around some more to distract himself, seeing the different sized coats hung up, the pairs of shoes too small for Remus in the corner, the poster of the Holyhead Harpies that couldn’t belong to bookish Remus, before finally settling on the bed — the one bed that’s big enough for two with sheets unmade and so delightfully disheveled. 

Remus hands over a mug of warm tea to Sirius, catching where he’s staring, but remaining quiet as he cradles his own cuppa. Sirius tilts his head towards him, a loose curl of hair falls over a side of his face and leers. “Not shacking it up, hm?”

Remus tries to stamp down the blush rising up his neck with a herculean effort, “Neither of us wanted the other to sleep on the floor. It was a compromise.” He lifts his mug to take a drink in a futile attempt to calm his nerves — he should’ve made something cooler. 

Sirius exaggerates a look of concern, voice so sincere it’s grating, “Well, that would just be impolite. No wonder you two had to sleep together,” finishing with an earnest nod. 

Remus chokes on his drink at the phrasing, he coughs out desperately, “We’re just sleeping. That’s it, Sirius, there is absolutely nothing going on between us.” He rubs a palm at his heated cheeks, trying not to remember Harry’s comment from the other day. 

Sirius narrows his eyes at Remus — merlin, above — giving him the look Remus recalls to be the one he’d have when he’s caught onto something scandalous, nose wiggling as if he’s sniffing out a secret. Sirius’ face smooths out and brightens up again, he grabs his mug for a long sip, “Harry’s proper fit, yeah? Got his looks from both his parents that one. You always liked blokes shorter than you, didn’t you Moony?” 

Remus groans. He knows this Sirius, the insufferable git is going to poke and prod at him until he lets something out to appease him. “What’s got you in such a tizzy?” Sirius questions — a shit-eating grin forming on his face. 

Remus glares at him, Sirius is dauntless to it, and he sighs out, “There honestly hasn’t been anything between us… he only mentioned that I’m cute,” grimacing out the word, “in the morning. That was only once and it was probably a jo-”

Sirius barks out a laugh that goes on a little too long for Remus’ liking, “Moony, I’ve shared a room with you for seven years. Unless something has drastically changed, on most days — if not all — you looked as if you crawled out some decrepit crypt for the first time in a millennium,” he snickers at the memory of it. 

Remus knows. He knows. He’s had no qualms over how he looks in the morning but ever since that small, dumb comment from Harry he’s been entirely too aware of himself — and aware of Harry. He glances over at the bed they’ve been sharing. Remus had thought Harry would have bought another one with the way he’s throwing his money around here, but he hasn’t. Remus wasn’t going to be the one to mention so it’s been the same routine since he’s stayed here — not to mention, he hasn’t slept better in ages. He was getting used to Harry, and it’s been upsetting him. 

A hard flick at his forehead breaks him out of his thoughts, he yelps at the pain and rubs at the spot, “What the hell, you miserable mutt?” 

Sirius smiles, “Don’t want you getting any wrinkles, mate. With all that worrying you’re doing. Don’t think Harry’s one for older men,” he tilts his head and rubs at his chin, “although, given he’s known older you, maybe he is.”

Remus hits him square in the forehead with a stinging hex — a very mild stinging hex he’s still got enough control not to hurt the recovering prat. Sirius laughs the sting away, “Remus, If you think he’s cute in the morning, too. It’s okay. Sure, James would probably be aiming to make your bollocks explode if he was here but that’s ‘cause he’s his baby not because you don’t deserve someone. You deserve to be happy.” Echoing a sentiment Remus has heard all too much from him in the past. 

Remus makes a face at the mention of James. He hasn’t thought of that, he’s been doing his hardest to not even think of Harry and him as a thing, let alone reactions to it. He’s saved from diving too deep into that thought when his floo flares up. The man they’ve been discussing stumbles out almost face-planting on the floor. 

Remus immediately catches the singed pieces of hair on top of his head and what looks like a welt forming on the entire left side of his face. He gets up without a sound and heads towards his healing supplies, giving Harry a dry look at his appearance.

Harry coughs, “Well, there’s no getting into that blasted place,” he sits down near Sirius and makes grabby hands at his tea, Sirius obliges easily, sipping with a hum Harry asks, “How likely do you think your grandfather would be to calling up Kreacher for us? Or letting you into that house?” 

Sirius’ scowl is answering enough, “Seeing as he hasn’t sent a letter since my release I doubt he gives a damn about me. All he’s ever cared about is preserving our bloodline. If he knew I wanted something from him, he’d hold it over my head until I agreed to marry some pure-blood witch to give him heirs,” sneering out the word. 

Harry isn’t going to let anyone hold anything over Sirius, so that plan’s out. He mutters out thanks to Remus’ tending of his wounds, he supposes they can wait until the man dies. Whatever magic keeping that buggering house so locked up should transfer over to Sirius. The thought’s a little too morbid for his tastes so he doesn’t voice it. 

“There is someone who did write me a letter, you know,” Sirius starts again, “She was always kind to Regulus and me when were children and for some reason was polite to that wretched elf for looking after us. Kreacher would maybe answer her call.” 

“Who?” Harry asks, trying to connect what Sirius said to a face. 

The turning of pages of the Daily Prophet were the only sounds that were emitting from the house, the witch seated primly in her kitchen wasn’t making a noise when she set her cup of coffee down on the table. Grace came to her so easily it spilled out in every movement she made.

She started favoring coffee after giving birth to her rambunctious daughter who always seemed to stumble over every little thing around the home. The burst of energy was needed to prevent any harm to her. A chill from the open window paused her reading, she turns marginally towards the breeze that carried in the smell of her neighbor's hyacinths — she wonders if they’ll gift her a bundle again, it would brighten up the house and the smell was ever so delightful.

Her neighbors were very kind to her, they knew little of her but — glimpses of midnight sky tresses cascading past straightened shoulders to rest just inches from her hips, eyes that reflected the brilliance of sapphires and the raging temperament of the ocean but crinkled in warmth whenever she locked that gaze with someone, and the sound of her soft, warm voice that befitted an angel had bewitched them all. 

A single wave of a hand, wand twirling from within the sleeve of her dress, shuts the window. Just as she returns her look to the paper, a knocking at her door distracts her. She stands up, putting the paper lightly down at the table, in one smooth movement. Her steps are long and certain as she makes for her door, the dress falls just past her feet that hide her stride and has the effect of looking like she’s floating across the room, the illusion only broken by the staccato clatter that echoes off the wooden floor from her heels.

She parts open the door, her eyes widen slightly as she takes in her unexpected guests. A familiar impish smile greets her, “Hey, Cousin Romy,” if she wants to roll her eyes at the nickname she certainly doesn’t show it. She takes in the other man standing beside him, the dark messy hair, the green eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses and a sheepish smile that accompanies it all. 

Andromeda’s eyes shut slowly, a withering sigh passing through her lips, she has always kept an eye on him and that included his friends and she can easily recognize that face. With an imperceptible shake of her head, her eyes snap open and gaze shrewdly at her cousin, “Cousin Sirius,” voice incredibly fond despite her look, “what mess have you gotten yourself into this time?”

She takes great joy in how quickly she can make him look a sputtering fool. It’s been so long since she’s done so. 

Harry had the pleasure of meeting Andromeda after the war and he always found the woman to be positively terrifying but seeing her face turn amused as Sirius stumbled over his words, he realized that he may have gotten her wrong all this time. She would do the same thing to him, but he never caught that look on her face, too busy being mortified and focusing on Teddy instead when he visited. It really is fun to see the effect she has on people, and it looks like she knows it too. 

Andromeda had taken Sirius into her arms mid-explanation and gave him a good squeeze that he melted in. She gave Harry a kind smile and grasped his hand between both of hers — insisting that he call her Andromeda and not Mrs. Tonks that he greeted her with or whatever silly nickname Sirius had thought of. 

Sirius did most of the talking as they huddled in her kitchen, snacking on biscuits she prepared. She handled Harry’s accidental time travel with a single acknowledging nod — Harry is starting to think it must be just another ordinary day with this family — but at the end of his ranting, she took one long look at Sirius and told him, “Please, try that again, I believe you missed some details.”

Harry and Sirius both froze under her knowing smile. They didn’t explain the importance of the locket but it seemed like she wasn’t going to consider calling Kreacher it if they weren’t honest. Sirius nodded at Harry, it was up to him to decide if they can tell her. 

Harry sighs, he hasn’t liked this part so far, “Voldemort isn’t dead,” the smile quickly fades from her face her look more calculating as she takes that in, “the locket that Kreacher has holds a piece of his soul. With it destroyed we could make sure he stays dead.” 

“How did Kreacher get the locket?” she tilts her head at him examining Harry fully. 

Harry pauses for a moment, it didn’t come up when he told Sirius. He gives him a sympathetic look, “I was going to mention this when we were destroying that damn thing. Regulus found out about the locket after Voldemort used Kreacher to hide it, thinking the elf would die while doing so,” the two let out low discernible sounds at the name, “When he realized what it was, he knew he couldn’t sit idly by. He got it out from where he hid it, ordered Kreacher to destroy it, and died where he found it. The protections being too much for him.”

Andromeda turns away. Anguish hitting her harshly, but Sirius isn’t doing any better. He looks wrecked with grief, he softly asks, “He didn’t have anyone to turn to did he?” 

Harry could only shake his head in agreement. A sob breaks out of Sirius, but he keeps another from escaping. Harry politely excuses himself from the room, to let the two mourn for a moment before they talk again. He thinks Sirius needs someone more familiar to help him through it. He leaves them with, “I still and always did think of him as a hero.”

Kreacher was called and he answered thinking Andromeda was finally leaving the filthy muggles to come back to the family. When he noticed Sirius in the room, he broke into a mutter of disgraceful traitors shaming the family. Before he could go on, Harry mentioned the locket. Kreacher freezing his tirade to question the man. 

Promises from Harry that he’ll do Regulus proud and destroy the locket and reassuring comments from Andromeda that he had done his part in keeping the locket hidden away was enough to Kreacher to part with it. 

Sirius had never seen the elf so thankful in his life. Kreacher popped away soon after and the two wizards said their goodbyes to Andromeda. 

She wanted to see them again so she made sure to tell him that, “Nymphadora has been missing her cool Uncle Sirius, as well.” 

Locket in hand they headed back to the cottage, Remus had stayed behind not wanting to impose on someone’s home. Harry thought it dumb but left him on his lonesome. 

Harry and Sirius were standing in the middle of the cottage, staring down at Remus who apparently fell asleep while waiting. Harry eyes the sweater that hangs off one of his arms and the shirt off the other, wondering what contortions led to that. Remus is laid half off the bed with both arms fanned out before him, the clothing reminds Harry of shoddy wings, he looks like he fell mid-flight. 

Sirius lets out a snort, “Don’t know how you can find that cute, he’s a right mess.” Harry smiles, guess Remus has been dealing with that, “I don’t know. I feel like I should preserve this between the pages of a book.” 

Sirius rolls his eyes, “Uh-huh… tickle charm?” motioning at Remus. Harry readies his wand with a nod. Sirius aims for his feet while Harry aims for under his arms. Soon, the cottage is filled with the gasping laughter from Remus, who’s flopping around on the floor. He’s throwing bedding at the two trying to cancel out their casting, he manages to snag Sirius with the sweater wrapped around his arm and pull him towards the floor. 

Harry carefully steps back into the kitchen as the two start shoving pillows at each other. He’s famished and hasn't had a proper meal all day.

Harry and Remus had just finished off their spells that ward off anyone from accidentally stumbling into the valley. Sirius is seated near one of the rocks overlooking it, still not used to having so much to do in a day. Harry thinks there’s at least one thing to like about the rocky hills — it’s not flammable.

“I’ve never done this spell,” continuing with a nod to Remus’ expected glare, “so please stun me and quickly summon my body if it gets out of hand.” 

Remus reluctantly heads back with an affirmative sound, he positions himself on the outer reaches of the valley, near Sirius whose eyes are filled with excitement. Harry calls out, “Pads, call Kreacher like we promised.” 

A disgruntled, “Kreacher!” gets them the disgruntled elf. It’s almost polite how he only manages to call Sirius ungrateful filth only once before focusing on the locket near Harry. 

Harry twirls the elder wand in his hand, as he focuses on the spell. From what he knows about the curse it mostly derives from using anger to fuel the flames. He’s got plenty of that, but if the anger gets a tad out of control then out comes a rampaging fire beast that will consume all in its path. It seems simple enough.

Harry thinks about Voldemort, thinks about the deaths that could’ve been prevented, about the loneliness that ate away at him. He reaches into that box inside him and lifts the lid slightly from his anger. Points the wand at the locket, and mutters out the spell for Fiendfyre. 

A large swirling flame bursts out of his wand, he turns his foot to get a better stance as the knockback nudged him,  hitting the locket immediately. An ear-shattering scream comes from the locket, black, inky smoke gushing out. Harry remembers how the locket showed illusions to the wearer, picking at insecurities, encouraging distrust among him and his friends. It was so stupid, how they fell for it. How Ron decided to abandon them, because of that stupid, locket. The fire remains constant, jetting out his wand in a blast of heat that was making him sweat. 

The smoke still hasn’t finished evaporating, he refuses to acknowledge anything it might be showing him, the fire is making it a good shield for it. He won’t abandon what he has to do here, like — like Ron abandoned him during Auror training. It was entirely unfair, he was expected to complete it but Ron had the luxury of dropping out. Anytime he mentioned doing anything else they all just shook their heads in disappointment, he could never do anything he wanted. He picked being an Auror so he should’ve been the one to change it but, no. Nothing was really his, his life was at the mercy of the people around him. People who so readily left him, it’s so — a jerk from his wand causes a jolt of fire to spiral out, forming into the makings of some beast. Harry’s eyes widen, he just catches the fangs start morphing on it before he feels a stunner hit him in the back and he’s flying back towards the edges of the valley. 

He’s hurling back with so much momentum that he crashes into Remus and they both tumble onto the floor. Remus picks himself up quickly, casts an Enneverate on Harry and urgently looks him over. Remus reaches for his hands and face to look for any burns. Harry just breathes out heavily at his prodding, trying to calm himself from how he lost control. “Fucking hell,” he says breathlessly. Remus slumps and nods back once he sees that Harry’s alright. 

They hear Sirius shout, “Fuck off, Voldemort!” and turn towards the valley as the fire surrounds the locket and snuffs out the last of its screams. Kreacher's sobbing replacing the sound. 

That night was a mixture of relief and anxiety as Harry tried to tuck his feelings away again. He was still feeling angry, and thinking back on his thoughts he felt shame. He was never one to whine like that. He eventually gave up and headed to bed early as Remus allowed Sirius a small thimble of fire whiskey. Remus reasoned that it felt appropriate. 

He couldn’t sleep easily with how cramp the cottage was but he dozed a bit to the sounds of the two talking. Eventually, Remus plopped down next to Harry and promptly passed out. That’s when Harry realized they needed to make the bed bigger for Sirius, as if reading his mind Sirius speaks up, “I can sleep on the floor tonight, the soft bed of the hospital made me restless. I’ll get used to it later,” he then shifts to his dog form and settles half underneath the bed. 

Harry frowns at him, “You shouldn’t use that form as a clutch. I know how much you used it in Azkaban,” at the wide eyes and flattened ears he relents with a sigh, “but, tonight I guess it’s fine. G’night, Padfoot.” He leans over and gives him a quick pet. 

Harry closes his eyes to the sounds of the two breathing near him. It calms him more than anything else he’s tried and next thing he knows he’s slowly peeling his eyes open to the soft light of the morning. A dreamless sleep. 

He doesn’t know how much he slept, but once he’s up he usually can’t go back to it so he shuffles out of bed. He fixes himself a cup of hot chocolate and decides to drink it outside. Bundled up under his coat, he casts a spell to keep the cold in check and heads out. 

Snow has blanketed the field around them, only a few purple flowers peek out from beneath its veil. His feet crunch on the snow as he heads around by the shed to lean against the wall. Warming the area around him with magic, he watches as the morning sun slowly melts away at the snow. 

If he was being honest with himself, he had doubts he’d still be here. He also thought if nothing else then his memories would start changing, but he still remembers meeting Remus and Sirius in 3rd year. It should be comforting to him that he isn’t withering away, confirming what he initially thought about this, but he’s unsure of what he’s feeling. 

He sips at his drink, hissing at the burn, and tries to put a name to what it is that’s stirring inside him. It could be disappointment he muses, but that feels harsh. He’s happy, it just — it would’ve been nice if he had a glimpse of this Harry’s changed life. The Harry over at Privet Drive is never going to have Ron leave him and Hermione out on some field in the middle of a war. He doesn’t want that memory to go away, even if he is angry about it still, it shaped a lot of interactions between them. He had liked being with them after the war, he just didn’t like the effect his choices made on others. He tries another sip, this one warming him up. Chocolate was always soothing. 

Now he’s here, full control of his choices and some part of him wishes he had the memories of someone else. Harry doesn’t know what to make of that. He doesn’t know who he wants to be here. Harry turns his head towards the sound of the door slipping open, the crunching of sound is quick as Padfoot finds him. 

Harry welcomes him, petting him as he sits beside him. The mutt eventually flops down over Harry’s lap and that gets a sigh out of him. He lets out a chiding Sirius and gives him a raised eyebrow at his attempts of puppy eyes again. Sirius gingerly moves away, and shifts back. Face red from embarrassment, he lets out a quick sorry with a downturned head and makes to turn away. Harry grabs him by the sleeve before he can.

“If you want a cuddle, Sirius. Be a man and ask for one,” and pulls him down beside him. Sirius is tense as Harry wraps an arm around his shoulder, but he lets out a huge shiver when Harry pulls him into his side. “S’cold,” he murmurs out. Harry knows that’s a lie — he’s a master at the heating charm — but he lets Sirius be with an affirmative hum and tugs him a little closer. 

They both watch as the last of the snow melts off the field, both admiring their new leases in life. 

Chapter Text

When Harry wakes he usually doesn’t spend too much time doting on his appearance, he’d pass fingers through perpetually unkempt hair from a force of habit more than an actual care for taming it and splash water on his face to get on with his day. It only ever mattered during special occasions where he had to meet some standards for an event that he wanted no part in but unfortunately — as it usually is when it comes to him — was forced to attend. This morning he paused at the mirror, existential thoughts still whirling in his head about who he is in this time as his past was steadily getting unwritten. Everything that made him who he was, are memories that no one but him will ever remember. He figured he’d make a valiant effort to be more present by ignoring those thoughts and acknowledging his reflection for more than a scant few seconds. 

The beard was new — or the stubble but it’s more than he’s ever had before — he thinks as he tilts his chin in different directions. He runs a finger down the coarse hair as he tries to remember the last time he had shaved — the enchanted razor he had didn’t come with him and he doesn’t know where to get a similar one. It was so easy to just let it go off in his morning routine. He groans out at the thought of breaking in a new one — he didn’t want to end up with half an eyebrow again. 

He takes in his hair next, shaggy strands that have lengthened since his last haircut to reach past the nape of his neck. The palm he flattens across it does nothing to rid it of its bed-tousled look. He notes, then, how much his look was an automated process that he hadn’t changed since his school years. A recognizable figure in the Aurors for the wizarding public to look up to. He wonders what would’ve happened had he shaved it all off or cast a new spell each day to change it from one flashing color to the next. A piercing on his lip like Charlie’s — that always caught his eye the few chances he got to be around the enigmatic dragon tamer — or even an obnoxious tattoo to mark his skin for all to see. He lets out a laugh as he imagines a snitch under his eye. Would it have started a decline in his popularity in the papers or started a new fad, he ponders. 

Harry supposes it doesn’t matter anymore and decides to let his look be as it’s already markedly different from what he’s used to. Here in this time, he’s not the savior of the wizarding world, he’s just a man who lives in a cottage out in Yorkshire with a lovely werewolf and a charming former prisoner of Azkaban. He thinks that’ll do for now. 

Remus was reluctantly going over the Arithmancy for the magical expansion of his home and after concluding that the runes that he and Sirius had planned out wouldn’t cause an explosion of sorts — barring the few adjustments he made to lessen those chances — he agreed to have the project start. 

He had thought the two would want to find a home out in a city but the isolation was apparently cozy to them. Remus was wary because while he enjoyed the two staying with him he couldn’t shake the thought that he was mooching off of them. A leech to their never-ending generosity, and it burned him to know that his agreement was the only thing he could offer. He was weak to the way the two looked at him with wide pleading eyes and their sulking over the way he was effectively kicking them out when he voiced his concerns. 

He had a backbone once. He knows he did.

Remus oversaw it all with a detailed eye and a hint of relief — it was getting quite crowded. He went around marking the spots the runes needed to be carved in while Sirius, with a steadier hand as the days have given more of his strength back, burned them in with his magic. He had a knack for runes and the best handwriting of the three — it was a given growing up under the scrutiny of Walburga. Harry mostly just watched after he shamelessly admitted to having no way of helping. He eventually busied himself with sorting out the furniture for the soon-to-be new rooms, then once that was quickly finished he pestered the two until Remus shooed him into the kitchen to make them some food so he can feel useful. 

Remus sat down on the grass next to Harry as he munched on his sandwich and watched as Sirius finished the last of the carving outside. Sirius tapped the final ruin with his wand twice setting the array of runes aglow and stepped back towards them as the cottage came alive to shift into its new dimensions. Stretching out towards the materials that were bundled within the circle of magic. They were absorbed into it in a gluttonous bustle, stacking on top each other to build the new walls, packing into sturdier floors and settling into larger windows. It lifted off the ground before them as slabs formed to raise its foundation. The emergence of a patio that encroached onto the edges of the meadow around them soon followed, along with a new porch with steps pushing out that lead to the front door. By the end of it, it had doubled, if not tripled, in size and the abode was looking far homier than the sad shack it once was.  

Harry clapped at the display of magic, a shocked laugh followed when his new home shook in response. 

“Is it normal for it to be… so sentient?” he says enchanted as he turns to the other two. 

Remus shakes his head, “Some residual magic. It’ll fizz out soon.” He stands with a huff, “Let’s go take a gander and see if we missed anything crucial. It’s a good sign that it’s not collapsing in on itself.”

The hoot of an owl has the three turn their heads, landing nearby Sirius who stroked its feathers with a thanks as he untied the letter from the outstretched leg. They continued inside as Sirius opened it. 

Harry was admiring the new nook where their bed still is, when Sirius spoke out, “Dumbledore wants me to visit Hogwarts to go over the situation regarding younger you.” 

Harry tensed at the mention of the man but kept his tone light, “Did he tell you where I — he is being kept?” That revelation to Sirius involved a lot of cursing from the man having been fully aware of the sorts of muggles Lily’s family was. They had visited once after the burning of the last Horcrux but only got a quick peek as the kid was hurried into a car for school. It was enough for Sirius to want to take him right there, and Harry was all for it. Remus, of course, remained the voice of reason. Sirius being godfather did give him a right but they had to wait for the right time. 

This was one of the reasons they were expanding the house, Harry was fully prepared for his eventual kidnapping. It was going quite well, even if Remus still said it was illegal. The fact that his whereabouts were supposed to be a secret was causing an issue but Harry hadn’t had any hopes for Dumbledore to readily let him go. Kidnapping was obviously the solution and he’ll convince Remus soon enough. 

“Mm, no.” Sirius mumbles as he sits on the new armchair by the fire, “He does mention to research the witch Theodosia Minks before my visit.” He taps the name on the letter, “I know that name but I’m not sure where from.”

“She was married to a rather well known pure-blooded wizard about a century ago,” Remus chimes in as he waves his wand around the room to check for any defects, “she’s known for how she tried to hide the fact that their child wasn’t really his with some sort of spell. It was quite scandalous from what I know about it.”

Harry gives them an incredulous look, “Why would he want you to know some story of a cheating woman… why do you even know about that?” he motions to the casting wizard. 

Remus pauses and with a straightening of his posture, he answers, “The spell she created — well, ritual really — involved using the blood of her husband to make the child essentially have a second father. It was ingenious in the way it mixed in with the child making him pretty much a whole new person. I was researching spells that affected the bodies of wizards and certain… impurities.” He clears his throat at the sympathy filled looks from the two and quickly adds, “She only got caught because she told other wives of the spell. It became popular because the men were -” 

“Shooting blanks!” Sirius snaps his fingers, “The whole lot of them were shooting blanks. Poor sods were born from parents who were too close in relation. My father accused my delightful mother of using that spell once because Reggie didn’t look much like him. I think she actually made him infertile as a result of that fight,” finishing with a thoughtful rub of his chin.

The two others wince at that, “Yes, thank you, Pads.” murmurs out Remus.

Harry considers the new information — ignoring Sirius’ continued musing on his dysfunctional family — and isn’t sure what to think of the results. He has an idea of what Dumbledore’s plan is but he can’t be sure unless Sirius goes to meet him. He tells the other two he’s wary of that. 

Remus turns away, fiddling with his wand, “I know you have your issues with him,” he glances back at Harry, “But I do still trust him, not that I don’t believe you have good reasons, it’s just… he’s why I got to go to Hogwarts and he did sound sincere when we heard him talk to Sirius,” finishing softly while Sirius nods in agreement. 

Harry chews his lips but eventually relents at his reasoning, he turns to Sirius, “I’ll come along, there’s that Horcrux in Hogwarts we have to deal with anyways,” Remus offers to join him, still not comfortable with the last time they tried to destroy one.

Harry hums an affirmative noise and flicks his wand at the bed he’s near. Having it shrink into his pocket as he walks towards the new rooms of the home. 

“Where are you taking my bed?” Remus questions confused — he had specifically accounted for the nook. 

Harry looks at him like the idiot he’s being, “To our room.”

Sirius laughs at the choked coughing coming from Remus. 

“I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good”

Harry watches as the map unfurls and reveals to him the current residents of the school. He sees Sirius make his way towards the headmaster's office, and the few students who stayed behind during winter holiday are either in their respective rooms or enjoying the snow out in the common yard. He only sees a few stragglers wandering the hallways and no one currently near Filch’s office aside from him and Remus who’s stationed outside.

He sticks his head out from the door and hisses for Remus to come in. Remus drops his disillusionment and the two plan their path up to the seventh floor. Harry guides his finger down the map to a shortcut that’ll drop them near the Gryffindor portrait entrance and they should be able to get to the Room of Requirement from there with no trouble. 

Remus waves his wand over his head and invisibility washes over him again. Harry wraps his cloak around himself, keeping his map open the whole time, and waits for the feel of fingers poking on his shoulders. At the gentle prodding, he walks out.

Their steps remain light as they head up the seventh floor, keeping mindful of the few portraits that were active around them. At the tapestry of Barnabas, he shrugs Remus off to start the three passes to get the entrance open. When — I need the bloody Horcrux — doesn’t cause the door to appear, Harry grumbles and tries thinking specifically of a room with just the diadem in it. Harry’s defeated stomps echo down the hallway yet again after another non-appearance of the door. He might have thought it fair to have something hidden remain hidden but now it was a load of bollocks. The door appears causing a curious sound from Remus and they both rush into the Room of Hidden Things. 

Harry’s sigh is heavy as he takes in the clutter, mess, and mayhem of all the various bits and baubles in front of him. It’s been ten years since he last ran in here to hide the potion book from Snape and he doesn’t exactly remember the path to the Horcrux. He can only be reassured that he didn’t go too far into this hopeless maze of abandoned treasures and trash. 

“So it’s a discolored tiara, diadem really if that means something to you, that looks like a bird with a giant blue gem in the middle. It should be near a bust of a haggard-looking warlock. Please don’t try it on. I don’t have any idea what it’ll do besides make you look princely and possibly possessed,” he says to Remus once he appears also motioning in the distance with an explanation that he didn’t go that far in. 

Remus nods and they begin the hunt. Harry carelessly tosses the lighter objects out of the way as he goes through pile after pile. Only stopping if a gleaming catches his eyes but then that soon joins the other thrown things when it isn’t the Horcrux. Remus, meanwhile, walks along the perimeter to get a better view of it all. Stopping only to peer at the more ridiculous of objects that have ended up in the room but pushes his curiosity aside to focus on their task. 

“How did you find it last time?” he asks as he banishes a bundle of wigs into the far side of the room. 

“I like to think it found me,” Harry calls out from a circle of books, “I thought it a useless old tiara when I first saw it and when I knew what it was it burned before I could even reach it. Chased out of this room with a blazing inferno from a classmate.” He gesticulates with his arms to explain how everything was on fire. 

Remus pales slightly, “Let’s not have that happen again… how are we going to destroy it this time? Do you have a better handle of that spell?”

Harry shakes his head quickly, “Nope, I could probably use the practice but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Anger’s one bloody hard emotion to try to control.” He snaps his gaze towards the top of a stack of trucks but deflates when it’s nothing but the glimmer of a necklace that distracted him. He casts a spell to tip it all over anyways. 

Remus delicately levitates a tattered Hufflepuff rug away to reveal a pile of even more rugs as he casually asks, “What was it that set you off? You were in control for a while there.” 

In lieu of responding, Harry peers at the bust of a very ugly witch to try to determine if he would’ve mistaken it for a warlock. He tosses it behind him and sighs when Remus stops to give him one of his long looks — not a pitying one but one that emoted how badly he wanted to understand.

“It was a very silly thing and I’m entirely too embarrassed to even speak of it,” when that shifts Remus’ look to a mildly disappointed one he relents, “I might have some unresolved issues with certain people in my life but that’s all in a past that’ll never be.” He takes a special interest in a towering pile of socks beside him. 

