Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thud!

Lily gripped her baby hard at the sound downstairs. She didn’t have time to cry over James. The Fidelius Charm had failed. Voldemort was in her house.

She bounced Harry in her arms and looked into green eyes just like hers. She could hear him ascending the staircase, nonchalant like he hadn’t just murdered her husband. Her thoughts raced faster than her heart for a spell.

Expelliarmus? Too risky. Protego? Temporary. Avada Kedavra? Try and kill him first like James?

A thought crept into her mind.

She rushed to the crib and laid Harry down. It was an old story; a boogie man threat her mother had told her when she was young to keep her well behaved. But if magic and goblins were real, why couldn’t it be?

She pressed her eyes shut and tried to keep her voice from wavering.

“I wish the Goblins would come and take you away…”

She waited and nothing happened. The door burst open and the abino snake face of Voldemort appeared in the doorway.

“Stand aside,” he hissed as he raised his wand.

She shook her head and spread her form in front of Harry, ensuring she would not live a second without her child.

I wish I knew what to say! she thought.

It hit her.

“Avada Ka--”

“Right now!”

Voldemort uddered the last syllable. Green light filled the room. Lily’s heart stopped racing.

Lily’s heart stopped entirely.

Bits of Voldemrot’s body floated through the room. No one was there to see gloved hands reach out of nothingness into the crib. No one was there to watch Harry disappear. No one was there to know.

Jareth bounced the toddler on his leg. He was different from the last child, older, calmer. No home. No family. No one to run the Labyrinth for him.

Jareth looked at the clock. The time on it was irrelevant without someone running the Labyrinth. The only thing that mattered now was the day: October 31st, the day Harry would become his Goblin heir.

Jareth grinned and he petted Harry’s hair, caressing the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, Harry,” he cooed. “You’ll be born again Goblin in just a few hours.”

Harry didn’t babble or cry. He stayed silent, studying the handsome features of the Goblin King. He reached out to touch the frizzy blond locks.

Jareth smiled his crooked teeth.

Perfect, he thought, A child unafraid.

Today is Harry’s birthday. He’s one now in Goblin eyes. Jareth throws a party in his honor and gives him a bubble that will never pop. He hands him off to a nanny then goes to harass the current runner.

Today is Harry’s birthday. He’s six and Jareth takes him to the Aboveground for the first time. Jareth is an owl who perches on a branch as he watches Harry Trick-or-Treat as a pumpkin. He’s keeping his eyes out for elder siblings forced to babysit.

Today is Harry’s birthday. He’s nine and asks why the other parents still look like themselves when they put on their disguises.

Jareth gives Harry a mischievous grin “Their costumes just aren’t as good.”

It was early in the Labyrinth. The sky was its usual orange and time was funny, but Harry could always tell when early and late was. Impish little Goblins scurried about the castle, going in and out of the walls to keep things running behind the scenes. Harry was always careful not to step on them (despite his father’s insistence that they wouldn’t really feel it).

Harry put his hair into a loose ponytail as he walked. He’d been growing it out the past few years like his father, but it was hard when it always got so unruly in the back.

He entered the throne room. No Goblins were permitted to be in there when Jareth was absent, leaving it one of the only places in the castle he could escape.

Hoot!

Harry flinched as his head darted to an above window.

Harry stared in awe. He had never seen anything like it before. He had seen birds before, but they were all ratty and disheveled or talking hats or secretly his father. This one had knowing eyes but showed no signs of being a real person aside from the envelope in its beak. It’s feathers were too smooth to be from the Labyrinth, even if they weren’t, he had never seen a creature so muted in color.

The owl dropped the letter and Harry caught it. He ran his fingers over the wax emblem before turning it over to read.

Mr H. Potter.

The Throne Room

The Castle Beyond the Goblin City,

The Labyrinth,

The Underground

Harry went to open the letter to find it plucked from his hands.

“What do we have here?” Jareth asked in his ever suave voice.

“That owl up there dropped off,” Harry pointed to the window to find the owl had left.

“Curious,” Jareth inspected the note, making sure to keep his face neutral “I will need to keep this Harry. We will discuss this another time.”

Harry nodded. There was no use in arguing this early in the morning.

Harry woke up even earlier the next day. It was easier to wake up when you could hardly sleep the night before. The thoughts of the letter wracked his mind. He had seen mail, yes, but he had never seen it delivered by an owl, let alone to the throne room.

His father would still be awake from his party last night. Perhaps he could ask about a letter now.

Harry entered the throne room, stepping between the bodies of sleeping Goblins as he made his way to his father, lounging by the terrace, shifting silver orbs in one hand and releasing them as bubbles with the other.

Someone new must be running the Labyrinth.

Harry sat himself down opposite his father, letting his left leg hang off the precipice, waiting for him to finish up before asking.

“Good morning, Harry,” Jareth smiled as he released the next bauble “You’re up early. I do hope the party was not too loud.”

“It wasn’t. I was just wondering—“

His words were cut off by the flapping wings of a tawny owl between them, dropping its letter at their feet.

“Wretched bird!” Jareth shooed the bird away with his free hand. The owl took off in an instant and Jareth tossed the last orb into his right hand and threw it like a softball toward the creature, missing and letting the bauble explode like a grenade as it hit a villager's roof.

Jareth reached for the new letter and tossed it out the window without checking to see what it said.

“We should tour the city tomorrow,” Jareth said at dinner that night “Get away from the castle, don’t you think?”

“Where were you thinking?” Harry tensed. Excursions into the outer lands could easily end with a tour of the Oubliette. (They could get out rather easily with Jareth being King and all, but the fall never ceased to terrify).

“We could go anywhere you like; in fact, nothing is even binding us to the city limits, or the Labyrinth for that matter.”

Harry blinked.

“It would just be for a few days while some things are sorted out.”

“Is there someone new you're considering?”

“No, no, the Little Red Book is still looking for a new reader. It’s looking harder this time after how quickly that last one fell.” A beat “I was thinking more along the lines of an island, showing you the ocean.”

“Wow,” Harry leaned back in his chair. He never had a particular need to see the ocean, but a trip to the Aboveground was rare (and it wasn’t even his birthday!).

“I thought you’d enjoy it, and it seems I thought right,” Jareth grinned as he cut into his meal.

The island was a simple affair: a cottage, a porch, a daybed for Harry. There was nothing they didn’t have in the Goblin Castle inside.

Outside was another story.

The sky was blanketed by heavy clouds biding their time before pouring. He was almost afraid to go out onto the porch with a book out of fear that sudden rain would ruin it.

He wondered why his father would pick now of all times for this excursion. Was it those letters? H. Potter meant two names, and two names meant a wizard. Wizards were not permitted in the Goblin City—wizards were not permitted to know about the Goblin City!

He glanced over at his father, now in the form of a pristine barn owl keeping watch and standing on the original letter. Harry shifted, things were never good when Jareth played decoy.

Harry was right about the rain. He couldn’t sleep with the sound of the storm. It was too loud, too foreign. He had never been around rain long enough to know what it meant.

He felt the house rock at a force on the door. Thunder? He hadn’t heard it much but that didn’t sound right.

Jareth flew downstairs and perched at the mantle. The knocking grew louder and louder and Harry’s heart raced.

The door flew off its hinges.

Harry gaped. In the doorway was an intruder, nine feet at least and wider than Harry was tall. He crouched to enter, staggering inside like a boar bound through a cat flap.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the giant said as he put the door back in the frame “When I found out ‘xactly who yeh were, I hadda see it fer myself.”

Harry blinked. He knew being the Goblin Prince was, in theory, a prestigious position, but he had never felt anything close to reverence in it. People were kind to him, yes, but he had always known it was out of fear of Jareth rather than respect for him.

“H. Potter, I shoulda known. Yer parents were somethin’ special, sendin’ yeh off, makin’ a double line of’ defense ‘gainst You-Know-Who. Clever the two of ‘em.” The man pat Harry of the shoulder. “Idda been nice if they’da told someone.”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

Hagrid snapped out of his euphoria “The name’s Hagrid.” He extended one of his meaty hands for Harry to shake “I was good friends with yer parents. Yeh look just like yer dad, aside from yer hair—he always kept his short, but who am I to judge hair.”

Harry stares at his father, still perched on the mantle, overseeing the conversation.

“Almost forgot!”—Hagrid reached into his coat and pulled out a pink box that was dwarfed by his hand— “Here yeh go!” Hagrid handed the box to Harry “May ‘ave sat on it once er twice.”

Harry opened the box to find a green on pink cake reading HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY.

Harry looked up puzzled as Hagrid folded up the bed in a single motion and plopped down on the couch “There seems to be some mistake. My name’s Harry, but my birthday is in October.”

Hagrid shifted “No, it’s today. Looked it up in the school reg’ster meself.” Hagrid reached into his coat and pulled out a flowery pink umbrella and worldless pointed it at the empty fireplace

Harry jumped at the eruption of flames, forgetting the birthday predicament entirely. He pointed at the umbrella “That’s a wand!”

“Ah!” Hagrid slipped the umbrella back into his coat “Don’ go tellin’ ev’ryone. Not suppose’ ter be doin’ magic, but ol’ Dumbledore don’ seem ter mind it.”

Harry tried to keep his breathing steady as he looked to Jareth for support.Jareth blinked but kept his gaze on Hagrid.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m jus’ here ter pick yeh up, gather yer things fer Hogwarts.”

Jareth screeched and flew between Hagrid and Harry.

“Someone’s eager ter get home,” Hagrid smiled as he reached out to pet the owl with the back of his hand, only to be greeted by a nip before touching.

“Could I go home and gather my things first? Meet up with you tomorrow?”

Hagrid’s face scrunched in a baffled way under his beard “This ain’ yer house?” Hagrid pointed at the barn owl “Then how come yeh been gettin’ letters here?”

“Because…” think Harry! “I stay here in the summers.”

Hagrid eyed Harry suspiciously “I guess it is kinda late. First thing in the mornin’, I take yeh to get yer things.”

“Thanks.”

Hagrid rose from his seat. “Yeh sure yeh can get home in this storm? I could take yeh on me motorbike?”

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t want everybody knowing where I live.”

Chapter Text

As the sound of a motorbike drifted away and Jareth became more and more sure that Hagrid would not return, only then did he decide to shift back into the form of the Goblin King. Jareth placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, guiding him as they stepped backward, phasing into Harry’s room in the castle.

His room was not nearly as ornate as one would expect. In fact, nobody would ever know that it was the room of royalty. Harry had never taken to the elaborate bedspreads and ornate headboards that other chambers in the castle featured; instead, he had a full bed in the middle of the room so that the corner of the room and wardrobe on the wall, leaving the sizable window near the corner open for a reading nook he could study goblin histories with his tutor. (He never particularly enjoyed these times, but having eye aches from lack of light wouldn’t help anything).

Harry sat down on his bed, still in utter disbelief “What was that man talking about?”

Jareth sat down on Harry’s bed, keeping his same, serious demeanor “There’s something I need to tell you,” he started.

Harry was taken aback. The usual suave and charm of his father was replaced with a solemn tone that let pity drip through.

“It’s about the letters?” Harry didn’t mean it to be a question, but his voice shook enough to make it come out as one.

Jareth nodded “The truth is...” he hesitated “You’re a wizard, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock while his face resisted contorting in disgust “A what!”

Jareth nodded “You we’re not born in the Labyrinth like the other Goblins; you were born in Godric’s Hollow, a wizard village in the Aboveground.”

Harry’s thoughts raced. A wizard? That was impossible. Wizards were always trying to pull a fast one on Goblins, stealing their metalwork and subjugating them to their will. It had taken the willpower of all Goblins just to keep the Labyrinth secret and safe. How could he be a wizard?

“Your mother and father were killed by a Dark Wizard named Voldemort. I know nothing about your birth parents, but I know that your mother put herself between you and him and called upon me to take you away. I plucked you from your cradle and knew instantly you would be the perfect heir to the throne.”

“So I’m not a Goblin...”

“Ah!” Jareth gave a devilish grin, letting some suave return to his voice “My child, you are not Goblin, yet. I was not born Goblin; I came here and proved myself to be Rightfully Goblin and they chose me to lead. I let the Labyrinth become a part of me. My blood is no different from a river running through it, and I gave you the same blood when you came here so that you may safely stay here longer than 13 hours. I am not your sire, but I am your father.”

Harry nodded and stared at Jareth, the debonair king with a penchant for mischief. He was still the man who raised him.

“So, this letter from the wizard school...”

“Was no mistake. You, Harry, are going to go and learn what the wizards learn. I would like you to become an ambassador of sorts for the Goblins. Leave the city and do good on behalf of the Goblins, and I believe you will be put on the path to becoming Rightfully Goblin, only then can you inherit my throne.”

Harry nodded absently. The idea of a school--one without a Goblin tutor looming over his shoulder--sounded appealing, but he had never even spoken to a wizard before last night. He would observe those at Gringotts from time to time when Jareth had business to attend to, but those people were adults who had a task to accomplish. Harry always was told to stand aside, let the patrons be, say something nice if they spoke first but avoid otherwise.

Real wizards had always been an abstraction in his mind.

“I know it is a lot, but remember that you are a prince” Jareth straightened up, letting his usual demeanor return “Lift your chin and saunter where you please! Because I guarantee that you are like nothing that that old school has ever seen.”

Just as he said he would, Harry met Hagrid just outside a hole in the wall pub called The Leaky Cauldron. As Hagrid led Harry through it, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of supplies would be needed for Hogwarts if it could be bought in a dive.

Hagrid led him inside, greeted the barkeep, and said hi to regulars before leading Harry out back to an ally.

“‘t’s good ter see yeh ‘live ‘n well,” Hagrid said as he rummaged for his pink umbrella “All’ve us thought yeh’d popped right out of existence that night. Sure am glad yer here ter do this, though.”--the umbrella materialized in Hagrid’s meaty hands-- “Y’know, once word gets out yer alive, people’ll start callin’ yeh The Boy Who Lived.”

Harry smiled wryly. He could only imagine how the Goblins would take this title. He had never been a hero before despite apparently being chosen to be a Prince by the Goblin King. It was a Goblin given title that held little merit aside from letting through the door and getting gentry on your side, but Boy Who Lived was Wizard given. If the wizarding people decided to make him their own sort of Prince, he had no idea what would happen. Once he was placed on the wizard pedestal, it would be quite a leap to regain graces with the Goblins.

Gentle tapping of the umbrella on bricks brought Harry back to reality. The bricks parted like the Red Sea, and a bustling street of colorful characters and cooky shops appeared.

“Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley.”

Harry gaped at the colorful new world. People--wizards!--tall and broad, squat and squirrelish, were everywhere, running for groceries or piddling about. There were wizard parents trying to wrangle their toddlers and wizard teens being dragged from one shop to the next.

They all looked like he did.

“Now,” Hagrid said as he guided Harry by his shoulders, “I ‘ave ter run a little errand at Gringotts. I figured we could grab a few galleons from yeh vault.”

Harry shifted. Hagrid seemed nice, but he knew that wizards often don this visage before swindling Goblins. Harry stared up at his giant grin. He seemed genuine. What harm could come by a few minutes of trust?

“Here we go.”

Harry flinched out of his haze to behold the pale marble building, framed by mile high columns.

“Gringotts,” Harry breathed, reading the engraving above the doorway. He had never seen it from the outside before.

He took in the sight as he stepped through the double doors onto polished marble that matched the outside. A palatial feel created by high ceilings and a crystal chandelier made Harry feel strange. The Goblin King’s Castle could never dream of rivaling that, but Harry was somehow glad. If he had grown up in a place like this, he could never have rested easy.

Lining the walls behind raised desks were sharp dressed Goblins dotting upon wizards in black business robes. It was a stark contrast to the leather garb of Goblins assisting similarly clad Goblins that Harry had grown accustomed to, and he could tell that every Goblin working there was miserable (but whether that was due to their outfits or the wizards was in question).

“Stick close ter me now,” Hagrid whispered down at Harry as he approached a counter with a waistcoat clad Goblin “Mr. Harry Potter wishes ter make a withdrawal.”

The Goblin lifted his nose from his work and his eyes widened.

“Which vault does his Highness wish to withdraw from?”

Hagrid scrunched his nose “Uh,”--he rummaged through his jacket and withdrew a key and letter from his pocket-- “His own? An’ I’ve got this from Professor Dumbledore. ” Hagrid leaned in and murmured “‘t’s about you-know-what in vault you-know-which.”

The Goblin gave a nod and a terse “Very well.” before climbing down from his desk and signalling for the two to come.

“I must say,” the Goblin began as he clambered into a cart “I was not expecting you, today.”

“Well, Dumbledore said that--”

“Not you!” the Goblin spat.

Hagrid blinked a few times before Harry spoke.

“Well, Griphook--I’m remembering that correctly, aren’t I?”

Griphook nodded.

“School’s about to start, and that means I will be needing supplies,” Harry said, trying to hide his discomfort and avert his gaze away from the increasingly suspicious Hagrid.

“So he’s sending you to Hogwarts?” Griphook started as the cart started “I guess that makes sense, seeing as you are a wizard.”