“Oh,” Remus also finds the pile particularly eye-catching, “Would you like to… talk about it? Let it out so it doesn't fester?” 

Absolutely not, is Harry’s initial response but he stops himself before he says it. He would’ve liked to talk about it with his friends, but that’s no longer possible. He casts a swift glance at the man who’s mindlessly spelling the socks to bundle into pairs next to him. Remus has been so kind to him that he almost forgets that this one hasn’t known him for years. It can’t hurt to vent if he’s willing to hear. He starts helping him sort the socks, deliberately making mismatched pairs. 

“You’ve ever had something happen to you that forced you to change to a new way of life?” Remus tilts his head and gives him the driest of stares, “Right… well, I mean yes of course you do. Perfect. So that feeling, that mad rush to adapt to these new changes. That’s essentially what I felt like my whole life. Well, after I was told I was a wizard. Before then, it was much simpler, all I had to worry about was a family disliking me and a list of chores.” 

Remus stays silent but his face clearly shows his distaste at the mention.“First, it’s magic, great all those weird things happening to me have an explanation. Then, it’s realizing a dark lord killed my parents because he wanted to kill me, still unsure if that’s better or worse than thinking they died in a car crash. From being the most dismissed in Surrey to the most known at Hogwarts,” he pauses to gather his thoughts, “it was all that and more. Every year brought a new threat that directly involved me that I had to learn to deal with. It was all very exciting, I suppose.”

“Through all those tumultuous years, I had Ron and Hermione by my side,” his expression leans more towards nostalgic but Remus catches the wistfulness, “Once the war was over, the big bad wizard nice and dead, I figured it’d all just continue on. The new threats changing from imminent death to what to do with my time now. It was the three of us, then the two of them but that was happy news so I didn’t notice at first that the expectation was that I’d be on my own. Ginny, Ron’s sister, was technically expected to be with me but turns out I fancy blokes so my gut was telling me to not pursue that aside from staying good mates.”

Remus’ fingers twitch but his voice remains steady, “It must have been hard to suddenly be lonely after all that.” 

“Hm,” Harry bites on his lip, “I busied myself so I don’t think I got to feel lonely. I did feel left behind though. Ron quit Auror training with me to pursue a career in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Hermione busied herself with finding her parents and when she did she walked right into ministry to start working with magical creature laws. All good news, everyone heading forward. The busyness of it all was what got to me. Once a week meetups turned to once a month. Family dinners turned into interrogations about what I was going to do as if I wasn’t pursuing life as vigorously as they all did.”

Harry’s voice turns sullen as he continues, “I did try, honestly. We lost a lot of people during the war, I lost a lot. I think they were trying to be kind in not mentioning it around me. I wanted to acknowledge it. Give me time to adjust. It was getting very tiring to rush. So, when those things happened. I felt angry. Ron had a choice that I didn’t think I had, Hermione had a passion for her life that was missing in mine. They did that all without me and I didn’t say anything to deter them because when I did voice that I wanted to stop for just a moment… they acted as if I was denying myself happiness, even though I thought I was trying to find it. It’s hard to do something that might disappoint them. Guess I can do what I want now.” Harry’s shoulders shift as if a load has finally shrugged off them. 

Remus can understand that. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’re doing rather well for yourself now.” 

Harry turns to Remus with a small smile, then lets out a chuckle, “Of course you’d think that. I promised you a big happy family, and I’ve been delivering haven’t I?” 

Remus faces the finished pile of socks, “Yes, I didn’t account for the number of times I had to stop you from stealing a child but I’ve learned to cope.” 

Harry tosses a pair at his face in response. Remus tosses several pairs at Harry’s face in response to that. Harry waves his wand to bury Remus in his entire pile of old musty socks and walks away. 

When Remus finally manages to dig himself out, Harry comes back to shake the diadem in his face. “Found it!”

“How long is this chute?” Sirius asks over the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. 

“Long enough,” Harry shrugs. 

Sirius tightens his mouth, then shrugs back and jumps in. 

Remus peers over the edge after the thrilled yelling from Sirius died out, “Are you sure you don’t need me to come with?”

“Nope,” Harry breezily replies, “You stay here and make sure Myrtle doesn’t come back or anyone else for that matter.” He jumps in soon after. 

When he reaches the bottom he tumbles over Sirius who had not moved since he made his way down and the two land atop the heap of bones that made their landing.

“Oi! Do you not know sliding etiquette?” Harry complains as he shoves Sirius' face away from his elbow. 

Sirius digs his knee into Harry’s side as he gets up, “Slides don’t usually lead to a pile of bones!”

They scuffle for a moment before getting up, Harry groans at what he’s sure will be a bruise on his ribs, “Must’ve slipped my mind to mention.” 

Sirius’ looks at him like he’s just realized something earth-shattering, “This is what Remus was talking about. I thought he was just being overdramatic, he usually is.” Gesturing at Harry’s whole being.

Harry coughs and lights a Lumos on the tip of his wand, “It’s nice to know you guys talk about me,” Sirius scoffs, “How was Hagrid by the way?”

Sirius follows him into the cavern, boots crunching on bones, “So we’re not going to mention the bones, then? Lovely. He’s great, cried all over my shoulder. Gave me a bunch of rock cakes that I hoisted onto Dumbledore.” 

Harry hums, “I thought I was the only one who knew the pleasure of his cooking, chipped a molar on one but wizard dentistry is phenomenal. You get the roosters?”

The trickling of water gets louder as they make their way deeper, “Yes… it felt a bit wrong to steal from Hagrid.” He looks over at Harry expectantly.

They turn a corner and Harry breathes a small sigh of relief at the lack of basilisk shedding, “They’re more of a precaution, in case something goes wrong. We’ll return them or replace them.”

Sirius bumps his shoulder against Harry, “Just lay it on me, Harry. ‘M a big boy I can handle whatever is you’re leading us too. I’m not expecting a picnic.”

Harry pauses once they reach the beginning of the chamber, “Right… So I’m going try to talk to the basilisk that lives down here,” Harry’s a bit proud of Sirius over how that doesn’t get a single peep out of him just a flinch, “it did only talk of killing everyone around them last I heard them speak but I’m thinking that was Voldemort's doing and I’m hopeful I can be a more positive influence.”

That gets a long strangled groan, “Remus warned me,” he starts weakly then claps with forced cheer, “Right, good he’s not here because he’d blow a gasket. Do you really think it’ll listen to you?” Sirius thinks it’ll all go pear-shaped.

Harry wiggles his hand to indicate he’s about half-sure himself, “I have to be close to summon it, anyways. It can’t hurt to try, just have the roosters at the ready in case I need them to kill the thing. I’ll let you know if it gets dicey and please remember not to look at it.” Harry shouts as he walks towards the unsightly statue of Salazar.

Sirius leans against the stonewall of the corridor. He reaches into his bag and pulls out two stunned roosters and lays them down beside him. Wand at the ready to wake them up. 

The hissing sound from Harry gives him a slight shiver but he focuses on the noises going on behind him. He hears something heavy shifting, then the distinctive noise of scales slithering along the stone floor. Harry’s steps come closer but they aren’t hurried as he begins speaking to the basilisk. 

Sirius thinks the sibilant sounds from the two is rather pleasant, which must be a good sign. Then, Harry’s steps start thundering down towards him, fast and erratic, “Sirius, get those roosters up, please!”

His motions are frenzied as he does what Harry asks, curses slipping from him as he hears the basilisk gain more speed. The spell causing the two birds to remain in stasis wears off and — and nothing happens but the movement of their breathing. Sirius stares with his mouth agape, he frantically picks one up to try and waken it. 

Harry turns the corner with a stumble, his wand aimed behind him to send one of the statues lined near him towards the beast, the crunching of teeth against stone follows. He takes just a few seconds to take in panicked eyes and the cradled sleeping rooster before grabbing the other off the floor and pulling Sirius to a run. 

“Why aren’t they awake, Sirius?!” Harry shouts as he looks down at his chicken in his arms, “Did you power your spell too strongly? They’re chickens!” As they pass a fairly large puddle he spells it to launch behind him and freeze the passage close. 

It barely deters the basilisk and the shattering of ice does nothing to calm the two, “Sorry, I don’t have a lot of experience practicing magic on sodding chickens, you twat!” 

The slithering and hissing get closer and Harry tucks his rooster under one arm to reach into his pocket with the other. Diadem in hand as he and Sirius keep running. He chucks it behind him as he hears the hissing stop, indicating the opening of its maw,  hoping his aim rings true.

The basilisk snaps its jaws shut instinctively when it feels the Horcrux hit its fangs. A booming guttural screech erupts and a murky haze fills the cavern emitting from the snake's mouth. The basilisk thrashes about at the uncomfortable feeling and tries to spit out the object tormenting it. 

Harry and Sirius take the chance to keep running eventually circling back to one of the other entrances to the chamber. Harry casts Bombardas on the bases of the statues around them and Sirius following his cue sends them towards the opening behind them. 

Sirius takes the brief moment of respite, to prod at his chicken in hopes that it’ll wake up from its spell-induced sleep. “It’s not like you’ll find a bloody button that’ll make it caw!”

Sirius glares at the man who’s rubbing his hands along the body of his rooster, “Well, it’s not like wanking it will do any better!”

Harry huffs and an insult forms on his lips but then the rooster in his arm shifts and cranes its neck to peer up at him. Harry whoops raising the chicken with one hand — using the other to stick a finger up at Sirius’ direction. 

The crashing as the basilisk emerges from the closed-off entrance behind them startles him, and the chicken as well as he looks over Harry’s side right into the eyes of the basilisk. Killing it instantly. 

Harry stares at the limp bird in his arm, he whimpers a soul-crushing, “No…”

The other rooster meanwhile has woken during all this and, at witnessing the death of one of its brethren, a comrade he’s known for all his life — or from Sirius’ poking finally proving effective — lets out the mightiest of caws. 

The basilisk freezes behind them, Sirius and Harry freeze as well when the movement ceases, and the snake finally collapses. 

The weight of its fall shocks breaths back into the two. 

“It’s amazing that the body stayed so preserved after a thousand years,” Remus murmurs as he examines the fangs and venom-filled bottles on their kitchen table. 

Harry and Sirius make matching wonder-filled hums, Harry pinches Sirius — who scowls and pinches back — before moving to stand beside Remus with a grin, “Yeah, Salazar was a right creep. Wasn’t much down there but an ugly statue of himself and the dead basilisk kept in its tomb.”

Remus blinks at him then slowly turns towards the window outside where their new chicken is cooped up — Sirius couldn’t just return the hero. 

Harry keeps his grin up while he curses Sirius in his head. Sure, he might have wanted the rooster too but it was Sirius’ idea. 

“Hm,” Remus turns his gaze back to the collection in front of him, “Lucky us, then.” He pretends not to notice the sighs of relief from the two. 

Harry starts putting them into a trunk he procured, “We should be able to make quite a pretty penny off of this. We’ll keep enough for our needs, of course.” His funds have certainly been taking the dent as of late but this should get it all back and some. 

Sirius collapses onto the sofa, propping his legs up over an arm to kick his boots off, “I’m completely knackered, but I suppose I should tell you the details of Dumbledore's little meeting with me.” 

Remus tsks as Sirius’ socks hit the floor, but leaves it be to crack open the apple cider they’ve nicked from the kitchens of Hogwarts — his conscious clean as he left some galleons for the elves when Harry and Sirius weren’t looking.

After adding in a clove of cinnamon into heated glasses, he serves them out as they settle near Sirius. 

“Ta,” Sirius mutters as he knocks half of it back, “to keep it short we’re going to get to keep Harry.” The present Harry sputters in his drink at the words. 

Wiping off the excess from his chin with his sleeve — ignoring the tsk from Remus who had already grabbed a napkin — Harry asks Sirius, “He’s just okay with that?” He hasn’t even truly considered this outcome. 

Sirius nods half-lidded, the drink only added to his exhaustion, “He’s been researching the spell that keeps him safe with his aunt, he thinks if we do that spell — the one that witch made cause her husband couldn’t give her babies — he thinks if we do it on each other I’ll get some of your mum’s blood in me and little Harry will get a stronger connection with me as well. Ergo… protections remain intact.” 

Harry tilts his glass around as he thinks. Remus side-eyes him over how close he is to spilling the drink, as he questions, “Does the spell have any adverse effects?” 

“It hasn’t been used in ages, and those that have surely never mentioned it. He said he made adjustments because it’d be used on me instead of the kid but it hasn’t been tested, I suppose. He seemed confident it’d work if I was willing.” 

Harry twists his mouth around, then sighs, “Did he give you the details of it?”

Sirius pats his body down then reveals a parchment with the directions for the ritual, “It looks simple, he’d like to be there to check it all over but even I recognize most of the stuff on there.”

Harry doesn’t recognize anything aside from some potion ingredients, “You’d be fine sharing blood with him? You probably won’t look like you.”

Sirius shrugs as he finishes the last of his drink with a smacking of his lips, “I doubt it’ll make much a difference, eyes change a bit or my hair gets unruly. Bit of sleekeazy will fix it right up and my handsome mug will stay the same. The other solution would be to just reveal you, no stronger link than that, but I reckon you'd have an issue with that. Besides, I already felt part Potter.”

Harry eyes the half-asleep man to check for any lies, but the sincerity rings true. He hands the parchment to Remus, “Do you think you can do this?”

Remus reads it over a few times before nodding that yes he could. Harry chews on his cheek as he reaches a decision, “I’m fine with it… but could we test it on me first? Hats and scarves have been proving useful in hiding what I look like but that won’t last. I wouldn’t mind a new look and I’m sure your blood will make me look quite different.”

Remus chimes in, “I’ve been meaning to bring that up. We can’t hide that you’re a Potter forever.” 

Sirius perks up at the words, “You know, James had this crazy uncle of his that ran off with a distant aunt of mine. They distanced themselves from the wizarding world here, traveling around before passing away quietly not that much longer after we graduated. They left James a collection of things that might be in that vault of yours… and Great Aunt Dorea always wanted a son.”

Harry likes the idea. “So you think I can pass as their kid?” Still being able to publicly carry the Potter name makes him happy. 

Sirius squints at him and examines him over, “You’re lucky they were both rather short,” Harry rolls his eyes, “Charlus had the bluest eyes. James would say it's because his head was in the clouds, quite a few screws loose that one. You’d fit right in, but I don’t think mixing my blood with yours will help with that.” He gestures to the cool grey of his eyes.

Harry deflates as his hopes are swiftly dashed, “I still want to try it. It’ll still make me look different.”

Sirius shakes his head, then smirks at him, “I think we should give Cousin Romy another visit.”

Andromeda's gaze narrows as she takes in the favor the two men have asked of her. Drinking her coffee slowly, when she sees them start to sweat. Her eyes snap towards the closed door behind them, “Nymphadora,” her voice cooly calls out startling the two, “It's impolite not to introduce yourself to our guests.”

A yelp and a tumbling follow the call-out. Andromeda sighs as she hears the shattering of the vase of flowers she placed in the hallway — it was foolish of her to think they’d survive there. 

The door opens and in walks her daughter, hair greasy and dark as she sheepishly makes her way towards the two men. Sirius brightens up at the sight of her clumsy arrival, but it’s the fondness in Harry’s look that surprises her. 

“Hey Tonks,” the green-eyed wizard greets warmly. She’s going to have to hear about that later if he thinks he can hide that he knew them, he’s sorely mistaken. She assumes he did, given the effect she has on him is similar to Sirius’ reaction.

Tonks smiles brightly at the preferred name, hair shifting to the electric blue she normally wears. “Well, mum looks like they already know me. ‘lo Uncle Sirius and nice to meet you, Harry.” So she was listening in, perfect.

As her cousin and daughter hug, she asks, “Since you have the same information as I do. What do you think of their proposal?” Harry raises his eyebrows at the question. 

Tonks briefly flickers through the colors of the rainbow, cheeks slightly pink as she clears her throat and turns towards Harry, “You know me, then. From your past?” 

Harry nods slowly, surprised that she surmised that from what she heard. 

“Was I an Auror?” her voice is steady but there is a worry in it that she can’t hide.

Harry glances at Andromeda, he’s wary of sharing information like this. She tilts her head in a slight nod, she’s also curious. 

“Yes,” the relief from the girl is palpable, “The bravest. You always helped where you could.” Harry smiles at her, the strain in his eyes goes unnoticed as she cheers from the words.

Andromeda catches it. The fingers on her cup tighten, she understands the implications of what that could mean. 

“I’ve got OWLs next year, so dad said to start worrying about what I want to be. I was hoping that becoming an Auror would be it.” She lets the wizard know.  

Andromeda speaks up, “Yes, well that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t study, dear. It only means you should work harder now that you know your goal is achievable.” She smiles at the badly restrained eye roll that comes from her daughter. 

Tonks pulls up a seat between the two men, “You think you can show me some defense spells that’ll help? Did you see what I was good at?” 

Harry laughs at her enthusiasm, “I don’t mind helping. Between Sirius and me, we got you covered.”

Sirius pats her shoulder in agreement. She nods sharply then turns to Andromeda, “He seems like an alright sort, I wouldn’t mind having another uncle… or would it be a new brother?” Glancing back at him.

Harry’s stunned by her easy acceptance, “Uh… whatever’s easier for you.”

She grins, “Wotcher, big brother.”

Andromeda’s delighted laugh rings out, “Well that settles it. Let’s discuss the details.”

Remus floos on through, spending the time they all chatted to get together the ingredients for the spell. The potion portion of it is to merely test their relation after so it was more of checking for a reaction than drinking a goblet of something vile. 

Harry was glad to hear that. Sirius helps set up the conditions, runes marked on a smooth polished stone that he hands to Harry to hold once he finishes. Another is made for Andromeda with a different set of markings. 

With a slim knife of gold that had heated from going over the fumes from the burning herbs that Remus had gathered, she pricks her pointer finger and lines the groves of the stone with her blood. Following the etching that Sirius did. 

Remus casts the spell that has the stone set ablaze with a cool non-burning blue flame. Andromeda hands the knife to Harry, handle first, and he makes a slice on his free palm. She hands over her stone then, he grasps it and watches as the flame dances over his hand. The blood fueling it. 

Harry’s very glad this doesn’t hurt. Remus waves his wand one more time to finish the final incantation. The flame spirals inward, then fuses into his cut. They all watch entranced, as his skin glows from within as the flame adds in the new genetic material to his body. Swirling up his arm in its bluish glow, up to his shoulder and face as well as down his body. Passing over every inch of him before heading down his other arm. Once it reaches the hand holding the other stone the flame leaks out from his skin and burns brightly, having them shield their eyes from its brilliance, before fading out to nothing. 

As eyes begin to open, they notice the visible changes in Harry. Harry fidgets as they examine him unable to tell if it’s good or bad from their expressions. 

“Well?” his eyebrows raise at the tenor of his voice, a tad richer than before but noticeable enough to him, “Is it bad?” Grimacing at how insecure that sounds. 

Andromeda is first to speak, “Were you expecting to look like a troll from sharing my blood?” She laughs at his mortified expression, “No, you look much the same. We managed to get your eyes blue, not quite my shade but more crystalline in its sheen. I think it adds to your likeness to Great Aunt Dorea.”

Remus clears his throat, “Yes, you look great. The same, I mean. Which was great.” He opens his mouth again to elaborate but closes it to stop himself from babbling. 

Sirius pats the poor guy on his back and continues for him, “You still got the Potter hair in front but from where you’ve grown it longer it’s gotten wavy. You look like a proper gentleman almost.” Snickering a little as he eyes him.

Remus starts to heal Harry’s hand and clean up the materials to hide his general embarrassment. Absently testing their relation just to finish the process. Andromeda goes to fetch them something to eat and lets Harry know he’s welcome to the bathroom to look over himself. 

Harry decides he should, he’s never been accused of looking like a gentleman before. Sirius follows him so he leaves the door open once he’s in front of the mirror. 

They were right about the eyes, it’s a bit more cleaner he would say than Dorea’s. Not the cool look she has but a calmer one. He thought he’d lose a connection to his real mother, but the shape is the same and it isn’t as striking a difference as he thought. 

The hair, however, pains Harry. Guess he’ll be chopping it off. He picks at some of the locks that have gotten wavier, Sirius laughs at the face he’s making. 

Harry pouts, “I look like a minstrel, spending my days singing poetry and the like.” He gives his head a shake and frowns as his hair moves delicately around his shoulders. 

Sirius smirks at the words, “A minstrel huh?” he pulls out his wand and swiftly transfigures Harry’s clothes to that of the garb you’d find during the renaissance. Poofy pantaloons and all. 

Harry can’t help but laugh with Sirius as he takes it in, “You’re missing the lute.” He reaches for his wand and changes a nearby brush to the stringed instrument. He plucks a few strings as Sirius laughs harder. 

“Boys,” Andromeda cuts in with a small smile, the two freezing as she appears. 

She gives them an exasperated look, “You can’t possibly think it looks that bad.” She changes Harry’s clothes back and reaches into one of her drawers for a black leather strap. She motions for Harry to turn from her, and she grabs his hair and pulls it back to tie it loosely. She cuts a few strands shorter with a spell and shakes her fingers to loosen some of the more stringent waves. Once done she maneuvers him in front of the mirror again. 

Harry blushes lightly at Sirius’ wolf whistle. The hair no longer framing his neck does look much better, his hair smoother in the front with only the fringe having the normal flyaways he’s used to. He turns and the loose hold on his hair also matches the intentional messiness of the front and no longer gives him the vibe of someone more prissy. 

“Thanks, Andromeda.” He lets out after a moment. 

“Couldn’t let family look a mess now could I?” She looks over at Sirius with a sigh, “If only Cousin Sirius was amenable to my grooming.” She saunters off to the sound of his protests with a secret smile on her lips. 

Remus’ reaction to the new look had made Harry's mood brighten. The not-so-discreet looks at his exposed neck and random flushing were flattering. 

This new name Sirius and Andromeda had thought of wasn’t however. 

“Dorian? Really?” Harry asks for the tenth time. 

Sirius rolls his eyes as they make their way down Privet Drive. “Andromeda received lavish gifts at the birth of Tonks from our aunt and they were all specifically labeled for ‘little Dora’. She was batty and completely narcissistic. It’s a family trait. Think she married a Potter just for the scandal. If she had a child she would absolutely name them after herself.”  

“But… Dorian?” Harry asks for the eleventh time. 

Sirius smacks his shoulder with the back of his hand, “We won’t be calling you that. But, if someone asks. They'd respond better to Dorian than to another Harry Potter. The new-look was for discretion, no?”

Harry grumbles — Dorian, ugh — but nods as he agrees. Once they finally reach the familiar house Harry stops and tenses his hands. 

Sirius looks over, “I’ve got it. Just wait here and before you know you’ll be meeting yourself. Let’s hope reality doesn’t go all balls up once you do.” 

Harry smiles at the joking of their possible demise and motions for Sirius to go on as he waits across the street. A familiar cat passes by as he sees his aunt open the door, Sirius’ hand shoots out before she tries to close it again and she ushers him in quickly to avoid the noisy neighbors around them.

He waits around, petting the cat as it decides to sit by him. When it runs off as it senses his nervous energy he wishes Remus was around and not busying himself with getting the house together for the new arrival. What're a few socks on the ground to a boy. He knows his aunt would gladly get rid of him, but what if Harry doesn’t want to go.

He tries to imagine what it’d be like for him at that age, and it calms him as he imagines himself with his ear pressed against the cupboard door to listen to this new stranger who mentioned his name. His aunt had probably shooed him off in there — interrupting the dinner he was making while scolding him to not ruin It or he’d hear from Uncle Vernon when he came home — when the door knocked. 

“Your sort said you would leave us alone!” His aunt would shriek, “I’ve taken care of the boy as you freaks asked.”

Sirius would probably keep his anger contained, knowing that Harry could be listening in, “Yes, and I know exactly the ordeals you’ve been through to do so.” 

That would get a gasp from his aunt, they were so shocked to find out they were somehow monitored when his letter first came, “What more do you want? He’s fed and clothed!”

“I’m not here to talk about your lack of parenting skills,” Sirius was so good at letting small insults in, “I’m here to take him.”

He’d brand out the letter from Dumbledore with a flourish. He’s got a flair for dramatics. He probably wouldn’t even wait for his aunt to read it as he walks towards the cupboard. 

His heart would be beating fast at the thought of someone taking him, hope and fear mixing together. The door would open, bypassing the locks with a swish of magic that he wouldn’t understand yet. 

He’d back away into his bed, unsure if this was his savior or something worse. His fears would wash away at the fond smile from the man. The gentle voice so different from the one he would have heard from him earlier, “Hey Harry, I’m Sirius your godfather.” 

“’ lo,” he’d reply, too shy to form a bigger word. He doesn’t remember anyone being that nice to him at that age or smiling like he knows Sirius would be.

“I take it you heard?” he’d nod back, “Is there anything you want to take before you go?” Probably not he thinks. Maybe a drawing or two, he didn’t have much then. 

“All sorted?” he’d nod again, “Good, I’ve got someone else for you to meet.”

His eyes would widen at the thought of someone else and he would hope they’d be as nice as this man. 

Harry opens his eyes again at the sound of the door opening from across the street. He locks eyes with the boy who’s holding Sirius’ hand and shyly hiding behind it. The world doesn’t collapse around him but he still feels a shift that brings forth a blinding smile to his face. 

The boy smiles back, his eyes shining in their own special way — that only those unwanted could ever do when they finally see some kindness. 

Chapter Text

Harry just finished discreetly casting — wait, Dorian, I’m Dorian now… yeah, that’s not happening —  the notice-me-not charm. The few muggles seated around them turn their glances away from the trio, to instead focus back on: papers on their laps that needed reading, bundles of yarn and needles for their knitting or simply closing their eyes to idly doze as the bus rolled down the streets of Surrey on it’s way to London.

Harry shifts a leg over the other to get comfortable. They had all decided to slowly introduce the idea of magic — he specifically reasoned that easing the kid into it would work better, he took Remus’ pained laugh as proof when he voiced it. The Knight Bus was out because the danger of face-planting on the floor at every twist and turn was very high, apparating back to their home took a couple of jumps and if he still hates the feeling now then he wouldn’t want to inflict that on someone else, so a muggle bus to head towards the Leaky Cauldron was it.

The wonder of seeing Diagon Alley for the first time was something he wanted to share with the kid. Besides, Remus wanted a few hours to spruce the house up, which is a few hours more than Harry would’ve spent but he figures he’d give the man what he wants. 

A childish gasp, makes his head turn towards the two seated beside him. Sirius had whipped out his wand and spelled his counterparts clothes slimmer so they’d fit better and into a sturdier material. The movements were exaggerated and the spells were enunciated.  He pulls out a knut that he tosses into the air and changes it into a spiffy little cap mid-fall — guess, the explanation starts now. 

“How’d you do that?” the newly-hatted boy asks enraptured. 

“Magic,” Sirius explains with a showman air, “and you can do it too, Harry.” 

Harry blinks at the name, he’s been referring to the boy as, well, boy most of the time and as himself every other time. A distinction should be made, he can’t keep thinking of the kid as a version of himself forever, it’s a little rude. He leaves Sirius to it, he guesses the man practiced this part from how easily it’s all coming out.

Maybe he should view his younger self as Harry #2, he thinks. Or is he, Harry #2… he wrinkles his nose at how dehumanizing that sounds. He recalls Malfoy calling him Hadrian when he suggested trying to go by their first names, which quickly put an end to that.

He squints at the boy who’s giggling as Sirius makes sparkles of light pop around them. Try as he might he can’t see the kid as Hadrian. Harrison doesn’t fit either. Hal, Har, Ri, Henry, none of them ring true. That little kid with bright green eyes, messy hair, and clothes that properly fit him now is definitely a Harry. 

Family members often share names — albeit, usually in the form of a middle name — and they’re family. He winces as the embarrassment from earlier rises up.

He thought his smile was precious as he walked towards him, leading Sirius by his hand as he lost his timidness for a moment. Harry was filled with a pronounced feeling of bliss at all his efforts finally coming to fruition in the form of the adorable scamp in front of him. 

Then, the bloody kid blurted, “Are you my dad?” 

To be fair, to his younger self, the resemblance between them is still strong. Also, it seems his lack of restraint was a trait he carried his whole life because the boy's face turned a most mortifying shade of red after the question. It complimented the flustered denial that Harry squeaked out. 

Harry breathes out the residual feelings from that, calling him son doesn’t feel right either. Brother could work. He reflects over that label. Tonks has taken to calling him that, mostly in jest but he can try it out. His younger brother Harry.  

As the bus turns towards their stop, he tugs his scarf loose and leans over Sirius to wrap it around his little brother, “Don’t want you catching a cold, Harry.” Tugging it snugly around him, also hiding most of his face in an effective and familiar disguise.

He gets a look of wonder over the simple charm that changes it into a vibrant red. 

The trip to Diagon Alley was a resounding success. They spent most of their time in cafes to drink back some warmth as the cold of the evening pushed in, pointing at the shops around them and explaining what they could get there.

A treacle tart was split knowing full well that it would become a favorite and they spent some time in the Magical Menagerie to coo at puffskeins and transforming rabbits, marvel at the fire crabs, and — for Harry —  reminisce as an owl he passed was almost a familiar shade of snow.  

Once heads started nodding off, and eyes had become droopy they floo’d home.

Harry goes through first, he wasn’t going to risk holding anyone in his arms so he left that for Sirius.