Harry nodded. He knew that the Goblin citizens thought it all the time, but, being away from Jareth, Griphook was allowed to say it.

The cart halted and Griphook announced “Vault 687.”

“So,” Hagrid said as they began their journey to Ollivander’s for a wand. “Yer friends with Goblins?”

“A bit closer than that,” Harry muttered, not quite sure of how much he could say without triggering something in the nine foot man. He may only have been eleven, but he had grown used to being excluded, whether it be because of his rank or apparent wizard origin, and wanted to avoid any malcontent with this man.

“I used ter know yer father. We were in...we were in a sorta club together. I was, uh, argh!” Hagrid stopped, clearly frustrated “I’m not too good with words, but I didn’ see anybody else at the house last night, an’ I was wonderin’ who ‘xactly was raisin’ you.”

Harry bit his lip.

“They’re Goblins, aren’ they?”

Harry nodded.

“Well,” Hagrid straightened up “I guess I shouldn’ be one for judgin’.” he lowered his voice a bit “Don’ go tellin’ the world this, but me mum was a giantess.”

Harry looked up at the nine foot man, not at all shocked “Really?”

“Yep, loads of wizards don’ want nothin’ ter do with Goblins er giants er other magical creatures, but I don’ see nothin’ wrong with it. Careful, though, there’s gonna be people at Hogwarts who won’ even talk ter muggleborns if they can help it. Yeh do best to avoid ‘em.”

Harry softened. Hagrid wasn’t like the Goblins he had met, always wanting something. He didn’t see a prince they could get a nice reward from for their services, he wasn’t sloppily serving because fear of Jareth’s retribution was their main focus, he was helping because Harry was a kid that needed help.

Hagrid held the door open to Ollivander’s and Harry entered.

“I’ll be back ter pick yeh up in a few minutes,” Hagrid grinned, causing a good part of his beard to shift “I just need to pick up one last thing yeh’ll be needin’ fer Hogwarts.”

Harry’s face brightened and wondered why he ever distrusted the half-giant before him “See you soon then.”

Chapter Text

Harry gripped the trolly tight as he pushed his way over the bricks of King’s Cross. Hagrid had to run and Jareth only ever left the Goblin City in one of his alternate forms unless trying to entice a potential runner into his gambut.

He gripped his ticket in his hand and stared at the snowy owl in the cage before him. There was wisdom in its eyes, but she was just as clueless as Harry was as to the location of Platform 9 ¾ as he was.

“It's the same year after year.”

Harry rubbernecked to the voice and found a woman with four sons, each with their own trolly, and a daughter, all with matching red hair.

“Always packed with Muggles, of course.”

Muggles!

“Come on. Platform 9¾ this way! All right, Percy, you first.,” the woman told the eldest of her sons. The teen broke into a sprint and didn’t stop when he approached the brick wall, phasing through it instead.

Harry’s heart leapt. A magic wall! He had seen loads of them in the Labyrinth; this had to be it.

Harry pushed his way to the woman as her next two sons made their own way through the wall.

“Excuse me,”--the woman jumped and spun on her heels to Harry-- “Could you tell me how to--”

“Get to the platform?” the woman gave a wide, motherly smile “Yes, not to worry, dear. It's Ron's first time to Hogwarts as well.”--She pointed at her youngest, freckle-faced son and he smiled-- “Now, all you've got to do is walk straight at the wall between platforms 9 and 10. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous.”

Harry nodded as he remembered what his father had told him.

Lift your chin and saunter where you please! Because I guarantee that you are like nothing that that old school has ever seen.

Harry took a deep breath in and, although he didn’t feel it was true, he sauntered forward with a confidence no eleven year old should have and shed it in favor of the excited run he was built for.

Harry had never seen anything like the Hogwarts Express. He had never been in anything that moved on its own before, especially not one with so many people his own age. He had people his own age in the Labyrinth, sure, but it was always the outsider there. Perhaps he could make a friend or find an ally at the very least.

He heard the door to his compartment slide open to find the redhead his age from earlier.

“Excuse me, do you mind? Everywhere else is full.”

“No! Not at all,” Harry gestured to the seat across from him and the boy sat.

“I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.”

“I’m Harry Potter.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry.”

Silence.

“So what house are you hoping for?”

“Uh…” Harry thought of the Goblin Castle “the one with a skylight.”

Ron laughed “I mean Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin.” He smiled at Harry’s blank stare.

“The last one, I guess.” Harry began to fiddle with his fingers, becoming acutely aware of how little he knew about where he was going.

“I guess a muggleborn wouldn’t really know much about Hogwarts houses, would they? You don’t have to worry though. My brothers tell me that there’s a whole ceremony where you’re sorted into houses by the Sorting Hat. They’re all Gryffindors like my mum and dad. I’m gonna be one, too.”

Harry grinned. Ron’s excitement was spreading to him. Perhaps he would be in the same house.

“I’d be okay with anything but Slytherin,” Ron continued “They’ve been a load of crazies for decades.”

Harry heard the door click open and found a friendly faced old witch towing a cart brimming with sweets Harry had never seen.

“Anything from the trolly, dears?”

“No,” Ron sighed as he pulled a mushed up sandwich from his pocket.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out some galleons. Ron gaped.

“We’ll take the lot!”

“They’re not real chocolate frogs, are they?” Harry asked as he lifted a pentagonal box with blue and gold patterns.

“It's just a spell. Besides, it's the cards you want. Each pack's got a famous witch or wizard. I got about 500 meself.”--Ron popped Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean in his mouth as Harry popped the lid-- “Watch it!” The frog from Harry’s tin leapt from its box to the open window, having waved goodbye before leaving the train “Oh, that's rotten luck. They've only got one good jump in them to begin with.”

Harry grinned as he popped the card out from the bottom of the box “Hey, I got Dumbeldore.”

“I got about six of him,” Ron said as he helped his rat, Scabbers, get the Bertie Bott’s box unstuck from his head.

Harry stared at the learned wizard on the card. He had heard him mentioned by Hagrid and wondered what he was like, how accepting he would be of Goblins. Would it even come up, or was he the kind of teacher that worried more about the school as a whole rather than the student’s.

“Hey, Ron,” Harry thought aloud as he stared at the wizard on the card “How many wizards are on chocolate frog cards?”

“Over a hundred, I’d say, plus there are 48 quidditch players, but they only sell those guys when the World Cup comes around.”

“But are there only wizards?”

Ron chuckled “Well they’re not going around putting muggles on ‘em. My dad has some muggle cards similar to them, though. They’re called baseball cards and they came all the way from America.”

Harry pursed his lips. He had only known Ron a few hours and had no idea how he’d react to Goblins. Perhaps he could pass it off as simple curiosity?

“I mean, are there other creatures? Could I find, say, a Goblin on one?”

Ron stopped chewing and thought “There’s probably four or five of them out there. I only have the Gringott one.”

Harry nodded.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up of finding one right off the bat. My brother Percy got an Eargit the Ugly once and was a grump the whole night. Said he felt shortchanged.” Ron leaned in a bit “Didn’t stop him from keeping it, though.”

Harry turned the card over and read:

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling.

Harry sighed. That Flamel guy probably had his own card, and that card could be turned over and mention another wizard with their own card. He flipped the card over to find Dumbledore had disappeared.

“He’s gone.”

“Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day, can you?”

“I guess not.”

Harry heard the door slide open again and a bushy haired girl with teeth too long poked her head in.

“Has anyone seen a toad around?” she started “A boy named Neville’s lost one.”

“No,” Ron replied, taking over the conversation so that Harry could retreat into the corner a bit.

Harry placed the card into his pocket. Less than a day in the wizarding world and he already found himself disappointed.

The Sorting Hat seemed to be choosing where people were going at random, barely resting long enough to be placed on the next student’s head. A few times, Harry could’ve sworn it had called out “HUFFLEPUFF” before even being set on the kid’s head.

An older witch, Professor McGonagall, called out the names from her parchment like she clearly had every year before.

"Perks, Sally-Anne" she called out.

The Ps, that meant Harry was next. What house would Jareth want him in? He hadn’t thought about it before, but he knew that Jareth would have an idea in his mind of how Hogwarts would go for Harry. Harry just hoped that reality didn’t deviate too much. He could only imagine what Jareth’s rage would be like from such a distance.

“Potter…” her face contorted as she glanced from the paper to the boy “Harry?”

Harry’s breath faltered as he made his way to the hat. The students didn’t seem to notice anything wrong (his name must’ve just been spelt funny), but teachers passed glances back and forth, skipping over some of the younger staff.

McGonagall gently set the Sorting Hat onto his like the final cherry on a Sunday, stepping back as it passed over his eyes.

There was nothing at first, and Harry wondered if the hat was even working before a whisper in his ear.

“Yes, yes. Difficult, very difficult. I’ve seen Muggles struggling with discovering themselves and even part Goblins, but you seem to be the first like you. Loyal to the Kingdom you were never meant to be a part of, oh, and a thirst to prove yourself to it. Something else is there too, something rare below the surface. Going against teachings of fear, learning amongst a perceived enemy, now that takes courage...so where to put you?”

Not Slytherin, he thought.

“Not Slytherin, eh? I guess that makes since coming from the Goblin side. Oh very well...GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat was snatched off his head. The far left table erupted into cheers as Harry made his way off the stool. He perched himself next to Ron and scanned the teacher’s table.

They all seemed to have moved their faces back toward the sorting ceremony, but aside glances told Harry that the hat was not their main focus.

The only one who seemed to be honest about their snooping was a greasy haired man with a hooked nose the Goblins would have found endearing. He kept his features stern, but Harry had seen the look in those black eyes on everyone who wandered into the Labyrinth: he didn’t know what he was seeing, but he knew he didn’t like it.

Chapter Text

Harry took another bite of the steak and kidney pie, observing the teachers and trying to interpret their conversations from a distance. Dumbledore: calm, collected, aware of the situation but not necessarily seeing any problems in it. McGonagall: tense, bracing herself and formulating former plans, questioning nearby teachers. Pale guy in the orange turban: jittery, chatty, plate still full.

“Hey, um, sir,” Harry said to Ron’s brother (he hadn’t actually caught his name) “Who is that guy in the turban?”

“That’s Quirrell. He’s the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Don’t think he’ll last long, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Nobody’s been the Defense teacher for longer than a year for years. Doesn’t stop Snape from vying for the position every year.”

Harry stared at the black haired man again. He was speaking to Quirrell with a noncommittal expression. So Snape was his name.

Harry couldn’t understand why anybody would get so confused by the staircases. They moved, yes, but they seemed to do so in anticipation of traffic: they had shifted to the Gryffindor common room around the time people were leaving the Great Hall and the upstairs became downstairs if someone needed to be tripped up to avoid something (or someone).

The Labyrinth worked much the same way. When people reached the point that most turned back, they would find the way they came from blocked. When they acquired a new ally, new challenges would appear to try and scare them off.

He and Ron entered transfiguration before the bell on the first day to find a tabby cat with spectacle markings around the eyes perched on a desk with a nameplate reading PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL in front of it.

Harry approached the cat with curious eyes. He had never actually seen one before. Sure, he had seen people dressed as cats when Jareth took him out for his birthday, but a costume was nothing like the real thing. He reached out to pet the cat’s head only to have it get up and move a few paces away.

“Sorry,” Harry said “Just got excited.” Harry laughed at himself talking to the cat. He smiled as he took in the cat’s features as it eyed him warily. Something about it seemed smarter than animals he had seen in the Labyrinth. Maybe it was those glasses markings, maybe it was how the grey fur was perfectly groomed like Professor McGonagall’s hair, maybe…

Harry’s eyes widened.

“Professor?”

The cat looked to the clock in the corner of the room before leaping from the desk, becoming the Professor before hitting the ground.

“Make your way back to the seat now, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said with a curt nod “You must be in your seat during roll to be counted as present.”

“Professor?” Harry said after the other students had left the classroom.

McGonagall flinched as she looked up from her work “Yes, Mr, Potter?”

“I was just wondering why all the teachers here are so wary of me?”

McGonagall forced a laugh “Whatever do you mean?”

“I understand that my background isn’t exactly the most...traditional, but I’d have thought that you at least would treat me, I don’t know, more normally I guess.”

She sighed “I suppose I haven’t been the most subtle about things, but can you really blame me? Look at you! You’re here! Real!”

“Yeah, but singling me out isn’t going to do much to better things. People don’t necessarily know yet, but the King is likely to release a statement soon. He just wants me to have a baseline on how people treat me before they know, that’s all.” He smiled, glad to call him ‘King’ rather than ‘Dad’ for once (sometimes you needed to use your authority).

McGonagall blinked “What on Earth are you referring to, Harry?”

Harry blinked “I saw you at the beginning of class. You’re just like my dad; you clearly have some sort of nobility in you.”

“Nobility?” McGonagall muttered as she wracked her brain around those Harry’s words.

Harry paled.

Bollocks.

He had made a mistake. He was so sure. She has paused at his name, she avoided looking at him in class, and she could become an animal just like Jareth. She had to have some sort of standing among Goblins to know he was a prince; otherwise, why would she be acting like this.

Then Hagrid’s words crept into his mind.

Y’know, once word gets out yer alive, people’ll start callin’ yeh The Boy Who Lived.

Alive.

“Harry,” she said slowly, “Why exactly do you believe I am nobility?”

Harry thought fast. Questions, not answers.

“Why else would you be so confused to see me here?”

“I knew your parents, Harry. We were all friends with Dumbedore. I am astounded you’re here because you were believed to have either died with your parents or have been stolen away by the followers of You-Know-Who.”

“Well, I’m alive. Sorry to bother you,” Harry turned to escape.

“Not so fast.”

Harry froze.

“I’m still curious as to what King you are referring to?”

Harry made his way back to McGonagall’s desk, checking over his shoulder before he spoke “The Goblin King.”

She flinched “Your father?”

Harry nodded “I don’t want word getting out about that though.”

“But why me? I mean, Professor Flitwick has Goblin ancestry. I’ve never asked how recent it was, but surely he would be a more obvious choice.”

“You can appear as a cat,” Harry muttered as he felt beads of sweat appear on his nape. Words had power among Goblins and wizards alike, and, in a situation like this, saying ‘transform’ instead of the vaguer ‘appear’ could lead to word getting out on exactly how powerful the Goblins were.

“There aren’t too many books on Goblin society, and between classes is not the time to pry about whatever illusionment charms they do or don’t possess, but I am an animagus. I am a normal wizard who has chosen to learn the ability to transform into an animal.”

Harry nodded, having gone from pale to red.

“As for how I have been treating you, I will try and do better. Professor Snape, on the other hand, will not care who you are if you are late for potions. Run along now!”

Harry’s eyes darted to the clock. He only had two minutes to find Snape’s room.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“My door is always open, Harry.”

Harry darted out the door, finding Ron had been waiting in the hall the whole time.

Chapter Text

Harry barely touched his roast chicken at lunch that day. After what had gone down with McGonagall, Harry had made no attempt to deflect the aside glances that Snape had given him. All he had really done in that class was spiral about how foolish he had been. Jareth wanted him to be an ambassador for the Goblins, but he had no idea when he would actually reveal that. Would Jareth issue a formal statement to the Daily Prophet, or was Harry meant to reveal his heritage himself?

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts at a distant squawking.

Some people in the hall perked up. Others looked around as confused as he was. A few covered their plates with nearby dishes.

“Mail’s here,” Ron elbowed Harry as he took another bite of his chicken.

Gifts began to rain down as owls darted in and out of an open window. Letters dropped near people without care while small parcels were delivered by astute owls drifting downward.

Once the storm of owls cleared, Harry went for another meager bite of chicken. Neville had gotten some crystal ball from his gran, and all it did was remind Harry of how far away the Labyrinth was.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Harry’s eyes shot up to see a white barn owl with eyes that knew more than they were letting on, tapping the metal goblet beside him with the claw on his free foot. His heart leapt.

“Dad--” wait, no! “‘ssss Owl.”

Harry went red as a few people (most notably Ron), looked up from their meal at the sight of Harry almost calling an owl ‘Dad’ before saving it.

“He doesn’t have a name,” Harry lied “We just call him Dad’s Owl.”

The crowd went back to their food, some slightly suspicious.

“Whatcha got there?” Ron said between bites.

“Oh, yeah!” Harry snatched the letter from his father’s foot. He took a moment to gaze at the royal wax seal, designed to be a stylized version of his masquerade mask with the complex Labyrinth providing a background. A normal wizard would have simply overlooked it as embellishment.

Harry broke the seal and read.

Delayed.

Harry flipped the letter.

“What kind of letter is that?” Ron snapped as he read over Harry’s shoulder “What’s delayed? How long? He didn’t even sign it! I mean, that could be from anybody!”

The Owl screeched at Ron.

“It’s not your fault,” Ron told the owl “He hasn’t even bothered to name you.”

Harry chuckled under his breath.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just, I’ve never actually gotten a letter before.”

Ron blinked “What about the Hogwarts letter?”

“Hagrid came and explained everything to me. I never actually opened my letter. Honestly this tells me everything I need to know.”

Harry looked at Jareth for permission to continue. Jareth nodded.

“Well, we discussed things extensively before I came, and, if it was anything other than what I’m thinking of, he’d have said it. If the reason for the delay wasn’t obvious, then he would tell me.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well,” Harry gave a side glance at the owl “I don’t know yet, but it would have to be big, something he believes I may have already known about.”

“Why no to-and-from then?”

“It’s his owl.” Harry said flatly.

“He could have at least taken the time to ask how you were doing?”

Harry gazed at the owl “I suspect he’ll check up on me soon.”

Jareth gave a curt nod then turned to fly off. He knew his father was busy, but that didn’t make watching him leave any easier.

Ron went for the copy of The Daily Prophet that a large grey owl had dropped for him and undid the twine that held it.

Harry’s eyes widened at the front page as he realized the cause of the delay.

Gringotts Robbed!

Believed to be the work of dark witches or wizards unknown, Gringotts goblins, while acknowledging the breach, insist that nothing was taken. The vault in question, number 713, had in fact been emptied earlier that same day.

Harry gulped. He knew that Hagrid was the one who emptied that vault. Saw it with his own eyes. Gringotts was supposed to be one of the safest places on the planet; a robbery was unthinkable and had to have resulted in some immense scrutiny for the Goblins. Jareth coming out and saying that he is sending the Goblin Prince to Hogwarts would come off as him trying to distract from the problem. He would be a band-aid fix instead of a liaison.

He didn’t know what was in vault 713, but he had a sinking feeling that he would be hearing about it again.

Madam Hooch seemed like a decent woman. A bit stern, but one had to be when they were coaching.

“Stick out your right hand and say ‘Up.’” said Madam Hooch, skipping questions like ‘Who here has ridden before?’ and ‘Is anyone here left handed?’

Harry stuck out his hand nervously.

“Up!”

The broom complied.

Harry beamed as he turned to Ron to celebrate, only to find himself just in time to catch Ron getting smacked in the face by the handle of his own broom.

“Now,” Madam Hooch restarted “Once you got ahold of your brooms, I want you to mount it. When I blow my whistle, I want you all to kick off the ground, hover for a moment, lean forward, and touch back down. On my whistle, 3… 2…”

The shrill whistle broke the air.

The first broom off the ground was a plumper blond kid Harry recognized from sorting. Neville, if he remembered right, seemed confused more than awed at his situation. Once he reached about eight feet, the broom rejected his form and twisted itself sideways to escape.

Neville had hit the ground faster than he had risen from it.

“Everyone, out of the way!” Madam Hooch cried as she made her way toward Neville, pulling Neville’s hand away from his right arm to inspect it.

“Oh my,” she muttered “A broken wrist. Up now!”--she helped Neville to his feet-- “Better get you to Madam Pomfrey.” she turned her attention to the other students “Everyone's to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. Understand? If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they can say, Quidditch.”

The moment Hooch and Neville were out of sight, Harry heard a voice from behind.

“Did you see his face? Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, he'd have remembered to fall on his fat arse.”

Harry gaped at how carelessly the pale blond boy was handling the crystal ball.

“Give it here!”

The kid snapped his head at Harry “Do I know you?”

“Harry Potter,” he said flatly “Now give it here, it doesn’t belong to you.”

“Potter…” Draco trailed off “I thought all the Potters had died out during the last Wizarding War.”

“Well, they must’ve missed one.”

Draco squinted as he looked over Harry’s shoulder, “It seems someone has been associating with filth.”

Harry glanced back to see Ron looking as disgusted with the kid as he was.

“Seems someone has already started making friends with the wrong sort,” he extended his hand “But it’s not too late to learn a thing or two, I can help you there.”

Harry stared at the outstretched hand and remembered what Goblins were taught when they were young.

Never shake hands with a wizard, especially if it could be construed as a deal.

“I think I can figure out who the right wizards are myself.”

Draco scowled before tossing the ball from one hand to another, inspecting it briefly before giving a sly smile and saying “Then I guess I best leave this somewhere for Longbottom to find.” Draco showed off his broom skills by doing a smooth circle around the students before rising up and yelling “How ‘bout on the roof?”

Harry’s face went red as he watched Draco taunt him by flying a good twenty feet in the air.

“What’s the matter, Potter, a bit beyond your reach?”

Harry grabbed his broom. Screw being a well behaved kid for the sake of the Goblins. The teacher wasn’t around and the students didn’t know who he was yet. He wouldn’t let Neville be treated like those foot tall Goblin servants that Jareth liked to kick.

Harry hopped on his broom, barely hearing Hermione’s protests as he took off toward Draco with similar grace.

“Give it here, Malfoy, or I’ll knock you off your broom!”

Harry would have been shocked by his own language had he not been so focused on getting the crystal ball back.

“Have it your way then.” Draco sneered before throwing the ball with all his might.

Harry didn’t hesitate to go after it, forgetting for a moment that it wasn’t one of his father’s exploding or Cleaner summoning orbs. He had to get it. He couldn’t let it break.

He caught it a moment before it smashed through a window and tossed it to his left hand. All he would have to do is guide himself back down.

His classmates crowded around him. The houses blurred together as everyone cheered him on and patted him on the back. He had never felt that kind of acceptance before. Sure, a few Slytherins were off to the side with Draco, but that didn’t matter. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Harry Potter!”

The crowd cleared. Harry forced himself to turn to the voice, but he did not receive the angered visage of McGonagall he was expecting. McGonagall kept her lips tight, but not in the repressing-a-yell way, no, she did it more like she was keeping an exciting new secret in. He managed to look her in the eyes and found her half moon spectacles unable to shield the pride in her eyes.

“Come with me.”

He was not in trouble, but he had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

Chapter Text

“Seeker?” said Ron as they walked through the corridors of Hogwarts “But first years never make their house teams! You must be the youngest Quidditch player in—”

“A century, according to McGonagall,” Harry said calmly. He was more excited than he sounded, and Quidditch seemed like an amazing game, but he also had no experience riding a broom. He didn’t even own a broom. And what would his father say when he discovered what a difficult and dangerous game he was playing?

“But I’ve never even played Quidditch. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t” Hermione said in her usual matter of fact tone “It’s in your blood.”

Harry blinked. He couldn’t imagine Jareth on a broom (or even needing a broom with his owl form).

Hermione signaled Harry and Ron aside to a display case filled with trophies. Harry scanned the bronze plaques before reading the one Hermione pointed at.

James Potter

Seeker

“Woah, Harry, you never told me your father was a seeker, too!” Ron elbowed Harry, but Harry barely noticed it.

“I don’t even know if that’s my father. It could be anyone with the last name Potter.”

“Then why would his photo look so much like you?” Hermione’s finger moved to a framed photograph to the side. In it stood seven teens in Quidditch uniforms that Harry could tell were bright red despite being in black and white, all elbowing each other gladly and grinning ear to ear as the photo was taken. One young man stood out amongst the rest. He was pale with black hair, tossing a snitch in the air and letting it hover before catching it with the other hand.

He was the spitting image of Harry.

“He is, isn’t he,” Ron said as he glanced between the photo and Harry “I mean, your hair is longer of course, Harry, but you two could be brothers if I saw you on the street.”

Harry remained silent. He was never actually given the names of his parents by Jareth. He honestly hadn’t thought much about what they were like in the brief period he had known Jareth wasn’t his true father.

I may not be your sire, but I am your father.

His words rang true to Harry. He had a father. He wasn’t perfect, prone to deceptions and the occasional rage, but he had done his duty and taken him in despite having no obligation to do so, raising him as his son and heir.

But the man in the photo still smiled at him.

Harry ran his fingers through his lengthy hair. He had grown it out to look like his father, but, if it was short, he would still look like a father.

“Maybe it’s best if we move on,” Hermione said as she guided Harry away from the display case.

Harry absently nodded. He wanted to stay, but he understood that it was for the best. Some things were too much to take in all at once.

The trip back to Gryffindor Tower seemed longer than it normally was.

“I thought you were muggleborn?” Ron said as the trio made their way to Gryffindor Tower.

“Well, not quite.” Harry said awkwardly, “I was sort of adopted.”

“Then what are your parents like?” Hermione asked, ever curious.

“My dad, uh,” Harry thought long and hard. He didn’t want to lie to Ron and Hermione, especially since they were turning out to be pretty good friends. He searched his brain for the best half-truth to tide them over “Works for the Goblin Liaison Office. He can tell you anything you need to know about Goblins.”

“That must be a rough job, working with Goblins all day,” Ron said offhand “My brother Bill works as a curse breaker for Gringotts. He’s been working there almost three years and he still gets slack from the Goblins behind his back.”

“They can be like that, but the Gringotts Goblins are completely different. Most of them are in it for the money and hate wizards more than wizards hate Goblins.”

“Well that makes no sense,” Hermione butted in “If Goblins and Wizards don’t trust each other, then why would the largest bank in Britain be run by Goblins?”

“It's because Goblins have respect for other people’s stuff. Stealing something is considered one of the most insulting things you can do to a person, even if it’s only a single jewel,” Harry thought back to the Labyrinth. He knew generations of Goblins history and could name almost every object stolen by the wizards that was never returned. Did wizards even know what they were doing? Was it a strategic, critical blow on Goblin morale? Or were they simply grabbing at shiny things without thinking of consequence?

The trio stepped onto the staircase.

“What about your mum?” Ron asked as he ascended the stairs.

“I don’t—”

The staircase began to rock. Harry’s heart jumped. He had been so focused in the conversation that he hadn’t even considered that the staircases would change.

“Let’s go this way,” Harry tapped Ron and moved up the stairs. He knew he needed to get off before it decided it wanted to become a down staircase.

“Before it moves again,” Ron yelled as the trio made their way into the previously unnoticed corridor.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Hermione nagged as the three made their way down the dark corridor.

“Don’t be so goody-goody,” Ron said.

“Did any of you even pay attention to Dumbledore’s opening speech? The third floor is off limits to anyone who doesn’t wish to die a most painful death.”

“Meow!”

The trio turned to find a brown Maine Coon with blood red eyes.

“It’s Filch’s cat!” cried Ron.

“Run!” added Harry.

They made their way down the darkened corridor. The first door they found they grabbed to open. It didn’t budge. Hermione pulled out her wand and said a firm Alohomora before trying again and swinging it open.

The trio stood still as they listened to Filch pass.

“Anyone here, my sweet.”

“Meow.”

“Come one.”

They waited until they could no longer hear the echoing footsteps cascading across the hall to breathe their sighs of relief.

Out of the corner of Harry’s eye, he sees why the door was locked.

In the center of the room was a great, three headed Pitbull with fur the same shade as the wooden floor, slumbering soundly with his legs sprawled.

It didn’t scare Harry until it began to stir.

The trio screamed, only speeding up his revival. The trio bolt out the door, slipping out mere moments before the creature is at their ankles and fighting to close it against the thrusts of his bites. The moment it is closed, they run for the stairs. So what if Filch caught then? Their priority right now was survival.

“What do they think they’re doing? Keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” Ron said once they made it to the stairs.

“You don’t use your eyes, do you? Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“A trap door,” Harry muttered. He had grown up learning to look for them in the Labyrinth. It became a handy skill when one was trying to avoid the Oubliette.

“Precisely,” Hermione grinned at Harry “Which means it wasn’t there by accident. It’s guarding something.”

“Guarding something?” Harry puzzled. He had never known for a trap door to lead to anything but trouble.

“That’s right. Now, if you two don’t mind, I’m going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed… or worse, expelled!”

Harry nodded as she turned and left, finding the staircase now lead to a platform one could follow to the portrait of the fat lady. Perhaps staying on the staircase would have been a better idea.

“She needs to sort out her priorities.”

Harry turned to Ron. Perhaps he was also right.

Chapter Text

Today is Harry’s birthday.

Call him stubborn, but that day that Hagrid came into his house was not his birthday. Sure, he had never really gotten a cake or gifts before, but he would get to go to the Aboveground and trick or treat for chocolates and toffees.

Harry took in how the candles on the ceiling had become grinning jack-o-lanterns and nearly spat out his pumpkin juice when Nearly Headless Nick popped up through the table to make an appearance before his Death Day party.

He may not be getting any gifts, but this was shaping up to be the best birthday he had ever had. For one thing, he had friends.

A thought crept into his mind.

“Hey, Ron, where’s Hermione?”

“Parvati Patil said that she wouldn't come out of the girl's bathroom. She said that she'd been in there all afternoon...crying.” Ron took another bite of his carrot cake.

Harry has known Hermione was on the brink after charms, but he hadn’t been paying much attention. He was focusing on Flitwick’s lesson and, as per usual, trying not to think about home. It was difficult despite the utter lack of Goblin artifacts in his room, but he should have been paying attention.

“TROLL!”

The Great Hall snapped their heads to the center aisle to find Professor Quirrell, usually so soft spoken with his stutter, screaming in a perfectly clear voice as he bolted in the room.

“IN THE DUNGEON! T-TROOLLL IN THE DUNGEON!”

Silence.

“Thought you ought to know.”

Quirrell fainted, as did a few other students as the Great Hall erupted into pandemonium.

Harry stayed completely quiet. What was so bad about a troll? They were large and fuzzy and, sure, they were a little slow, but they had big hearts and would help build bridges and clear rocks from soil so new farmland could be tilled.

“SILLLLLEEENNNNCEEEEE!” a voice cut through the chaos. The room quiets as it always does when quiet people speak up “Everyone will please, not panic. Now, Prefects will lead their houses back to the dormitories. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons.”

Percy rose and began herding the Gryffendors away like cats. He chimed useless utterances like “Keep up please,” “Stay alert,” and “Right this way.”

Percy didn’t even notice that he was missing a duckling in his flock of Gryffendors. He was allowed to ignore the whispers of the students as they speculated how a troll had gotten in--he had a task to accomplish, after all--however, he should have noticed two stragglers slipping away, especially since one was his brother.

Harry wasn’t afraid as he rushed down the corridor to the girls bathroom to tell Hermione. The trolls were always nicer to him than the Goblins, he would just talk with it, ask it how it had gotten here, and send Hedwig to fetch a Goblin that could return him to the Labyrinth. The only thing he had to worry about, from his point of view, was the potential for other girls to be in there and misinterpret what he and Ron were doing.

Ron put his hand on Harry’s chest so suddenly that Harry was nearly clotheslined. The grunts appeared before the stretched shadow, and Harry’s gut fell as he realized that this was like no troll he had ever met in the Labyrinth.

“I think the troll's left the dungeon!” Ron said before tugging Harry into a nearby doorway. They barely peaked their heads out enough to see the creature as it walked by.

It was humongous--impractically so--and hobbled a bit as it thunked its way through the halls of Hogwarts like it didn’t quite know how its limbs worked. It cried out, frightened and confused. The walls of Hogwarts shuttered for a moment before stopping, but a few pebbles came up the hallway to its aid. The creature reached out to one of the stones but found that the crude club it held kept hitting the ground. It shook it

Harry fought back tears. Something had been done to this Troll. He had seen Goblin lowlife poking tied up trolls for sadistic pleasure, and indeed he could see patches in it’s chocolate brown fur that indicated this had happened to it as well, but nothing had ever come as far as this.

The creature reached out to one of the stones but found that the crude club it held kept hitting the ground. It shook it hard and wildly.

“The club’s stuck to its palm,” Harry whispered to Ron, “It’s just scared.”

“It’s scared?” Ron gasped.

“Trolls only attack if provoked. This guy is twice the size of the trolls in the Labyrinth, but I believe the same rules apply. We just need to calm it down and wait for the teachers.”

Ron looked at him like he had sprouted a second head “You’re mental.”

“It’s going into the Girl's Bathroom!” Harry exclaimed, completely ignoring his friend as he followed the Troll.

The boys entered the bathroom to find the Troll standing over a terror-stricken Hermione, still puffy-eyed from her time crying.

The Troll let out a low groan, sympathetic groan at the sight of the young girl’s features. He knew what it was like to cry. He reached out for Hermione, forgetting the club was still fused to his hand and turning the stalls into splinters, narrowly missing Hermione.

“Help!” Hermione cried out as she ducked and covered.

The Troll cried out again. Harry ran right up to it and yelled at the top of his lungs:

“Harry friend!”

The Troll looked down at Harry before scanning his own, furry body. Up close, Harry realized he barely went to the creature’s knees. “Hairrrry?”

Harry pointed at himself “Harry friend.”

“Oooohh!” The Troll tilted it’s head up in clarity before pointing at Harry “Harrrrrry.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. His heart raced in his chest as he tried his hand at diplomacy. He pointed at Ron, arm positioned so that he could throw the splinter he was holding like a baseball should the need arise “Ron friend.”

“Rooooooooon.”

Ron flinched. His name sounded like a roar coming from the Troll’s mouth.

The Troll began to smile “Frrrrieeeeend!”

“Yes!” Harry hollered up “And Hermione friend.”--Harry pointed toward where Hermione was to discover she was now sheltering under the sinks with curious eyes-- “We’re all here to help you!”