As he fumbles out of the fireplace, he’s met with the twinkling of golden tinsel and the sparkling of ornaments on a ceiling-reaching tree. The rest of the room is awash with lights that dim and brighten intermittently. A wreath is hung by the door, level with the stockings on the wall that have their initials emblazoned in golden thread. One tinier than the rest. The fire crackling behind him combined with the fresh scent of pine and decorations around reminds Harry that — oh, it’s almost Christmas. Any thoughts on forgetting the holiday are pushed aside as he takes in the space around, he couldn’t believe it could get cozier. 

All thanks to the man seated on the couch bouncing a leg erratically. 

When Remus notices Harry he stands to his feet in a frazzled movement with his hands clenching the long sleeves of his woolen sweater. “Good, you’re here first. Is it too much? I didn’t know what colors the lights should be, is it boring? The tree’s too big isn’t it? I knew it was a monstrous size. Quick, help me shrink it.” He fiddles in his pocket to reach for his wand.

Harry doesn’t have enough time to tell him it’s perfect and the arm he has stretched out towards him falls swiftly when the floo flares up behind him — Remus straightens his posture as he glances over with wide-eyes then slouches again to appear casual. He looks coiled up ready to strike with how hard he’s gripping his wand. 

Sirius steps out smoothly, laughing as the boy in his arms sputters out the taste of soot, “That’s why I said to hold your breath, kid.” Remus rushes into the kitchen to grab a cup of water. 

When he comes back, Sirius whistles, “Blimey, Moony, look what you’ve done to the place, you don’t do half-measures do you?”

He puts down Harry — who’s sticking his tongue out repeatedly to help rid it of the taste but also peering around in appreciation that morphs his face into a contorted expression between disgust and awe. 

Remus politely coughs away his laugh and kneels to hand him the glass, who accepts it swiftly taking large gulps that spill out onto his chin.

When satisfied he hands the glass back and realizes he doesn’t know this man and mutters out a clipped, “Thank you, mister,” and leans towards Sirius to hide his face against his coat as well as using it to dry the wetness off him. Sirius grins at being used as a napkin. 

Seeing Remus crumble at his brother backing off, prompts Harry to move by the man and give him a heavy pat on his shoulder, “This is Moony,” he waves a hand around them, “he did all this to impress you. He’s been so excited to meet you. He was about to shrink the tree with some magic, do you think it needs to be smaller?” Coaxing him out of his shyness with a question. 

Remus smiles plainly, his fingers twitch as he tries not to glare at the man for exposing him in his introduction. 

Moving from Sirius with a final wipe against the fabric and a small hum, Harry looks up at the tree. He fidgets a little as he decides whether he wants to keep it big or see more magic.

Magic wins in the end, he turns towards Moony after a decisive nod. He immediately tilts his head down when he sees them all staring expectantly, his eyes peek at Moony from beneath his fringe, “Can you make it small like me…  please?” his voice quiet as it’s directed towards the floor. 

“Absolutely,” Remus instantly answers, “One Harry-sized tree coming up.” Remus walks around the tree and swishes his wand at it causing it to slowly shrink — Sirius yelps from the stinging hex he gets when he snickers out which Harry, mate. I can’t tell.  

Harry cheers and rushes towards Moony and the tree. He smiles at the tiny lights and ornaments, poking at a few that causes the branches to shake. He tugs at Moony’s sleeve and when he gets his attention he says, “Moony,” with O’s a tad elongated as he gets used to forming the new name, “Can you change the color too?”

Remus happily spends the rest of the night changing the Christmas tree to the gaudiest abomination he’s ever seen.

From the door kept ajar, the sounds of a story being read with animated delivery peter on through from the room down the hall. It was decided that Remus got that honor tonight, a reward for being left waiting for so long and from his tireless efforts on the home. He picked an old Christmas favorite for the book.

The story slowly ends mid-sentence, and Remus’ steps are quiet as he gets up to leave the room.

Harry was seated on the edge of his bed, their bed, waiting for him. They haven't slept in the same room since they’ve expanded the house, Remus having his transformation that day and confessing to having accidentally slept on the couch on the next. Harry wonders if he’ll accidentally sleep on the couch again tonight, he knows he was rather forward with moving the bed here but it really isn’t much different from what they were doing before. Intimate, yes, but it felt right. The stream from their bathroom faucet starts as he continues to wait. 

When Harry saw the nerves on his face from the thought of not doing enough, a deep burning want to pull the man into his arms, filled him. To reassure him with more than words, but with his touch. He looked so comfortable in that ridiculously large sweater too, Harry muses as he falls back into the bed with a huff, feet tapping idly on the floor.

He focuses on staying awake, he moves his arms a bit to generate some energy in a useless movement. His arms betray him by gathering the blankets around him for a make-shift pillow that doesn't help but is so nice. He dozes lightly on thoughts of Remus.

The stream shuts off, and steps echo again in the hall. Harry's chest expands slowly from his light breathing, he urges his head to turn slightly towards the door. Moonlight halos the entrance, the only light in the darkened room. Harry scrunches his face to force his eyes to stay open, waiting for Remus to finally come in.  

The steps stop — Harry stretches out a hand thinking he can wandlessly summon the man if he decides to keep walking — and the door is finally pushed wider.

Remus pauses at the doorway, taking in how Harry is laying in the dark with an intense look aimed at him, the hand outstretched and wiggling shifts to one pointing finger, “You’re sleeping here.” Harry utters factually.  

Remus nods stoically, “Should I not be?” wavering as he tries to gauge Harry. He slowly steps on through, shutting the door behind him half-way. Harry appreciates it, it makes it less suffocating in here.

“No, you should. I missed you.” Harry says honestly. Honesty is good. Communication is good. 

Remus’ brows furrow, “You see me every day, Harry.” He walks over to his side of the bed, movements sluggish, and pulls his sweater off.

Harry restrains from grabbing at it and from calling Remus dense. 

“Yes, and I haven’t slept a wink these past two days, your presence is very soothing,” Harry lies about not sleeping. He was as dead as a rock from all the excitement of this past week, lying is okay if there's a compliment in there, he reasons.

He honestly wants to compliment Remus, “You’re amazing. The house is rather well done, right out of all those fancy holiday cards.” 

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned,” as he pulls at the sheets to get under them, his eyes may be rolling but Harry catches the upturned corners of his lips, “G’night.” he collapses onto the bed face first before shifting onto his side to have his back turned at Harry. 

Harry wiggles up onto the bed fully, not quite ready to end this conversation, “Remus,” he’s whispering now, it feels right, “you’re… amazing.” He knows he’s repeating himself but he must’ve not said it right, he focuses on adding in all the raw and tender emotions that have gotten harder to keep below the surface lately. He hopes it’s enough.  

Remus' shoulder hunches up a little, he glances back at him, the light from the moon is faint, but Harry can make the confusion on his face smooth out to be replaced with shocked realization as his eyes move from scanning his face.

Harry swallows audibly, his tongue suddenly feeling heavy, he doesn’t know the expression he’s making but it must be completely besotted. He hopes the darkness hides most of it. 

Remus retreats into blankness and eyes going distant, “What do you mean?” he asks steadily, not showing a hint of emotion. 

Harry grimaces, what an insufferable git, he huffs out air from his nose harshly as he tries to think of the right string of words that encapsulates what he wants to say, “You’re… amazing” he says lamely. 

Remus blinks stonily at that. Harry groans and covers an arm over his head, it’ll help if he’s not looking, “You…” gesturing blindly at him, “I want you.” That’s direct enough, yeah. 

“How?” The man-turned-statue replies. 

A shaky exhale releases from Harry, he moves his arm away from his face as the pressure is making him woozy, or it could be the annoyingly innocent question, “Being able to hold you would be a good start,” he comments with a voice rather hoarse that forces him to clear his throat. He focuses on the ceiling above him but he hears a hitch in Remus’ breathing. Encouraged by a reaction, he babbles whatever else he can think of.  

“My hands itch constantly, I thought it was a weird rash at first,” he grimaces at the startled and confused noise from Remus, he hurriedly explains, “I noticed, eventually, that my hands only ever tingle when around you. It happened earlier, and I realize that… they ache with a need to reach out for you.”

Heat rises to his face from the confession, “I don’t know how else to describe it, can someone die from not touching what they want? ‘Cause that’s how It feels.” He runs a shaky hand through his hair as Remus turns fully towards him.

Harry’s heartbeat rises to a crescendo at the attention, he pushes through, “You’re so kind, Remus. I think about it all the time. Your capacity for it makes me breathless, that whenever I see a glimpse of it, I get so shamelessly greedy. I want to hoard it for all myself because when you look at me with compassion, I feel wanted and cared for. I would spend hours, if not days, to return even a sliver of that feeling to you. I just need you to tell me how.” Harry shuts his mouth in shame at the neediness from that last plea.

His stomach feels weak from how hard he was clenching it. He shuts his eyes as he uncoils from the vulnerability. 

He hears the rustling of sheets, and for the briefest of seconds his heart drops at the thought that Remus would turn over to sleep again, but he wouldn’t be that cruel. He’s proven correct when a finger prods gently at one of his that, he hadn’t noticed, were gripping harshly at the blanket.

His grip loosens as his finger gets hooked by one of Remus’ — a small testing touch not unlike the casual ones they’ve done before but this one is brimming with intent. Harry smiles. 

“I’ve told you I wouldn’t be doing anything, if you weren’t around, Harry,” he begins in a hushed warm tone, “Kindness is the only thing I can offer when you’ve given me much more. I would be so very alone without you and I pay that back in any way I can.”

“You don’t have to —” Remus shushes Harry before he can continue, “I don’t, yeah. I choose to. I am capable of being rude, as you well know.” Harry remembers some arguments they’ve had and energetically nods back.

Remus laughs as his hand moves closer, fingers hovering over the back of his palm to softly caress at the skin there making Harry shiver, “I worry excessively if I can offer enough, then I worry if I’m being taken for granted and being walked on. I worry constantly over you. Knowing you appreciate it this much, means a lot.”

Harry turns to look at him, a cloud has covered the moon and it’s hard to make his face in the ensuing darkness. He considers lighting a Lumos, but as he blinks and his sight adjusts he sees that Remus still looks guarded. It’s different than before, he looks like he’s scared of what’s going on inside him.

Remus gives him a bitter smile, “I think you deserve someone who can offer you more than just kindness, Harry.”

Harry would’ve taken that harsher, but to think even now Remus wouldn’t believe he's enough. “Well, as I said, I want you. I’m afraid I won’t change my mind on that.” Harry says stubbornly. He shifts his hand to hold his, letting out a sigh at how right it feels.

He’s tempted to touch him more but settles for giving the hand a reassuring squeeze.

Remus looks down at their clasped hands, yearning breaks through his face fiercely. He starts quietly, hoping to hide it, “Are you sure?… Even with what I am? Lycanthropy won’t let me keep a steady job and loads of wizards would advocate for my death if they knew what I was. There’s a constant risk that I might hurt you one day. You’re almost done with all that you need to do, you won’t be shackled down.” He tenses when Harry reaches over to fit a palm on his cheek. 

“I’ve no problem with danger, that's all I know,” Harry begins lightly, getting lost in the feeling of his fingers tracing a furrowed eyebrow. He snaps back to attention when he notices Remus looking at him with anguish, “You’re rather good at having reasonable concerns, Remus, it’s on my very long list of things I like about you. Right above waking up to that lovely face of yours,” Remus’ lips twitch. He scoffs to disguise it and leans against Harry’s touch urging him to continue, “I never planned on leaving, and I would never leave you to deal with those concerns on your own. It’s up to you how close we end up being, but I’m rooting for one outcome specifically.” He grins and shifts closer so their shoulders touch. 

Remus still looks scared but the reassurance from Harry seems to have released some of the tension. Eventually, he gives a small nod, “Okay.” No word has ever sounded sweeter to Harry.

The sound of a door opening across the hall startles them, forgetting only momentarily that it wasn’t just the two of them in the house, and the shuffling of feet reaches their ears.

Sirius stops at their open door, rubbing an eye as he sees them huddled together and awake, he sleepily admonishes, “Oi, close the door. I wouldn’t mind a free show but there’s a child in the house now.” and shuts the door on them as he heads off towards the bathroom. Remus and Harry decide to sleep soon after, both finding themselves suddenly exhausted. 

The sound of a rooster cawing is distant, muffled and new to the boy. He twists around in comforting blankets, eyes popping open when he notices light through his lids — it was always dark in his cupboard and his uncle told him to shut the light off if he ever kept it on before bed — and the lack of scratchiness from his pillow. Harry has a moment of confusion, the room unrecognizable in the light of day.

Then, he remembers. He remembers the man, Padfoot his mind easily supplies, and his da— his older brother, Harry-like-him. Harry-like-him had asked if he could be his older brother over the most delicious dessert he’s ever had — the only one he’s ever had but he had decided it was the best. Harry had thought he didn’t like how he called him dad so he said yes in hopes that it would cover for his mistake.

He knows his… real parents are gone but he knows Uncle Vernon and Dudley look the same, and he looked like Harry too. He even had glasses. He sits himself up, moving to a crawl to head over to the edge of his bed to grab the red scarf that was laid on a small table beside him, tugging it on along with his glasses as he wonders if he should wait for someone to come get him.

Moony, the nice man who read to him, told him they would eat breakfast in the morning when he asked what to do when he woke up. No one mentioned chores, but Harry thinks maybe they don’t know what he can do.

Moony read him a book that he could’ve read part of since some words weren’t too big from what he saw when he was snuggled against him. He didn’t tell him since it was funny to hear the voices Moony made.

Deciding to show them that he can help, he puts his feet onto the wooden floor — marveling at how warm it was, magic, he thinks — and ventures out of the room. He hears some snoring from the other doors, nothing as boisterous as his uncle, but he still unnecessarily gets on his tiptoes as he heads for the bathroom to wash up. He tiptoes again down the hall as he heads for the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he figures he could start getting the things together for breakfast. His Aunt Petunia would already be cooking if he was awake because she would yell at him to help when she was.  She would tell him to get things that she needed or set the table. He glances around, noticing the distinct lack of a fridge. Confusion hits him again, he remembers his d— his older brother putting away the treacle tart they had bought to go. He had kept his eye on it but got distracted playing with the tree.

He slowly starts opening cabinets wondering if one of them is hidden to look like a fridge, he’s unsure if magic can do that. The ones he can reach only show him utensils which he takes a few pairs out of for the four of them, cartons of some candy that he stops to inspect but begrudgingly leaves alone because they were unopened, a drawer full of feathers — just feathers, and one drawer of letters written in weird thick paper.

He pouts as none of them show him food, but he doesn’t give up. He drags one of the chairs nearby close to the cabinets, wincing at the sound of it scraping on the floor, and stands on it to check the ones above. He brightens when the first one he reaches has a bunch of vegetables and fruits in it, he touches them and nods at the cold.

Feeling reassured he leans towards the next cabinet and smiles as he sees a carton of eggs. That would be a good breakfast-food, he grabs at it to set it on the counter. 

“Harry?” the voice of his brother startles him causing him to jump, the carton in his hand jerks along with him to flip open and launch the few eggs in it out into the air. Gasping in dismay, he tries to reach out for them, the eggs freeze just inches before they land.

They start to judder as if deciding between floating back up or continuing to fall. Harry panics at the sight and the unknowing hold he had on them breaks causing them to fall lightly onto the ground. 

He frantically shuffles out the chair, putting the carton down on the counter, as he moves to pick them back up. He keeps his gaze down, not wanting to see anger at his mistake.

Before he can grab one, they all fly into the air in a line, back into their carton. He shifts his gaze back to the man who had walked towards him, briefly acknowledging the wand in his hand. 

“Were you getting breakfast together?” he intones with eyes distant. 

Harry nods slowly with a gulp, “I wanted to help, but no one was awake…”

His older brother turns his look back at him and Harry tries not to wilt from it. The hand that pats lightly on his shoulder surprises him in how gentle it is.

It shifts towards his back, pushing him towards the chair that his brother turns into a step-stool.  “It’s okay to help, but ask next time, yeah? If you’re too hungry to wait, you can always knock on our doors.” Harry flushes a little in shame but makes an affirmative noise as he steps up the stool. 

His brother pulls out a bowl while moving beside Harry. “I’m feeling like scrambled eggs, how about you?” Harry agrees quickly, “Great, you can help me crack the eggs and mix them, I’ve always wanted help in the kitchen. Pads and Moony are a little useless, I bet you’d be much better.”

Harry gets excited but frowns when he remembers, “Aunt Petunia said she wouldn’t waste eggs on teaching me how to crack them properly, she didn’t like the mess I made when we first tried.”

“Cooking is always messy, here I’ll show you how to do it.” He covers Harry’s hand with his as he puts an egg in it. They move together to tap it steadily against the side of the bowl, “Once that crack forms along one side, you take your other hand and split the shells apart… yeah, just like that, good job, Harry.” 

Harry smiles at the words, but he pouts when he notices, “There’s some shell in it…” He glares at the white bits floating on the yolk.

His brother flicks his wand and the shell disappears, “What shell?” Harry leans against his brother with a laugh, who grins down at him as they move to crack another. 

Remus who has emerged from the depths of sleep manages to emote how charming he finds the sight from the hallway. Sirius shuffles past, “Wow, Moony. It’s like that book you were reading, you look like your soul grew three sizes.”

Remus grunts out, “It’s heart, Sirius. My heart grew three sizes,” giving him a roll of his eyes before focusing back on the lovely wizard teaching Harry to cook. He sighs a little dreamily, from still waking up — not from the fluttering of feelings inside him.

Sirius notices and gives him a pointed once over, he quips back, “Is that what you’re calling it, mate? You know, I thought it was a trick on the eyes from the darkness last night but if you say it grew three sizes…” He manages to dodge the arm swiping at him.

Breakfast was delicious, everyone giving compliments to the chef and his amazing helper. Harry couldn’t hide his chuckle at how his younger brother tried to hide how pleased he was. Sirius then got the tyke ready for their visit to Hogwarts. They briefed him on the purpose of the visit, “So we’ll be a real family?” the young boy asked full of weary hope. He was quickly assured that they already were.

Dumbledore had greeted the boy with kindness, Harry thought he looked silly in his fluorescent-colored robes patterned with moons and stars but warmed to him after the first lemon drop.

Harry didn’t get a chance to admire the school, the two have traveled straight to the office, but he was curious at the moving portraits, the trilling bird and the baubles that adorned the place. There was one uncomfortable moment where Sirius panicked, prompted when the two carefully guided Harry to prick his finger for blood, “I’ve had bigger ones, it’s okay,” he helpfully added as the cut he fearlessly made was larger than needed.  

Dumbledore checked the charm he placed on Harry, humming curiously at the results. He told Sirius it must’ve been an instant transfer once the ritual was done, praising the man for making Harry feel at home so quickly. Sirius grinned toothily and ushered them back to the fireplace to floo back home. 

Sirius lets Harry down once they make it back and the boy runs towards Moony who beckons him over surrounded by colored papers, and various books and quills. Sirius leaves the swot to it, knowing he was dying to continue the boy's education despite the holidays, “It’s just to see where he’s at,” Remus had explained.

He marches on over to the kitchen table, accepting the jug of hot chocolate that’s pushed in his hands, Harry grumbles out, “Your hair isn’t even different, what the hell? Your eyes too.” He stops inspecting Sirius with a scowl.

Sirius shrugs his shoulders, “Magic wouldn’t be so cruel as to sully my beauty,” he laughs at the snort he gets, “Besides, you’re wrong about the eyes.” he tilts his head towards the window to allow the light of the sun to shine against his face.

Harry blinks, then blinks again. He bristles and sputters out, “That’s it? Seriously?” 

A slight greenish tinge shows in his eyes from the light, Sirius turns away from the sun with a wink and sips his drink. The eyes morphing back into the steely grey as he does, he glances back at the exaggerated sulking from Harry, “You can’t be that upset about it… what is it?” 

Harry frowns at his mug, cheeks pinking as he tries to change the subject. Sirius throws out a whispered guess before he can, “Remus didn’t throw himself at you when we left?” He’s delighted to see those eyes turn sharply at him with mouth agape. 

A childish giggle from across the room causes them to glance at the two. Remus had charmed the colored paper to various forms of animals, asking Harry to match it with the labeled cards laid before him. At the correct matching of, blue cat, the paper animal had jumped on his shoulder to bat at his ear gently. 

Sirius remarks, “I’m glad he’s taken to teaching… I enjoy being the fun one.”

Harry quickly asks, “Which one am I?”

Sirius gets a teasing glint in his eyes, “A warning of what not to do.” Harry laughs even if it rings a tiny bit true, Sirius doesn’t let the distraction last long though, “So… Moony’s a prude?”

Harry grimaces, whispering viciously back, “No, he isn’t. I mean… we just acknowledged this thing between us last night.” Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for some snogging, maybe not sneaking around like some teenagers, but just a tiny bit of it would be nice. Remus had immediately started gathering materials he needed for a proper lesson when they were alone.

Sirius gives him a sympathetic look, “Remus is woefully oblivious most of the time. Going to have to show him what you want, explicitly,” he grins roguishly at Harry, “I’ll show you some silencing charms and other useful spells if you need them, I’ve already taught him all I know back in Hogwarts.”

Harry turns his nose at that, blush ever apparent, “I’m well informed so, no thank you… Let’s discuss something else, please.” He’ll figure out how to express his… wants to Remus on his own. 

Sirius snickers at him, he takes a long sip of his drink satisfied. The laughing starts again causing them to look over. 

Sirius sighs heavily, “You know how little Harry asked if this spell would make us a real family?” 

Harry makes an affirmative noise, curious at where this was going and thankful for the subject change. Sirius squirms in his seat, “Do you think… if he knew that I could’ve raised him. Do you think he’d be angry that I didn’t come sooner? I would be. Rightfully, so.” He finishes quietly, glancing between the boy and Harry.

Harry turns away from Sirius to look at his younger brother, chewing on his cheek from the loaded question, “I know- I think he must have dreamed constantly for some unknown relative to come and whisk him away. He must be overjoyed at his dream finally coming true.”

Sirius is both relieved and miserable to hear that, Harry continues with a throat a tad dry, “I also think, he’d be happy to finally have someone who cared for him. No matter when they came.” 

Sirius stares at him, eventually nodding thanks at the assurance. Harry focuses on Remus casting the menagerie of paper puppets to chase after his brother who runs away in glee, as he finally got all the matching correct. 

“You should be more worried about your spot as the fun one being taken,” he motions with a tilt of his head towards the two. Sirius scoffs at the disrespect, then changes into his animagus form to join the charge. 

The clinking of metal clanging against glass wakes Sirius. He groans from his spot on the couch, peeling an eyelid open to catch a tiny blur run past him in a rush. The pitter-patter of small feet is light, just barely audible over the fall of water from the shower going off in their restroom.

Sirius lifts himself off the couch and wipes one of the crumpled pieces of paper sticking to his cheek. He stretches out slowly, grunting from satisfaction over the click of his bones. 

Feeling more aware, he tries to make sense of what woke him. He stands up and glances out the window at the evening sun to see Harry recasting the heating charms on their coop. He huffs out a laugh from the way Perseus — he proudly named the rooster that in the chamber where he killed the basilisk — was strutting around Harry, pecking at him to hurry it up. 

He walks towards the kitchen where he thinks the sound came from, his suspicions are proven correct when he catches the glass covering the slice of treacle tart there was sitting slanted, part of it atop a butter knife.  Quickly closed in a rush, he muses.

Guessing what happened, he sneaks down the hall, through a door left ajar. The kid was too polite to slam it shut. As Sirius shimmies sideways and silently against the small opening to enter the room, he sees the messy head that could only belong to Harry peeking out from the other end of the bed.

As he inches closer, he witnesses Harry nibble on the smallest slice of treacle tart. Small fingers picking it apart piece by piece for him to savor. 

Sirius sits his full weight on the bed making it shift around beneath him and startling Harry, “What do you have there, Harry?” Smiling at the reaction.

The smile quickly fades when Harry stares at Sirius with fright. He looks down at his slice as if he was caught red-handed with something far worse. Harry crumbles along with his treat when his grip on it tightens, eyes wide, shining, and pleading, as they begin to cry miserably. Through the sobs, Sirius can hear him trying to apologize. 

Sirius freezes, mouth gaping helplessly, he didn’t mean for this to happen. Harry shudders out more cries, wiping tart-stained hands against his eyes. Sirius quickly kneels beside him, gently ushering the hands away as Harry whimpers pitifully. He pulls the boy into his arms not knowing what else he can do to soothe. 

He rubs his hand against the shaking back, shushing him with reassurances, “It’s okay, Harry. You’re not in trouble. You’re okay. Nothing bad is happening.” His litany of calming words continues in that way, begging in his mind for the crying to stop. 

When the sobs start hiccuping to stop, harsh sniffs replacing them, Sirius hears the door behind him creak open. He looks back at Remus who examines the two, motioning silently if he needed help, Sirius takes a moment but shakes his head. He does ask, “Napkin?” Harry, thinking the words for him, nods against his chest. 

Remus flicks his wand out, summoning a box of tissues to hand over, he lingers at the door for a few seconds, he decides to go warm up a glass of milk remembering the sticks of vanilla he threw in one of his jars of sugar.

Sirius helps wipe the mess from one of Harry’s hands when he pushes away, as the kid uses the other to grab a tissue and blow his nose.

Sirius gently cleans him up, casting a spell to wet a few tissues to take out the tougher stains off his face. Harry quietly allows him to, still not fully recovered from his tears. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles out. Sirius doesn’t know if the apologies for the crying or from taking a slice for himself. He hugs him either way, “It’s okay, Harry. I know this is all new, but you don’t have to be scared… we left that out for you to take, you know.” Harry hugs back, sniffing lightly again. 

Remus comes back to set down the glass, quickly seeing himself out after. Sirius lifts him up to carry him onto the bed, he hands the milk to Harry who after a tentative sip starts chugging it down. Only stopping, when Sirius tilts the glass back down so they can talk about what set him off. “Were you afraid of getting in trouble?” Harry shrugs his shoulders. 

“Did you think I was mad?” that gets another shrug. Sirius sighs, he decides to talk about it later. After seeking advice from the other two, who can also tackle this conversation if they want to.

Harry grabs for the glass again, Sirius lets him finish the drink. He tilts his head towards the shelves of children books Remus had stocked in the room, he dismisses them easily. He scans over to the few toys and games they’ve collected from the living room for Harry and decides on the chessboard. 

Returning inside from saving their sodding chicken from the cold, Harry walks towards the bathroom to shower back the warmth that seeped out of him now that Remus is done.

He stops briefly at the cheers coming from a room, he peers in to see Sirius and his brother whoop in delight over the slaughter of chess pieces on the board in front of them. Huddled together as they decide which ones to make attack each other next. 

The flaring of the floo interrupts the family’s breakfast, Harry winces when he sees Andromeda come through. Having forgotten the planned trip today. She glances at him knowingly, having read the situation as such when she saw the three men and boy in pajamas, at an hour before noon. 

She saunters over, taking the free seat between Remus and her new nephew. “Hello, little one, you may call me Aunt Andromeda, if you wish. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Harry’s eyes widen, this aunt was far prettier than his other one, he blushes as he murmurs out a polite hello. Andromeda is charmed instantly.

The boys rush to get ready, Sirius manages to get out of going to Diagon Alley as he complains of his hate for shopping and makes Remus stay with him to stave off any boredom.

Andromeda lets him, he leans towards her nephew to whisper loudly, “He whines far too much if I try to get him nicer things, it’s a shame he doesn’t appreciate my gifts. I’m sure you’ll be much more gracious.” Harry promises that he will, causing a fantastic indignant whining from Sirius. 

Andromeda walks through the floo, Harry in her arms, and waits only momentarily for the other to come through behind her. “Come along, Dorian.” The boy in her arms looks up at her confused, “Who’s that?” 

Andromeda glances back at the wizard, tutting, “Would you mind explaining who that is?” She puts down Harry, so the three could usher near the entrance of Diagon Alley. 

He reluctantly proceeds to do so, he leans down to Harry in a hushed whisper, “I’m Dorian… I much prefer Harry.” Andromeda raises an eyebrow at him disapprovingly, “Can you keep my name a secret, just to say at home? I’m Dorian when we’re out with people we don’t know.” Harry nods seriously, he understands the importance of secrets.

Approving of Harry’s easy agreement with a small smile, she taps the bricks of the entrance to make them shift away. They enter, the hustle and bustle of wizards and witches around them make her reach a hand out for him to hold. Harry happily grabs it, ignoring the one his older brother had stretched out. 

While Andromeda had approved of rescuing his nephew, bringing him into a proper home that cared for him, she had found through her questions — Sirius and Harry thought it was more of an assessment that they failed — that they had no idea how to take care of a child. Remus fortunately, had spent his time reading up so she had some hope for the boy.

She dragged the two inside various stores, gathering clothes with charms that made them grow along with him, toys and books that she approved of and found Tonks had taken a liking to, and through the grocers where she scolded Harry for introducing so much sugar in the boy's diet. Her nephew keeps quiet over how he doesn't mind.

It was there where Harry was examining a prickly fruit — he put it back down when Andromeda told him it smelled of rancid feet once it opened — that he was reminded of the Malfoys, “Have you ever been to Malfoy manor? Would you know an easy way to get in?”

Andromeda hums delicately as she shows her nephew which fruit tastes best in winter, “I haven’t had the pleasure. I had long since ended contact with the family, my sister especially, by the time she was wed to that sniveling snake she calls her husband.”  Her nephew looks up and says, “I like snakes.” Andromeda assures him, “You wouldn’t like this one.”