The Troll lifted it’s club straight out. The boys flinched.

“Bruna stuck!”

“Well, uh, Bruna,” Ron chimed in with a stutter “We can have a teacher come and help that off. Why don’t you relax a bit while we wait?”

The thud of Bruna sitting nearly knocked Ron and Harry off their feet.

“Bruna stuck big,” she whined.

“Do you know who did this to you?” Hermione said, emerging from under the sink.

Bruna groaned as she put her free hand on the back of her head “Bad man.”

“Oh!”--all turn to see McGonagall standing in the gaping whole in the wall that once housed a door-- “Oh, my goodness. Is that? How? E-Explain yourselves, all of you!”

“See, help is here!” Hermione said to Bruna “McGonagall! I was in the bathroom and came out to find Bruna here.”

“It was wicked!” Ron cut off “Harry just ran straight up to her and befriended her. I didn’t even know Trolls understood English.”

“She was just confused. If Harry and Ron hadn't come and calmed her down...I'd probably be dead.”

McGonagall gaped “Is this true, Harry?”

Harry gulped and nodded. “She needs help. The club is stuck to her palm and some kind of engorgement charm was done on her. She’s twice the size on any troll I’ve ever seen.”

“I believe that Pomfrey will be able to fix that once she finishes with Quirrell.”--her head drifted left over her shoulder-- “However, I believe the sticking charm may be fixable by you Flitwick.”

Harry suddenly became aware of Snape and Flitwick behind her. Snape had been wounded, by what, Harry didn’t know.

Flitwick approached the troll’s club slowly and flicked the club out of it with his wand. Bruna moaned and stretched her free fingers.

“Well, then,” McGonagall straightened up. “If that is all, for a clear show of amity, I believe that five points each are in order.”--she looked over her shoulder at Flitwick and received a nod--”But, for future reference, boys, you would do best to avoid the girls bathroom.”

Harry sat by the window in the boy’s dormitory, gently stroking Hedwig. Though he couldn’t be so sure about the teacher’s lounge, the story stayed quiet among the students. After all that, Harry was thankful to avoid an entourage of people demanding every detail, unaware that he couldn’t reveal how he knew running up to Bruna and declaring himself a friend would work.

Hedwig cooed and leaned into his hand. A Goblin had arrived to return Bruna to the Labyrinth where she belonged. It was a wonderful end to his birthday.

He felt Ron in the room before he actually spoke.

“Hey, Harry?” Ron said in a low voice, careful not to wake up his dorm mates.

“Yeah, Ron?”

“I was wondering--”

“How I knew it would work?”

“No, well, that too, but I was wondering what the Labyrinth was?”

Harry froze halfway through one of his pets, annoying Hedwig to no end.

“Before we ran after the troll, you said ‘This guy is twice the size of the trolls in the Labyrinth.’ Well, Bruna turned out to be a girl, but I was wondering what the Labyrinth was?”

Harry took a deep breath. Looking back, he could remember the slipup, even if he hadn’t realized he had done it at the time.

“It’s getting late, Ron, how’s about I tell you later?”

Ron nodded. It must’ve been midnight by now, not even Harry’s birthday anymore. “I guess you’re right. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight.”

Harry climbed down from the windowsill and crawled into bed. He knew he would have to tell Ron eventually, but eventually wasn’t tonight.

Chapter Text

Harry had managed to slip out of the boys dormitory before Ron awoke the next morning and slip his way into the Great Hall. He had hoped that Ron had forgotten all about his question about the Labyrinth. If he hadn’t, then Harry could tell him he would do it after Potions and figure out something to tell him after completing Snape’s inevitable mound of homework.

“Someone’s looking glum.”

Harry shot toward his right to find Ron had taken a seat next to him without him even noticing.

“Here, eat some toast.” Ron reached for the mound of toasts and dropped it atop Harry’s untouched scrambled eggs.

“I’m not hungry, honestly.”

“Are you nervous about the match this afternoon, or—”

“The match,” Harry cut off before Ron could speculate any further. “I mean, I’m the youngest Seeker in a century. That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Well, if last night taught me anything, you can handle pressure. Just don’t go trying to befriend the other team,” Ron laughed at himself. ''Something tells me that Slytherins wouldn’t take to you yelling ‘Harry friend’ at them as well as Bruna did.”

Harry laughed nervously along with him. Ron was his best friend, but that didn’t stop the fact that he was born and raised a wizard. Tidbits in their conversations had told Harry that Ron’s family wasn’t as traditional as most wizarding families, but Ron had still shown distaste when Harry told him that his father worked at the Goblin Liaison Office. If things were that bad, how would he react to his father being an outright Goblin.

“Don’t worry about that. You’re a natural on a broom. Which model will you be riding on? A cleansweep? A hummingbird?”

“I’m, uh, using one of the ones from the broomshed.”

Ron paled “You’re using a school broom against Slytherin?”

Harry nodded.

There was no opportunity for an awkward silence to form. In the distance, the flapping of wings began. Harry had been at Hogwarts long enough to know that no owls came this early. He and Ron gazed up at the window and saw two owls, one plain white and the other with grey specs that could not be seen from the ground, carrying a long, thin package between them, came into view.

Harry caught the package that seemed to only weigh a few pounds and stared at the two owls. They were his owls, but only one was a pet.

“Thank you,” Harry murmured.

Jareth nodded. Hedwig cooed.

Harry carefully tore at the paper. A sleek mahogany handle stretched across the table to a bundle of perfect twigs. It was hands down the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“It’s a Nimbus 2000,” Ron said as he pointed at the gold lettering by the tail “It’s the best broom on the market.”

Harry smiled at his dad. He may have been an owl at the moment, but Harry could swear that he saw him grinning proudly despite the beak.

“Read the note.”

Harry scanned the table and found the discarded letter. He broke the wax seal and flinched at the presence of words on the paper. He began to read.

Dear Harry,

Harry froze and stared at his father. “I’m in trouble.”

“What?” Ron said, looking up from reading over Harry’s shoulder.

“It starts out ‘Dear Harry.’ My dad is never that formal with me in letters. He must’ve found out about the troll and now I’m in trouble.”

Jareth let out a loud screech.

Harry went red “So I’m not in trouble?”

The owl nodded.

“Then why the letter?”

Jareth stared noncommittal, and Harry went back to the letter.

Dear Harry,

I do so regret that I missed your birthday, but I heard that you managed to have a good time without me. Do accept this gift.

Sincerely,

Your father

P.S. I do so hope this lengthy letter is up to your friend’s standards.

Ron blushed “Did you tell your dad that I thought his letters were too short.”

Harry opened his mouth, hesitated, and said “Yes.”

Ron shifted “It’s okay. I’ve put you and Hermione in my letters to home, too.” A beat. “That reminds me, Harry, I would like to get your address if I could so that I can send you letters when we’re on break.”

Harry began to sweat. His father was right there. “Just write my name on them and send them to Gringotts. They can forward them to me there.”

Ron blinked “The bank?”

“Yes.”—Harry gave a microscopic glance at his father— “My house is rather hard to access, but we have an agreement in place.”

“Okay, then,” Ron said askance “I guess we better head to Snape’s classroom and get the lesson over with. Then we can go and take that Nimbus out for a spin.”

Harry gave a nod to his dad and another to the ever patient Hedwig, waiting until both left view until he set off for Potions.

Harry kept a white knuckle grip on his Nimbus as he made his way to the Quidditch pitch with the Gryffindor house team.

“Scared, Harry?” Oliver Wood asked in a steady, down to earth way.

“A little.”

Oliver gave a reassuring smile “That's all right. I felt the same way before my first game.”

“What happened?” Harry asked. An anecdote or two could help him out whether it ended in victory or defeat.

“Er, I don't really remember. I took a bludger to the head 2 minutes in. Woke up in the hospital a week later.”

Harry managed to tighten his grip on his broomhandle.

The team mounted their brooms to launch out the opening doors. The sound of Lee Jordan on the megaphone barely cut through the cheers of the spectators.

“Hello, and welcome to Hogwarts' first Quidditch game of the season! Today's game Slytherin versus Gryffindor!”

The Gryffindor team matched the half circle already created by the Slytherin team.

Harry’s heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear Madam Hooch address the teams “Now, I want a nice clean game...from all of you.”

Clean game, yes, that made sense. Harry’s mind was racing. His only job was to get the Snitch when it was released, but his mind was so focused on going through every scenario that he didn’t even see which direction the Snitch had gone.

And he still had to figure out what to tell Ron about the Labyrinth.

He pushed that from his mind.

The game began and Harry set off in the same direction as the Slytherin seeker. He looked like he had some idea of what to do. Harry scanned the skies. Gryffindor had already scored without him realizing.The red crowd cheered.

Harry could swear that he heard Ron among them.

That didn’t matter right now, he needed to focus. He began to circle the field in search of the snitch. His hands were turning purple from his grip on the broomhandle. Maybe if he won, Ron would forget about the whole thing.

He hovered midair. He was failing at two things at once. Why was it so hard to keep a secret inside when there wasn’t even someone nearby to tell? Why couldn’t he just distract himself?

Then he saw it. Circling over the raised boxes with majestic wings. The exact thing he needed:

His father.

He was there. He had come to watch. Harry could have forgotten about the game entirely as he landed on the commentator’s booth and gave a stare that carried across the field.

His grip on his broom yielded. He knew what to tell Ron.

Harry flew upward with renewed vigor.

And then he reversed.

Harry may have only had the broom for a day, but he knew that that wasn’t what brooms were meant to do when you pulled up. Every tilt Harry gave to counter the force of his bucking broom made things worse. He gripped his broom for dear life as it did a tailspin.

Harry didn’t even notice when the commentator’s booth caught fire. All he knew is that his broom was suddenly normal, and the Slytherin seeker had spotted the Snitch.

Harry soared over to fly alongside the seeker. Harry received a knock on his side by the student that barely registered after his previous ordeal. He returned the gesture and they began pounding into each other like bumper cars.

The Snitch did a dive and the seekers followed. Harry could see it. Focused, he reached out his hand and blocked out the world, the stadium, the seeker that had abandoned his freefall out of self preservation.

Harry pulled up at the last moment and flew mere feet above the ground. Harry reached out for the Snitch. It was mere feet away. Harry reached from the seated position. Then from his knees. Then from his feet. He was standing and didn’t even realize it!

Harry was flung forward and sent toppling, broom overheard.

The crowd winced and felt blood come from a scrape on his cheek. He rose to his feet with a dizzying speed and felt it.

Harry pursed his lips, wondering whether or not it counted but unwilling to let it escape. The Snitch hit his throat and he gagged, grabbing before it’s wet wings recovered.

Cheers ripped through the crowd and this time Harry heard them. He held up the Snitch for the world to see and gave it a kiss before holding it toward his Dad.

Jareth flapped his wings in reply.

Ron was waiting for Harry right outside the locker room when he was finished.

“That was amazing, Harry. One of the greatest games I’ve ever seen!” He began “There’s a crowd of people waiting for you in the common room. Some of our class wanted to meet you here, but McGonagall sent them all away. Only let me stay because Fred and George are my brothers.”

“That’s nice, Ron. I know that now might not be the best time, but I was thinking about it so hard that it almost lost us the game.”

Ron’s smile wavered “What is it?”

“Last night you asked me what the Labyrinth was. I’ve been avoiding telling you and that’s a very cowardly thing to do. Well here it is: the Labyrinth is the name of my hometown, where I live with my father…” Harry swallowed. “A Goblin.”

Ron’s eyes widened “Is that where you learned that broom surfing move?”

Harry chuckled “No, Ron, that’s all me.”

“Wow,” Ron gasped (though Harry wasn’t sure how much of it was from the natural high of victory). “Could I visit you there sometime? Or are outsiders allowed?”

Harry shook his head “I doubt they would be. I doubt whether Flitwick has even been there.”

Ron’s face fell.

“But I can take you back to the common room. After all, we are the victors, and we deserve butterbeer!”

Ron nodded, slipping back into his play by play of the rest of the game, giving the fire in the commentator’s booth the same amount of emphasis as a pass between two Gryffendors. Harry just smiled and nodded through it all. The reality of what Harry had told him would hit later in the week when the hype calmed down, but for now, Harry would enjoy this feeling.

Chapter Text

“There you are, Harry,” Hermione said as she situated herself down next to him at breakfast the next morning. It was Saturday and, after the celebratory rave of the previous evening, it was well past ten before Harry managed to roll out of bed.

“Hello, Hermione, come to congratulate me on the win?”

She rolled her eyes “I’m here about something more important than Quidditch.”

Harry sighed “Could you at least wait until after breakfast to badger me out the essay for Snape?”

“Fine!” Hermione scoffed “If you’re going to be like that, I just won’t tell you about what Snape was doing during the match!”

Harry paled “Did he,” he leaned in close to Hermione “Did he light the booth on fire?”

“No, that was me,” she said offhand “Snape was jinxing your broom.”

“But why would he do that? From what I hear, the Slytherin team has been flattening the competition the past decade.”

“You’re right,” Hermione said as she pointed “Before you. I suspect he get your arm broken or something to take Gryffindor out of the running. I wouldn’t put it past him seeing as he had ties to You-Know-Who.”

Harry choked on his toast.

“Apparently it’s common knowledge amongst the students here.”

“It’s not that,”—Harry scanned the room to ensure that nobody was near enough to hear— “My father told me before I left that my parents were killed by Voldemort.”

Hermione flinched at the name.

“It’s true; my dad stole me away before Voldemort could take me out, too. During the welcome feast, Snape kept staring at me. He must’ve known who I was like the other teachers.”

“Harry, if what you’re suggesting is true, then we need to go directly to Dumbledore before he makes another attempt on your life.”

“No,” Harry said “I need to see my dad.”

Harry watched as Hedwig flew off into the distance. She honestly didn’t know if she knew how to get to the Underground, but the grey one that sent his acceptance letter had known, so it had to be possible.

“I still believe we should tell someone,” Hermione snapped at Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes before turning back to her and acting like he hadn’t heard her over the squawks of the Owlery.

“Hm?”

“I’m serious, Harry. This could be life or death!”

“I know that but…” he trailed off, trying to find the best words “I wasn’t exactly raised to trust wizards.”

Hermione’s eyes widened “But you are a wizard?”

“I know that, now, but… tell me how you found out you were a witch?”

“Professor McGonagall came to my house and explained it to my parents. They were ecstatic and thought I would do well at Hogwarts.”

“Ron already knows this—and I guess everyone will if my dad ever decides to tell people—so there’s no harm in you knowing a little early.” Harry went quiet. This was not what he was expecting to do today. “But I wasn’t raised by Muggles or wizards. I was raised by Goblins.”

“So that’s why your father works for the Goblin Liaison Office. I just assumed he was a wizard.”

“You were meant to.”

“This is wonderful, Harry,” Hermione lit up. “I’ve been trying to find books in the library on Goblins as they are such an integral part of wizard society since they control most of the banks, but they all seem to fall short or ramble on about wars fought against them. Tell me, how do the Goblins go about setting exchange rates if they can’t go into the Muggle world to research the value of their money?”

“Uh…”

“Or are you not allowed to tell people?”

“I, uh,” He glazed out the window in search of a distraction “I think my dad sent his reply.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry, there’s no way he could have even received it yet, let alone…” she drifted off as a bubble larger than a baseball drifted into view. She flinched when Harry suddenly grabbed the bubble, but it didn’t pop. Instead, it hardened into a crystal ball.

“But, that’s a crystal ball.” Hermione said as she gazed at but not into the sphere.

“Yes,” Harry said as he began to roll the crystal between his hands and up his arms from muscle memory “But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show me…” he held it on his fingertips in front of him. He watched as symbols began to formulate themselves from the mist within.

Gryffindor Common Room, 2 a.m.

“A bit underwhelming,” Hermione said as she peered into the crystal “I doubt your father will be able to even enter the common room since he doesn't have the password.”

“If there’s one thing I know about my father,” Harry said as he pocketed the crystal “It’s that he’s good at getting what he wants.”

Harry watched the clock of the Gryffindor Common Room tick it’s way past the one and drift close to the two. In his head, he knew it was late, but he was too anxious to feel tired.

A little bird popped out and cuckooed twice. It was time.

Harry made his way over to the window to watch for his father. What would happen if Jareth thought there really was someone out to get him at Hogwarts? Would he send guards or would Harry just be sent back to the Labyrinth?

“Harry.”

Harry shot around to the common room. It was dark, the only light coming from the lit fireplace, and Harry searched for his father’s human form to no avail.

“Dad?”

“Come to the fire, Harry.”

Harry drew closer to the flame until he was practically on the hearth. He looked closely and saw nothing, felt nothing. The fire seemed to be the same temperature as the air around him.

Suddenly, the fire turned a bright blew and blazed upward so it barely fit in the niche anymore. Twisting and twirling around, the wisps of the flame shaped themselves into his father from the shoulders up, keeping wild tendrils dancing on his head to form his hair.

“Your letter said you were in danger?” Jareth said, getting straight to the point.