Chuckling softly, Harry continues his perusing of the store, as he figures out a way to get the diary. They head outside, a list in hand, that Andromeda had written down when she noticed his thoughts elsewhere, for him to restock the foods — even the ones that might not necessarily be liked. 

Their last stop was for a healer for a check-up, something Harry rarely does for himself that he forgot it was a necessity. It was on their way that they heard someone shout, “Andromeda? Is that you, darling?” Andromeda pauses, as she looks around for the voice. Considering the woman worth her time she answers agreeably back.

She turns back towards them, “This will just take a few minutes, Dorian, why don’t you show Harry the resounding joy one can find in quidditch. You’ve been making eyes at the brooms this whole time, I’m sure you’ve much to share.” Squeezing her nephew's hand gently before releasing it and guiding them towards Quality Quidditch Supplies nearby.

Leaving his mum to chat with her old friend, he remembers her coming by for tea and thought she was one of the nicer ones, Cedric heads inside the store. He’s old enough to pick out what he wanted, his mother agreed and gave him a few galleons but told him she’d be just outside if he needs her. 

Cedric heads straight for the beginner supplies, trying his best not to get distracted by the brooms he can’t ride yet, the magazines of quidditch teams that — oh is that the new design for Puddlemere United’s outfits. He resists grabbing it off the stand with all his might, his father had said it’s not polite to keep a lady waiting once and his mum’s a lady. His gait is determined as he continues down the aisles, a boy on a mission. 

The mission is put aside when he finds the aisle occupied with a boy he’s never seen before. Cedric tenses a little, he sometimes plays with his neighbors the Wesley twins, they usually spend their time on pranks than talking about quidditch. Their younger brother Ron likes it but he runs away from them when they’re around, an unfortunate side effect from being near the two when they’re planning something devious. Cedric doesn’t like teasing him, but he always rushes off when he sees him, so he spends most of his time trying to deter the twins from being too harsh. 

He walks near the boy who’s frowning at a set of snitches, charmed to never veer too far. Cedric eagerly asks, “Do you like quidditch?” The boy startles, breaking his inner musing, as he looks at Cedric. Cedric scolds himself for being rude and saying it so loudly. He breaths in to try and dial his energy back, the kid’s frown comes back as he considers the question, “I don’t know. I don’t know what it is.”

Cedric’s astonishment at that is easily apparent, his energy coming back two-fold as he rushes out, “You don’t know what quidditch is?” His mouth stays open in disbelief. He quickly snaps it shut remembering his mother saying it looks like he’ll catch flies, he hates flies.

He grabs the boy's hand, who had wilted into himself at Cedric’s question but he doesn’t notice and begins dragging him towards a display near the front of the store, “It’s an amazing sport, with flying and all these cool positions. I can show you, you’re going to love it. I love it.” He tells him with steady confidence from being able to share his interests. He thought everyone knew it, he’s very excited to introduce it to someone. 

His new friend gasps in wonder at the display of wooden miniature players that circle inside a glass box. Cedric vibrates where he stands, “That one that’s flying overhead, that’s the seeker. I like them best. They catch those golden balls, the snitch. The ones you were looking at.” He points at where the tiny snitch is zooming around, he and his friend follow it with their eyes. The explanation is interrupted when they hear a man desperately call out, “Harry? Harry? Where’d you go?” 

They both turn around as a man, that looks very much like his new friend, runs out of an aisle looking nervous and frantic. Once seeing the two he slumps in relief, “Thank, Merlin. I thought I lost you, Harry.” He kneels towards Harry — oh, no he forgot to introduce himself to his friend. He always messes up that part. He should introduce himself to the adult first, that’s what everyone does when they meet him and his family.

As Harry’s dad, because who else would fuss like that, checks his friend over Cedric juts out a hand quickly. “Hello, I’m Cedric. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Harry’s Dad.” He wants to stick his other hand out for the boy to shake too but he doesn’t remember seeing his dad do that so he doesn’t. 

The glass-wearing, black-haired two blink owlishly at him. He notices Harry blushing from what he said — Cedric tries not to frown at unknowingly messing up again, his mother said it’s polite to own up to your mistakes, “I’m sorry for taking Harry. I wanted to show him quidditch since he didn’t know about it.” The man hasn’t stopped his staring, Cedric shifts on his feet feeling awkward with his hand still stuck out. He wiggles his fingers feeling them stiff up.

The movement snaps the man out from his thoughts and Harry’s dad looks down at his hand. A smile breaks on his face and he reaches out to shake it. Cedric is very pleased and as soon as he lets go he turns the hand towards Harry, who shyly grabs it and follows the same motion. Cedric nods, he made friends. 

Harry’s dad looks over at the display they've crowded around, “Hmm. You can continue your explanation if you want. I bet you can teach me a new thing or two.” He stands upright to ruffle Harry’s hair who leans into the touch. Cedric’s excitement comes back and he grins as he begins talking about chasers next. 

Christmas morning was a surprise for not only little Harry but for the three adults who had promised each other that they would limit themselves to one gift each for the boy not wanting to spoil him. They all shamelessly broke that promise. Harry tentatively moves towards the mound of gifts, glancing back at the three to make sure he heard them right when they said it was all for him. 

With each present revealed he would pause to look up, voice soft as he thanked each of them. Hearts broke a little at his gratefulness. He still couldn’t get his head around each gift being for him, but his excitement grew at each unwrapping.

He started enjoying the surprise. He no longer bothered to look for the seams to unfold the gifts, but instead ripped into them at Sirius’ encouragement. Laughing when he transformed into Snuffles to roll around the crinkled wrappings. 

Taking the distraction by Sirius as the cue, Harry pulls Remus towards their room. “I’ve got my present for you in there.” Remus huffs with a frown, “I know we broke one promise already, but I thought we wouldn’t give each other gifts. I certainly didn’t give you one…”

Harry hums, “That’s okay. Your continued presence is a gift, Remus.” He stops abruptly at the doorway, feigning shock as he glances up, “Oh my! What is that?”

Remus turns his head up to reveal… nothing. Before he can ask what the hell Harry’s talking about he sees the man pull out his wand and a sprig of mistletoe. He carefully and slowly floats it above the doorway, applying a generous amount of sticking charms, and exaggerates a gasp again.

Remus can’t stop the grin he makes, “Harry—” whatever he was going to say is promptly interrupted when Harry grabs at his coat to pull him in for a kiss. Lightly chapped but plump lips push against his with intent. The feelings that bubble in him come out in the form of a giggle, the elation mixing with Harry’s theatrics.

Harry pulls back at the sound with cheeks lightly pink and frowning in indignation, “I know It’s been a while but surely I’m not that bad.”

Remus shakes his head, still chuckling, and before Harry can whine again, he leans against him pushing Harry into the side of the doorway to restart the kiss. He smiles at the shocked intake of breath from Harry. Crowding him with his body, his hand reaches up to tilt his chin for a deeper kiss. He appreciates the short moan that comes out of him, pulling back for a moment to kiss the side of Harry’s lips where it leaked out. He peppers them quickly as Harry trembles at the attention, hot pants of breath punctuating each one. His other hand grips on Harry’s hips and Harry melts into his hold as he goes back for a lingering kiss that steals another one of his breaths.

Remembering how exposed they are he regrettably stops the kiss, capturing Harry’s bottom lip between his for a tiny lick as he pulls away. Harry chases after his lips as he does, Remus increases the gap between them and chides, “Harry…” his voice peters out as he takes in the mess he’s caused. 

Harry’s eyes are half-lidded, glazed and distant. His lips are shiny where he poked a tongue out to swipe over them, and Harry pulls it into his mouth to savor it. Flushed cheeks highlight the tempting image. He sees Harry slowly come back, registering that Remus spoke and says back, “Remus…” the name comes out reverently. 

Remus swallows down the desire that thrums in him and steps further back, “We should stop,” at Harry’s stricken pout he adds, “for now. We’ve got guests coming in a mo. Let’s head back.”

Harry groans but agrees, he pats himself down fixing where his sweater hiked up. He does only have a moment to calm himself as they hear the sound of someone coming out of their floo.

They return to the living room to the sight of Sirius transforming back to himself and Andromeda kneeling to hand over her gift, the hug she’s given is returned tightly. The floo flares up again, revealing a wide-shouldered man, face covered with a furry and large mustache. He tumbles out with a trip but catches himself to prevent his crashing into the table. Tonks appears next, tripping out just as harshly, a strong hand hooks her elbow before she can break anything.

Ted looks around, his gruff voice accompanying his examination, “Lovely place you’ve got here Sirius, really lovely… is that a chicken coop out there?” He turns back towards the man, eyes shimmering in excitement. Sirius nods excitedly back, he ushers him outside along with the two youngest who have finished greeting each other.

Andromeda rolls her eyes, the first time Harry’s ever seen her do so, and slips a hand into the crook of Harry’s arm, “Come, dear, I’m parched. You do have drinks prepared, do you not?”

Harry brightens, “A waspy mate of mine had this brilliant eggnog recipe. He mixed bourbon, rum, and brandy with it. It’s rather tasty and deceptively boozy.” She demands one for herself immediately as they make their way into the kitchen. 

Remus leaves them to it, he walks out to their snow-covered yard to make his way towards the two men near their fenced coop. He stops when he hears Ted speak.

“Yes… I think he deserves some hens running about. That’s a rather fine cock you’ve got there.” Sirius' childish giggle is his reply to Ted, who stares disapprovingly at him through lowered eyebrows. 

Ted doesn’t keep the façade up for long before breaking into his own high-pitched peals of laughter. He leans in towards Sirius to whisper conspiratorially, “I know no farmers myself, but it must be one of their greatest pleasures to be able to freely speak of their cocks, no?” 

Remus shakes his head and leaves the two giggling children to it, instead, he walks towards Tonks and Harry who are building a snowman. 

Harry laughs out a no when Tonks asks, “Do you think it should have a… pig nose?” Her nose morphed in a boubous example. “No… hmm… how about a duck?” Shifting her face to form a large bill. She quacks at him when all he does is laugh harder. Remus decides to help them form the needed shapes: wings, horns, antlers, and a very human-like nose, with some magic. 

Ted stands by the fireplace, Tonks leaning heavily against him with a hand patting her belly over the full meal they’ve shared, “I think it’s best we head back to our comfy beds,” Ted announces, “You ready, love?”

Andromeda seated at the couch speaks up, “You two head out first, honey, Harry has just fallen asleep. I don’t wish to disturb him so soon,” gesturing towards the boy who’s sleeping and cuddled against her lap, “Besides, I’ve yet to finish my drink.”

Ted eyes the third glass of eggnog she has only partially sipped, his grin is boyishly handsome and cheeky as he replies, “Of course. I’ll see you once you’re home. Enjoy, and thanks to you all for the hospitality. Happy Christmas!” Tonks shouts it out as well before they both floo back home. 

Sirius grumbles from the noise where he’s passed out on the armchair, face covered by a floppy Santa hat. Remus and Harry are seated across from Andromeda as she picks up her drink, a steely gaze at the two prompts them to instinctively sit up at attention. 

Smiling widely at them as she says, “I’ve had the pleasure of catching up with Mrs. Diggory and accepted her invitation to the get-togethers she hosts for some… friends of ours at school. To sip tea and mindlessly chatter, I had missed the girls. It was nice to see them all again,” She puts her glass down harshly causing the drink to spill over the edges, “Of course, I had initially stopped attending because of that blasted Anastasia whined about how her precious little boy was recovering from a broken heart and busted bollocks because of the kick my dear Nymphadora gave him. As if my child would settle for a snot-picking troglodyte who has never kept his hands to himself since he’s first witnessed her charming visage.” She shakes her head to rid it of thoughts of that annoying boy, Harry and Remus just nod and make identical statements on the boy's poor character, agreeing with her assessment.

“I suffered in her presence but it is of no matter, I do it willingly because another one of the guests in that circle was Matilda Bulstrode,” She pauses expecting them to know the witch, she nods at their belated gasps, “Yes, well she’s close friends with the matriarch of the Parkinson family — if you can call her such — so I’ve let it slip that my darling Cousin Dorian had returned. Reconnecting with myself and Cousin Sirius.” 

She lets out a dainty hiccup from behind her hand, “Excuse me, in any case, Matilda has always been a gossip, I knew she would sneak details of my life to others back in Hogwarts. I never got angry at her for it, she does not have much else to talk of, but I knew she couldn’t wait to spread the news about this mysterious man that has entered our world. So rarely is it do we see fresh faces. I expect she’ll tell that Parkinson soon enough, who I know often visits with Narcissa for their own gatherings.” She downs the rest of her glass, “I believe it will be a few weeks, she’ll want to confirm the rumor herself she was always taken with Great Aunt Dorea, enjoying the stories of her life whenever she came to visit. I think it must’ve hurt when she distanced herself. Continue showing that wonderful face of yours, Dorian, around town. She’ll reach out sooner or later and you’ll get into that manor.” 

Harry’s speechless, he hadn’t expected her to help after he initially asked, he clears his throat when Remus elbows him in his side, “Thank you, Andromeda… I’m grateful for the help.” She hums, “I do what I can. That’s all I’ve got to share. Remus, would you be a dear and take young Harry to his room, please? I’d best be off.”

Remus goes to her side, pulling the boy gently into his arm who mumbles and slumps into his hold and goes to put him to bed. 

Andromeda stands up, she teeters a bit unbalanced, prompting Harry to get off his seat to steady her, “Thank you. All the festive cheer must be getting to me.” 

Harry snorts, “Is that what we’re calling it?” She giggles, slapping the hand lightly that’s holding onto her arm. “This was wonderful, it’s so nice to be around family on the holidays.” Harry agrees as they walk towards the fireplace.

He pauses as he checks her over, she is doing rather well despite how strong the drinks are but he has to ask, “You won’t fall when you floo back would you? I can go first to catch you if you need it.”

She shakes her head, “That won’t be needed. Knowing Ted he’s already waiting with arms outstretched to receive me.”

Harry, having caught the look he gave her before he left, grins at her with a wiggle of his eyebrows — the drinks must be getting to him too, “Well, I bet you’ll enjoy being received. I hope you have a proper gift for him for waiting up.”

Andromeda’s laughter is expected but Harry’s eyebrows raise in stunned appreciation at the beastly hiccuping snort that it ends with. The uncomely chortling shocks Sirius awake, who glances around swiftly as if expecting some monstrous thing to pounce on him. After gasping in the air back into her lungs, she grabs the powder and floos back home with a pleased flush on her face. 

Sirius breaks the silence of her departure, “Good job, Harry. I only ever hear her laugh like that around ol’ Ted.”

Chapter Text

* * *

Suddenly appearing like a crack of thunder, Harry hurries to the cabin in the distance while adjusting his Auror uniform back into place — having not returned home to change. As soon as he saw the letter waiting for him on his desk, he whisked away declaring an early end for the day. They let him go without question, it was so rare that he does so. Harry stayed late even when others returned home to waiting families and friends. 

The walls of the home were a garish cacophony of blues, shades, and gradients mixing as if the painter misplaced her paints mid-way and had to start anew with what she could get. Harry knows it was deliberate. Wind-chimes depicting kelpies hang upon open windows to play a welcoming melody to Harry. It’s the light shining from those windows that make him smile, a sight unseen in so long. Almost a year, the thought clenches inside him but he ignores it as he walks up to the door. 

The gravel crunches loudly beneath his shoes with each of his steps, he emphatically knocks on the door not being able to hold back his excitement. The delight from the reunion overtaking any manners he might possess. 

The azure door creaks open and Luna appears, an ankle-length dress green as the grass beside them is wrapped around her tiny frame, a sunhat is perched atop her disheveled waist-length blond hair that has a brown silky sash adorning it. Her colors clash with the house around her like a sunflower emerging from the sea. 

She smiles serenely at him, her large eyes blink at the uniform he’s in, “Have you come to arrest me, Harry? It’s such an inconvenience, but if you must.” Her voice airy as the chimes around them, unbothered by the notion. 

Harry laughs, he missed her, “Never Luna, I reckon I’d be helping you commit a crime myself before I would.” 

She tilts her head to the side with eyes dreamily distant, “I’ll try to let you know if I start committing one. I haven’t considered such, yet, but with you, the possibilities must be limitless.” Harry grins wider and she beams back at him as she moves to hug him when she pulls away she wraps her delicate fingers around his wrist and steps back into her home.

A subtle floral scent beckons Harry in along with her guiding hold, “How was Canada? Any luck?” He seats on the cushioned chair she leads him to as she moves into her kitchen.

Luna brings out a tin of chocolate-colored biscuits in the shape of orange slices that she made, “Canada was lovely, the people are rather nice.” She pours some tea for them, “I didn’t see the Snorkack there, I was so sure it migrated across the ice caps when I was in Russia, but I did find a curious creature that resembled the horned serpents of the waters. This species slithered on snow.”

Harry chews on the treats, the taste of rose just a tad cloying but he still grabs for more, “Aren’t those especially dangerous? They drag you down and drown you, don’t they?” 

“It’ll be very hard to drown someone with snow. It didn’t seem to have a taste for flesh like those from the sea, or at least mine,” Harry huffs out a laugh from how disappointed she sounds, “it was busy tapping each passing maple tree with its horn, once it found sap it hummed a very pretty tune. Soon after a swarm of others started emerging from the frosted earth.” 

 “Uh… did you study it for long? They weren’t dangerous?” Harry asks as he imagines the slimy things suddenly surrounding him.

With one cheek full with biscuits she shakes her head lightly, “Rolf had appeared when I approached, warning me that while they didn’t hunt humans they weren’t very happy to be interrupted as they fed. They had a hypnotizing gaze that would have you march away, he said it could last hours. It looked like he spoke from experience.” She says the last part as if jealous.

Luna mentioned a passing comment that she spent some time with the Scamander in a letter, Harry asks, “Was that when you met?”

She nods at him, “He was there to examine them, he was ever so polite. We spent a few weeks camped out observing and going to other sites. He didn’t see the Snorkack either but he invited me to meet his grandparents in the States. He thought Newt would know better.” 

Harry’s eyebrows raise slightly, “You met Newt Scamander? Like our old textbook? I didn’t realize he was still alive.” He always liked the book, it was the easiest to read in Hogwarts helped push it towards his favorite.

“He’s much more pleasant than the book and much more alive.” Her voice is fond as she continues, “Newt was a delight to speak to, he theorized with me on where to visit next. He was as fascinated as I was. It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t think I’m wasting my time, refreshingly different as well.” 

Harry’s glad for her, traveling around and meeting someone so revered in her field is exciting,“ That’s amazing, Luna. Is that why you’ve come back? Trying Sweden again or somewhere close by?”

“No,” Harry hides his disappointment with a sip of his tea, “I’m here for a short stay. New Zealand is my next destination, Newt believed he saw something similar on one of his visits there. It just so happens that Rolf’s next trip is there next. He’s busy gathering his things and tying up loose ends right now, but I’ll be meeting him after.”

“I’m glad you’ve got someone going with you on these trips,” Harry comments honestly, “I was about to volunteer myself.” Joking lightly but he often thinks of seeing the world as she does. 

Luna assesses him, “What would you be searching for?”

Harry’s taken aback by the random question, “Pardon?” 

She hums as her eyes stay on him, “I’m searching for a Crumpled-horn Snorkack, and Rolf is going for some sort of work he said was very important. His grandparents didn’t seem to know what it was but he assured it was crucial he’d go and search as well. If I had found one already, I imagine I would stay. As I’m sure Rolf wouldn’t go if he had nothing to search for. As it is, I’m determined to keep up my search, no matter where it takes me. If you came, what would you be searching for, Harry?”

With the corners of his lips downturn thoughtfully, Harry mulls over the question. He often wonders if Luna knows she’s so terribly and wonderfully blunt at times. In his daydreams of traveling, only some involve him searching for unknown magical creatures with Luna, he doesn’t think there’s a reason besides doing it. Aimless wandering and he’s not sure if that’s so different from what he’s doing now.

“I’m not completely sure.” He says after a moment. 

Luna smiles at him, a small kind one, “You’re more than welcome to join me once you find out.”

Harry looks over the others at his home and wonders what Luna would’ve said if he told her that everything he was searching for was in the past. He’ll never know her answer. 

His thoughts have been drifting towards his friends in the slowness of days and a pang of loss often accompanies it. It helps to be around the house, he sighs and gets up to head out to the shops. Sirius stands to join him. He says that going out together would put further credence to their possible relation but Harry thinks he’s bored of watching Remus teach his brother his numbers. 

The problem with Andromeda’s plan to show his face everywhere until Narcissa owled him was that he had to go around and show his face everywhere. He was enjoying the happy seclusion and as Winter gave away to Spring it was getting all the more grating to wait for her letter. Andromeda had continued her meetings with her group, she thinks the holidays may have delayed the information from passing on. He didn’t have a better idea, sneaking into the manor was difficult as Lucius was a wary man. He had scouted the entire manor, minding the wards and couldn’t find one weak point. He could burst on through and try to quickly find it, but he caught a glimpse of a young Draco Malfoy trying to pet a white peacock, the boy ran away crying when it turned to look at him — Harry didn’t want to further traumatize the boy. In any case, he wasn’t sure where the diary was in that massive manor so another excursion out the wizarding public it is. 

“You’ve got something on your face, cousin,” Sirius motions at him as they enter a bookstore in Diagon Alley, there’s a signing going on and the crowds seem large enough. Harry wipes at his face, “Have I got it?”

Sirius shakes his head, “Nope, the gloom etched into that mug is still present. You look as dour as a cat left out in the rain, just as prissy too.” Harry sighs heavily. 

“I’m just impatient Sirius, this is all anno-” he’s cut off from a flash of a photographer. The dazzling light stuns him for a moment, then the reporter comes barreling from the crown, shoving others aside. Instead of turning towards Harry, who has some experience with reporters and expected as such, she turns towards Sirius, “Sirius Black, how does it feel to finally be free after years of injustice? Have you reconnected with your godson? Who is this beside you, perhaps a date?”

The questions keep coming and his name being shouted prompts the others to turn towards them. Amelia Bones had kept the trial fairly secret, as had the Minister  — not wanting the ineptitude of the ministry to be ousted towards the public. Those in the chamber vowed to not speak of the proceedings, but it seemed something has changed. Sirius has mostly been going unnoticed, not many recognized the happy healthy man compared to the crazed look of his mugshot.

Sirius grabs onto Harry, “H-Dorian let’s go!” and they rush out the store. They manage to enter an alley, the reporter being slowed by the crowds in the book store, and apparate back home. 

When they enter the house, Remus is waiting for them with a frown and hands a letter to them, from Amelia Bones with a copy of an unedited article that’ll appear on tomorrow's Daily Prophet.

Amelia had used the case to fuel her search into others that have not gotten a proper trial during the treacherous time of the war. As a result of her efforts, she was to be promoted to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement years earlier than she did in Harry’s time, and her first act was to lift the spell that kept the cases secret — Sirius’ being included — and reveal to the public, that while the past was filled with indolent efforts from the Aurors who were rushed through training for the war, that a new time of proper diligence was among them. It seemed she didn’t name Sirius immediately, instead she buried his name among the others she had uncovered in a vast report. She had apologized for not warning them as it had rushed out sooner than she thought. The copy of the article showed a headline covering her promotion and despite her best efforts, it was Sirius Black being named as the prominent case.  

It wasn’t too bad, Harry thought it would die out eventually. Sirius was morose at not being able to go out without a reporter hounding him but they decided to hunker down for a week or two. Busying themselves while the public unpacked all the information. Waiting for them to eventually get bored with it.

The reporters were still greedy for what they could get on Sirius, the initial rush pushing many of them to other sources but the ones who mailed them had questioned about the boy-who-lived and what he had been doing with his freedom. The pictures that were captured that day were shown and a few articles that didn’t even hint to the truth had reported on their connection. One did, however, latch on to Harry’s resemblance to the Potters, the photo they captured made him look disheveled with his glasses askew.

It didn’t pick up any traction in the Prophet, but in more gossip-heavy publications — that Sirius had ordered when he was named as one of the hottest bachelors —  it was heavily reported on. In a few, they reported that young Harry was being cared for by the handsome man; a distant relative who had come back to help his family. In particularly nasty articles they accused him of being cast-away from the family for horrid deeds. Back to take advantage of the sad former prisoner, using his looks to win favor. 

“You should really stop reading that,” Remus says from behind his book, “I thought you said you were used to your name being on the paper?”

Harry scoffs, “That’s entirely different, this one says I’m having an illicit affair with Sirius — how is it an affair if he’s single — and that I’m nothing but a tramp leeching off his supposed wealth.”

Sirius, who had covered the boy's ears he’s sitting by at the word illicit, says, “It’s an easy assumption to make. Why would I be single? Look at me,” at the dry looks he continues, “Just owl them and tell them you’re not my tramp. You’re Remus’” He raises an eyebrow and pointedly lets go of the ears he’s covering when he sees him screwing his face for something nasty to say. Harry keeps coloring on his paper, having gotten used to sporadic deafness around them. 

“I’m not a fuc- funny… bloke. That’s you. You funny man,” he replies with a glare, stammering out his abrupt correction. He drops the Witch Weekly magazine, having had enough of the drivel. His brother looks over at him, “I think you’re really funny.” Harry smiles back.

He reaches for the stack of letters that came with the paper. He leafs through them, most of them for Sirius and were going to be tossed in the fireplace, he stops when one’s addressed to him. Specifically, Dorian Potter. He opens it — the expected letter from Narcissa finally came. 

Harry is first to come through the fireplace, revealing a rather open living room. He doesn’t take too long to admire the various adornments — must it all be so white and dull — because standing close by is Lucius Malfoy. The first thing Harry notices is that his hair is exactly the same as he had it when he first saw him, so different to the stringy dirty locks the man had after he spent time in Azkaban. Harry eyes the cane he holds in his hand for a moment, he never did understand why he chose to have it and settles on the cool gaze assessing him. Lucius walks over, his robe billowing elegantly behind him, and his height naturally makes him look down at Harry. He still finds the man unnecessarily snooty. “You must be Mr. Potter, I hope you find your visit to the Manor welcoming. My darling Narcissa has been gracious in meeting you. I remind you to not take advantage of her ever-flowing hospitality.”  Sirius floos through and Lucius spares the man a dismissive glance, before returning his look to Harry. 

Harry smiles, constipated as it may be as he already can’t stand the mans tone— Sirius at seeing it approves silently to himself at how Harry had mastered the Pure-blood smile — and nods at him, “I would never impose upon family, will you be joining us for lunch, Mr. Malfoy?” Narcissa had not mentioned if he would and he hopes that he isn’t. 

Lucius drawls, “If we are indeed family, you may call me Lucius,” his tone reeking of how must he doesn’t like the thought, Harry surmises at the cause of the hold-up in receiving Narcissa’s letter, “Unfortunately, I have business to attend to, Narcissa will come down shortly.” He walks over to the floo. 

He stops momentarily when he’s close to Sirius to turn towards him, “I cannot imagine what you must be feeling to finally be back in the luxuries that you seldom have had the pleasure of experiencing in the past years. I wonder, was Azkaban as comforting as the dilapidated hovel you must dwell in?” 

Sirius grins at him, he claps a hand on the man's shoulder heavily which Lucius scowls at, “It was wonderful, you must visit yourself to really appreciate it. In fact,” he snaps his fingers as if just remembering something, “Bellatrix had wondered when you would show up. She sends her regards.”  He flinches slightly at the woman’s name, he turns sharply towards the fireplace, “Do your best not to leave you stench anywhere, Black,” and floos out. Sirius snorts.

“I often thought of you when I heard the sound of a beast in the past few years, Cousin Sirius,” Narcissa’s dry voice calls out as she enters the room, “How it warms my heart to hear your laughter again.”

Sirius huffs but reaches out to grasp her in a short hug that she allows, “Your husband is a riot, Cissa, you know how I find him funny.” A twitch of her lips breaks on her stony face at the nickname — Harry wonders at their relationship, without Voldemort looming could they simply be family? He found it strange that Sirius wasn’t too opposed to coming with him though he was shocked at the invite from Narcissa. She recovers from whatever warmness had leaked onto her face when she turns towards Harry. 

Her gaze isn’t as piercing as he’s used to, but still, she looks him over. Harry does the same back, her hair isn’t as white as he remembers. The harsh lines in her face are missing and there’s something lively about her. He watches silently as she pays attention to his features: his hair, nose, lips, and eyes. She must have found what she was looking for because her gaze softens fractionally, “You take after Great Aunt Dorea. The papers don’t do you justice, Cousin Dorian. I’m glad you agreed to come visit, I’ve not had family over in years.” 

Harry uses the relief from the test he passed to reply warmly, “I apologize for not reaching out sooner myself. Like you, I’m not used to having much family to reach out to. I was delighted to receive your letter, Cousin Narcissa.” She nods at him, her eyes shimmer with approval. She turns and leads the two out towards her yard, a table set up with lunch for them. 

As Sirius sits he comments, “I was surprised you extended the invite to me. I had thought you were… against seeing me. Disowned, as I am.” He doesn’t hide how shameless he feels about that.

Narcissa looks him over, the empty plates filled with various fruits and bites to eat with a pop, “You mustn’t have heard. Your mother,” her voice chills at her mention, “had reinstated you in honor of your supposed achievements that caused your arrest. She parted thinking she had raised her son properly, it’s a shame you couldn’t correct her.”

Harry is ready to defend Sirius, the last sentence sounding like an insult but he barks out a sharp laugh, “To think she fooled herself into believing she was capable of raising anyone. As delusional on her death bed as she was in life.” 

Narcissa nods agreeably and grabs herself a plate when the others are done reaching for theirs, “In any case, with you still being family, Father had no qualms over my seeing you. Distant, as he is, he still keeps an eye on me. You never did something as abhorrent as running away with muggles.” She shakes her head at the ghastly thought. Sirius and Harry both keep pleasant faces. 

Harry distracts himself from reacting by thinking about what her father may be like, she catches the question in his look. “Do you know much of the family you have here?”

Harry shakes his head, “Mother,” the word foreign on his mouth as he tries to channel Draco, “was more interested in sharing stories of her youth that starred only herself.” He only knows tidbits from what Sirius and Andromeda had described. They had visited his vault in preparation for this, having remembered that Sirius said his dad received a package of her things when she and her husband passed away. It was full of photos of them, happy and laughing. Some jewelry and odd knickknacks. Not a single letter for them, however. Narcissa’s disappointment is hardly noticeable but Sirius nudges him on the shin. He tries for a kinder Draco next.

Harry takes a large bite of the fruit he picked up, savoring the acidic sweetness as he prepares for the lie he's about to tell, he swallows, “She, of course, mentioned you,” she sits a little straighter in her seat, “she described you just as you are, so often would she embellish that I didn’t truly believe that the sunlight itself grew from your head, cousin. She would talk of her little sunbeam that she left back home when the dreary clouds would rain down on us and cease any of our travelings.” He throws out the name Andromeda said she would sickeningly call her sister. He glances over at Sirius and his blank face makes him worry that he might’ve hammed it up too much. 

Narcissa however visibly reacts at his words, mouth parting lightly as fondness distantly enters her eyes. She reaches for her drink to hide it, “She spoke of me?” Harry tries not to feel guilty over the tenderness he hears.

Harry nods, biting his lip sharply and quickly before continuing, “She loved telling me of you, often in comparison, I never did live up to you. I did think much of it was lies, words to encourage me to care for my appearance and the like. I’m pleasantly surprised to see you’re just like the image she painted.” He glides a hand over his hair, Sirius stuffs his mouth with whatever food in reach to chew on, “She would tell me that while Father blessed me with his eyes, that she had hoped my ebony locks would have matched your startling sunny shade instead. She would also bemoan my clumsiness and wish I shared the grace that seemed to come so easily to you.” He stops when Sirius nudges him harder. He focuses on Narcissa hoping it sounded believable. She pays little attention to him having turned her look away.

Narcissa looks out to the yard of her home, distant, “She was a wonderful person, your mother. It pained me when my letters went unanswered, and when the last one never made it far from my window. The owl circled the skies before returning to me, marking her passing.” She glances over at where the owl must’ve flown. Harry suddenly feels like an ass. 

Sirius speaks up, “You know her, Cissa. She abhorred writing, she preferred a live audience for her words.” Sirius reaches into his pocket, “Dorian, has shared with me photos of her that I think you’d like.” He takes out a stack they’ve selected, only of her. There were many to choose from that only had her in them. Narcissa smiles at him and takes the photos, parsing over each one gently. Harry clears his throat, “You may keep any or all of them if you like.” 

She nods absently, after a moment she puts them back down to peruse more in detail later. “Forgive me, I was quite fond of her. Family is rather dear to me, Dorian.” Harry can understand. 

“Speaking of, where is little Draco?” Sirius asks, diverting the subject to something lighter.

“He’s taking his afternoon nap, he normally tires from the excitement of his morning lessons.” She replies easily. Sirius hums, “I wish Harry would nap more, the runt is a bundle of energy.” 

Her eyebrow raises, “So it’s true? You’re raising, Harry Potter? I fear the boy’s future if he has you to care for him.” Harry thinks her voice is teasing but he isn’t sure, “Draco is taken by the stories of him, it would be awful to ruin his hopes.” He excuses himself to the restroom, getting the directions from Narcissa after asking. Sirius said he’d bring up Harry to distract her for him. 

Once inside he reaches for his pocket, pulling out his cloak. He wraps it around him swiftly and exits. He’s not sure if there are many eyes on the hallways but he’s keeping it safe. He finds what he believes to be the central area of the home, and tries a simple Point-Me spell first. It, predictably, does not lead him towards the diary. He sighs, that’s one of two plans he has.

He takes out his other plan, the remains of the Diadem of Ravenclaw, snapped in pieces from the bite of the basilisk and the venom that misshaped it. He picked it up on their exit, thinking it might be worth preserving since it was an artifact. It was huddled in some corner of the cabinet to deal with later. He also has a drop of blood from his brother, gathered from one of the few scratches on his knees when he had when he spent the afternoon chasing after Perseus in their yard the day before. As creepy as it felt to collect he thought the two combined might be enough for the spell to latch onto and search for its other missing piece of soul. 

He spills the blood on the former Horcrux, choosing the larger piece that was a wing, and mutters out the spell, Avenseguim. The piece rattles for a moment then stops, Harry deflates. He leans against the railing of the stairs, thinking of what to do next, his hand slips out from his cloak for a moment. The piece rattles again and shoots out from his loose grip, whizzing past him to head down a nearby corridor. 

Harry curses and follows swiftly, trying his best to muffle his steps. He focuses on the piece as it continues its flight, a sharp turn to his left makes him nearly knock down an urn that he bets cost more than he could imagine. It continues towards the back of the home. At one door it stops, pushing against it to open it, and finally sliding up and down the door causing a grating sound to echo around. Harry quickly opens the door to reveal a study that must be Lucius’. The wing flies in, it centers on one particular bookshelf and does its strange dance up and down its shelves. Harry peers behind it, noticing a strange gap, he casts Circumrota to rotate the shelf. It stops midway to reveal a small alcove with a box in it. The wing charges towards it but it hits an unseen barrier and bounces back, the spell fizzling out as it clatters on the floor. 

Well, that worked out, he thinks. He picks up the piece and shoves it back into his pocket. He casts the few detection charms he knows and slumps at the amount of extensive warding that covers the box. He won’t be able to easily slip past it. He spells the shelf back into place, eyeing the area to make sure nothing looks out of order and returns to the other two, thinking his absence would soon be noticed.

As he returns to the table, Narcissa looks over at him, “Dorian, I was just telling Sirius how Harry should visit the next time you come. He tells me he is over with the Diggory family now, a respected family for a group of Hufflepuffs but I believe their neighbors leave much to be desired. Don’t you worry he might make friends with the wrong sort?” He hides his distaste from her words.

A snitch flies past the children, keeping a few feet off the ground for tiny arms to reach for, and heads for the field around them. Harry, Cedric, Ron, and Ginny — the last two being there because of Amos Diggory loudly proclaiming to the Weasleys that his son had befriended the one and only Harry Potter — chase after it. Fred and George were missing having been punished for destroying one of the elaborate mazes that Percy had begun to litter their yard with. 

It was one of several releases of the snitch since the children all gathered together that day, Ron felt brave enough to visit Cedric without the twins there and both he and Ginny had wanted to see the hero that their parents told stories of. 

Harry was informed by his older brother that some would think he was special for something that happened when he was a baby, glossing over specific details, and that people would treat him normally if they were real friends. Harry thinks Cedric is a real friend, but he was unsure about Ron and Ginny when he first saw them. They looked at him like he was much bigger than he was. 

Cedric, living up to his future Hufflepuff placement, had taken the news of who he was with nothing but a bright smile and he didn’t mind the two Weasleys being there if they were all going to play with the new snitch he got. Being the oldest, he decided it was him to make sure everyone had fun. He also made sure to introduce everyone himself when he saw Harry shyly retreat, and Ron and Ginny do nothing but stare. He quickly told them that they were racing on who to catch the snitch first and released it, they all began playing soon after. Warming up to each other through the game, it took Ginny a while but eventually, she stops glancing back at Harry to focus solely on the snitch.

Harry tumbles on the ground after he dives for the snitch, missing it by a hair, and Cedric rushes past him — after stopping to check if he was okay — to go after it. 

Harry decides to stay on the field of tall grass he lands on, his energy waning from how long they’ve been in the sun. He catches Ginny yelling at Ron in the distance, “You didn’t have to push me!” From the loud yelp out of Ron, he guesses she pushed back. He hears them both start running again. He listens to the wind brushing against the grass around him, cooling him.

The humming of a cheery tune enters his ears and he pushes up from the ground, looking around for the source, he finds a girl not too far from him who was fiddling with something in her hand. He walks over to sit beside her, who faces up at the new presence. 

He sees big blue eyes stare at him or through him, he thinks. The girl has a dress on with frills, a necklace of silver droplets on her neck, and grass stains all over her. “Hello,” she says. The wind makes her hair blow across her face. 

“Hello,” Harry says back, “What are you doing?”

She reveals in her hand a small wreath of grass and petals she must’ve gotten from flowers nearby, “I’m tying plants together.” Harry nods, that is what she’s doing. “Why?” he asks next.

She looks at him with those eyes again, “Because I know how to tie them together.”

Harry thinks that’s a good enough reason, he looks at the small wreath again, “It’s pretty. You’re good at that.” 

She smiles at him, Harry thinks she looks sleepy, “You can have it.” She carefully puts it through Harry’s hand before he can muster out a proper reply to that.

Harry’s eyes widen, glancing down at the bracelet, “It’s yours, I can’t take it. You’re the one who made it.”

She looks at him confused, “You think it’s pretty.” Harry doesn’t know what to say to that so he looks down at his wrist again, touching the knots around it reverently.

Ron walks up beside him having witnessed some of their conversation. With the tact that he’ll be known for, for the rest of his life, he blurts out, “Who would want to keep that thing? It’s just bits of grass.”

Harry looks up at the freckled boy, he’s never had someone make something like this for him, so he proudly declares, “I do.” 

Ron shrugs, “If you say so.” He accepts it with the ease of a child and lays down beside them having tired from the running as well. It’s not long before light snores start coming out of him. 

The two stare at him, marveling at how quickly he fell asleep. They’re soon joined by Ginny, “Why are you sitting here, Harry?” she asks as she sits beside him, she peers over his shoulder at the other girl, “Oh, Hi, Loony.” Mimicking the name she often hears her older brothers call her.

Harry looks at the girl again with a tilt in his head, “Loony? That’s a funny name.” 

She nods back, “That’s my funny name, people laugh when they say it sometimes. Luna’s not as funny, I think.”

Cedric cheers from afar, he starts calling names when he realizes no one’s around for his victory. Harry decides to go tell him how good he did, he pauses to rush out, “I like Luna better. I’m Harry, I’ll be back. Thanks for the bracelet!” Waving the hand that holds his new gift at her.

Ginny watches him go, she stops herself from following, “Lo-Luna can you show me how to make one too?”

Later once the sun starts lowering towards the horizon and it’s time to grab his younger brother, Harry appears outside with a cracking sound and sees the group of children with dirt patches on their clothes, twigs, and leaves nestled in their hair, and pleased faces that look ready to keel over — Ron being the only one who looks refreshed. He's surprised at the inclusion of Luna, seeing her and the others is bittersweet. His smile may be wistful as he approaches them, but it gets wider when his brother looks up at him and starts babbling about his day and his new friends. 

Harry shuts another book, he’s been reading up on wards. The other two don’t have much experience with ward-breaking but Remus is helping him research it. He’s not sure if it’s out of kindness or because he’s interested in learning something new. Sirius has taken to looking after his brother when they’re busy or bothering the two to go for breaks when they look wrung out. 

The small footsteps of his brother come from the hallway, Harry glances out the window, the sun beats harshly on him. He took a nap between books but did plan on going to bed at one point. He recalls distantly that Remus advised him not to stay up too late when he was heading for bed. He gets up to grab some fruit, his brother has a liking for apples in the morning. The golden kinds that are soft yet crisp with sweetness. Harry muses over how he prefers the sour of green ones himself when his brother shuffles into his seat. 

The apple is cut into intricate slices that resemble petals from a spell he found in Witch Weekly — he might not be using it to prepare a romantic picnic but he thinks it will still be appreciated. He sets the plate down for him placing a dollop of peanut butter on top of it. The open joy on his face over any kind of magic still warms Harry. His brother hums happily, a thanks slipping out before he gingerly takes a piece out. Harry spells a bagel to toast for him when he finishes. 

He returns to his stack of books, his energy not yet fading despite the growing light, and continues his studies. He has a parchment with potential spells he thinks will work that he still needs to practice. The turning of pages and the slow chewing of apple slices is the only sound made from the two. Harry waves a wand absently when he catches him nearly finished, causing the bagel to fly towards his brother and land on his emptying plate. A glass of milk soon follows. The book he’s reading repeats much of what the others say, that ward-breaking was a delicate process if one wanted to do it right. He rushes past the introduction to get to the good stuff. 

“What are you reading?” His brother asks with a mouth full of food. 

“Try to finish chewing before speaking,” Harry replies gently, “I’m reading about some magic that I don’t know about.”

He sips his milk, making sure he’s got nothing in his mouth, “What kind of magic?”

“Wards. Magic that covers something to keep it safe,” Harry jots down a neat spell that reveals the layers of protections, he just needs to know what they look like and he can untangle them. The section that describes how the wards look is expansive.

“Safe how?” he leans over to try to read the book, he can’t make out most of the words.

“Hmm… it can do anything, I guess. The most common one is like a wall but you can’t see it. It bounces people back when they try to step through. It can do other things and I want to learn how to know which spell it is.” his brother furrows his eyebrows as he imagines an invisible wall. Harry leaves him to it. He skims the pages again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating when the section covered 3/4ths of the book. He purses his lips when he realizes the last section is necessary reading on safety measures. A wave of exhaustion hits him, but he tries to get some of it done.

When the boy is done with his meal he scoots his chair closer to watch him work. It takes the researching wizard a while to notice when he does he looks down at him. He’s kicking his legs idly, looking over his parchment and books. Squinting when he sees a word he recognizes that he mouths slowly. Mostly, he looks bored. 

“What do you have planned for today? A lesson?” Harry asks.

He shakes his head, “We don’t do lessons on the weekends.” Harry blinks slowly, he thought it was Tuesday. 

“Right… visiting Cedric?” Harry continues.

“He’s on a trip with his family. He won’t be back for another… 4 days.” he holds his fingers up for him as he counts the remaining days.

Harry hums he knows he’s still shy about visiting the others without Cedric, “Want to go to a park?'' They haven’t taken his brother with him when they go out to Diagon because they don’t want to risk a picture being taken. The attention would do no one any good. Muggle London would be fine.

His brother perks up at the idea, but then he glances at the books around them and shrugs, “You look busy.”

Harry chews on his cheek, he is busy. Also rather tired. “I am,” he tells him honestly then adds, “but I bet Moony would love to take you. He deserves a break, I can take you tomorrow too. I need some rest first.” His brother doesn’t look too disappointed at him not going, he must look awful. He gets up from his seat.

“Come on, help me prepare a snack for you and Moony while you’re out.” His brother shuffles after him. 

“He likes the white jellybeans,” he tells Harry with a whisper. They both twist their faces as they remember the taste, tongues sticking out in disgust. 

The park was wonderful, Harry decided. He had only got to play on swings at school, never for long as there was always a line of other kids, but he never had someone push him as Moony did. Or wait for him at the bottom of the slide, or help him across the monkey bars, or clap for him when he climbed the top of a ladder. The kids there were nicer too, there was no one like his Cousin Dudley who pushed him out of the way. 

He was under one of the jungle gyms, picking up wood chips to use as currency for the playhouse that was there. After depositing the right amount, he diligently counted up to 18, Moony took out his snack from his pouch and handed it over to him from the other side of the open window. 

“Do you want to eat it here?” Moony asks as he stands up from his crouch, brushing his pants to rid it of anything sticking to it. 

They walk out from under the jungle gym when Harry shakes his head. He looks around for a place to sit, he was a little tired. Moony sits down on a bench not far from the jungle gym, but Harry spots the pond nearby before he takes his seat. He sees a duck and decides the bench the short walk over there is way better. He points over at it, “I want to sit there.” 

Moony nods and moves to stand up, Harry stops him, “It’s okay, Moony. You can eat yours with your friends. I’ll eat my snack with the ducks.” Moony mouths the word friends confused, he turns over his shoulder at Harry’s gesturing. 

Remus pales slightly, the group of women that accosted him when he showed up with Harry was watching him. When they entered the park they complimented him for being such a caring father and asked questions about the mother. They said he looked so dashing in his sweater — Remus had declared then that he’ll refuse any more gifts from the wizard who spoiled him back home. He smiled politely at them but quickly went towards the swings with Harry. Remus had decided to forgo the book he had planned to read after a while to instead play with Harry the whole time. They were giggling to each other when they caught his stare. He turns back to Harry ready to tell him he didn’t need friends but he already left for the pond. Before he can chase after him, a man chuckles near him, “They’re not that bad, I promise.” 

Remus looks over at a well-dressed man who sits beside him and continues, “They just like to see the dad's squirm. It’s a bit of harmless fun.” 

Harry was fairly close to him and within view. The tracking charm he’s put on him will warn him if he manages to get further or gets hurt so he decides to speak to the other adult, he wouldn’t mind a rare normal conversation, “You look like you speak from experience.”

He smiles, “My little one is over there,” he motions to where Harry was seating, Remus leans to match his view and notices the bushy-haired girl sitting there, “They wouldn’t stop bothering me at first.” Remus settles in to hear how the group of ladies shamelessly hounded the man. 

Harry finished his juice with a loud slurp, not keeping his eyes off the ducks in front of him. He puts the empty box into his bag and takes out the small cup of jellybeans to pop one into his mouth. He frowns when he doesn’t taste the green apple he thought he had picked. It tasted… green but wet. He takes another one out and pinches it between his fingers, he holds it over his head to catch the sunlight trying to gleam its flavor. 

“Sweets will rot your teeth you know,” the girl beside him says, reciting the words as if she’s heard them so many times before. He didn’t bother her when he noticed she was reading a book, she was quietly reading it aloud so he didn’t mind the free story. He looks over and hums, “Is it a sweet if it’s not sweet?”

She pauses the reading that she continued, “All candies are sweet.” She tucks a frizzy strand of hair behind her ear as she tells him. 

Harry frowns, “But, this one doesn’t taste sweet at all.” he looks at the jellybean again. He should’ve asked for the labels on the box. 

She peers at it with him, moving closer to try to see what he sees, “What does it taste like?” 

Harry shrugs, “Green… and wet.” She looks at him in disbelief. “Would you like to try it?”

The girl blinks at the hand that reaches towards her, she chews on her lip as she considers it, deciding the candy was tiny enough and being ever so curious herself she nods. He drops it onto her open palm and watches as she chews on it. Her eyebrows raise in surprise, and to Harry’s surprise a smile forms in delight, “This isn’t sweet at all but it does taste really good.” She tilts her head, her large hair falling partly on Harry, “I agree. It does taste green and wet.” 

Harry looks down at the rest of his jellybeans, he has a few more of the green ones. He picks out the ones he likes and tilts it towards her, “You can have them if you want, I like the red ones but those taste like cherry.” She seems surprised at his offering, she takes the container with thanks. 

Harry looks at the book that was placed between them when she moved, “What are you reading?” he sees pictures of frogs on the page. He hasn’t seen this one before. 

She brightens at his interest, she shuffles even closer and places the book on their lap, “It’s my favorite book, my dad reads it to me at night. It’s about a frog and toad who are friends. I’m learning how to read it so I can show him.” 

“I don’t think I know this book,” he tells her, “I don’t think I have that book. Moony’s never read one about a toad and a book, he does the best voices so I would remember.” 

“Moony?” she asks. He points at him, Moony sees it and waves back, “Oh is that his name?”

Harry tilts his head, “It’s Remus, but he told me to call him Moony. I like it.” He looks at the girl again, “My name is Harry, what’s yours?”

She smiles, “I’m Hermione.” Harry smiles back, and looks down at the book, he starts to read when he recognizes the words. He points at one long one, “What’s this one?”  

She looks down, mouthing it out before saying it clearly, “Meadow” Harry nods, that is the word. “You’re smart. Can you read it again like before?”

Hermione looks surprised again, he wonders if everything surprises her, but she agrees, “I like the last part, it’s about Toad being sad that he doesn’t get any mail so Frog sends him a letter.” She flips to the back part of the book and starts from the top. They read together for a while, Hermione absently eats all her jellybeans and Harry tries to make a funny voice for the Toad like Moony would do that Hermione laughs at. 

Remus calls out to him that it was time to go, in his hurry he stands up too abruptly and the book flips off their laps. Hermione had loosened her hold on it from her laughing and she could only watch as it landed near the pond, hitting the mud before it reached the water but it still slid perilously closer to it. Hermione looks crushed when she sees it dirty and Harry begins to mouth out several apologies. He hadn’t meant for that to happen.

The two adults walk over having seen it all, but Hermione rushes towards the pond to grab it despite her father's shouts. She slips and the momentum pushes her foot further to nudge the book right into the pond and she lands on her bottom with a plop. She gasps and tears start forming on her eyes. She bites on her lips and her cheeks turn pink from how hard she tries to keep it together but the mess on her and her book submerging is too much. She pounds a fist on the ground in defeat as the tears start slipping. Then, the book shoots out from the water, it shakes in place as the water seeps out of its page to land back into the pond and zooms into her lap. Clean and dry as she wanted it. She stares at it stunned, unsure if she should move. The shock stops her tears from flowing.

Her father looks equally surprised. It’s Harry’s cheer that breaks the silence, “Hermione! You have magic too!” She stares at him confused and her father looks over at Remus. Remus recognizes the name and after a moment of mulling it over he decides to take the two to a nearby café instead of calling the Aurors for an obliviate.

It’s there that he shares what he can to Mr. Granger, the stature was rather iffy when it came to muggle-borns and as long as he didn’t directly show him magic then he didn’t have much to worry over. They probably already marked their home for accidental magic. He takes it well enough, having little to no way of explaining what just happened. 

Hermione meanwhile is enraptured at the explanation, Harry helps by supplying his details of what he knows. Before they leave, he whispers a question into Remus’ ear who nods with a soft smile. He turns to Hermione, “Moony said he’d help me write you a letter. We have owls that send them so I’ll send mine first and you can read one from a friend.” He waves happily at her, not realizing how much it meant to promise her that.

A grumbled out greeting from the kitchen is what the two come home to, Harry hadn’t made it to his room and Sirius had a check-up he was off to. He had long since succumbed to his fate that he’d sleep on the hard surface of the table, his elbow made a decent enough pillow. He was just about to go back to sleep when Remus wrapped an arm around him to help him up. His tsking could’ve been a lullaby to Harry from how easily he would have slept standing up — leaning his full weight on his shoulder — as they moved towards their room. His brother holds onto his hand from his other side and chats about his outing. Harry doesn’t know what he feels when he mentions Hermione, the sleepiness makes it all so murky. He drifts off as soon as he hits the bed before he can process it, he thinks they’re mostly happy feelings.

As he wakes he leans against the warmth that’s surrounding him. He blinks his eyes open when the warmth leans back into him, he looks down and see’s Remus’ arm wrapped around him. He catches the light out the window and sees the sun heading down the horizon, he must’ve been tired enough to nap after the park. The park where they met Hermione. He was right; he's happy that Hermione was found, but something bitter sours it all. It won’t be his Hermione like it won’t be his Ron, or his Luna or his Ginny. Sirius and Remus were easy enough to get used to, so little was the time he spent with them. 

He shifts himself around so he can wrap his arms around Remus. He stirs a bit in his sleep and pulls Harry closer. As Harry tucks his head under his chin, he breaths for a moment. He distantly notes that Remus smells different today. He can’t deny that everything is going well but it still hurts. He’ll get used to it in time he thinks. That’s what people have been telling him before he left, he might as well listen to them now. He’s got more time than he could do with. He rubs his face against his chest, his thoughts keep getting muddled from how badly he wants his friends back. It’s as if he’s mind submerged in it, making it all so difficult to decipher. Remus makes some noises indicating he’s waking. Harry just gets closer. 

“Hey,” the chest beneath Harry rumbles, “ Can’t breathe properly.”

Harry holds tighter, “Serves you right. Cuddling against me in my sleep.”

A short groan and a hand that moves to thread through his hair is the reply Harry gets. Harry shuts his eyes tighter, the touch is comforting. It’s easing the drowned buzzing going on in his head. Remus doesn’t shift from the vice grip of Harry’s arms or ask any questions. He just keeps stroking his hair, rubbing a cheek lazily against the top of his head. 

Harry isn’t sure when he eases up, he’s pretty sure Remus might’ve gone back to sleep but when he finally let’s go and looks out the window the stars cover the sky, twinkling at him. His sleep schedule is entirely fucked, he thinks. He’s alert enough that he won’t be able to sleep unless he exhausts himself again.

He sits up a little to look down at Remus, who’s nap has surely gone on a little too long so he could be in the same predicament. They could both use some proper exhaustion. He tilts his head, he has a good idea of what they could do.

He leans in and shakes the man awake, who grumbles but easily wakes. “Remus,” Harry’s voice is breathy, “Need your help with something.” Remus looks up at him, confused but curious. Harry grins. 

The moon rises above them, casting down its light with a half-closed eye. A mist has emerged that does little to hinder their sight but the chilled air clings onto the two making them huddle closer together. They pass a sign plastered shoddily halfway up a flickering street lamp. Little Hangelton, it reads. The orange glow causes strange shadows to stretch upon the street. They pass a cemetery that Harry pauses to look at. Remus can only guess what he sees.

They continue onto the outskirts of the village, Harry’s blindly making his way to where the shack may lie but he’s sure it isn’t too far. The memory he had viewed is as blurred as one of his own but he sure it showed a copse of long-branched trees that blocked much of the surrounding area from view. The ruins of a grand house covered in the growth of encroaching vines are all they can see as they go further away from the village. Thankfully, they’re not surrounded by a forest so the branches that peak into the sky from beside the hill they’re circling are a good marker. 

Once he’s sure they're on the right path, he breaks the silence, “Now, I have never been here and the manner of hexes, curses or whatever else there may be are as blind to me as they are to you,” Remus stops walking to look at him, “I want you to be careful and on the lookout for dark insidious magic that means to harm us.” He had warned him it would be dangerous before they left, but another one would be appreciated he thinks.

Remus doesn’t react instead he keeps on walking, “I always wanted my death to be a surprise.” Harry nods, it’s nice to see him in good humor.

Harry needed a trial run with his ward-breaking, there’s only so much practice he can do in the valley back home. A shack protected by Lord Voldemort could be just a thing, more like a test. An exam for those far more skilled than he is maybe, but that’s why Remus is here. He mostly wants an example from what he learned in the book he read that morning, he even brought it with him. 

The trees had grown tightly together, their branches crisscrossing the sky as each one competed for the sunlight. Remus lights a Lumos beside him as Harry works on cutting away the limbs of the trees that hang low. A shack enters their view shortly, run down with chunks of its roof missing.  The floor is muddy as they inch closer. 

When they’re at what Harry determines to be a safe enough distance, he puts a hand over Remus' chest to cease his movement as he prepares the spell he learned earlier that day. He holds his wand aloft, directly over his head and says the incantation. 

Golden sparkles wisp out of his wand, rushing to the skies like tossed sand, and as it began to fall to encircle the shack it’s impeded by an invisible force that walled it from touching it fully. It scattered at the impact, seeping into it to form invisible writhing threads. Layer upon layer was encased by the particles of his spell, lighting more tendrils that webbed around them, once it was finished the protections Voldemort left were finally unveiled. The veins of the dark magic centered from inside the shack, it seemed that most of the protections were within. Getting in would be the first hurdle and from the way the door was the only section not fully covered by the murky magic, that must be their way in.

Remus takes to encircling the area casting repelling magic that would hide their view from any nearby muggles or wizards that happened upon them. A hand waves gently against the border he creates as his magic follows his direction. Harry shoots out balls of light from his wand once he’s done to lighten up the area, the glow of the spell was efficient but he needed more to read the pages of the book he pulled out.

From the netting that formed on the wall, that dripped and blurred its shape with a pulse before bouncing back into its shape with another, he concluded that if he blasted a wall down with his magic It would blast him back. The pages list the variations of the spell and the pulses indicate that it would not only blast him back but reach out onto his magic and drown him in it. Forcing him down with it’s paralyzing hold. The process of untangling its hold was a complicated one, however, the book informed this spell could never fully enclose an area. His first assumption is proven true when he finds the door mostly empty of it. 

Remus points out that enough was covered that even a localized blast would trigger the spell so they had to figure out another way to open it. There was no doorknob on it, instead, on its center were two statues of serpents. Completely alight indicating some sort of spell kept it close. This one was opaque. No terrible throbbing or murkiness. He gets an idea on how to open it. He stares right into the eyes of the statue.

“Open,” he says in parseltongue. Remus watches him silently yet goosebumps rise up his arms. The door stays closed.

“Horcrux,” he guesses incorrectly next.

"I would like to see the Horcrux… please.”

“Gaunt Ring.”

“Pure-Blood.”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.” 

“I am Lord Voldemort, Heir of Slytherin. Magic has blessed me with its power and Death will never hold me in its grasp. The Fates themselves couldn’t deter me. I demand entry so I may gather the shard of my soul that you have within you.” Nothing. Harry starts getting heated and Remus tugs the book from his hold to flip through its pages. 

“Listen here you damn shack,” he points viciously at the door, “I will destroy every inch of your sodding walls with multiple ground-shaking explosions until you crumble away into nothing but the gravel beneath my shoes, so if you want to survive you better open up now you piece of sh-” Remus grabs his shoulder to stop him with a shake of his head. Harry pauses to see what he’ll do, unconsciously wiping the spit that gathered on his chin with the back of his hand.