“Hermione told me that Professor Snape was jinxing my broom, but it may be something more sinister—”

“Because he was a Death Eater.” Jareth finished “I researched all of your teachers before allowing you to go to Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded.

Jareth turned and reached for something Harry couldn’t see “Catch.”

A tennis ball sized object flew out of the fire and into Harry’s hand. He gazed at the fruit.

“A peach?”

“If things become dire, take a bite. It can get you home from anywhere in either world and will rot behind you so no one can follow.”

Harry examined the flawless peach. There was no doubt in his mind that it would remain that way until activated, but biting into spoiled fruit was the least of Harry’s concerns should he actually need to use it. “What if Ron or Hermione or someone else gets wrapped up in this?”

Jareth’s face became somber in the same way it did when he had to tell Harry he was a wizard. “You get yourself out first. We can send someone to spirit away anyone else after you get back.”

Harry nodded, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. “That reminds me,”—He pulled the crystal ball from his pocket— “I best be giving this back.”

Jareth shook his head “It is yours now, Harry. Consider it a congratulations for winning the quidditch match.”

Harry stared down at the crystal. Jareth has never given him one of his own.

“Hold it on your fingertips like I do.”

Harry balanced the orb like his father said.

“Now think away.”

Harry did so and the orb vanished.

“Very good. Seems that school is actually helping you control your magic. To bring it back, just think, return.”

“Return,” Harry said to himself as he repeated the gesture. The orb returned and rolled off his fingers so fast Harry barely had time to catch it. He stared in awe at the crystal as it reflected the blues of Jareth’s fire. His heart fluttered at the thrill of being taught one of his father’s iconic tricks.

“Yes, yes, a simple trick. None of that Latin nonsense.” Jareth smirked (though Harry knew that smile meant he was proud of him) “It won’t be able to burst into flames or hold an entire ballroom, but a few gentle strokes will make it sing like a music box.”

Harry couldn’t stop smiling as he held it in his hand, giving it a stroke like it was a small mouse. Little tings came from it as a beautiful girl in a silver-white ball gown emerged from the mist and spun with a dreamy look in her eyes. He remembered the song as the love song that Jareth had turned into a lullaby for him and sung the song in his head along with the melody.

There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes A kind of pale jewel

Open and closed Within your eyes

I'll place the sky

Within your eyes

Harry tried not to cry. He thought the Nimbus was the best gift he could have ever received but he couldn’t even fathom anything that could rival the singing orb in his hand. “Thank you, Dad. I love you.”

Jareth smiled “I love you, too, Harry. You best be getting to bed.”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

Jareth gave a nod, its own kind of goodnight, and fell back into the flames. The fire returned to its usual reds and oranges. Despite this, Harry would still glance at the alcove for hints of his father checking in as he laid himself down on the couch, stroking the orb so that the song played on loop. He drifted off to sleep at the familiar sound, realizing how truly homesick he had been.

Chapter Text

“Nonsense!” Hagrid explained as he walked along the path to his hut with the trio “Why would Snape put a curse on Harry’s broom?”

“My dad says that he might be after me, finish what the Dark Lord started.”

“Well, I can understand why yer dad would be mistrustin’ o’ wizards,” Hargrid said with a look that made it clear that he believed himself to be the only other party aware of Harry’s Goblin pride “But there are all sorts of people and spells and creatures guarding Hogwarts.”

“Like a three-headed dog,” grumbled Ron.

Hagrid looked askance “Who told you ‘bout Fluffy?”

“Fluffy?” Ron gasped.

“That thing has a name?” Hermione added.

“Well, of course he's got a name!” Hagrid snapped, slightly offended “He's mine. I bought him off an Irish feller I met down at the pub last year. But don’ you go worrying abou’ him. He’s just guarding something or Dumbledore and Flamel.”—Hagrid leaned in a bit and lowered his voice— “If you kids ever get caught up with him, just play him a bit o’ music an’ he’ll calm right down.”

“What’s it guarding?” Harry asked. He knew that the guards in the Labyrinth were often at their posts for superficial reasons while real valuables were tucked away or kept on one’s person. The more blatant the guard was, the more likely someone would know where something was.

“Don’ know. Just picked it up fer him.”

Harry remembered their excursion to Vault 713 but kept it to himself.

“You’ll have to write me from home over the break,” said Ron as he bit the head off a chocolate frog. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle two weeks here all alone.”

“Don’t you have a family?” said Harry as he absently read his potions textbook. “Not to be rude or anything.”

“It’s all okay,” Ron said “Me Mum and Dad are visiting my older brother Charlie in Romania. He works with dragons there. I figured there was no point in going home if my parents weren’t there.”

“I don’t plan on leaving either,” Harry said casually.

“Don’t you miss your dad?” Ron asked “Don’t mean to be rude, but you haven’t seen him in four months.”

Harry decided it was easier to not lie and say he had been seeing his dad almost weekly for months in the form of an owl and had a meaningful conversation with him in the fireplace a few weeks ago and instead opted for a subtle subject change. “I’ve never actually celebrated Christmas before... or seen snow for that matter.”

Ron gaped “No Christmas? That’s rubbish! Why would anyone want to live in Labyrinth?”

“It’s not much of a Goblin holiday. They aren’t that big on good will toward man because most haven’t much received any. We just choose to celebrate different holidays; there’s a huge party in the street every year to commemorate the day my—” Harry stopped himself “My king took the throne.”

“Your king? Wow, you really are in deep with Goblins.”

Harry smiled. His father’s identity was becoming a bit of an inside joke with himself “I know more about Goblins than what most Goblins know about Goblins.”

Harry awoke to excited pushes from Ron.

“Come on, Harry! Wake up!”

Harry opened his eyes groggily and put on his glasses to find a small pile of red and silver boxes at the foot of his bed.

“What are these?” Harry asked Ron as he noticed his friend’s own sizable pile (although his was mostly wrapped in brown paper with bows that were clearly there to compensate).

“They’re gifts!” said Ron like it was obvious as he ripped into one to pull out a maroon sweater with a golden ‘R’ on front. He groaned “Mum knows I hate maroon.”

Harry blinked. Clearly Jareth hadn’t sent these; he usually didn’t even acknowledge the holiday. He looked at one of the tags and read “Hermione.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He was excited to get the gifts, but he hadn’t bought anything in return. Gifts were meant to be reciprocated, right?

He pushed the thought aside and eagerly ripped through the paper to find a box of fudge. He immediately ate half a square in a single bite.

“Where is Hermione?” Harry said with his mouth still full.

“Probably reading whatever new book her parents sent her,” Ron said as he opened up his own box. “Or moping about not being able to get into the restricted section of the library.”

Harry nodded. He remembered being run off by Madam Pince when they were trying to find something more on Nicolas Flamel and the trap door. It had torn Hermione apart seeing as she had stayed to do more research (and because her parents were vacationing somewhere tropical on their shared week off). At the rate they were going, though, they were more likely to learn more about Flamel from a chocolate frog card.

Harry lifted a brown paper parcel and ripped it open without reading the nametag.

He froze.

“Why did your mum send me a sweater?” he said as he held up the cyan sweater with a yellow ‘H’ on it.

“I told her how shocked I was that you had never celebrated Christmas. Said she couldn’t sit back and let you get nothing another year.”

Harry felt the yarn and held the sweater close. He knew there was no way he could wear it in front of Jareth (there was a strict dress code for Goblin nobility that excluded wizard made clothing), but something about having it, not even wearing it, that made him feel loved by this stranger.

He would need to get her something nice.

Harry picked up the largest parcel—a silver package wrapped in twine—and lifted the note.

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well

Harry blinked as he flipped the card in search for a seal or signature or some other identification. There was nothing, but he knew it couldn’t have been from Jareth. For one thing, he’d never have referred to James as his father.

Harry split the seams of the present and saw fabric the same color as the wrapping. He held it up to study it.

“Woah!”—Harry snapped his head up to Ron— “What’s that?”

“I dunno. Some kind of cloak.” Harry said as he stood and fiddled with the gift.

“Well put it on then.”

Harry slipped the cloak on and Ron gasped. Harry gazed down at his body to discover it missing.

“It’s an invisibility cloak! They’re super rare!”

Harry slipped his hand out to where he could see it and ran it down his opposite arm. He was there, but he wasn’t. He was too busy wondering who gave it to him to consider how it worked.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The boys snapped out of it and stared at the window. Hedwig was perched at the windowsill with a letter around her ankle.

Who could that be? thought Harry, Dad delivers his letters personally.

Harry made his way over and let her in. He untied the letter and saw his father’s seal.

“Is everything okay, Harry?” Ron said as he made his way across the room to Harry.

Harry broke the seal.

I will be making the announcement at 2 p.m. tomorrow.

Harry paled. Tomorrow the world would know. He may not have known which teachers got the papers here, but they would surely all know by the time next term started. Things would be different.

“I’m guessing the announcement isn’t good?”

Harry shook his head “It’s not bad. It’s just inevitable.”

“Well, I’m here if whatever it is doesn’t go well.”

Harry nodded. He knew that things would be changing and likely getting harder, but, somehow, he felt lighter, like how he did the moments after he retrieved the remembrall. Things just felt, right. Real.

“Ron,” Harry turned to his friend “I’d like to tell you something, but you need to go get Hermione first.”

Ron looked puzzled, “Is everything alright, Harry?”

“A lot of things are about to happen, and I’d like you two to be the first to know.”

Ron nodded and left to retrieve Hermione, Christmas thrill fading as worry grew.

Harry took off his cloak and folded it up; he couldn’t have it distracting her yet. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his fingers and thought Return. The crystal was more for him than them, and, as he stroked it and listened, he remembered why he was sent to Hogwarts in the first place: to make connections, to learn about wizards, to be the great liaison between Goblins and Wizards. The time he had gotten as a normal wizard boy was over now only because it was never meant to happen.

He listened to the song fade as Hermione entered the room.

But I'll be there for you

As the world falls down

Chapter Text

“And when were you planning on telling us this?” Ron said as Harry finished explaining. He and Hermione weren’t quite sure what they were expecting when Harry sat them down at the foot of his bed, but a royal reveal was not it.

“Right now,” Harry replied flatly. He kept it as simple as he could: he was adopted by Jareth and raised him to be his heir. Nothing about the Labyrinth and its location or secrets or anything else that didn’t directly involve him was mentioned.

“And when you said ‘my king’ earlier…”

“I meant my dad,” Harry finished “He is my dad. I know that the James Potter I saw in the photo should have been my dad, in theory, but calling him dad feels off.” Harry stopped speaking before he let slip that not calling him dad also caused him a bit of guilt.

Ron and Hermione nodded absently but agreeingly.

“So you guys aren’t going to treat me differently?”

“Well of course we are,” Ron said flatly.

Harry flinched.

Hermione smacked Ron upside the head.

“What I meant was, now that everybody’s going to know, we’ll have to look out for you a bit more. I betMalfoy will love the new excuse to bother you.”

Harry smiled. He had been guarded his whole life and warned to never trust wizards. When students flooded in in a week or so, he would discover how right that sentiment was, but nowhere in him could he find it to be wary of Ron and Hermione. Maybe it was because of their confrontations with Bruna and Fluffy or maybe they were simply genuine. Whatever it was, he was happy to have them.

“But this is great, Harry! you must know loads about Goblins!” Hermione grinned as she unfurled the long list of questions she had in her head. Harry knew that Hermione would be beaming when he told her and that made things much easier. “Tell me, what does he look like?”

Harry blinked then glanced at Ron. He seemed as invested in the question as she did.

“What do you mean ‘what does he look like?’”

“Nobody’s seen the Goblin King in public in decades, long before the advent of even regular Muggle photographs.”

“I don’t know if he would necessarily like me describing him in detail…” Harry trailed off “But he said that there will be a press conference to announce that I’ve been here the past year tomorrow. I believe he will show up then.”

Hermione frowned.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, but secrets are part of Goblin life. It’s how they’ve managed to avoid being wiped out like the Giants have nearly been. That, and keeping themselves useful.”

Hermione blinked a few times “Harry?”

“Yes?”

“How bad do the Goblins have it, really?”

Harry shifted. He knew that he would have to answer serious questions like this eventually. He knew what he wanted to say, yet he hadn’t expected it to be so hard to say.

“Not good.” Harry said “Wizards think they’re so much better than us. They think that they need to trick us before we trick them. I understand the sentiment as there are a lot of two faced Goblins, but there’s also stuff that wizards do that is just unnecessary. There’s this one guy, Yardley Platt, he’s commemorated on a chocolate frog card alongside great wizards like Merlin that even Goblins like. You want to know what he did? He was a serial killer who only went after Goblins. Killed nearly two dozen of them, and kids get him on a chocolate frog card and grin like he’s as fun as the chocolate.”

He glanced at Ron and Hermione to make sure he hadn’t gone too far too fast and lost them. “Dad sent me here to try and stop things like that. I don’t know how I’m going to do it yet, but I have to. I’m going to be king one day, and I can’t be king unless I prove myself to be Rightfully Goblin like he did.”

“Do you want to be king?” Ron asked.

“I, uh,” he paused, “I want to help people, and I want to be Goblin. So, I guess I do want to be King.”

Silence.

“I guess that’s enough for now,” Harry said as he got up “We better get down to breakfast before they run out of bangers.”

Harry’s friends nodded. There was more going on behind their eyes, but not everything had to be processed at once. If he had to, he would pick up with whatever wasn’t in the Daily Prophet the next day.

Harry waited for the two of them to leave before he reached under his pillow and pulled out the crystal ball his dad had given him. He thought Away and it vanished. He didn’t know where it went when it vanished, but he liked to think that it stayed with him somehow. Wouldn’t it have to in order to know when to come back?

Harry made his way to the threshold. Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t, but he liked to think it did.

The thing he missed most about the Labyrinth was the wandering. Whenever he wandered the walls and saw the Goblins and Trolls and other creatures, he knew where he was and knew he was safe.

Wandering Hogwarts had the opposite effect.

“Severus...I-I thought…”

“You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell.”

Harry guided himself closer to the chatter, pulling the invisibility cloak closer to him just to be safe. Quirrell was pinned against the wall by professor Snape

“W-what do you m-mean?” Quirrell muttered in his usual stutter. Harry was beginning to get close enough to see the fear on his face.

“You know perfectly well what I mean.” Snape stopped and looked in Harry’s direction. For a moment, Harry didn’t breathe—couldn’t breathe—only hope that the fabric hadn’t failed him “We'll have another chat soon...when you've had time to decide where your loyalties lie.”

Snape let go and set off somewhere Harry didn’t intend to follow.

Harry set off down the hall not occupied by Quirrell.

Strange, thought Harry. Snape and Quirrell may have had some tension due to the whole common interest in the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but a professor threatening another professor? That seemed to go against the notion Harry had Snape was all about order (albeit, an unfair order).

He began checking doors to classrooms. Sure, he could go to the restricted section of the library with the cloak, but there was sure to be more than just a simply lock that could be undone with alohomora.

He got a brief flashback to the living door knockers in the Labyrinth.

Finally, a handle clicked.

He gazed inside to find it lit by moonlight through floor to ceiling windows. There wasn’t much in there to light though, only a mirror that stood in the center of the room.

Yet something compelled Harry to enter.

The framing of the mirror met at the top in an arch similar to one in the corridors with pillars on each side. Over the arc were the words

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Harry gazed into the mirror and gasped. There wasn’t one figure in the mirror but three. On the left stood a red haired woman with striking green eyes. He had seen them before, but only ever on himself. She gazed at him with such a deep affection that he felt like she was really in the room with him. She didn’t recognize her, but he knew the right word immediately.

Mom.

The figure on the right had unruly hair, jet black like Harry’s but cut short. They practically shared the same face.

Dad?

He thought it but it didn’t sound right. Some part of him wanted it to be right, but another part didn’t.

Then came the middle figure.

Sitting on the Goblin Thrown so that he was almost the same height as Harry, Harry peered into the mismatched eyes of Jareth. He was his father. He loved him and liked how it sounded, but James Potter had made it feel different.

I am not your sire, but I am your father.

Harry gulped as he shed the invisibility cloak. He wanted both. He wanted all three. He wanted his life in the Labyrinth with Jareth. He wanted to be sung to sleep by his voice when he got a nightmare and to wander the twists and turns when he was bored, knowing full well that he would always be found if he was lost.

Yet he also wanted to know. What would life have been like with wizard parents? Living in a wizard village with friends his own age and the parents that raised him from birth?

He wanted both, but he knew people would begin asking tomorrow.

James or Jareth.

Wizard or Goblin.

He ran his fingers through his hair. He grew it out to be more like Jareth, but it was also hair like James.

“I hope I am not interrupting.”

Harry did an about face to see an old man, beard down to his chest and star robes down to the floor, smiling.

“I was, uh—”

“You’re not in trouble, Harry,” the old man said as he approached. The little light in the room revealed half moon spectacles perched on a crooked nose “Quite the contrary. I am happy to finally make your acquaintance.”

“You know who I am?”

“Of course, Harry! I try and know all the students at my school, even if not personally. I am Albus Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore outstretched his hand and Harry hesitantly shook, noting every ring.