Remus points his wand to the door and clearly says, Alohomora. The spell hits the serpents and shatters the golden light surrounding it as if it was glass. As the glow cracks away into nothingness, the door creaks open. 

Harry flushes deeply, he clears his throat, “Good job, Remus. I was going to try that next.”

Remus just raises an eyebrow at him and stares shrewdly. Harry feels it’s uncharacteristically unkind and tells him so. He just laughs at him. Harry grabs the book he’s holding back as he tries to ignore it, and peeks inside the shack. 

The spells littering the place are much more complicated than the simple one on the door. There are swirling spirals on the first steps into the place, like a spring ready to snap out. Wiggling webs that line the walls ready for whatever gets caught within them. A floating mist that covers the ceiling. He squints and sees them form sharpened points before collapsing away. Several areas are encased in thick veins, he’s unsure which one might hide the Horcrux. Harry sighs, they’re in for a long night.

Harry finds the section for the spell that covers the area a few steps inside. He and Remus read it together and take turns trying to break it. It involved following the pattern it made with their wand and burning it away with a controlled continuous Incendio. It takes them almost two hours, they went incredibly slow. Hands kept trembling from the inexperience. The first steps inside feel momentous, a Mt. Everest that they’ve conquered. A peak of unimaginable heights. Harry feels completely worn out. 

Which is why he leaned a little into the wall and unknowingly triggered the spell on it. He gasps in shock when he feels something covering him and tries to push Remus out of the shack who in turn had reached for him to pull him away. This causes Harry to collapse onto the man, and the spell covers both of them. It wraps tightly around them, freezing them as if hit with a stunner. It stopped just around their shoulders. It seemed to only stretch so far. Especially around two bodies instead of just one. Harry is incredibly thankful for taking down that first defense, he doesn’t want to know how they interacted together.

Harry starts breathing again when he realizes that they’re not dying. It doesn’t do much since his face is buried under Remus’ arm. His speech is muffled, “You smell different,” Remus grunts in acknowledgment, “I don’t like it.”

“Didn’t have much of my soap left in the shower,” Remus says with a shaky voice, “Had to borrow some of that stuff Sirius uses.”

Harry hums as he tries to wiggle away, “That stuff he mixes himself?” The movement hitches him up higher, he breaths in greedily when his face isn’t as covered. It was starting to feel suffocating. 

“Yep,” it comes out like a choked groan, “Try not to move anymore, your knee is digging close to dangerous places. I’d prefer to keep my bollocks.”

Harry stops his wiggling, he’d prefer that too, “Sorry. I think he uses a bit of stuff for dogs in that. I caught him sneaking in a bottle once when we went shopping.”

“Explains the sudden lack of fleas.” Remus quips. Harry’s laugh doesn’t last long as he starts gaining feeling in his feet. It only takes a couple of minutes before the spell releases its hold on them completely.

Harry gets up first and helps Remus with a hand. “Guess whatever was going to kill us wasn’t supposed to take that long,” he huffs as he pulls him up. Remus’ smile is grim but he mutters out a thanks. 

“Let’s go back home, we can tackle this slowly.” Harry doesn’t know if it took Dumbledore long or if being a great wizard sped it all up but he can deal with easing into this. Remus agrees. They snuff out the lights and close the door of the shack and leave. The visit proved useful in tiring them at least, since, once they both hit the bed, they pass out quickly. The moon is still shining down on them from their window.

It takes a week for them to fully get through the entire shack, it might’ve been a bit superfluous to take down every defense but Harry liked the practice. It was much better than reading. Sirius had come at one point instead of Remus because he wanted to check it out. They spent much of that afternoon loafing around once Sirius realized it was just a crumbling shack. The Hanged Man served a wonderful ale and the villagers of the town had enjoyed the fresh gossip from the appearance of the two. Their antics would be immortalized through stories of how the ground shook the night the two strangers appeared in the village and from the way Riddle Manor had mysteriously disappeared that night. Nothing but bits of pebbles remained. The shattered lock of the graveyard's gate went unnoticed. 

When he and Remus found the box hidden away that housed the Horcrux, Harry wasn’t sure what would be waiting for him. The ring had shown up on his hand that first day he was here, revealing itself whenever Harry thought of it. Remus was standing a few feet away as he opened it, having been warned that it might lure him to put it on his finger and how it had a decaying curse that made death unavoidable. 

Inside was the ring, gleaming and ugly as the one he had. The stone was there but he could tell it was a copy. It looked cheap which he thought matched the rest of it. He complained silently over why his ring had to be just as horrid. The one on his finger appears, and shifted into a simple silver band with the Resurrection Stone cradled atop it. Well, alright then, he thought. It disappeared back into wherever it went. 

Remus didn’t seem to notice but he asked it was the Horcrux. He nodded and showed it to him, keeping a proper distance but Remus was unfazed. He just called it gaudy. Harry put the occurrence aside and proceeded to destroy it with the venom they had. The same old smoke and screams followed, Harry mused over how crazy his life was that it unfazed him. Another Horcrux was destroyed. 

One thing he learned from all the ward-breaking was that it was very time-consuming. He didn’t know if he could shatter the defenses in Malfoy Manor in the few minutes he’ll have to excuse himself from Narcissa’s eyes. He decided it was inevitable that it'll take multiple visits. That is if Lucius doesn’t make frequent checks on it. After discussing it with his brother, he penned a letter to her and asked when she’d like them to visit. He had to think of something and his brother was excited over meeting a potential new friend, his confidence stemming from making another one on his own. Harry decided to not crush that hope, he might be wrong. Draco could be an entirely pleasant child. 

Draco is an entirely unpleasant child. The first thing he did was insult his brother’s clothes. Narcissa scolded him lightly but also agreed, the muggle sneakers, jeans, and shirt were not up to their standards. She whisked away and procured a frilly shirt and matching robes. 

Harry kneels, “Wizards like to dress silly,” he whispers to try to make him feel better, it’s easily believable given Draco’s attire. He looks like a mini-Lucius except his long hair is tied back. 

“Think of it as practice for when you go to Hogwarts.” That brightens his brother's face and the boy changes into the clothes. Draco approves and they both head out to his yard to go do… rich kid things. He hears Draco say, with a voice matching his father's drawl but way more high-pitched, “You simply must see our garden. Mother’s roses are blooming.” Harry tries not to laugh at the lisp on his S’s caused by his missing two front teeth. He keeps an eye on them ready to jump at his brother's defense. 

“You could also do with a wardrobe adjustment, Dorian,” Narcissa says beside him. She eyes his clothes, which he thought were much dressier than usual. 

Harry smiles at her, “Mother had bought my clothes since her last breath, dear cousin. This is my one moment of rebellion. I only dress this way around family, no need to worry.” He lies. He sees his brother Harry try to pet the peacocks that gathered near the two, Draco is trembling behind him. Not afraid enough to ruin his image around his potential new friend.

Tea appears on the table between them, Narcissa pours them both a cup. “Speaking of family, I hear you’ve… made contact with others?” 

Interesting. “Yes,” he grabs his cup of tea that’s more expensive than any he’s had, it tastes bitter, “There weren't many I knew about. But I knew of Andromeda, she has been wonderful in treating me like family.” Andromeda was also interested in how Narcissa was doing. If she was thriving under that horrid husband of hers. 

Narcissa looks aloof, “I’m not sure you’re aware but she is not strictly part of the family anymore. She must have latched onto you when you appeared, living vicariously through you to get her way back in. Is she sick of that oaf she calls her husband, yet?” 

“She’s rather happy actually,” Narcissa’s fingers tighten on her cup, “she did mention how lovely it was to be around family. She probably holds it as dear as you do.”

“I think you’re mistaken. I’m not one to abandon mine.” she says cooly, she softens a bit, “There’s an easy way to have her family back, but she chose him instead. Father was heartbroken, I hope you remember that on your next visit.” 

Harry’s not invested in mending that broken relationship as it seems far beyond his capabilities, but he still says, “I’m not one to abandon mine either, if she’ll open her arms for me then I’ll open mine back.”

Narcissa looks at him for a moment, mildly approving or disapproving of his resolve, “It's a wonder she hasn’t taken to grooming you. You must come with me to the tailor, we’ll have you looking your best.” 

Harry laughs. He shares that she did, he gestures towards his hair but couldn’t get him in any proper clothes. He wishes her, her best. Narcissa thinks she’ll have better luck. The conversation dissolves to everyday chatting, one where Harry doesn’t have to spend most of it lying which he appreciates. He steers away from any heavy subjects or ones that might reveal her feelings on muggle which always seem to sour the moment. It’s almost friendly, the mood.

Draco’s shrill scream cuts through the air, Harry jumps up and glances over. He sees his brother climbing a very high tree to grab onto a ribbon? He thinks it’s what kept Draco’s hair together but must’ve gotten loose. Draco was screaming over the peacocks that came to watch. He was just heading over when his eyes widened, his brother had latched onto the ribbon but the hold on the tree loosened and he was falling. He pulls out his wand to cushion his fall, but the pop of an elf appearing freezes him. Dobby catches his brother. 

From the distance, he can hear his brother thank the elf. Who proceeds to cry horribly and muster out how wonderfully good he is. Draco dismisses him when he notices his brother getting flustered. 

Narcissa stands beside him, “Forgive me, we only have children over who have a house-elf themselves that keep watch. It slipped my mind to remind you of him. He’s an off sort, but he seemed agreeable to watching over young Harry.”

Harry nods, he returns to the table. He had forgotten about Dobby. He excuses himself, blaming the excitement and needing to cool off. Narcissa waves him off as she picks up the Daily Prophet on her table to read. 

In the confines of the restroom, Harry calls out, “Dobby!” 

The elf appears immediately, “Mr. Potter, sir. What can Dobby do to help?” Harry takes a moment to take in the elf that had saved his life. 

“You like Harry Potter, yes? Your job is to keep him safe?”

“Oh yes, sir!  Dobby promises to keep young Harry Potter safe. He is a wonderful young wizard, so great, so good.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” before the elf can burst in tears again he quickly asks, “Do you know of the object hidden in Lucius’s study?”

Dobby wrings his hands on his pillowcase that makes his shirt, “Dobby is not to be speaking of that, sir. Master has ordered Dobby, and Dobby must never tell anyone of the book hidden in there.”He gasps and grabs something to punish himself for, inadvertently, speaking of it. 

“Dobby,” he grabs him before he can do anything, “The thing in there will hurt Harry Potter, can you bring it to me?”

“Dobby cannot touch it.” The elf starts crying, “Dobby is a terrible elf, can’t keep Harry Potter safe. Bad, bad, elf.”

Harry sighs, he tries to calm him down, “It’s okay Dobby. I’ll just get past the wards myself. Can you keep this secret?”

Dobby pauses his sobbing, “Mr. Potter, sir. Dobby is not allowed to touch the box. Master ordered Dobby and other elves not to. Master never ordered that Dobby is not allowed to bring someone to touch it, sir.” He grabs onto Harry.

Harry has barely enough time to react before he’s being apparated away.

Chapter Text

The air was fresh, wet with the mist rolling in through the craggy hills around Harry. It’d be refreshing if it weren’t for the blaring heat accompanying it, thickening it. He looks across from him at Remus, the diary left forgotten between them. Pierced by a fang, he felt nostalgic, but it’s screams have long since died out. The cheer from its demise was washed away when Harry told Remus where the next and last Horcrux was. 

“This is news you could’ve shared at any point,” Remus tells him with his shoulders hitched up. He’s looking everywhere but Harry and brushes his hair with his hand harshly. 

Harry isn’t sure if it’s a question so he keeps watching him as he paces back and forth. He wants to comment on how he’s trampled on his flowers but chooses not to when Remus snaps his head towards him.

“I was hoping to find a solution first,” he murmurs, “my original one wasn’t really great.” He doesn’t explain that he also wasn’t ready to reveal all that.

That makes Remus pause his agitated stride. “You were able to get rid of it,” his eyes bore into Harry, “How?” 

He looks away to take a large breath. He hasn’t told anyone what happened that night, it was a general belief that he had tricked Voldemort. Hagrid had kept quiet about seeing the killing curse him, he assumes Narcissa hadn’t cared to speak of it. He looks back, “I didn’t. I just…died.”  

Remus scoffs, he sounds disappointed, “Don’t be daft, Harry. This isn’t the time so knock it off and tell me what really happened.” he says impatiently. Harry remains silent a grimace half forming on his face. Scrutinizing eyes slowly widen. 

“How could you have possibly died? You look very much alive to me.” Remus’ voice cracks from disbelief. 

Harry doesn’t want to share too much as what matters is that they have to find another way. He tells him, “Voldemort struck me with the killing curse, only this time it worked. It didn’t last long, just enough to get rid of the Horcrux. Not something that’ll happen again if it's up to me. ” Remus looks entirely displeased by the lack of details.

Harry sighs, “We can’t replicate it so it’s not worth discussing. Me coming here has added another factor to it and I’m not even sure I understand it all.” An inexplicable link made from a body forged from his blood, how he willingly walked to his death, that conversation with Dumbledore where he made the choice to go back… it’s not going to happen again. That might not even matter, he realizes as he remembers the chilling nothingness of his arrival to this time. 

Remus looks at him sharply, “You haven’t mentioned much about how you got here. How does that factor into you dying?”

Harry sucks in a cheek to bite it, he doesn’t want to think of it. The sun is warming him up as it’s begun to reveal itself through the patch of clouds and it’s making him all the more uncomfortable. 

“It’s hot, Remus. Let’s go inside, I’ve made that iced tea you like.” He says instead of answering. He looks back at their home, empty as the two others were out. 

Remus agrees as he pulls his sleeves up to cool himself from the encroaching heat. He burns the remains of the book on the floor with a spell and follows Harry back home. 

Harry silently sighs, he can tell from the furrowed eyebrows and dragging stomps that Remus isn’t going to let it go that easily. Once inside, Harry quickly grabs the drinks. Going far as grabbing some leftovers to heat up, food should be an easy distraction. Remus silently watches him from where he stands nearby. Harry gathers it all onto the table, plopping down heavily on his seat. He hooks another chair with his ankle to drag it closer to him for Remus. 

Remus sits down easily but when he notices Harry focusing on the snacks as if they’d give him a way out of this conversation, he sighs. 

“I would like to believe that you’re capable of producing a proper bloody explanation as you’ve —” Remus starts. Harry decides to do what he does best, deflect.

“Explanations are for people far smarter than me, that’s why —”

“—been making such wonderful strides in everything else. I was just thinking the other day that you were beginning —”

“— I rely so much on you. You’re the smartest, Remus. All together the greatest. In all honesty, I’m constantly bereft of any thoughts when — ”

“— to develop a sense of propriety but obviously you have put forth all your effort into that. You promised —”

“— I see your lovely bum. It’s just woosh, all gone. It’s a wonder I can even form a coherent sentence.” Harry finishes guilelessly.

That pauses Remus tirade, but only to give him a mild glare, “Really, Harry? I’ve heard far more filthy things from Sirius.” 

Harry smiles, a charming one he hopes since the food isn’t working, “Yes, but all he says are words, I’m privileged enough to be able to do all those filthy things to you. We’ve still got time before they come back home, you know.” 

Remus narrows his eyes at him, pink settling on his cheeks, “You promised that you’d be more upfront with me. I’m sure whatever you tell me won’t be as shocking as you think, I know you know more than you let on.” Harry’s smile falters. 

Harry feels a coldness settle around his finger before he can muster out a deflection. The weight of his cloak in his pocket follows and he knows he left that inside. He doesn’t need to check for his wand, as it rarely leaves his person. A sign, maybe, or just an annoying occurrence that happens when he thinks of them. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to just go to our bedroom?” He asks a bit desperately. Remus remains steadfast in his stubbornness. 

Harry slumps into his seat, defeated, as he figures out how to explain. He might as well start with showing him all the Hallows since they’re on him. He might already be familiar with two but now it’ll be a proper introduction.

Harry reaches into his pocket for his cloak. The shimmering fabric is bundled in his grip. He releases it into the air and holds onto it as it unfurls into its full length. He lays it on the table between them, making the entire table vanish. 

He makes the ring on his finger disappear with a thought and raises his hand to wiggle it at the man across him. Remus makes a curious sound when it reappears again. Partially satisfied with his reaction — vanishing rings must be common — he slips it off to put it down.

Harry takes out his wand next. He tries twirling it between his fingers, he thinks it’ll add to the dramatics, but he never could get the hang of it. It mostly sways back and forth in his hand. Teetering as his fingers make their way up one of the bumps that form its strange shape. When Remus starts glaring, he summons some parchment and a quill to draw the shape of the deathly hallows with it. He hands it to Remus and puts his wand on the pile to finish the set. The wand and ring look like they’re floating next to them. 

Remus stares at the symbol, tilting his head as he tries to place where he’s come across it. A crease between his brows form, “Grindlewald?” Harry knew he was well informed, but not of children’s tales it seems. 

Harry shakes his head, “The Tales of Beedle the Bard, do you know it?” 

“Partly,” Remus answers slowly, “I got it with several other children’s books, I haven’t read it to Harry yet.” Wonderful, he tells him to grab it. Remus returns shortly and Harry pulls it from his hold and flips to the specific tale he’s looking for. He turns it around to hand it back when he finds the right section.

Remus seems tired of his roundabout explanation, “It’s a short enough read, Remus.” With great reluctance, he grabs it. Reaching for the cool drink beside him to sip as he reads. 

Harry looks back at the pile while Remus gets familiar with the tale of the three brothers. He shifts the fabric of the cloak to gather around his hand to reveal itself. A mindless task as he tries not to focus on what they are. He exhales harshly, he should stop that. He has deliberately not thought about what it means to have them but now he has to. He restrains the shiver that comes as he remembers. It was so otherworldly. Alive, but not. That all-encompassing darkness that watched him doesn’t shake him as much as the cold realization of how comforting it was to be there. The memory of it is hasn’t diminished despite his desire to forget it. 

He can recall in perfect clarity the nothingness, the comfort, and the acceptance. Perfectly fine with floating forever. That isn’t right, unease settles in his gut, it’d be more apt to describe it as drowning. 

He was alright with ebbing away into the abyss, letting it snuff out all parts of him because it was the thought of going back that hurt the most. It’s pitying, how desperately he begged to stay. That’s when he was offered a choice and he can’t deny that it was his choice that led him here. It was so easy to be at peace with his decision when he dove headfirst into the opportunities available to him. He’s been willfully blind to the consequences of it. Too busy with his new purpose. He’s both surprised and not over how much he misses everything and everyone he left behind. 

It’s strange to do so because he was positive that he’d leave them all eventually. This wasn’t what he had in mind, sure, but in a way, it’s better. It’s better because they’re all still around. Younger, yes, but with faces brimming with more joy than he’s ever seen. That eases the turbulent feelings inside him. They’re not completely gone.

A flash of hair shifting to black and eyes changing to match his, enter his mind. Right. He’s not here. 

The book snaps shut and Harry makes sure his posture is ramrod straight, he doesn’t dare show Remus the weight of his thoughts. Not yet, at least. They have to talk about him being the Master of Death first. 

Thanks to Remus, Harry wasn’t as shaken over revealing that he had to have died to come here. The choice, that voice, all of it was gracefully pushed aside. Instead, a rising curiosity began to form when Remus had asked what were the exact particulars of each Hallow. Focusing instead on the immediately verifiable.

Though Remus was familiar with the cloak he had never had a reason to do any experiments on it, its use was clear. He tested spell after spells on it and was surprised to see it left intact. It couldn’t be cut, fire seemed to do nothing — though the inside was affected by the heat — and when he attempted to summon the cloak from across the room it sat there lifelessly. 

When he tried to use the wand it spluttered out useless dribbles of light, barely a spark. It would return to Harry’s grasp without even a twitch of his fingers but instead of whizzing through the air, it was instantaneous. He asked Harry how it compared to his original wand, he answered that while the spells he used were exactly as he wanted them to be it was not as comforting as his first wand. He described it as using a master tool instead of feeling like it was an extension of himself. 

The stone wasn’t as meticulously analyzed, he like Harry, wasn’t up to using it. Tempting as it would be to see his friends again. He trusted it worked when Harry told him he had used it once. They merely inspected the stone, noting down any peculiarities and having it go through the same barrage of magic as the cloak. Harry showed off the shifting of the appearance of the ring but it was nothing more than a party trick to Remus. 

They decided to gather any information they could find on the objects as they clearly existed. The copy they had was fairly basic so they headed to the shops of Diagon Alley to begin their research on Beedle the Bard or the Hallows. And so they went, following lead after lead to gather whatever they could find through brief mentions, in the dusty sections of book stores. 

A story involving items that were beyond the capabilities of magic was ten a penny. Several wizards and witches devoted time to proving such things true or proving them false. Hefty tomes littered there home as they tried to gather any sliver of information. Harry was reminded of his time in Hogwarts, it soured his mood throughout the whole ordeal. He had hoped he would never have to do so much research again.

It was Remus who found on page 435 of Ominous Objects of Obscure Origin a mention of the Hallows. The author proclaimed the cloak was clearly that of Lethifold make. Later in the chapter, as he expanded upon his assertion he reasoned that while no one has been able to successfully kill or supposedly skin these invisible beasts, he suggested that with the power of the death stick one might be able to. 

There was no mention over the validity of the wand aside from a fairly tiny footnote stating that if one wanted to learn more of the wand to look up the components that make its parts in So You Want To Make a Wand? 

Harry was scouring the section describing the traits of Elder Wood when he found a mention of Beedle the Bard. The witch lamented over how the popularity of the wood skyrocketed after his story, despite its difficulties in matching with a wizard. 

Novice wand makers began to start stocking wands of that particular property but it was this foolish expense that led to a collapsing of many of sprouting businesses. Wand of Elder, Never Prosper, became the common saying among the wand-making field after that. It began to see its use after an interview  Beedle made in 1462 to the precursor to the Daily Prophet — the Soothing Seer.

Getting a copy of that involved Sirius making nice with the Daily Prophet to enter its archives, which he complained heavily over the burden of it especially since he wasn’t given details of their secret project.

It took a few visits to get into the archive, some more than Remus and Harry felt were necessary but Sirius wasn’t complaining so they kept silent. In fact, he seemed cheerful. 

Remarkably, the interview that hit the public was fairly polite and respectful. When asked how he managed to get the reporter to do that, Sirius merely smiled and dropped a heaping stack of copies of the Soothing Seer on their laps all dated to be in 1462. The two others chose to leave it be. 

It might’ve been Harry who found the correct copy but he was on autopilot for a while there so he isn’t sure. In any case, the interview was found and they found out Beedle had mentioned his first draft of the book that was far much longer. Intended to be horror stories on the dangers of magic he was happy he only had to change little to have it be for kids. He gave a copy of it to a delightful neighbor of his in the town he made his home. For they were the only person who stopped to listen when he wanted an ear for his work.

Which is how the two ended up in a wizarding community in Yorkshire a few miles from where they lived, staring at a store that sold a variety of strange products. A shoddy sign on the wall listed the historical importance of its location.

“Just one whiff of that book and we’re set, it hasn’t shown up anywhere so it could be here. The neighbor’s homes don’t seem as… remodeled.” Remus comments. Harry thought it was a fruitless effort but he wanted to get out of the house, he hums his agreement. 

His initial curiosity over this endeavor has long since withered away. Dead and buried the moment they had started collecting books blindly. How Hermione ever found anything was a miracle. The two decided to separate and meet back there.

It was the 8th slammed door on their face that began to infuriate Harry. He shouted a veritable stream of curses under his breath over the dead-eyed wizard that puckered his mouth in disapproval over having a visitor. Spitting at his feet before shouting at him to leave him alone. Remus certainly chose his location well if he wanted isolation. No one wanted to be bothered here.

He had questioned the point of this chase the first couple days of late-night researching, but the waiting boy back home kept fueling him. If there’s magic out there that can deal with souls than being a Master of Death must be useful somehow. They had tried to research Horcruxes as well but even in the darkest of tomes they managed to get their hands on there was little to learn. Voldemort had to be the first to split his soul so severely, to accidentally make a human Horcrux.

He recalls perusing the pages of that awful book that detailed how to create a Horcrux his first time around or more specifically Hermione surmising it’s contents. Useful it may be in creating one, but useless when you needed to get rid of one that didn’t destroy whatever it’s possessing. 

So, here he is, trying to gather any scrap of knowledge that might help. On a muggy day like this after so many dead ends, he doesn’t even know why he continued after the first house. This deep in a valley the air was thick with humidity, making everything feel sticky as if the earth itself had run a fever. 

He exhales harshly through his nose, nostrils flaring. He needs a break.

He heads back to the store that used to be Beedle’s home. It was empty when they first arrived but since the sun has risen overhead it was open now. 

The witch by the counter didn’t give a single glance at his entrance, focusing instead on setting up the radio near her. Fiddling with the dial until the familiar jingle for the Witching Hour played.  

Harry meanders about, bobbing his head lightly to the music. The coolness of being out of the sun steadies much of the roil in him.

He peers around at the stacks of shelves filled with an assortment of products that no one could possibly want: packets of starchy garish robes charmed to fit any size, concoctions of lurid blues and greens that promised an energizing boost better than a Pepper-Up, plumulaceous feathered quills made from phoenix — Harry can recognize with his experience handling the coop back home that it’s obviously a dyed chicken feather. He grabs one regardless, it’s a rather alluring shade and his brother’s favorite color. 

He passes a stand for hair care, some enchanted razors in the mix. He stops, the varieties available are clearly cheap but what catches his eye is the painting of Beedle The Bard or according to the gold lettering on the bottom, William Bede. 

It was a grand portrait that made Harry have to tilt his head to capture his greatness and that of his lush beard. It was well-made, a frame of ebony wood that reflected the light. It looked out of place except for the splotchy words that were crookedly plastered onto the side of his wide smiling mouth that rang out an endorsement for a brand of beard-growing wax. 

It was lifeless, no magic in it, but it captured his image in more detail than the smaller drawing of him in his book. There he looked joyful, yes, but wrinkled by the ravages of time. Here he looks younger, more vibrant and that beard was certainly more luxuriant.

The door chimes behind him signaling another customer, but still, he stares. 

“No luck on my part,” Remus says beside him, “an elderly witch did try to lure me in with assurances that she had the book but she merely wanted me to get rid of the boggart in her attic.”

Harry cannot fathom having a beard so large. He’s seen the wispy sort before especially ones of that length, but this was entirely full-bodied. He wonders if it moves at each utterance of a word.

“I think she was a squib. She had asked me to do some cleaning spells for her home after as she looked for her book in one of the many boxes up there. I did, of course, it was of little effort for me and the place was rather crowded. Packed up to the ceiling with things.”

Does it stay still from it’s packed tightness? Does it sway along with each syllable? Does it shake with each full-bellied laugh? He looked like he made many of those.

“It was around the time that I organized her kitchen when she asked if I was hungry, offering me to help myself to her fridge. I was pretty famished so I did. I offered her a plate too, it was only polite.”

What if it got wet? Surely, the added weight could crack his neck. That could be how he went, he notes solemnly.

“Eventually, I realized that she was playing me. She had said over tea that she remembers Beedle fondly. How he always read her that book of his and that I must stay overnight as looking over her belongings would take a while. Dead men tell no tales and all that.” Remus huffs but Harry turns to him. Eyes squinting as he considers his words. He blinks slowly at the dawning realization.

He lets out a humorless laugh, so much time wasted researching when he could’ve just asked the source. 

When Harry told Remus that he only used the stone once, it was a small lie. It was only once that it was used successfully. That day that he woke with it nestled on his finger he realized that it could provide him some answers. When the call for those that were dead in his time but not in this one went unheeded it was enough to verify that he was in the past. 

He doesn’t know why he called for his friends immediately after, they were very much alive in this time, but the loneliness of that room in The Leaky Cauldron filled him with immeasurable relief. He hadn’t much use for it after that. 

Remus had suggested trying to call the Peverell brothers themselves instead of Beedle when they returned home. They went to the side shed, that had been properly upgraded from the sad jail it once was, to get some privacy.

None of them were summoned when Harry tried to call then. He figured maybe they didn’t like to be bothered. 

Despite that failure, he had decided to try the one name that popped up when it came to Horcruxes, Harpo the Foul. He too didn’t come.

Harry was worried that perhaps the stone wasn’t usable or maybe something was wrong. Remus muttered that in the book it was only a loved one that could be summoned.

On the third try, he called for Beedle the Bard. He tried to fake a familial love for him but his mind only flashed to his portrait back at the store, to his name etched on it and to his face. This time he felt a difference like he was stretching out for a reach. Something reached back, a grazing fleeting touch. 

Then stood before him was Beedle the Bard. A replica to the one he’d seen, shimmering and fading but still him. 

Remus gasps next to him. Harry wasn’t expecting the dead wizard to look exactly like the portrait, so the first thing he says is, “Did the beard kill you?”

A booming guffaw follows his question, he was right it does shake with him, “It nearly did. Got stuck on a wayward branch when I flew passed a forest one early summer evening. I grew some sense after that, far better than growing another head.” Beedle strokes the length of his beard admirably.

Harry hums, he hadn’t considered that. Remus looks at the ceiling with crossed arms against his chest.

With a quick clearing of his throat, Remus asks, “Just to confirm, you’re Beedle the Bard, yes?” The burly spirit stops his movements to stare coolly at Remus. 

“You wrote Tale of the Three Brothers?” He remains expressionless. 