“I see you are appreciating the Mirror of Erised,” he said as he gazed into the mirror himself “I trust by now you realize what it does. Let me give you a clue. The happiest man on earth would look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is.”

“So, then it shows us what we want?” Harry said “Even if we don’t quite know what we want ourselves?”

“Yes...and no. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. But sometimes the heart does not know what it wants.I judge that you are not sure of what you feel?”

Harry averted his eyes. This man was a stranger; how could he possibly know a thing about Harry?

“Remember this, Harry: this mirror gives us neither knowledge or truth. It merely shows what you feel within. Soon, the conflict you feel shall pass. I would not dwell on fantasies of this sort. One could lose themselves in dreams just as easily as they could a labyrinth.”

Harry flinched.

“Tomorrow, the mirror will be moved to a new home, but I wouldn’t dwell on it. Could you promise me not to go looking for it?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, not entirely sure of where the ‘sir’ came from.

“Very good,” his grin grew “Off to bed, now, Harry. I hear that tomorrow is a big day for you.”

Harry gazed into Dumbledore’s unreadable eyes, gave a nod, and turned to leave. Yet it couldn’t help but look back, wondering what to make of the encounter..

Chapter Text

Harry crept down the corridors of Hogwarts. He had previously never given a second thought to how the entire castle was haunted by ghosts, but now all he could think about was how, at any moment, he would no longer be alone, how he would have to answer questions. He looked down at the stone floor, realizing that someone could pop up from there if they wanted to.

Harry hit something.

He blinked and adjusted his glasses.

“Potter,” hissed Snape “Do those glasses not work well enough to watch where you’re going?”

“Sorry, professor, I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Running off to play with your little gang? Or are you just wandering around like you were last night?”

Harry stared at Snape “I wasn’t out last night.”

“I saw a foot.”

“How do you know it was my foot?”

“Do you deny that it was yours?”

“Yeah, because it wasn’t.”

Snape snarled “Five points from Gryffindor.”

“That’s not fair!”

“For lying to a teacher.”

“I wasn’t doing anything last night that Dumbledore doesn’t already know about.”

Snape eyed Harry like he was trying to find a loophole that would let him take more points “You’re just like your father, aren’t you?”

“How do you know my father?” Harry asked. He knew Jareth had done research on the teachers, but actually meeting with them? That seemed a little too hands on for him.

“He was an insolent fool just like his son,” Snape snapped.

Then it hit him.

Was.

“Oh! You mean James!”

For a moment, Harry thought he saw something click in Snape’s eyes.

“Who else would I be referring to?”

“Jareth,” Harry replied with certainty that startled Snape “I mean. I know James should be my father, but it just feels weird to call someone you haven’t even known existed for a year dad.”

Harry looked up at Snape trying to read him. His features had softened a bit, but it may have just been from confusion.

“Five points to Gryffindor.”

Harry flinched.

“For what?”

“Let’s call it honesty.” Snape sneered—or perhaps genuinely smiled.

To Harry’s surprise, not much happened until after the Christmas break ended. Harry had been blessed with a lineup of professional teachers who wouldn’t pry into his personal life (or, at least, not seek him out to do so).

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table. Honestly, with the way things were going, he’d have wondered if his dad had backed out of telling the world after all had it not been for a tactless Ravenclaw trying to pry Goblin secrets from him. Slytherins still sneered, Hufflepuffs still smiled, and Gryffindors still greeted him.

“Y’know, Potter,”—Harry snapped out of his daze and saw Draco standing in the aisle with Crabbe and Goyle at his shoulders.—“I was wondering why your face looked the way it did, but it seems you’ve inherited your father’s looks.”

“I wish,” Harry said before thinking. He scrunched his face “Wait, are there pictures of my father in the Prophet?”

“No, apparently he was too ugly to photograph,” Draco sneered “But the artist's rendering gave a clear picture of what you have to live with.”

“Knock it off, Draco!”

All turned to see Hermione marching his way toward Draco.

“Seems the Goblin Boy needs a little help from the mudblood.”

Half who heard gasped.

Hermione grabbed her wand “Petrifi—“

“Flipendo!” Malfoy cried before his wand was even fully out. Yellow light flew past Hermione’s ear and Harry watched in slow motion as it crossed the room and hit the wall by the just now entering Ron.

“—cus total—”

Hermione was cut off by a shove from Ron as he burst past her full sprint to tackle Malfoy before Crabbe stepped in front of Malfoy to take the brunt of the force. Ron was knocked to the stone floor.

“Ron!” Hermione abandoned her spell. The exact opening Draco needed!

Harry didn’t realize what he was doing. He was holding the crystal ball before he had even thought return.

“Flip—“

Thump!

Draco’s eyes became distant as he staggered backwards. Harry suddenly realized his arm was outstretched and his hand was empty.

The world froze as gaping faces stared.

Harry leapt over the table and grabbed his crystal ball before it rolled under the Hufflepuff table. The dancer inside was rubbing her temples now with scrunched eyes. He rubbed it and little tings sang out a lullaby, but the girl inside now covered her ears to block out the sound.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the girl, hoping she could hear.

“Why—I’ve never!”

Harry’s eyes shot up to find a worm’s eye view of a stunned McGonagall.

“In all my years never have I witnessed such a fight amongst first years, let alone in the great Hall where all can see! 50 points from each house per student and Saturday detentions for each of you!”

“But, ma’am,” interrupted Goyle “I didn’t touch any of them!”

She eyes him suspiciously then sighed “Fine, just take Draco to Pomfrey. He’ll need to serve his detentions after he’s recovered from what is sure to be a concussion.”—she turned to Potter— “As for you Potter, I am confiscating whatever that ball was you threw.”

Away.

“What ball, ma’am?” He said as he rose from the floor.

McGonagall flicked her wand “Revelio.”

Nothing happened.

McGonagall looked under the table and huffed “It seems whatever it was has disappeared.”

Harry gulped.

“Come by my office after the feast for details on your punishments.”

Harry nodded. McGonagall turned and made her way back to the teacher’s table. The further she became, the closer things became to normal again.

Harry turned to stare at Hermione, now helping Ron up. They hadn’t hesitated to join in on the fight to defend him and each other.

“Thank you.” He said. It sounded hollow compared to what they had just done.

“Any excuse to go against Malfoy,” Ron jokes as he rubbed his tush.

Harry smiled. He was raised to distrust wizards, but he could trust them, his first ever friends.

Chapter Text

The Forbidden Forest was not that bad. Was Harry worried that the Centaurs Hagrid mentioned would pop out and defend their territory? Yes. Was he afraid that Fiereys would pop out and attempt to kill him for fun? No.

He had never met a centaur, but he knew he preferred it to the ladder.

“Why exactly are we out here?” Hermione asked as she gripped her wand. Gryffindors were known for their bravery, but bravery did not mean stupidity.

“Gotta find wha’s been gettin’ the unicorns,“ Hagrid said as he led the way, blocking most of the lantern light with his body.

“But we’re kids!” said Ron, trailing behind the other three. Draco and Goyle had gotten off with helping Snape clean the vials by hand since they were ‘merely defending themselves.’

“Aye, but ol’ Dumbledore thinks yer up to it.” Hagrid halted at a crossroads. “Alright, I wan’ ye an’ Ron left and me an’ Hermione’ll take right. Meet back up a’ the end.”

Harry swallowed. He knew Ron wouldn’t run if there was danger, but he also knew that he wasn’t the best at magic either. Nethertheless, they cast a lumos and continued down the path.

“Thanks for helping out the other day,” Harry said to break the silence.

“I honestly didn’t think about what I was doing,” said Ron “Not that I wouldn’t’ even done it if I thought! I mean, I didn’t even pull out my wand!”

Ron and Harry heard something moaning in the distance and huddled closer together.

“Bet they don’t have anything that this in the Labyrinth,” Ron said half heartedly. He had no idea what the Labyrinth had, but he also had no idea what was making the sound.

“This reminds me quite a bit of the forest outside the Bog of Eternal Stench,” he laughed at himself “‘Least it smells better here!”

Ron half laughed.

Harry hesitated “I’m glad you're my friend, Ron.”

“I’m sure you had loads of friends back home.”

“Not really,” Harry thought “I mean, I had sorta friends. I’d chat with the Goblins and the worms and the snakes—“

“Snakes?” Ron paled.

“Well, yeah, they aren’t the best conversationalists, but they’ll tell me what they’ve heard through the grapevine. Don’t you talk to snakes?”

“No!” Ron said a little too loud.

“Worms?”

“No.”

“What? Next you’ll be saying dogs don’t talk!”

Ron blinked “Oooh. I get it.” He lightly punched Harry’s shoulder “Good one, Harry!”

“I’m not—“

Ron stopped Harry with his hand and pointed his wand at a hooded figure crouched over a silver and white unicorn. Harry froze as he realized what the silver was.

He gagged.

Blood.

He and Ron backed up, keeping their eyes on the man—creature?—before them.

Snap!

The hooded figure snapped its head up, but Harry saw nothing underneath but a noseless face of silver blood.

They screamed.

The figure rose to its feet. It took a step forward and an arrow hit its chest.

Harry heard a distant trotting and more arrows came. The creature fled into the night.

Harry looked up at the mounted archer. He was handsome with white-blond hair that hung down his bare back and chest. He turned, and Harry realized that the horse and rider were one being.

“Who-who are you?” Harry asked in astonishment. He had never seen a hybrid creature before.

“I am Firenze.”

“Well, uh, hi, Firenze,” Harry said “Thanks for saving our lives.”

Firenze turned his eyes skyward and gave an attentive gaze.

“Did you know that thing was going to be here?” Harry asked, trying to break the silence.

“Mars is bright tonight,” said the centaur, as if that explained everything.

“Which one is that?” said Ron as he tilted his head to try and see anything through the dense canopy.

“How much do you know of astrology?”

“I, uh,” Ron thought “I’m taking astronomy this year, but my friend has to tutor me.”

“And you?” Firenze turned to Harry, slightly more hopeful “Have you never gazed at the stars, boy?”

“We don’t have stars where I am from,” Harry said, trying his best to sound sincere. “We also don’t have night.”

Firenze seemed to take this as a personal affront “No stars? How can one live on this planet and have never experienced the stars?” something clicked behind Firenze’s eyes “I see, you are from the land of Goblins. Underground, away from the stars.”

Harry flinched. How did Firenze know about that? Yes, wizardkind knew, but from what he understood, Centaurs liked to distance themselves from wizard and Goblins affairs both.

“You’re coming was foreseen nearly a decade ago. An outsider, even among his own people, sent to save.”

“Save who?”

“Your people, whoever you may choose,”--Firenze straightened up-- “I hear Hagrid coming.”

Seconds later, Hagrid emerged from behind the bushes, having made a trail for Hermione to follow through sheer force.

“There is nothing to worry about here, friend,” said Firenze, “I have protected these students for now, but I must warn you all,”--he scanned the lot of them-- “You-Know-Who is in the forest. He fed tonight, he’s fed before, and he will feed again if he fails to find the Philosopher’s Stone. Take heed to avoid the Forest for any reason.”

Hagrid nodded as he adjusted his crossbow closer to a firing position. “I’ll send word ter Dumbledore.” Hagrid turned to the trio “We found wha’s eatin’ the unicorns. Time ter go back ter the castle.”

Hagrid used his giant hands to nudge them each in the right direction, but Harry’s mind stayed where it was in the forest.

Whoever you may choose.

Chapter Text

“That must be what was in the vault at Gringotts!” Hermione exclaimed as Harry finished the story, completely ignoring the Voldemort bit. It was breakfast now (Saturday morning, thankfully), and neither Ron nor Harry had gotten a lick of sleep.

“That could be what Fluffy is guarding!”

“That’s a bit of a leap,” Harry said as he bit into a sausage.

“Not if I finally found a book about Flamel,” Hermione said proudly “Someone had mysteriously checked out all the books about him, but I realized last night that didn’t mean they checked out all the books containing him.” Hermione produced a sizable book reading Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science from within her robes. “There’s only a few pages worth scattered throughout, but Flamel created the only known Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Why should we go worrying about the stone?” said Ron with his mouth full.

“Because the Stone can create the Elixir of Life meaning—“

“Voldemort would be immortal,” Harry finished.

Ron and Hermione flinched at the name.

“We need to tell Dumbledore,” Ron said.

Harry rose, disregarding his food “I need to call my dad.”

Harry paced the common room as he awaited 2 a.m. It wasn’t even February and it was looking like Voldemort would get him before he even finished the school year. He came here expecting prejudice and politics, not the threat of death.

The fire flickered blue and his stone faced father appeared.

“Harry,” he said seriously “I take it that this is not to play catch-up?”

“I saw Voldemort last night,” he spat out before thinking.

Jareth’s eyes changed, but Harry couldn’t tell if it was from shock or rage.

“You still have the peach?”

Harry produced the pristine fruit from his pocket.

“Dumbledore unformed me that someone gifted you a cloak of invisibility as well? Is that true?”

“It’s in my trunk.”

“Carry it with you as well, we can’t have you leaving something that valuable behind when you eat the peach.”

Harry blinked “You want me to eat it now?”

Jareth nodded.

“But what about everyone else here? I can’t just—“

“Now is no time to be a hero, Harry,” Jareth snapped “Dumbledore has failed at his promise of safety and you will return.”

Harry thought. He couldn’t just leave, could he? He knew that royalty was always meant to work from afar, stay safe, follow the rules, but not even saying goodbye to your friends after putting them in danger?

Think, Harry, think.

“But how would that look politically, announcing I’m here then pulling me out mere weeks later?” Harry’s heart pounded as he saw his dad contemplate this “I’m meant to be a liaison, aren’t I?”

“If you wish to stay, then why did you call me?”

Harry bit his lip, feeling like a little kid with nightmares from the Fierys “Because I was scared.”

Jareth reached his hand from the fire and set it onto Harry’s shoulder. It tingled with hardly any weight, and Harry’s troubles seemed to melt a bit from the warmth.

“I will send some guards to patrol the school. I’ll ask them to be subtle so as not to arouse any suspicion, but I need to to promise me, if you ever see Voldemort again, you will do as I say and eat the peach.”

“I will, Dad.”

Jareth’s face softened “I care for you, Harry.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Awaken!”

Harry would’ve jumped out of bed in shock had it not been for the weight on his chest. He tried to squint and see what had him pinned down to no avail.

“A knight rises early and as does the nobleman,” said the shrill voice.

“What?” his mind was still fuzzled. He didn’t know what time it was, but the sun hadn’t risen yet and he knew that his dormmates preferred to be asleep before dawn on a Sunday. He tried reaching for his wand and glasses.

“There is much to do this morning. Such is the life of the valiant.”

It clicked in his mind.

“Didymus?”

He knew Didymus. Every time he wandered off into the Labyrinth, he could always bet on Sir Didymus guarding his post in the Bog of Eternal Stench. His unwavering devotion to an arbitrary knight’s code meant he would help before quickly becoming annoying.

But there was no way Didymus was this heavy.

“‘Tis I and my noble steed.”

That explains it.

He heard Ron cast lumos to his left, revealing that Sir Didymus had not only perched himself on his chest but remained firmly mounted on Ambrosius.

“What the bloody hell is that?” said Ron.

“I am Sir Didymus, Defender of the Innocent and guard of the Bog of Eternal Stench.”--he thrust his saberat Ron menacingly (well, to himself at least)-- “And none shall near the Prince without my permission.”

“You’re a talking dog!”

“I am a valiant knight!”

Harry rubbed his face “Didymus, I’m not your Prince, you don’t have to help me..”

“I confess that I have sworn no loyalty to you, but I heard you were in danger and my oath is to protect all those in need and peril. Thus, I shall remain by your side until the danger has passed and teach you how to protect yourself as well.”

Harry blinked “What?”

“Now, Prince Harry,”--he straightened up-- “one must always be capable of defending himself and those in peril. Today, we begin your dueling lessons.”

Harry groaned. “Five more minutes?”

“Nonsense, you are already awake.”

“I’ll let you sleep at the foot of my bed.”

Silence.

“We shall rise again in ten minutes.”

“Was all of that really necessary?” Harry asked Didymus as he rubbed his shoulder as he and Didymus walked the halls of Hogwarts. Swordsmanship was definitely not an elective he would be considering in the coming years. He was sore all over and had only been using a wooden stick.

“We’d have gone longer had breakfast not begun. One needs a hearty meal if they are to train.”

Harry stopped “We’re training more after breakfast?”

“You must gain stamina.”

“Don’t you think that--” Harry froze as he looked down the hall and saw a dark figure walking toward him. “Snape is coming,” he whispered to Didymus “Don’t say anything.”

“But--”

“I’ll handle this.”

Harry looked up to find Snape had already readed them.

“So,” he snarked “Did Prince Potter decide he was above the rules and bring his pets to school?”

“That’s not my dog,” Harry said without thinking.

“Is that so?” Snape hissed “Then why does it seem so attached to you? I haven’t heard of many dogs following a complete stranger perfectly when there are no dogs at Hogwarts.”

“It’s, uh, Hedwig’s dog,” Harry mentally kicked himself for saying the first name he thought of.

“I haven’t heard of any students named Hedwig?” he said acidly “But I have heard you mention your owl Hedwig once or twice.” his gaze shifted to the sheepdog “And what about this dog? Students are only permitted one pet, so it can’t possibly belong to this Hedwig person, or should I ask Dumbledore what they did to get not one but two pets that weren’t on the approved pets list?”

“That’s my dog’s dog,” he said, shocked to find the truth slipping out.

“So you admit it is your dog?” Snape grinned.

Harry knew he was too committed to back down now “No, it’s my owl’s dog.”

“Your owl has two pet dogs,” Snape was somewhere between fuming and bemusement.

“No, Sir, my owl has one dog, and that dog has its own dog. I have zero dogs.”

“Detention.”

“But, Sir, I don’t own a dog.”

“You will meet me in my office next Saturday.” Snape scrunched his face and he leered at Didymus “And I will be informing the Headmaster about your new pets.”

Snape glided past Harry down the hall.

“Perhaps,” said Didymus “Training can wait.”

Chapter Text

Harry realized the mistake he had made in the Great Hall. No, it wasn’t hitting Draco (he wasn’t sure he could regret that if he tried right now). He made the mistake of believing that the entire school would be as upfront as Draco.

Harry felt the whispers stalking him.

Did you see the fight? That’s what happens when Goblins and humans mix.

He sat himself down at one of the middle stations in Defense Against the Dark Art, trying his best to focus on what Ron was saying about his family rather than the hoard of whispers.

What is that dog doing with him? I heard he talks and fights. Maybe a Goblin bewitched it.

Sir Didymus took his post beside Harry, sword at resting position by his hip. At this point, Harry was just happy Ambrosius hadn’t followed.

Is that a Goblin thing or a royalty thing?

“C-c-class,” Quirrell said as he entered the room “You’ve had p-p-plenty of time for c-c-conversations before class and you’ll have even m-m-more time after.”

Sir Didymus eyed Quirrell with his single eye.

“Calm down, Didymus,” Harry whispered “He’s just a teacher.”

“He smells suspicious.”

Harry decided it wasn’t worth arguing. Didymus couldn’t even smell the Bog of Eternal Stench, let alone suspicion.

“Thanks, Didymus.”

“I’m telling you, I can smell something wrong with him.”

“Thanks, Didymus.”

“We need to get out of here.”

“P-p-p-potter?”

Harry perked up to find the entire class was focused on him and his dog.

“Yes, Professor Quirrell?”

“Is the s-s-something you wish to sh-sh-share with the class?”

“No, Sir, I was just shushing Didymus.”

Quirrell’s smile didn’t reach his eyes “There are no pets allowed in class.”

“Fool!” Didymus shouted. The room gasped “I am Sir Didymus, guardian of all that is right and protector of the innocent. I am no pet.”

“Didymus!”

“No, my Prince, I shall handle the situation this time,” he readied his rapier “And I shall protect you and everyone else in this class.”

Didymus leapt from the ground to the chair to the table. Harry moved to grab him but was still sore and stiff from his Didymus’s training. Quirrell stumbled backwards to get away and tripped on his own robes just in time for Didymus to leap onto his chest.

Quirrell made an inhuman sound as the back of his head hit the floor.

Didymus took a bite of Quirrell’s turban and pulled but the Professor grabbed tight to his headgear and refused to let go, as if keeping it on was more important than getting Didymus off.

Harry lunged for Didymus, but not before the sound of ripping fabric cut through Quirrell’s cries.

“Release, release!” Harry gritted his teeth and he yanked “I order you to release Quirrell this instant!”

Didymus released mid pull and Harry flung himself backward onto the floor.

The room seemed to stand still for a moment.

“Good thing he isn’t teaching Defense Against Potter’s Dogs,” Draco snickered, but not even Crabbe and Goyle laughed.

Harry moved toward Quirrell. He was wheezing and shaking and even crying a bit, hands over the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Harry said as he got closer to the professor. He let out a hand that Quirrell made no move for “He has a mind of his own.”

“My turban,” Quirrell choked out “He nearly ripped my turban off my head.”

“I’m sure a good reparo could fix--”

“Class dismissed!”

The room murmured “Return in half an hour, I need time to recover.”

“But, Sir, I could help--”

“I really need to leave!” Quirrell popped off the ground, hands shaking behind his head.

“Let me help--”

“Get the door.”

Harry popped up to get the door for Quirrell and he bolted out the door and down the hall. The tattered cloth flew behind him as he ran and, for a moment, Harry saw an odd lump on the back of his head. A lump that looked almost like an eye.

Harry thought about the event all week. Nothing had become of it (perhaps because he already had detention with Snape), but he couldn’t help but remember that odd lump. Could wizards have eyes in the back of their heads? Was there a spell for it? He knew there were more than a few plants in the Labyrinth with a dozen or more eyes.

He didn’t know what to think of it, but there was definitely something more to Quirrell.

It wasn’t until detention next week that Harry got an opportunity to speak with Snape.

“Could I ask you a question, Professor Snape?”

“I fear you will whether I say yes or not,” Snape said as he eyed a half empty jar of a dried herb “Belladonna.”

Harry noted it on the Herbs Needed list.

“What do you think about Professor Quirrell.”

“It is highly unprofessional to speak ill of my colleagues,” Snape said, continuing to scan the contents of his shelves.

“It just seems like there’s more to him that he’s letting on. I mean, why the turban all the time.”

“I will not discuss this!” he snapped. “I am under strict orders from Dumbledore to not discuss matters like these with you.”

“Is it because of who I am?”

Snape set down his jar and lingered on it for a moment “Not in the way you think.”--he scrunched his face at Harry-- “You are insufferably curious and believe all problems are yours to solve. They aren’t, and whatever investigation”—he said investigation like it was a perverse act— “you and your friends may think your doing will only hinder actual work. So, Potter, let it go.”

Harry swallowed.

“I just wanted to say, I think I understand why you were threatening Quirrell.”

Snape scowled, “You don’t even know the half of it.” Snape lifted another jar with only a single leaf. “Mandrake.”

Harry scribbled it down. “So why does he wear that turban all the time? He doesn’t act very religious.”

“If you are not careful, Potter, I will have to give you detention next week.”

Harry weighed his options “Has anybody seen Quirrell without his turban?”

Snape sighed “You will be cleaning the viles after class on Monday. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Snape straightened back up “Wiggenweld.”

Harry absently put three g’s in Wiggenweld.

“Have they?”

“Potter,” Snape growled “You already have a detention next week; would you like one for the rest of the year?”

“I’ve weighed my options, professor, and I think you’re the only one that actually knows anything real about Quirrell, so… I guess.”

Snape scowled, but a bit of respect for Harry escaped from his eyes “Quirrell has been wearing that turban since his year abroad to get practical experience for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He hasn't taken it off since.”

Harry nodded “Thank you, professor.”

Snape returned to the task “You can repay me with silence.” a beat “Peppercorn.”

Chapter Text

“You told Snape before you told me?” Hermione snapped at lunch the next day.

“I didn’t tell him what I saw; I just asked about Quirrell.” Harry murmured “It’s not like I told him I saw an eye.”

“Still something we should have known about.”

Harry took a bite of his Yorkshire pudding and thought. He had been thinking about Quirrell’s turban all week, and having to deal with Didymus getting recalled to the Labyrinth (something that made him frustrated but significantly less sore) did not help.

“I don’t know what’s up with Quirrell, but I don’t trust him,” Ron said with his mouth half full “Maybe there’s Dark Magic in the turban.”

Hermione rolled her eyes “Don’t be silly, Ron, something magical wouldn’t tear so easily.”

“I’m just brainstorming.”

“No, Ron is right,” Harry butt in “If there is an eye on the back of his head, it could be due to some kind of magical accident he doesn’t want people to know about, perhaps…”

“Something related to the dark arts.” Hermione lit up “You’re genius, Harry! Anything dark he had he could pass off as a teaching aid!”

“Your right!” Harry paled.

Hermione leaned in “What is it, Harry?”

“When we asked Bruna who had made her large, she pat the back of her head and said ‘Bad Man.’ Could she have been referring to the eye?”

“He could have an entire face back there for all we know,” Ron said half jokingly, focusing more on the conversation than food for once.

“Ron, Harry” Hermione said, clearly looking at a chart she had formulated in her brain “I wasn’t with you and Ron in the forest, but did you see anything distinctive about that man you saw by the unicorn?”

“I don’t know; his face was covered in blood,” Ron said, eyes staring at nothing. “Hermione, you aren’t thinking--”

“Quirrell could have been the one in the forest.” Harry finished for them both.

They were no longer eating.

“We need to see Dumbledore.”

“What exactly are we going to tell him,” Hermione said as they made their way to the Grand Staircases “This is a serious accusation and we need to plan what we’re going to say.”

“I was thinking about everything we’ve seen.” Harry said without missing a beat “We know Quirrell is working for Voldemort and likely seeking the Philosopher’s Stone. Let’s start with that before going into our back-of-his-head theory.”

“What about Snape?” Ron said, catching up as they made their way up to the second floor. “He was jinxing your broom during the match.”

“I actually don’t think it’s Snape,” Harry said as they made it to the top of the stairs “I actually saw him threatening Quirrell.”

“They could be competing against each other,” Hermione insisted.

“I know that but--”

Their knees buckled as the stairway drifted away from the wall and up.

“Not again,” Hermione moaned “At this rate it’ll take half an hour before we get there.”

“Hermione,” Harry stared as the stairs neared a dark corridor “It’s taking us to the third floor.”

“We can’t focus on that right now.”

“Hermione, these things don’t move randomly; they anticipate where you need to go. I know because I live somewhere just like this. If we’re moving to the third floor, then it’s likely something is happening that requires us to be on the third floor.”

Hermione gulped.

For a moment, not a single staircase moved.

“Alright then,” Ron said stepping forward “If we need to do this, then let’s do it.”

Harry blinked “Really?”

“Yes, ‘really,’” Ron said, almost offended “You think that we’ll suddenly abandon you now?”

Harry smiled “I guess not.” He nodded “Let’s do this.”

“I think I remember Hagrid letting slip something about Fluffy liking music,” Hermione whispered outside the door “But we don't exactly have any instruments on us.”

Harry held out his hands and thought return, gazing into a ball, complete with dancer, near instantly. He prepared to pet the crystal ball.

“I’m ready.”

Ron put his hand on the hand and gave a curt nod before pushing on the door.

Harry pet his crystal ball and sent it into the room like a bowling ball.

“Close it!”

Ron slammed the door shut.

“What did that do?” Ron snapped.

“I don’t know, but it’s singing now and—“

“Listen!” Hermione put her ear to the door. A low rumbling was coming from the other side. “I think he fell asleep.”

Ron cracked the door and poked his head in “She’s right.”

The trio slipped through the door to find Fluffy sound asleep by the door.

“He’s not so scary when he’s asleep, is he?” Ron said as he took in the sight of the three headed dog.

“He will be when the song ends in thirty seconds,” Harry said as he grabbed the crystal ball and made his way to his companions, gazing down the now open trap door “Let’s get in, quick!”

“We have a problem, Harry,” Ron said as he gazed down the shaft pale faced.

Harry looked down the abyss at his feet.

He heard Fluffy rouse in his sleep as the melody ended.

Harry gulped “I’ll go first.”

“What are you!” cried Hermione, unable to see what was suspending her in the air.

The darkness writhed and shifted into some semblance of a face. “We’re the helping hands.”

“Can you help us out?” asked Harry, as calm as he could be when his entire weight was being hung on his arms.

“If that is what you’d like?” said some higher hands.

“Yes,” cried Ron “Help us out.”

“And into Fluffy?” Hermione yelled “Honestly, Ron, use your head!”

“Up or down?” repeated the Hands.

“Up of course,” said Ron.

“That’s not what they mean, Ron,” Harry cut off “They’re asking us whether or not we want to continue. Up is out… and I chose down.”

Harry slipped down through the tunnel of hands, watching the light grow dimmer and dimmer until being stopped by the stone floor.

He used all his strength to push himself out of the way. He’s have loved a broken fall, but he would not brake the fall for Hermione.

Thud!

“Ugh,” Hermione groaned as she hit the floor. “Where are we?”

Harry yanked Hermione away from the splat zone just in time for Ron to face plant on the ground.

“It’s an Oubliette,” said Harry “It’s where people put the things they want the world to forget about.”

“How do we get out?” asked Ron as he pushed himself upright.

You don’t, thought Harry, Not without help.

He felt the peach in his pocket, still immaculate.

“You get to the end of it,” he lied. “Simple as that.”

Chapter Text

The Trio scanned the stone wall before them. It was smooth and tan like an Egyptian crypt, embellished with nothing but a raised relief of a floor to ceiling scale. The right platter held a feather, white as Jareth’s owl form while the other had a simple hole.

Beside them were three stone pillars: one with a galleon, one with two halves of a broken wand, and the last with a lit candle that dripped no wax..

“It’s a slot,” said Hermione.

“We didn’t see any keys coming in.” Ron added “It has to be one of the objects.”

“It’s a logic puzzle, must be,” Hermione lit up.”

“What’s the deal with the scales,” Harry asked as he ran his finger along the straight center crack. “It’s obviously a door, but what does it mean? Is it a wizard thing?”

“It’s certainly nothing from Tales of Beedle the Bard,” Ron half laughed.

“No, I read about this back in Muggle school. It’s Egyptian I think. You’d have to weigh your heart against a feather of truth in order to enter the afterlife.”

“So we just put one of the things in to enter?” Ron said.

“I’m more concerned about the second half where, if your heart is too heavy,”—Hermione pointed at the trap door below them— “Your heart would be eaten by a crocodile headed creature.”

Harry stepped off the trap door.

“Let’s think,” Hermione turned to the table and began to talk with her hands “It’s obviously not the galleon. I don’t think money has any real value.”

“Don’t discount it,” Harry said, still staring. Still thinking. “Some people believe you take what you bury with you to the afterlife.”

“Hmm, I suppose your right.”

“My money’s on the broken wand. If it’s about death, that is a sort of end for a wizard.”

Harry stared at the hole.

He swallowed. Every object on the table would fit rather awkwardly into the slot. None of them—list the objects—came even close to being a heart or even particularly special.

“I get where you’re coming at with the wand, Ron, but if we’re referring to the afterlife, then an Everlasting Candle may be the way to go.”

Harry put his hands in his pocket and felt the peach. He could be the one to put it in and eat the peach should everything go wrong; he could be safe and buy them a second attempt.

“How do we know it’s an Everlasting candle?”

“I doubt someone lit it before we got here,” Hermione mumbled.

Harry looked at the slot.

Something was off.

He put his hand into the square slot and felt the edges. Felt them become round inside.

“Harry!”

He flinched at the sound of Hermione’s voice.

“What are you doing! Anything could be in there!”

“It’s round in there.” Harry said, putting his hand back in.

“If you want to know what’s in there, just put your wand in and cast lumos.”

But Harry has already found what he was looking for.

“It’s curved!”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Ron asked, sounding ruder than intended.

“If it’s curved, it could be spiraled. What we put in there won’t matter so long as it’s round!”

“But we don’t have anything round.”

Harry’s heart sank. They did have something round, but, with the spiral, it was unlikely he’d ever be getting it back.

He pointed his fingers and thought return. A beautiful brunette appeared in her own crystal bubble and smiled wistfully. Harry’s eyes began to water.

She gave an understanding nod.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He slipped the ball into the slot.

An odd sound came from the wall. Hermione thought it sounded like a gum ball rolling down the bottom spiral of a gumball machine in the Muggle world.

“Harry,” Hermione swallowed. “What did you put in there?”

Before he could speak, the door clicked open.

The room reminded Harry of the Goblin King’s Castle—shadowy, imposing, and built to emphasize a ruling center.

The Mirror of Erised, standing tall behind Professor Quirrell.

Bald as all be it.

“They’re here, my Master,” he smiled deviously.

Harry used all his night to stay stone faced.

“Why? Are you not surprised?”

“We figured it out at lunch,” Ron chimed in.

“I wasn’t asking you, boy,” Quirrell scowled.

“No, he’s right, we knew—but the stutter was a nice touch. I just wonder how you got in,” Harry said.

Quirrell pointed up at a hole in the ceiling that emitted no light.

“There are pipes all throughout this place. Only usable if one knows how to slither or fly without aid of a broom.”

“But nobody can fly unaided,” Hermione butt in “Its impossible.”

“Not for my master,” Quirrell grinned.

“Let me see him,” a disembodied voice hissed.

“Of course.”

Quirrell spun on his heel to reveal a second, noseless face.

Ron and Hermione screamed.

Harry was still more afraid of the Fierys.

“Harry!” Ron muttered “It’s him!”

“I think I knew that already.”

“Yes,” hissed the voice “I haven’t seen you since you were a boy. A prince now, are you? Raised by a King rather than a traitor and Mudblood? Seems you’ve done well because of me.”