“About death’s hallows?” Remus begins getting uncomfortable at the stare of those glossy transparent eyes.

“Like… the one Harry used to summon you here?” This makes him glance over to Harry, who wiggles his fingers timidly at him to show off the stone. He, however, remains silent. 

Harry chimes in, trying to appease the dead man, “Sorry for the inconvenience, by the way. I’m sure coming back must be a bother.”

Beedle smiles at him, so wide it crinkles his eyes.“No worries, lad. You beckoned me here and I simply answered your call. Why it’s been ages since I’ve had a proper chat. You look like you have plenty to chat about.”

Remus begins to understand what’s happening, he motions for Harry to keep talking. 

“Right,” Harry says awkwardly, “I was wondering how you came about knowing the details of the Hallows or anything regarding being the Master of Death.”

His smile dims into a thoughtful one, “You seem to know them rather well, for I am here aren’t I? It’s how I’m speaking to you. You who have taken up the mantle that many had dared to chase after but never could achieve. While I know not of how you achieved this, I hope only those that deserved it could.”

Harry has had plenty of experience with non-answers but it’s still annoying, “It’s not as If I chose to unite them. I’m looking for more information, I don’t even know what it all means. So, if you know anything more it would be appreciated.”

His expression warms, as much as a spirit’s can, “I was right to hope. Of all the evil out there that I’ve witnessed. Of all the stories that have reached my ears. Those wanting mastery over death were among the vilest. It’s pleasing to know that this power rests on the hands of someone who never asked for it. I’m not capable of granting you meaning over it, that lies entirely on you.” Harry rolls his eyes. None of this is helpful.

Remus whispers in Harry’s ears. He nods, “Do you know anything about Horcruxes?” 

This causes a sharp look from the dead author, scathing even, “You have objects in your grasp which grant you power beyond most people’s imaginations and you dare want more? To play with the splitting of your soul?” He shakes his head dolefully, “Release your hold on me. If this is the information you wish to glean from me then I refuse to be here any longer.”

“No,” Harry hurriedly explains, “No, I don’t want to create one. I want to destroy one. One inside a human host without harming them.” 

The spirit gazes shrewdly at him, “You cannot coax the secrets out of me with your lies. If perchance, you do speak truly, it matters not. I only know of one way of ridding a Horcrux from its vessel, destroying it.” 

Another trail runs cold. “Even with being the Master of Death?” he asks hopelessly.

“Your power does not bestow upon you knowledge of any magic pertaining to souls. You already can summon one from beyond the veil, why would you think it'd give you anything else?” he replies succinctly, his coldness thawing at Harry’s expression.

Harry sighs, as he looks at Remus, “It was worth a shot.”

Remus looks equally defeated, “There might be someone who we can summon who knows. This has proven that we can. We’ll find a way to save him.”

Harry looks down at the stone on his hand, he mutters, “It figures the one I don’t care to use is the one I have to rely on.” He reaches for it to release Beedle.

“You could exchange it,” Beedle replies before he can.

 Harry looks up at those words, askance. “Exchange?”

“You have read my book haven’t you,” he chides mirthfully, back to being the spirited spirit from earlier, “as embellished as many of my stories were there was still truth in them. As you can see by that stone on your finger. What was also true in that tale, was that they were given as prizes to the brothers. Gifts. What does one do when they don’t want a gift? Exchange it. You may not have the skill to banish a soul entwined with another, but you won’t need to if you simply ask.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise, hope fluttering in his chest, “How would I get in contact to ask?”

“If you long to meet with Death, lad. There's only one way to do so.”

The two head out of the shed in different moods, but they’re both surprised at seeing Sirius in a hole waist-deep in their yard. Sirius finishes casting a spell to fortify the muddy earth around him when he notices the two. 

“Oi, I thought you said you were going to be out not shagging in the shed,” he shouts at them.

Remus rolls his eyes, disinterested in humoring whatever was going on there, “I’m going to go through our books and see who else we can summon.” he says to Harry.

Sirius frowns at him as he heads inside, “Summon? What’s all that about?” he turns to Harry. 

Harry waves it off, “Nothing to worry over. Why are you building a hole in our yard? Bones to bury?”

Sirius scrunches his face, “Ah yes. Another one of your two’s secrets. I understand why you two have kept me out of the loop, secrets never end well with me.” He goes back to casting spells around him, movements more severe. 

Harry grimaces, he wasn’t expecting him to take it that personal, he sits on the ledge of his hole, “It’s nothing like that Sirius, I’m sorry if we made you think we can’t trust you.” They don’t need another worrying adult in the house, they’ve been focusing on this for weeks now.

Sirius glances at him, slumping a little with a sigh, “I know. Just this day and this bloody heat, mate. It’s not doing any good for my humor.” 

“Bad day, huh.” Harry peers around the hole, “You making a pool?”

“Pond, spring, well. Whatever. Anything I can dip in.” He replies, then wrinkles his nose, “If Mrs. Diggory has another one of her little tea parties scheduled while Harry is over, you two can go pick him up. One of them… accosted me.”

Sensing Harry’s response he continues, “Yes, normally, I love being accosted but she was a nasty one.”

“Andromeda did mention a few of them weren’t pleasant. Where is Harry, by the way? Building a magic hole sounds right up his alley.”

“Napping. Went straight to his room once we came back.” He fancies a nap himself. He leaves Sirius to his work. 

Once inside he catches Remus in his nook looking over books studiously, worry lines etched on his forehead. Remus could use a nap too, he thinks but knowing him he'll refuse. He wasn’t exactly pleased with the information they got. 

As he reaches his room, he catches a sound of sniffling in one of the other rooms. He goes towards Harry’s door and opens it slowly, wondering if the kid was sick. As he peeks inside, he sees him rubbing his hands vigorously against his eyes. 

He knocks on the door to announce his presence, “Hey,” he begins gently, “What’s wrong?” Red-rimmed swollen eyes shoot up at him, deep tear tracks lined on his cheeks. He steps inside and shuts the door behind him, he doesn’t know what happened but he hasn’t seen the kid cry that hard before. Even in the worse moments of his childhood, he reacted with anger more than sadness.  

“Nothing,” he replies, he turns away quickly to rub his face against a fist-full of sheets to dry them. 

He sits on the bed, prodding gently at the tight grip the kid has on his bedding, “It doesn’t look like nothing. What’s got you upset?”

“M’not upset,” he says stubbornly with a large sniff. 

“Well, why are you crying then?” That must’ve been the wrong thing to say because he gets a glare at that. 

“I’m not crying,” the boy says with eyes welling up with more tears. He lets out a frustrated hiss when one falls, swiping at it angrily with the back of his palms. “Only little kids cry. I’m almost seven.”

“Uh… it’s okay to cry,” the older wizard says helplessly, unsure where this is coming from. A hard head shake is all he gets. 

“I cry too when I’m upset. It feels better to talk about it.” He tries again. 

The tiny face scrunches up, narrowed eyes peering at him through wet lashes, “You won’t get rid of me?” he asks with a small voice. 

“No,” he replies incredulously, “ Of course not. Why would I do that?” He scoots up the bed to lean against the headboard. The distraught boy shrugs, looking down at the sheets instead of back at him. 

“Have we made you feel that was going to happen?” the kid shakes his head. “Harry, why would you think that? We wouldn’t let you go now that we have you.” 

The boy calms a little at his reassurance, lazy tears still falling down but not as steadily, “Cedric’s mom’s friend told Padfoot that he must get bored of being around a crying whining kid all day then told him that once he gets rid of me she can show him how to have fun.” he says in one breath. Shuddering afterward.

An arm wraps around the boy, “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he hides his scowl, “she didn’t know what she was talking about. We would never feel that way.”  

He doesn’t relax into the hold, poking senselessly at the sheets between them, “You and Moony have been too busy to be around me. Aren’t you bored with me?” 

Merlin, they’ve been in their own little world. “No, Harry.” He pulls him closer, brushing his knuckles gently against the kid's cheeks to wipe away any stray tears when he looks up at him.

“There are times, when I feel like doing nothing, that the thought of you perks me up,” the boy looks disbelieving at him, “It’s true. I’m sorry I haven’t had time to show you, lately. You’re very important to me, Harry. To all of us. Never forget that.” He still looks unsure.

He thinks of those secret moments in his far past, where he wished so hard for someone to take him away. In that dark empty cupboard, imagining what it would be like to hear a caring voice. He ought to try harder in showing that to him.

“I know it can be hard to believe that someone would do anything for you, but I would, Harry. Whatever it takes to make you happy just because you’re you. You’re a wonderful boy, so good to everyone you meet. Please don’t ever worry that I don’t care for you. I love you so much,” it’s incredible how much he means it, “I promise that nothing will ever change that.”

The boy glomps against his side, squeezing tightly as his crying started again but Harry thinks it’s not like before. “I love you too, Dad,” he says between his sobs. He tenses when he realizes what he called him.

Harry laughs, a bit teary-eyed himself, “It’s okay, I don’t mind,” rubbing the head pushed against his chest, “Actually, we haven’t told you much about your dad, huh? Want to hear a story about him?” The boy bumps the top of his head against Harry’s chin from how quickly he nods. 

“You remember those puffskeins at that pet store? Fuzzy little balls with eyes and a spindly tongue? Well, one time he gathered a bunch of them…”

Harry sneaks out of the room quietly, leaving the softly snoring boy in his bed. They both ended up sleeping after a while, tired from the vulnerability of their talk. 

It’s quiet. This late into the evening, he’s not surprised. He checks inside his own room and nods to himself when he sees Remus passed out on the bed. He should do it now. 

He was initially going to see if Remus could find anything in those books but it was more of a distraction than a hope. 

Facing death is more familiar to him than the kid. He has to believe that it wouldn’t be any different this time.

He goes outside, pausing only momentarily to admire the newly-made pond, and heads inside the shed. The weight of the Hallows appearing on him makes him shiver. This shouldn’t be any harder than facing Voldemort in the forest but for some reason it is. He places a hand on his chest to steady the thunder threatening to escape. Doubt sneaking into his thoughts like a buzzing gnat. 

He breathes. He can trust in his... power. It’s been proven. Believe in that, and he’ll be fine.

He shuffles out of the doorway, shutting it close behind him. He absently lights a torch to brighten the room.

He puts down the cloak beside him, throwing the ring atop it. He grips tightly on his wand and steels himself as he turns it towards him. 

Before he can even begin the first syllable of the spell that changed his life so long ago, darkness envelops him. A familiar rattling gravel-filled voice rumbles all around.

So eager you are to be back in my presence.

Chapter Text

Harry startles from the voice. The sprawling empty void is as jarring as he remembers. He’s surprised to find that his movements are unhindered, unlike the formless seeping it felt like before. If only he could see anything. He blinks his eyes rapidly hoping for them to adjust and make out the other. He doesn’t feel the grasp of the wand in his grip anymore otherwise he’d make a light himself.

At that thought a luminescent glow appeared in front of him, centering around chest height, but while it’s shine was bright it did nothing to the shadows. The light was a meek sparkle amidst the vastness of the black. It was then he noticed that it neither revealed his own hands or any part of his body. He tries to move closer to it but it remains eerily at the same distance from him. It snuffs out suddenly, making him feel alone in all the darkness.

Harry hears a faint rumbling sound in the distance, a clacking breaking noise that emits from the emptiness around him that rises in staccato intervals. Laughter rings in his ears.

“Death?” he asks, already knowing it was. While he knows his lips moved no sound comes out. He’s heard regardless. 

At your command. The voice shakes Harry, making him doubt if that’s true. The way it booms, echoes, and whispers inside his mind; he feels he’s nothing but an insignificant speck in its colossal presence. 

Yet I’m here for you. 

Harry shivers from how normally kind words can sound so threatening, he swallows down his unease, “I want to return one of your Hallows.” 

The laughter starts again with the harshness of a raging typhoon, I know what you want but do you know what you give up? 

Flashes of images stream into his mind. He sees himself, image after image of himself that doesn’t stem from any memory he can call his own. 

In one, he’s in Hogwarts, in the room that held Defense Against the Dark Arts and he’s teaching to a group of third years. He recognizes a few youthful faces instantly, his dad sandwiched between Sirius and Remus and… his dad’s staring longingly at the red hair of his mother. His counterpart calls his dad out cheerfully to explain what he just went over. It shifts.

He stands before an orphanage with a stern cold face in the dead of night. He sneaks inside checking each room he passes before quickly moving on to the next. In one tiny room, far from the rest, lies a boy in his cot. It’s hard to tell from half his body turned away but Harry’s sure he knows who he is. Harry watches as he stalks over the room to loom over the boy, stone-faced not showing a hint of anything going on inside him, and raises his wand. Tom shifts in his bed turning over to man, eyes still closed as he scrunches his face over some unpleasant moment in his dream before smoothing out with a small smile. He falters, wand arm going slack. It changes again.

Here he sees himself rise from a strange stone box. Parting the heavy lid and walking out of the deep cave it was housed in to glance around at the endless desert. He apparates, checking over what Harry now recognizes to be places he knows and all that he finds is desolation. His last stop is Hogwarts and what’s left of it is little: there are crumbling stone pillars that made its walls, where once was the lush forest remains nothing but gray hills of ash from as far as the eye can see, the lake but a basin of murky dense sludge that matches the sinking mud that used to be the quidditch pitch. What should be a horrid image seems to get no reaction out of him. He turns his gaze up to the sky and apparates again. 

A steady stream of visions follows, moving too rapidly for him to normally distinguish between each one, yet, he sees. He sees himself saving the world from ruin. He sees different worlds entirely, places so beautiful he can barely comprehend them. Technology far advanced that he has ever known. Gods that proudly treat him as an equal. Different people, different magic, different possibilities. 

It all stops and he’s back in the blackness. 

If you give up one, you give up all. 

Despite what he’s witnessed, Harry’s unsure if any of it is possible. He latches onto that thought desperately as some of the images still replay inside him. It throbs uncomfortably behind his eyes. He can’t do it, he has a responsibility here. 

The darkness swirls to cradle him, he floats in its hold. You can do anything, Death says to him, voice a calming trickle of rain. Wiping away his tension with its cooling grasp. He receives flashes of more options available to him, it fights in his mind with the vestiges of doubt he has in there. He succumbs to it, Death is all-encompassing and with its reach, he really can do anything.

Going on a long wonder-filled adventure is tempting, it taps onto something deep inside him. It’s limitless, the things he can achieve and the options sear into his very core. It’s terrible how nice it sounds, but it still feels wrong. What’s the point if he has to leave everyone here behind. 

More flashes, this time it’s of him returning home venturing down whatever paths he’s chosen. Remus smiling beatifically at him, Sirius slapping his back with a laugh, and Harry running into his side for a hug as if nothing’s changed. The warmth from it feels real and it shatters any remaining restraint he has as he imagines returning with an answer to their problem. He could find a way to rid him of the Horcrux and keep him alive. 

The hold lifting him releases. Souls are my domain. You may have the power to come back from your shattering, but I am the one who allows it. To you alone. Death corrects him with a crashing outburst.

He trembles over his accidental slight, but shakes it off, “What about Harry?” he shouts. 

Death doesn’t answer or doesn’t care.  

He can’t imagine freely letting the kid be sacrificed. Another thought enters him of destroying Voldemort before marking the boy with the Horcrux. It’s then he realizes that it still won’t save the one he knows. It would be another version, happier maybe but what would stop him from reliving his mistakes to get the perfect outcome. To constantly change each little circumstance until eventually, he ends up as indifferent as that one who stood before the ruins of Hogwarts. He refuses to become that. Even with all the wonders that seemingly await him after. His mind is made quickly after that.  

Very well. 

Harry’s distracted, from puzzling over the pleased tone he hears, by a small breach that parts away in the distance. Revealing the boy as he left him in his room. A tendril of the shadows rushes out towards him, Harry’s reaction is to run after it, useless as it may be, but then it stops just before surrounding the boy. A sliver of it latches on the scar of the slumbering child, having no visible effect on him but Harry can see something being pulled out like a gentle stream. As the last of it is in its grasp the shadow recedes and the opening closes. 

The darkness slowly disappears to reveal the shed Harry was in and he suddenly starts feeling his body again unaware that he wasn’t this whole time. The wand is back in his grip but not for long as it fizzles away into the hazy void. The stone flings off the ring to crumble into dust that gets swept up. The cloak floats up in a swirl to enter next — but it doesn’t. Instead, it falls gently over Harry’s shoulders.

May we meet again only when you’re ready. The last of Death’s presence fades away like a mist and Harry’s elation starts bubbling inside him. It worked. A loud joyful laugh bursts out of him, he can’t believe it worked. He raises his arms in victory, jumping around in place with unbridled glee. His cloak falls off his shoulders as he gives a twirl.

He freezes when he sees Remus at the open doorway, staring with wide terror-filled eyes past him at the direction where Death had disappeared to. 

Bollocks.

Harry swears he hears a chilling chuckle behind him, but he ignores it when Remus snaps his gaze towards him and that fearful expression shifts into a worried one. Tinged with a hint of anger he thinks. 

Remus snarls, “What the hell did you do, you idiot?” Okay, more anger than worry.

“Uh, just had a chat with Death and—” Harry tries to explain but is cut off by Remus. 

“How did you manage that, hm? Did you listen to that blasted ghost and offed yourself? Is that what you did?” Harry doesn’t think there’s a right answer to that but he still tries as he walks over with his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Well, not really. It came before I could—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Remus huffs out in indignation taking a step back when Harry gets close, “You really tried to? What if it didn’t work? Did you ever stop to think about what it would be like?”

Harry flinches, “It’s not my first time. I was sure it would be fine.” That doesn’t come out as comforting as he hoped. 

Remus stares at him, mouth agape, “It would be fine ? You dying would be fine ?” He grits his teeth and Harry sees tears start shimmering in his eyes, “You couldn’t even bother to give me a heads up?”

Harry’s guilt over causing that look is a sharp jab to his stomach, “I didn’t want you to worry, Remus.” When he starts shaking his head, he’s quick to add, “It worked. The Horcrux is gone.”

Remus’ expression shifts to shocked joy as he processes that, but Harry doesn’t celebrate for long as it settles back to the gut-wrenching one, “As… as amazing as that is. It doesn’t change this, Harry.” 

Harry slumps, he was hoping it would. Remus turns around to move back into the house but Harry reaches for his hand before he does. Remus tries to shrug it off but the iron grip won’t let him loose, he faces Harry harshly ready to mouth him off.

“I was given a choice,” Harry says before he can, “I was offered a chance that so many have wished for. The opportunity to do anything I could ever want. To do things in this world that no one could possibly achieve in one lifetime. I was given lifetimes to play with.” He locks with Remus hoping his sincerity will bleed through, “I chose to be here. To be back home. I didn’t even think for one second, that home was back in my own time. All I wanted was Harry safe, to hear Sirius laughing again, and see your smile, Remus. Please understand that I would never put that in jeopardy unless it was the only way.”

He lets go having said his peace but Remus holds on as his face slowly starts to crumble. He moves close to rest his forehead against Harry’s shoulder, the angles awkward from the height difference but Harry snakes an arm around him to take his weight.

Remus’ voice is raw when he speaks, “You don’t know how terrified I was when I woke up and couldn’t find you anywhere in the house. I knew—” his breath hitches, “I knew you were doing something stupid.”

“You’ve picked up a sixth sense for that after all the exposure.” Harry murmurs against his hair. He smiles when he hears the watery chuckle come out of Remus. 

“Sorry.” He mutters after a moment realizing he hasn’t said it yet. Remus nods and shifts head closer to his neck. Wrapping his arms around him tightly. Harry doesn’t mention the cool wetness he feels, focusing instead on peppering small apologetic kisses wherever he can reach. 

* * *

“Can you believe the way that guy hangs off every word Luna says? Following her around like some love-sick puppy.” Ginny scoffs in disgust as she sips from a bottle of wine. Harry taps at her with the back of his palm to stop her from hogging it all. She spills a little on her dress, Harry doesn’t apologize as there's already a bunch of others. She hands it over. 

After a nice long sip, Harry replies, “I think he’s a great bloke. Watches out for Luna and all that.” Ginny pouts severely at him. He nods. “I mean, yeah, he’s disgusting.”

“The grossest.” She nods back.

“Smarmiest.” Harry peers into the bottle, the light from the fireplace is dim but he sees a bit of some left. He sets it gingerly down on the floor between them. He leans back into the cushions of his sofa and tries not to focus on how the world tilts slightly at his movement. 

“Most un—unctuous,” she says through a hiccup. She takes out her wand to give another go at ridding her dress of wine stains but even magic can’t get them out. She giggles, “Mum was shocked I didn’t leave the house in my quidditch gear, thought I looked like a proper lady for once. If only she could see me now.” 

“Think she’d be overjoyed at seeing you in my home,” Harry murmurs, “Got a better chance with me than someone engaged.”

She sighs forlornly, hand grazing against her forehead as her hair fans out on the head of the couch, “I told myself after this season was over I’d just ask her out. Didn’t think that bloody pillock, Rolf Scamander, would sweep her off her feet before I could.”

Harry hums appreciatively, “He does have the arms for that.” He gestures at the size of his biceps.

Ginny frowns but as she imagines back on it she reluctantly agrees with a wrinkled nose, “He does doesn’t he?”

She looks over at Harry who looks at bit glazed and still trying to compare his arms to that of Rolf’s. She grins and slaps his shoulder, “Maybe you can entice him with your boy hero wiles and I can swoop in, eh?”

He laughs and drops his arms, “Don’t think he’s interested in my wiles. ‘Sides, Luna seems happy.” Ginny's smile is somber but she agrees. He tries to lift her mood, “Maybe he wouldn’t mind sharing.” 

Ginny brightens, “Oh, now there’s an idea. Think he can sweep both of us off our feet with those lovely muscles of his?” They both snicker as they imagine it. 

The clock in the kitchen chimes, signaling another hour has passed. Ginny yawns, “You don’t mind me staying over, yeah?” 

Harry shakes his head, “Got the spare room all set up for you when I heard you were coming for the engagement party.”

She mumbles her thanks as she stretches in her seat, “Any plans, tomorrow?”

“Going to see Teddy.” Harry can’t hide the awkward grimace on his face. She peers curiously at him, “What’s up with that?” she pokes at the cheek that scrunched up. 

Harry sighs, batting lazily at the prodding finger, “He called me, Dad, last time. I, uh, didn’t handle it that well.” He froze and told him he couldn’t be his dad. Which was dismissive enough to cause tears. He apologized but Teddy didn’t shift to match his appearance for the rest of the day. It didn’t help that Andromeda overheard and her displeasure was obvious. 

She pats his hand gently, “I know we’re still young but there’s nothing wrong with being a dad. He looks up to you.” 

“That’s the problem,” he says before he can help himself. Ginny tilts her head to listen so he continues, “I’m the reason he doesn’t have his real parents when he finds that out he won’t look up to me anymore.” His stomach clenches from imagining it.

Ginny gives him a sympathetic frown, “Harry, that in no way was your fault. He would understand that you were there when they couldn’t be. You can’t carry that guilt with you.” Harry’s so used to it that he’s not sure that he can. It’s a bit pathetic, he thinks. 

She squeezes his hand, “Do you feel this way about everyone?” He knows she’s talking about Fred and as much as he wants to deny it he doesn’t. Maybe it’s the build-up from years of bottling it all up, or the drinking, or the steadying hold Ginny has on his hand, he’s not sure, but he doesn’t want to brush it off. He nods. 

“Harry,” it’s like it hurts her to say his name, “we don’t blame you for that, you have to know that right?” He shrugs. She tightens her grip on him, to the point of it being painful, “You idiot.” He can’t help the laugh that comes out. 

“You were always such a martyr,” she tuts disapprovingly, “you don’t have to take this on as well. We’re all here for you when you need it. Do the others know?” 

“No,” he admits quietly. 

“Why?” she asks with an eyebrow raise. 

He shrugs again, “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just…” he chews on his lips as he figures out how to phrase it, “It’s like I’m being pushed out. I don’t think it’s intentional. I feel that one day I woke up to no longer being a part of their lives and I’m scrambling trying to find a way back in.”  

Ginny stares at the fireplace as she processes his words, “I think I get that. I came back to one of my best friends being engaged, I didn’t even take him seriously from what she said of him in her letters.” She shakes her head, “I don’t know if you can do anything about that. I think it’s a part of growing up. I’ll always miss having everyone around me like at Hogwarts.”

“There’s nothing like it,” Harry says. He feels a little lighter over how Ginny seems to understand.

Ginny nods, “Nope, but I don’t think I’d want to go back.” He looks at her askance. 

“I really love what I’m doing now, Harry. I might not see my friends as much as I want to, but my life is brilliant. Barring a few things, but nothing can be perfect. I think you might need something new. You never talk about your job, you know. Maybe you should try doing something you love.” She gives him a cheeky smile, “Or someone.”

He chuckles if only it was that easy. He’s stuck between wanting to stay at home all day or venturing the world aimlessly. Doubt that’s what she means. Regarding being with someone, well, he’s not sure if his chances are high after that fiasco with Malfoy. 

He looks at Ginny and sighs, “If only it could be you, I’d be set.” Her smile dims and his stomach instantly drops. He has to learn to think before he speaks, it’s always been a problem of his. He had assumed they could joke about things like that. He thought any lingering feelings have long since vanished.

She huffs out a breathy laugh when she sees his obvious panic. She shuffles closer to rest her head against his shoulder, “Don’t be daft, Harry. I don’t think you could handle sharing me with Luna and Rolf.”

“You had a kid,” Harry says to Remus. They’re both in bed. Sharing a blanket that drapes haphazardly over their bare waists. Remus’ head is resting next to his but his eyes are focused downwards, watching as Harry lightly strokes the soft skin on the back of his palm. Harry’s innocent kissing from earlier hadn’t taken long to be reciprocated, then not long after that to heat up as the adrenaline from meeting Death and thinking Harry had died lingered. 

Remus doesn’t look like he’s listening. His expression still a tad blissed out, “Huh?”

Harry holds back his smile. His chest puffs a little despite himself, “You — the you from my time, had a kid.” He pats the hand he’s caressing.

Harry sees when the words finally register, they form a deep crease between Remus’ eyebrows, “A kid? Even with being a werewolf?” he shifts his gaze towards Harry, “Was I mental?” 

Harry shushes him with a roll of his eyes, “No you weren’t. You had the same worries that you do now. Teddy was fine, not a single trace of  lycanthropy on him.”

Remus raises his eyebrows, pleased by the news that it didn’t transfer and that he didn’t go completely round the bend with age. “Teddy?” he says slowly, “S’cute name. Who I have him with?” 

“Tonks.” 

“Tonks?” he repeats, feeling betrayed by his older self, “She’s a decade younger than me! She’s still in Hogwarts.” He wrinkles his nose. 

Harry laughs, “The age thing was also a worry you had. She was around our age now when you two got together, so don’t worry about that.” Remus disagrees, he thinks he should worry about that.

He frowns at Harry, “What brought this up?”

Harry shrugs, “Thought you’d like to know.” 

“You thought I’d like to know about a kid I had with someone else in the future, now? Here? In bed?” Remus stares at him like he started speaking gibberish. Which now that he hears it back at him, he might as well have. 

Harry stays silent, not sure how to answer that. 

“You’ve got a wonderful sense over what’s appropriate for pillow talk,” Remus comments lightly, “It’s a bit early to be talking about kids, Harry. Especially when we already have one.”

Harry’s mouth twitches over how easy Remus can admit that. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He shifts so his back is toward Remus, trying to hide the gloom etched on his face. 

Remus turns to his side as well, inching closer so his chest hits Harry’s back, “You’re rather hung up on this, aren’t you?” Harry doesn’t resist the arm encircling his torso, leaning into the hold.

“I was his godfather,” Harry quietly explains after a beat, “It’s my responsibility to look after him. Can’t be doing that if he won’t exist.” 

“Oh,” Remus says. He can understand grief well enough as well as the guilt. He maneuvers one of his hands to reach for Harry’s to thread their fingers together, “Why don’t you tell me more about him? You’ve got me all curious.”

Harry can tell that this is more for his sake than Remus’ but he agrees anyway. He begins with a story about the first time Teddy morphed around him. He had taken him to a muggle park to play around in to avoid any noisy reporters or fans. It was there where Teddy saw a trail of ducks and chased after them. Harry hadn’t caught when it happened but the duckbill stayed on Teddy’s face for hours. 

He talks about what he looks like when he’s happy — his hair was a good indicator of his moods when he was younger as he wasn’t in better control and Harry always liked the dusty pink it turned to when he made him laugh. He describes how he sounds just like Andromeda, a clear concise lilt to his voice. He tells another story about making a mess in his kitchen when Teddy got curious over what he was cooking and another of buying him some practice quidditch gear, how he was more interested in the quaffles than the snitch. It goes on for a while. Harry’s almost surprised how vividly he can remember every little thing. Stringing along to the next story without pause; his words pulling from a well of memories until it was soothingly empty. 

Remus listens the whole time, asking follow-up questions, laughing when appropriate, commenting over how lovely Teddy must be and Harry doesn’t know when exactly it started but Remus would also gently brush away any stray tears that fell from his face. 

Harry hadn’t realized how much of a burden hunting the Horcruxes was on him. With the task no longer weighing him down, he felt refreshingly light. Free. The following weeks were spent at home, lazing about with the others in a pleasant daze. 

There was a blip when Sirius got a letter detailing the passing of his recluse grandfather, the funeral quietly held and since over, which meant he was now head of the family. Holder over any estates belonging to the Blacks and the first thing he did was reinstate Andromeda’s name back into the family. She seemed indifferent to it when he told her but Harry saw a gleam of something in her eyes. He was blissfully ignorant to its meaning until the day he saw Narcissa emerge from their fireplace, Draco in tow. They’ve had a few visits but they were all held in Malfoy Manor and certainly never unannounced. 

While Harry was trying to figure out the reason for their sudden appearance and find a way to politely kick them out, Draco peered around the house examining the austere decor. He had no time to ask his mother if this was the type of hovel his father always went on about because a delighted call of his name distracted him. He’s zoomed out of the house, pulled by a tiny hand, to meet some… chickens. He prayed that they wouldn't be too big. Narcissa let him go, busy with her explanation that she had shown up on time just as Harry described in his letter.

Sirius chased after the two saying someone had to keep an eye on them. Remus joined him swiftly muttering out how someone had to watch Sirius, leaving Harry to curse their cowardice alone. Well, not completely alone. Andromeda, who had dropped by for what Harry now realized to not be just for a cup of tea, emerged from the kitchen. Holding a rather expensive looking bottle of wine and two glasses. None of which originated from his home.

Harry’s witness to the rare sight of Narcissa’s cool facade cracking. He tries to inch away, unsure of how to handle whatever was going on. He startles when Andromeda sets the bottle down heavily on the table, spelling it to start pouring. 

“Are you going to stand there all day gaping like a fish, dear sister,” Andromeda comments.

Narcissa’s eyes narrow in a cold fury, she sneers, “You have no right calling me that.” She turns swiftly towards Harry, who had only made it halfway to the door, “I don’t know what trick you’re playing at, cousin, but you better have a proper explanation for this foolish reunion you’ve engineered.”

Harry freezes, empty of any thoughts under the harsh stare. He’s saved from making a fool of himself, when Andromeda tuts disapprovingly, “This was my doing. Haven’t you heard the news? Oh, yes, I forget. It does take a while for any information regarding myself to reach your ears, doesn’t it? Do give Parkinson my regards the next time you meet as I’m positive she’s dying to tell you that I’ve been reinstated back to the family.” 

Narcissa does seem surprised at the news, she recovers slightly at it but her scowl remains, “If you believe having your name back is all it takes for us to be sisters then the time you’ve spent bumming around with that ogre of yours has eradicated any trace of sense that may have remained after you abandoned us.” She turns towards the door, “I’ll be taking Draco home now.” 

Andromeda hums as she picks up her glass, “Oh how I missed you. Won’t you stay? Or must you get permission from your slimy husband first to drink a glass of Romanee-Conti?”

Narcissa pauses for a moment but raises her nose disinterested, “I doubt you can afford a vintage that is up to my tastes.”

Andromeda swirls her glass, tilting it away from her so the light catches on the red gradients in it, “Is 1945, not to your standards?”

From Narcissa’s gasp, Harry assumes that’s impressive, “How did you manage to get a bottle? I only know of the one in Father’s cellar.” 

“I, as well. It wasn’t easy leaving, you know. I had to take something for me to remember it all and I had felt it would be better with me than hiding away gathering dust.” Andromeda smiles as she remembers her theft.

“You didn’t,” Narcissa says entirely scandalized, “That’s worth more than you could imagine.”

“I am well aware, dear sister. Won’t you have a glass?” She finishes with a prolonged sip of her drink. 

Harry sneaks out of the house unnoticed after Narcissa takes her seat. He focuses on watching Draco confront his fears with the support of a friend — Harry is still surprised at the connection the two have made — by picking up one of the newborn chicks that have hatched. He still shies away from Perseus but the rooster is too busy strutting out like a king among the hens to notice. 

As the day progressed one of the three adults hiding outside would peek their head in and report whatever was going on. There was vicious shouting, some tears, and raucous laughter. Overall they decided it was going rather well since there weren’t any dark spells being cast between the two. 

Narcissa called for Draco as it began to turn into evening, she looked rather put together despite the empty bottle Harry eyed on the table once he headed inside. The two sisters don’t part ways with a hug or anything suggesting affection, but Draco does get to be briefly introduced to his Aunt. It was altogether a pleasant day, but Harry still hopes it isn’t repeated.

Harry leafs through the pages of the Daily Prophet, searching for any ads for employment. It was during Sirius’s complaining that his inheritance had come with a list of duties, that Harry got the idea to search for a job. He doesn't think he'll get one any time soon but he was a bit envious of him having so much to do. He just had to figure out what it was he wanted to do. He stops at a Gringotts ad for ward-breaking, reading the information curious but not yet committed. He’s interrupted by a tiny throat clearing, he shifts the paper lower. Remus peels an eye open from where he was dozing beside him. They both stare down at the kid who stands in front of them.

“I want to go to school with Hermione after summer,” the boy says with a rarely seen determination as he’s ready to defend his choice. 

Remus is the first to speak, “Why? Do you not like your lessons?” 

He shakes his head, “I do. But…” he fidgets then reaches into his pocket to procure the last letter he received from her. They’ve gotten better at writing letters and he only ever needs help with some words so the two haven’t yet gone over this one.

He hands it over, “She says that she’s happy that she has me to talk to because she doesn’t have any friends in her school. I didn’t either… I want to go so she won’t be alone.”

Harry scans the pages and sees where she mentions it, but he didn’t have to. He remembers clearly his Hermione explaining her difficulty making friends growing up. There’s no reason that would’ve changed. Remus hums, “That’s a bit far from here.”

“Magic makes it closer, It won’t take long for me to get there.” is the readied reply he gets. That’s certainly true but Remus is more worried over the distance between the kid and all of them. It’d be hard to keep him safe. 

Sensing his thoughts, Harry chimes in, “I went to public school and nothing happened to me. This will be even better, he’ll have a friend with him.” The boy nods eagerly. 

Remus twists his mouth but relents with a sigh, “We should invite the Grangers over, I want to ask about the school.” Harry smiles at the mother-hen. 

The kid runs off to pen the letter, he hasn’t had Hermione over yet so he’s excited. Remus frowns once he’s out of sight, Harry pokes his cheek. 

“What’s got you down?” 

Remus ignores the prodding, “It’s a silly worry.” He admits.

Harry squishes his cheeks between his palms, “He’ll be fine. There’s nothing to worry about, it might alleviate some of his boredom too. He’s still used to having a list of chores to do all day, even after dropping him off at Diggory’s or the Weasley’s he’s a bundle of energy.” 

“It’s not that,” Remus mumbles in his grip, “I… won’t have much to do if he’s at school. Preparing his lessons was fun and now I won’t have anything to contribute.”

Harry lets go to flick him in the forehead, “You know you contribute enough. I’m sure we can find something to busy you with.” 

Remus sighs, rubbing his forehead absently, “I suppose.” The boy comes back, red quill in hand, and asks Moony to go over his letter. He does, happily. Offering corrections in some areas and complimenting his improving penmanship, the boy listens pleased and engaged. 

Harry picks up the paper again while they’re busy. He admires how natural Remus is at teaching. He scans the job ads again and pauses at one. He did always think he was a wonderful professor. 

Chapter Text

Harry puts away the last of the books on the shelves that Remus has decided to stock in Hogwarts. Remus hadn’t believed that Dumbledore would give him a chance with so many more qualified wizards and witches out there that could take the post but It was the supposed curse that limited the pool of applicants. As the decades passed with a new professor each year, it was terribly difficult to find someone.

Motivated to show his best by Harry’s unyielding support and backed by his stellar scores in his NEWTS had made him the stand out candidate for the position. Additionally, Harry had believed that the curse was rid of its power when the diadem was destroyed. The curse must’ve been anchored to it as the sweeps to find any such dark magic were never found in the initial investigations when it had suspected to be first placed. He was proven right when they also learned during the interview that the Auror, who Remus would be subsequently replacing, had declined to stay another year only because she wanted to get back to her real job. A chat with Tonks had revealed that nothing spectacular had happened regarding her time there only noting that she seemed rather frazzled during lectures. No unusual sickness, case of rotten luck, or terrible fate had befallen her.

Harry took a step back to admire the belongings that filled the area. While Remus would be required to stay during some nights during his shifts in patrolling the castle, he wasn’t required to spend all his nights there. Weekends were especially free since he wasn’t a head of a house so his private quarters were linked to their home by floo to allow for an easy commute. If he was needed he’d be easy to reach. It was also a relief as, while he would’ve taken up the free housing in another life, he had a full house to come home to and he couldn’t imagine being gone for so long. 

Harry nods in satisfaction at getting it all sorted. He trails his gaze over to the new professor seated at his new desk as he chews on the feather of his quill. Scanning a list in front of him as he figures out his course plan. Harry smiles at his focus, the inaudible muttering as he crosses out sections and biting of his lips as he considers new options. He looks in his element. Books, scrolls and other scholarly works litter around him. New robes that he and Sirius managed to make him wear, after the burning of the ratty set he had pulled out for his interview, fit him nicely. The sun casts a beam of light from the window that hits Remus and makes his hair shine in a lovely honey-brown hue — it makes Harry sigh appreciatively. 

Remus reaches for the pile beside him pulling out a book that he flips swiftly through its contents, “You said the maze I had planned for the end of term went rather well, yes?”

He hums, “Mmhm. Loads of fun and challenging. A comprehensive examination of everything I had learned that year, you could say.” Harry walks over to the desk to sit on the corner of it. Remus shuffles a few things aside to accommodate him but doesn’t pay much attention as he researches on how to prepare his students for his exam. Harry kicks his legs idly out to and fro, looking down at the man. Filling content to watch him. 

“I love you.”  He says for the first time. 

“I love you, too,” Remus mutters automatically, “I think I’ll add a book by Murian Matilda onto the course list. She details the importance of practicing spells until they’re a learned reflex. The ones she uses as examples would match rather well with… It would…” He stops. He looks up at the amused man on his desk, eyes shining in realization.

“Oh,” his mouth parts in belated surprise, “You love me.”

He nods easily back, Remus stares at him in reverence. Harry feels heat rising in his belly from the attention so he shifts further down the desk until he’s right in front of the man. Remus quickly pushes his work aside, finding him much more captivating. Harry smiles crookedly at him and tugs at his robes to pull him up, watching intently at the way his adam apple jumps when Remus makes an audible swallow. He admires the flush rising hotly on Remus’ neck when Harry spreads to fit him snugly between his legs and the narrowed look he gets as those amber pools begin to darken.

Remus moves are swift and confident. Harry’s hyper-aware of the hand that slides up his side to settle on his hip. Warmth seeping into his skin when Remus lifts the edge of his shirt to circle a thumb on the skin he exposes. Harry releases a shaky exhale when the other hand cups his cheek to tilt him up. Remus leans in and Harry feels the breath on his lips when he mutters the words back to him, he shivers as it sounds even better the second time. The gap closes between them soon after.

The kiss is searing, Harry wraps his arms around his neck and threads his fingers in the soft hair to angle their mouths closer. The hand teasing at Harry’s side hikes up his shirt further to reach more of the heated skin. Harry arches into the flattened palm on his stomach. Remus moves his lips down the side of his mouth to suck at his neck. Harry ignores the noise that couldn’t possibly be coming out of him but it ignites something in Remus. He shifts his hand to grip strongly at his hip, roughly pulling him closer — the shattering of glass hits their ears and they both flinch at the noise. Remus curses when he leans back to see the remains of an inkwell seeping all over his desk. He pulls back from Harry with great reluctance and a whine so petulant that Harry is too busy laughing to be bothered at the sudden stop.

Remus looks thoroughly upset as he’s reminded that he has work to do, “I need to finish this and owl it before the day is done or the bookstores won’t have what they need in stock for the incoming students.” Harry feels for him and after he gathers his breath he hops off the desk. He pats the man’s cheek and gives him a small peck that Remus restrains from pushing too much into. 

“I understand,” Harry smiles guilelessly at him as he adjusts his clothes from their rumpled state, “rather be a reward than a distraction anyways.”

Remus closes his eyes, “That’s not helping.”

He nods sympathetically, “I know,” and flicks his new wand out to fix the mess they’ve made. He heads out the door to find something to keep him busy while Remus finishes up.

Harry wanders around enjoying the empty castle. He doesn’t pass any Professors in the halls so he thinks it’s alright if he goes without his cloak. He has a decent enough excuse for his presence due to Remus.

He tries to get into the Gryffindor common room but some elves were cleaning and sorting the area for the new arrivals. He would’ve stayed as they assured him it wouldn’t be long but they were rather eager at having a guest to cater to so he just popped his head in to get a quick lock before going off again. 

He walks out of the portrait wondering what to do next. He could try the grounds next he thinks. He moves down the hall to see the view out one of the windows. He catches the smoke trailing out of Hagrid’s hut signaling his presence but not much else. He doubts he could sneak a broom out without alerting one of the staff. Harry Potter might have gotten away with flying around but a stranger wouldn’t.

He turns away and lets memories of rushing out for class and other such things wash over him as he keeps making his way through the halls. Portraits lined up on the walls that he recognizes and a few he doesn’t but they’re all sleeping. Not much else to do during the summer.

He passes the tapestry of Barnaby with a distant thought of the Room of Requirement but he’s surprised to see the door already visible. He tilts his head as he examines it and shrugs. If Hogwarts thinks it can distract him he won’t question it.

He grabs the knob of the door turning it to push inside. It creaks as it reveals an achingly familiar room. Empty except for one partially covered object. He walks some steps in, the door shutting behind him. He confirms it to be what he thought when he reads the revealed portions of the inscription that are etched on The Mirror of Erised. It leans against the far wall of the room. He crosses his arms against his chest defensively, this is hardly a pleasant distraction.

He’s mildly curious if it’ll reveal his parents again or if his innermost desires had shifted with age. He shakes his head, turning around to leave it be. The door opens before he reaches it.

Dumbledore enters, a surprised look on his face as he takes in the contents of the room. His eyes settle on Harry. He focuses on his face for a few beats too long that makes Harry want to hide away for some reason. Dumbledore’s mouth twitches before forming a genial smile, “You must be, Mr. Potter. I heard Professor Lupin was settling in but it’s curious to find you in such a curious room. I often pass this hallway and only once ever seen it appear as a bathroom when I had desperately needed one.” 

He glances over at the mirror recognition shimmering in his eyes, “Interesting that it shows you this in your own time of need.”

“I would rather it be a bathroom,” Harry mutters. It’s odd speaking to the man again. 

“Ah. Are you familiar with the mirror?” Dumbledore asks as he rubs one hand down his beard. Harry nods before he can stop himself. Dumbledore tilts his head in acknowledgment. He walks towards it.

“I was on my way back from a meeting with Professor Snape,” Harry watches as the Headmaster stares at the covered mirror, “He had quite the assortment of potions brewing. Not unusual to find but the quantity was. I inquired upon his reasons, it seemed far too much to be a mere experiment.” He pauses for a moment, then he takes his wand out — Harry notes that it isn’t a copy of the death stick — to banish the tarp that lays over it. He scans his reflection for a few moments.

Harry chimes in, “And what were they, Professor?” He would let the man ruminate in what he’s seeing but… it's been so long since he had heard the man speak. A portrait isn’t quite the same. It’s pinging something deep within him that wants to hear the rest of what he has to say.

Dumbledore grasps his hands behind him as he turns towards Harry, “It was for clients of his. It was quite the news to me. He seemed unusually delighted to have more work. It gave him purpose when marking another failed exam didn’t, he so eloquently explained.” Harry huffs a short chuckle. 

Dumbledore continues, “I looked over his potions as he filled me in as to when he started this endeavor. Among the several bubbling cauldrons, I spotted what was unmistakably Wolfsbane Potion and I was overjoyed that he had taken the initiative to help out Professor Lupin. I hadn’t the chance to ask him yet, but when he saw me gazing at its contents he explained that it was for one of his clients. Now while the other cauldrons were filled with fairly unusual concoctions, this one stook out to me as the ones who need it most often cannot afford it. You can see why I had made the assumption. I was quite intrigued by whom this particular patron of that potion could be.” The knowing look he makes at Harry shows that he surmised correctly.

“I had thought Mr. Lupin looked rather spirited in his interview. It was easy to link it to his reconnection with Mr. Black and young Harry but I think much of that is your doing isn’t it?”

Harry doesn’t bother denying it, just agreeing with a small smile, “I wanted to help him out. I hope you can keep quiet about it. Remus doesn’t know where I get it and I imagine Professor Snape would make the connection easily enough if we stopped now. I’ve heard they’re not in the best of terms.” He doubts it’ll sully anything with Remus if he revealed it was Snape but it certainly will put the dour professor in a mood if he found out who he’s been helping. 

Dumbledore nods, “Right you are about that. It is a bother to ask him things he wouldn’t like to hear.” It’s silent for a moment as Dumbledore gazes away distantly, he must be most relieved from evading any pushing of Snape's buttons. Harry certainly would be.

He thinks the conversation must be done so he prepares an excuse to leave but then Dumbledore speaks again, “It was surprising to find out he had been making them since November, right within these walls. Many think I have eyes everywhere but it couldn’t be further from the truth. I do try my best but I admit I am just as capable of being distracted as anyone else. Which I believed to be the case here. You see it was around that time that Severus revealed a most peculiar thing that was happening to the mark he carries on his arm.” 

Harry tenses slightly but Dumbledore continues as if he didn’t notice, “It had begun to fade. Something which has not happened since that fateful night long ago. Currently, it is beyond recognition. A mere smudge.” 

Voldemort's spirit still remains out there, but Harry hasn’t figured when to take care of it. Finding the time for it isn’t as tempting with how far away he’d have to be. Plus the responsibility Remus has now taken won’t give him that much time. He’d have to do it alone.

“That’s strange, sir.” He says when Dumbledore locks his gaze with his. Harry tries not to fidget under the stare. Dumbledore breaks it after a moment to turn back to the mirror. 

“May I ask if you used the mirror?” Harry’s confused at the sudden change of subject, “Uh… no, I didn’t. I didn’t want to.” 

The older wizard shifts so there’s room for him to see his reflection, “A wise choice. Facing one’s innermost desire can be difficult to walk away from but this room holds the special power to give you what you need the most. It would not reveal itself to you something in which you can’t handle.” He seems unusually insistent. 

Harry frowns thoughtfully, his curiosity coming back as he considers his words. It can’t hurt, he’s seen it once before. As he walks over to stand in front of it he prepares himself. If it’s his parents he hopes they look as proud of him as they did back then.

He looks at his reflection after a deep breath. He blushes, embarrassed at what he sees. His hair is half out of the strap that keeps it tidy, lips red and slightly swollen, not to mention the massive hickey that darkens his neck. He tries to fix his hair and hikes up the collar of his shirt to try to hide the mark but it’s all hopeless. The spell he tries to heal it only lightens it, but not by much. He spares a glance at the wizard beside him who is thankfully staying politely quiet but Harry catches that damn twinkle in his eyes. 

He musters whatever dignity he has left and focuses back on the mirror, ignoring his appearance. It warps and shows him standing next to Remus and Sirius. Much older than how they look now. Smiling which he’s familiar with. It’s then that Harry runs in, crashing them all with a hug. He peers at the older boy putting him at around 7th year. It’s all a very warming sight but not impossible and not what he expected. He already has this. It would make more sense to him if he was younger, like the teen. At that age, he would’ve loved to have them around.

It hits him then. He wants them to still be around when they wouldn’t be if Voldemort comes back. 

“It’s my family, safe and happy.” He looks away to stare at the man he had given so much trust to at one point. A part of him knows he always did, which is why he couldn’t go to him. He’s sure he would’ve just blindly followed whatever he said. Now, however, with all the Horcruxes gone and a family to protect it’s different. 

Dumbledore seems pleased at what he sees, “You’ve been making quite the effort in doing so if I’m not mistaken.” Harry nods.

His former headmaster smiles, “May I be of some help?”

Harry was expecting an interrogation so he’s surprised by the offer and it shows. Dumbledore huffs, “Are you that shocked?”

“Sorry, sir,” he replies, “I just didn’t expect you to freely offer it. You hardly know me.” 

“Hm,” Dumbledore hums peering at him intensely, “When news of a mysterious unknown Potter appearing had reached me I was concerned. Far too convenient, I thought. However, I knew Professor Lupin and Mr. Black would never risk Harry’s safety. As you have now confirmed, your entering their lives had started months earlier than the papers believed. It brings a new perspective to my previous interactions with all of them. I cannot help but think that of the countless odd occurrences that I have witnessed in my life that makes me so wary, and far too many have been happening lately,” he fingers his wand absently, “a man that brings joy and love to the ones that most need it, is not one of them.” 

Harry breathes in slowly not realizing how much he cared about Dumbledore’s opinion of him. He could dance around the information he has but he’s so close to vanquishing Voldemort that he doesn’t see the point. Frank, it is. “Albania,” he starts, “What remains of Voldemort is somewhere in the forests of Albania. I’m not sure where, but I could use the help.”

Dumbledore doesn’t question how he knows, Harry can see that he expected it. “Albania, you say. It is so rare for me to leave the country,” Harry looks down trying to hide his disappointment, “but I believe that means I am well due for a vacation. I’m sure the school will manage itself finely under Professor McGonagall’s care, while I go to revitalize my spirits.” Harry’s face brightens with a beaming smile. 

“Should we go this summer?” He asks. The sooner the better he feels. 

Dumbledore shakes his head, “Not we, Mr. Potter. Just me.” Harry furrows his eyebrows, something dark stirring in him from the familiarity of it. “Why wouldn’t I go?”

Dumbledore motions towards the mirror, “You have a family to look after and I believe you have done enough, don’t you? I can handle things from here. I doubt in his weakened state he will prove a challenge to me. I am quite spry despite my age, I’ll have you know.” 

Harry’s speechless. The aged wizard laughs humorlessly, “I must’ve done something most dreadful to be getting that look,” his expression shifts to one showing the weight the years has done to him, “I’m not sure if it will mean much coming from me but I am sorry for whatever burden I put on you, Harry.”

The apology thickens the air around Harry who swallows from the tightness it causes. It’s not the revelation that he questions, it doesn’t surprise him. It’s something else that gnaws at him that comes out in a quite voice, “Aren’t you upset that I’m here? That I’ve changed things?” He’s not asked permission once but he feels that if he did, it would’ve been from him.

“My plans must not have gone well if you felt the need to do so,” Dumbledore answers. He turns back to his reflection with tired eyes, a wretched emotion flickers on his face but is gone in a blink, “We all want to change things, Harry. How could I ever judge you for being given that chance?”

“I don’t like frogs,” Ron says as he looms over the one Harry has in his hands, “Look how bumpy it is, it’s gross.”

“That’s a toad,” Hermione corrects, “Frogs are more slimy and smooth.”

“Hm.” Harry lifts the squirming toad to examine it, “But he’s green. Aren’t all frogs green?”

She shakes her head, “They come in different colors. The brighter ones are poisonous, though. There is a green frog with bright red eyes and orange toes. That one’s rather harmless.” A noisy croaking ribbit causes the trio to center at the toad. The toad has since given up its escape, ready to live out the rest of his life in the hands of a child. The sound comes again and they realize it didn’t come from the toad at all.

Ron shoves a finger towards the direction of the pond, “You mean like that one?” A verdant green frog with luminescent scarlet eyes and neon orange toes sits on one of the rocks around the water, croaking out a call that beckons Harry to gently release his toad and go closer to it to catch it.

It zips away in a large hop, Harry cheers, “He’s fast, isn’t he?” He chases after it. 

Hermione watches confused, “The book said those only lived in a rainforest.”

Ron shrugs, “Reckon the book was wrong then.” She bristles at the thought. 

She lifts the sleeves of her shirt to bunch up at her elbows, “I’ll just have to prove it to you that it’s not the same one. They’re supposed to have a blue underside.” She chases after Harry to help him catch it. Ron follows shortly after not wanting to be left out. 

From the doorway of their home with his wand shoved back into his pocket, Harry watches the children play. The summer has been filled with moments like this. Remus moves next to him to watch too, circling his arms around him. Sirius dozes nearby on a patch of sun-heated grass, tired from keeping watch. Harry’s lips curl into a smile as he muses over how normal this all seems to him. This secure feeling of being home. The sound of children laughing, being wrapped up in Remus’ arms and the feel of the sun warming it all up. It’s just an ordinary day for him now. 

It’s on one of these ordinary days that Tom Marvolo Riddle was erased from the world.

The train slows down as it nears its stop. Harry sighs, a long heavy dramatic one that fully encompasses just how awful everything is and will ever be. He presses his forehead against the cold glass of the window and wishes for the trip to be longer.

“Honestly, Harry, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as you think,” chides Hermione as she gathers her things.

“Yeah, mate. I’m sure your dad won’t skin you alive,” Ron grumbles as he wakes from his nap, “you know who he’ll be skinning instead.”

Ron laughs at Harry’s petulant glaring, “If I wasn’t such a loving friend, I’d let both your mums know about how familiar you two have been getting with every broom closet at Hogwarts.” He smirks at the paling from Ron.

Hermione huffs with pink cheeks, “That’s entirely different. We don’t broadcast it all over the entire school and specifically in front of Professor Lupin, do we?”

Harry sputters, “That wasn’t broadcasting!”

She raises her eyebrow which he flushes at, “Whatever, it’s not Moony that I’m worried about.” Sure, he’s been avoiding him the past few days but it’s more out of embarrassment than anything else. 

“It’s Padfoot.” He slumps back into his seat with a groan. His godfather was such a protective menace. “I hope Dad will reign him in. He’s usually considerate.”

The train comes into a full stop, prompting Harry to finally, reluctant as it may be, reach for his trunk.

Hermione gets a thoughtful look, “I wonder if your dad’s so understanding because he went through a similar experience?”

Ron leers at Harry, “Yeah, maybe you can ask him for advice?” He makes obnoxious kissing noises, “Having a similar experience, and all.”

Harry blanches. He had never minded sharing things with his dad, even the same friends — it certainly helped in Christmas shopping — but to share this too isn’t something he’s ever thought about.

Hermione tuts at Ron, “That’s not what I meant and I doubt it’s all the same,” she frowns, “Well, hopefully, it isn’t. Come on, Harry. Don’t dally.”

She slides open the compartment door and walks out. Ron follows after he gives a solemn sympathetic pat on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry walks out to the crowds of the platform, hugging and waving off the two once they see their families. He glances around and finally sees his dad without his godfather — thank, Merlin.

“Harry,” his dad calls out warmly, “I’ve missed you.” He wraps him in a hug that Harry melts into — he’s missed his dad too.

“Pads?” He questions into the shoulder he’s pushed against.

“Home, with Tonks.” His dad says into his hair as he rubs his back. Harry grins, he wanted to ask her what being an Auror was going.

Harry pulls back so they can start walking towards the floo point, “And Moony?”

His dad hums, “Won’t be back until later tonight, he’s busy cleaning up Hogwarts after all the mess from the tournament... speaking of.” He starts with an amused grin.

Harry flinches, his dad continues innocently, “I heard Cedric won. I’ll have to congratulate him personally when he comes for dinner.” Harry nods back but stops, “Dinner? Tonight?” He hopes against hope that it isn’t.

“Yep,” his dad pops the p with relish, “his parents thought it was a great idea as well.” Harry feels a sinking dread in his stomach, “Of course, I also heard you congratulated him in your own special way.”

Harry blushes, “I-I didn’t — I mean that was all him,” his dad just eyes him dryly, “not that it was against my will. He just… It was... it was exciting that he won.” He reasons lamely.

His dad nods, “I heard he did get quite handsy, it’s nice to know that it wasn’t against your will.” Harry tries to keep his groaning to a minimum.

They stand in line once they reach the fireplace. Families mostly ignoring the two, too busy with their reunions.

Harry whispers to avoid and stares, “It was just a kiss, Dad.”

“Oh, so you didn’t jump him? That was Remus’ eyes playing tricks on him? Imagining his little boy, the light of his life, all wrapped around the champion snogging his brains out?” His dad questions seriously with an entirely too loud of a voice, but Harry can tell — even through his own rising mortification — that he’s also trying not to laugh.

Harry rubs a palm over his heated face and uses the other to shove at him, he whines, “Please, stop.”

His dad finally laughs. Chuckles dying out after a moment and he sighs wistfully. Harry peeks at him from between his fingers, “Cedric is really kind, I’m happy for you.” His eyes going distant, the way they usually do when he’s reminded of the past — oh please no.

He manages to ask, highly uncomfortable though it may be, “Y-you and Ced... I mean your Cedric. You didn’t — were you?”

His dad laughs again although not as hard, “No,” Harry’s tension slips away from his shoulders, “We were only friends, for a year. You’ve known Cedric far longer than I ever did.” Harry catches the hidden meaning there and frowns.

“I’m glad you’re here, Dad.” His dad just looks at him curiously before smiling and ruffling his hair. Harry flattens his hair back with a half-hearted scowl.

“Me too.”

They move to be next in line, “It’ll be okay. Just some uncomfortable shovel talks and then you and Cedric will be left in peace. I’ll try to steer Sirius from anything too intense. Amos, though, will be over the moon. Being able to brag that his son was the champion and bagged Harry Potter himself.” Harry grimaces remembering the gloating from just being Cedric’s friend.

His dad sighs, “He shouldn’t be too hard to handle after I remind him you weren’t one of the prizes Cedric won.”

His dad motions him to grab from the bag of soot. Once he has a handful, he pauses to steel himself for the awkward dinner he’s about to be subjected to. A gentle reassuring nudge from behind reminds him that he’ll have someone on his side at least.

Harry’s relieved he’s not alone in this.