“I’ve done well because I was wished away.” Harry said, taking a few steps forward, undaunted.

Voldemort laughed with no humor.

Quirrell turned around.

“It’s a wonderful Mirror,”—he looked beyond Harry to the others— “But I guess you two never had the luxury of enjoying it. My master tells me you can be used to retrieve the stone.”

Harry remained silent. Intimidation would do as little as revealing his ignorance.

“Silence? Well, if that’s the case,” Quirrell whipped out his wand. Before Harry could respond, Ron and Hermione were magically bound in rope “I supposed I could make use of the hostages you’ve provided.”

Harry felt sweat on the back of his neck. He needed to be like his dad; calm and collect when called for. Harry approached the Mirror cautiously.

Harry looked in the Mirror. He saw his mother, James, Jareth. All together smiling like a family portrait. It was all he could want—both halves of him in harmony.

He wishes it could be true, but what would Jareth say? He was his father, King of the Goblins, raising him best he could away from any wizard that could hurt him.

He looked at his father.

“Time is ticking.”

He was meant to be a liaison between wizards and Goblins, now all he was doing was getting his friends killed.

He cried as he looked at Jareth, only now, Jareth was moving his lips, whispering something only Harry could hear.

‘You are both.’

Harry blinked. That wasn’t right. His father would never say that. Jareth wanted Harry to be his successor, heir to the Goblin Throne. Jareth sent him here to become Rightfully Goblin.

But he was also a wizard.

He looked between Lily and James, now they were all chanting it.

‘You are both.’

‘You are both.’

“Perhaps the girl will be first to go,” said Quirrell, raising his wand nonchalantly.

Whoever you may choose.

He needed to choose.

But why?

Harry flinched as the words finally hit him. He now saw himself in the Mirror. He was smiling, surrounded by his parents.

All three of them.

He saw Jareth take off his necklace and put it around Harry’s neck. His Mirror self tucked it into his shirt.

Harry felt a weight on his neck.

He gaped at the Mirror but his reflection just grinned and tapped his pocket.

‘Use the peach.’

Harry realized what he had to do.

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a peach.

“What the hell!” He exclaimed, eyeing the peach in horror and confusion.

“A peach?” Barked Quirrell “What kind of game is this?”

“They don’t even have peaches at Hogwarts? And why isn’t it all gooey and messed up from the fall?”

“That isn’t the Philosopher’s Stone and we both know it.” Quirrell slapped it out of Harry’s hand where it bounced slightly on the ground.

Harry scrambled for the fruit from the floor “It’s undamaged. It was thrown to the ground and its fine. Like it’s invulnerable or something.” Harry gasped “Stone! Like Stone of a peach. The pit!”

Harry’s hand shook as he gripped the peach. If Voldemort got into the Labyrinth, he could wreak havoc on the land using his magic.

However, the peach was a single person out.

He hoped they were still two people.

“Quirrell,” he held out his hand “Eat and leave. Let the three of us live and let the Goblins be neutral. That’s all I ask.”

“Harry! What are you doing!” Hermione cried. Tears were running down her face. Ron seemed to be retreating into his head and his eyes held nothing.

“So the boy saves himself,” hissed Voldemort “Seems I was wrong about you being a problem.”

Quirrell took the fruit and began to reach behind his head.

“Why are you doing that?”

Quirrell paused.

“You’re the one with the body.”

Harry began to lean in. His words flowed out of him without him thinking as he finally understood how Jareth was always so suave.

He knew what he was doing, and, even if he didn’t, neither did anyone else.

“It’s for my Dark Master.”

“But what do you see in the Mirror of Erised?”

“Him ruling the Wizarding world and restoring it with me by his side.”

“So he gives you power?” Harry made his face contort into puzzlement. “Why not cut out the middle man?”

“Quiet, boy!” Snapped Voldemort “Give me the stone, Quirrell!”

Quirrell eyed the forbidden fruit.

“Why are you so keen on me eating this?”

“I’m a Goblin. I will never trust a wizard, but I think your less likely to kill Hermione for being Muggleborn. Or me just to finish the job.”

“Do it now, Quirrell!”

Quirrell lifted the peach to his lips. He wanted power, to not feel weak. Voldemort and the dark arts promised those things.

But wouldn’t this be simpler?

Immortality was in his hand.

He took a bite.

His eyes widened.

Something was wrong. His eyes lost their focus as he stumbled backwards to the floor, loosing his grip on the peach as it rotted away before even hitting the floor. Voldemort was yelling but he didn’t know what.

Suddenly, he was flying. Drifting far away like a bubble. For a moment, he saw the room. Three children—all free now— now standing over a crippled form.

He was floating, but floating towards what?

“Harry?” Hermione stepped forward, eyes unwillingly locked on the flayed form. It’s form was some semblance of a man, but not one that should be alive and writhing. “What is that?”

“Quirrell left Voldemort behind. When I tricked him into eating the peach.”

“So it was some kind of portkey?” Ron said, “And it forced off the... other part.”

Harry stepped forward. He had seen terrifying creatures in the Labyrinth, but none had been gruesome. This... this would haunt him. The worst parts of a wizard.

The worst parts of man.

“How do we get out?” asked Ron, trying to look at Harry but still glimpsing at the macabre figure.

“There’s an old riddle.” Hermione said “You’re in A room with no windows or doors. All you have with you is a mirror and a round table. How do you get out?” Her pause was not long enough for an answer “You look in the mirror, see what you saw, take the saw, cut the table in two, put the table in together to make a whole, and crawl through it.”

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

“Ron,”—she pointed— “Look in the Mirror.”

Ron made his way to the Mirror of Erised. “Well, there’s no saw...” Ron gaped “But there’s a map of this place! There is an exit! If I’m right, it lets out around Dumbledore’s office!”

“Where is it?” Asked Harry, finally taking his eyes off Voldemort and stepping toward the Mirror. He tried to find the map but all he saw was himself.

“It’s back the way we came—opposite direction.” —Ron turned around— “But we can’t just leave him here! He’s He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named; he could wander off and attach to another person like he did Quirrell!”

“The Stone was in the Mirror,” Harry though aloud “And the Mirror can give you what you want if it has it.”

“No,” Hermione said “If that was true, He would already have had the Stone.” a beat “Wait,” Ron scanned Harry “do you have the Stone?”

Harry nodded “I think.” He touched his chest and felt something under his shirt. He pulled it out to find his father’s necklace.

“I don’t know if it’s the Stone, but I definitely didn’t have it before.”

“What is it?” Hermione reached to touch it but Harry pulled away. If it was his dad’s he knew he would hate a wizard touching it.

“It’s my Dad’s necklace. He wears it to signify that he was chosen to be Goblin and will always stay true to that.”

“Did you want that?”

“I wanted to know whether I was a Goblin and a wizard. Then I remembered something Firenze said in the forest. I realized I could choose who I am like my dad. After that all I wanted was for the two of you to be safe.”

“But that’s all internal, that’s not something that can be given to you.” Hermione tried to eye the necklace better.

Harry flipped over the crescent moon shape and saw a red Stone in the center. “Guys.”—He showed his friends— “I think this may actually be the Stone.”

“Did you want the Stone?” asked Ron.

“I wanted to save you guys.”

“So you wanted the Stone to save us, but didn’t want to use it?”

“I wanted us all to get out and it gave it to me.”

Hermione looked in the Mirror herself. She knew what she wanted. She wanted a way to keep everyone safe from the thing behind her.

“I get it,” she turned to the creature “Help me lift him!”

“What!” Ron snapped “For all we know, that’s how Quirrell wound up like he did.”

“No, I saw it in the Mirror! I wanted everyone safe more than everything and it showed me how! We need to pick him up and throw him into the Mirror!”

“I’m not following.” Harry said bluntly.

Hermione beamed. “It gives you what you want if you want it unselfishly—you wanted to save us, Ron wanted us out, and I wanted everyone safe—none of those things were purely about ourselves so we received them. Nobody will want Voldemort back for unselfish reasons, so he will never be able to leave the Mirror!”

Hermione pulled out her wand.

“Wingardium Leviosa on three.”

Ron and Harry slipped out their wands.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

Voldemort screeched as he rose from the ground. Just like a feather, he drifted into the Mirror.

The Trio breathed for what felt like the first time.

Voldemort was gone.

They had done it.

Chapter Text

Harry squinted at the man in front of the sun. He didn’t need to see his face to know who the wild hair and stature belonged to.

“Ah, look who’s awake!”

“Dad?” Harry rasped. He felt like he hadn’t had anything in days.

“I am Robert Jones from the Goblin Liaison Office.,” he grinned “The King couldn’t slip away right now, but he sent me to ensure you were well taken care of.”—Jareth handed Harry his glasses— “ You gave us quite a scare.”

Harry slipped on his glasses. It was his dad, no doubt about it. Even in wizard garb, the debonair attitude was unmistakable.

Jareth subtly pointed to the bed to Harry’s right. Harry looked to see it occupied with an awake student reading some pulp magazine and understood immediately. His presence alone made any real conversation with Jareth impossible. His father would never talk openly as the Goblin King if there was even so much as a beetle in the room.

Harry looked around “Why am I in the Hospital Wing?”

“Well, after you went missing for two days--”

“Days!” Harry jumped “We couldn’t have been gone for more than a few hours!”

“Time moved differently where you were,” Jareth explained. “It’s not an uncommon occurrence.”

Harry filled in the blanks and understood It’s just like how time moves faster in some places in the Labyrinth than it does in the Aboveground.

“You likely didn’t notice because you were running on adrenaline, but your mind was experiencing a few hours while your body was still experiencing a few days. Dumbledore brought you here after you emerged in his office.”

“I went to his office?”

“That’s what I was told.”

“I have no memory of that.”

“People running marathons tend not to remember the moments after the finish line.”

“Aside from the obvious,” Jareth grinned “I hope your time here has been...pleasant.” He said ‘pleasant’ like he knew it was a lie.

“Yeah,” “Didn’t expect defeating Dark Lords to be part of my education.”

“I have discussed things thoroughly with Dumbledore and he agreed to move the Mirror of Erised to a safer, less child filled premises.”

“What about my friends?”

“The two who were with you left yesterday—the girl said something about not wanting to miss any more class. I believe they’re in class right now.”

Harry relaxed against the flattened pillow behind him. That sounded like Hermione.

“What about Quirrell?”

“Quirrell was gone from the scene when the proper authorities arrived, but you shouldn’t worry about that.”--Jareth gave a devilish grin-- “I doubt he’ll last long wherever he is.”

Harry swallowed. Jareth’s could be vindictive to those in his way, but he never actively tried to hurt anyone. In fact, Harry doubted he had ever actually seen Jareth’s true wrath.

“How’s your chest?”

“My chest?” Harry didn’t feel any pain in his chest. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I—“ Harry put his hand on his chest and felt the necklace under his shirt “I’m just happy I’m safe now.”

“As am I.”

Harry’s eyes drifted left and saw a small table filled with candy.

“What’s with the candy?”

Jareth looked as though he’d forgotten.

“It seems you have some fans in the school; students have been dropping things off all day.” Jareth absently lifted a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“You can have one if you’d like.” Harry said. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ever seeing his dad partake in anything remotely sweet.

“No, I was just thinking of how easy it would be to fill one of these with only earwax flavored beans and cast a colovaria to make them look different.” He grinned his crooked tooth smile “Just in case you want to deal with that blond fellow in a less… blatant way.” He threw the box to Harry “Of course, you’d need to have an empty box first.”

Harry smiled and popped the box open “It’s good to see you.”

“Not as good as it is to see you.”

Quirrell puffed as he leaned his hand against the mirror wall. He couldn’t rest long. They were coming. He could hear their echoes of laughter and taunting songs.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

He’d been duped. The peach must’ve been poisoned. That was why it rotted.

“Come on,” screeched a voice “Join the party and lose the head!”

He saw the wild-eyed, feathery gremlin before him. He punched it in desperation and found his hand bleeding.

He saw its laughing face reflected in the cracked mirror.

He ran. It was a mirror maze. There had to be an exit. Had to be.

He felt two hands on each side of his head.

One of them was on his back cackling.

“Not my head,” he pleaded.

“Come on, buddy. It hasn’t been your head since you got that second face!”

Harry approached the open door of Dumbledore’s office.

“Sir,”--Dumbledore looked up from his letter and grinned at Harry-- “I got your owl; You wanted to see me?”

“Indeed,” he smiled “It’s been awhile. Christmas, was it? Well, for you at least. I’ve been informed you don’t remember emerging from under that rug.”

Harry nodded.

“My dad said that it was normal.”

“Whenever the last time we really spoke was, it seems you’ve grown quite a bit since then.”

“I mean, I guess my shoes pinch in the toes a bit now.”

Dumbledore laughed “I meant in a more metaphorical sense. Getting Quirrell to splinch off his lesser half; quite an Achievement in quick thinking, I do say.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Silence.

“I suppose we should avoid chewing the fat.” Dumbledore rose from behind his desk “I hired Quirrell because I wanted to keep him close to me and not out in the wizarding world, regrouping his Dark Master’s followers.”

“So you knew?”

“The parasite behind his head was but a pastiche of the former Voldemort.”

Harry flinched, “You said his name?”

“Don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I was never taught to fear it.”

“And neither was I,” Dumbledore smiled so wide his eyes shut behind his half moon spectacles.

“So you had him under watch? Let me guess, Snape.”

“Seems you're good at reading between the lines. A good trait in any profession.”

“I was raised not to trust wizards. I’m just glad that the one I didn’t trust really was out to get me,” he half laughed.

“I guess that is a good thing.”

Silence.

“Dumbledore? If Quirrell thought I knew about him,” Harry said, not entirely sure how to talk to a wizard of real importance. “Why didn’t, well,” he hesitated “why didn’t Quirrell just kill me?”

“Ah!” Dumbledore smiled a smile that reached past his crooked nose to his eyes “That is the question indeed! Tell me, Harry, what would have happened should you have been killed?”

“Firstly, I’d be dead,” Harry thought aloud “Then I guess my father would blame the school for my death and maybe even go to war.”

“That’s neither here nor there, Harry. Those are all choices your father would have to make. Do you know what would have happened if you had been killed?”

“Isn’t that what you asked the first time?”

“No, Harry. Had you died here, there are a million different ways it could have rippled. However, being killed guarantees one thing: a breach of contract.”

“My father made a contract with you?” Harry asked, not entirely sure why he said it so disgusted.

“Not with me, no. I promised to keep you safe but that was just me doing the same job I do for all the other students here. Had you been killed, the user would have made the completion of the oldest magical contract in existence—perhaps the oldest magic of any kind in existence—impossible. Do you know what that sacred contract is called?”

“I don’t, Sir. The only real magical contract in the Labyrinth is…” it clicked “The Contract of the Labyrinth Runner. Nobody ever ran for me because my mother died.”

“Indeed, Harry. Voldemort was there when your mother wished you away. He may not have known exactly what was protecting you, but he knew it had to have been powerful to destroy him as it did. You see, Harry, the Labyrinth itself was protecting you until someone either Ran for you or gave up. Had he tried to hurt you, there would be a retribution far beyond any your father could have given.”

“Killing me would have made his plan for immortality impossible,” Harry smiled “The Labyrinth protected me.”

“Yes, Harry. I know you came here to prove yourself Rightfully Goblin, and now, even if they should reject you, you Labyrinth has chosen you. You will always be a part of it, just as it is you.”

“Yeah, I think I get that now.”

“Well, I best not be keeping you. It is still, technically, a school day.”

Harry turned to leave.

“But before you go,”--Harry turned just in time to see Dumbledore pull a crystal ball with a smiling dancer out of his robes.-- “I believe you dropped this.”

Harry grabbed the crystal ball and beamed at the young woman inside. She was waving and he gave her a little wave back, and, if only for a second, everything felt okay.

Chapter Text

“Could I ask you a question, Professor Snape?” Harry said as he put down a clean vile in detention that Saturday. Defeating the Dark Lord had transformed from fact into rumor, and Harry hadn’t even attempted to use it as an excuse to get out of his final detention with Snape.

“Is it pertinent to the task?” Snape hissed in his controlled baritone, continuing to write at his desk.

“I was just wondering what you thought about my parents.”

The room became silent as Snape set the quill back in its inkhorn.

“Why do you ask me this?”

“I know a lot of teachers here knew my parents and see me as a miracle, but you never did that. If anything, I was a new thing for you to hate.” Harry half joked.

“Your father was insufferable—always running around with his little gang—should’ve gotten expelled twice over.”

“Oh…”

“Not what you wanted to hear, Potter?”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to be that blunt.” Harry laughed at himself “And I bet my mum was your favorite student.”

Snape scowled “We were in the same year.”

Harry blinked “Really?”

“How old do you think I am?”

Beads of sweat materialized on Harry’s neck.

Think fast!

“Goblins don’t age the same way, so I’m not good with guessing that kind of thing.”

“Just be happy you didn’t wind up with her family.” Snape went back to writing (although Harry was half sure it was just scribbles) “Suffice to say she was the black sheep.”

Harry went back to idly wiping the viles. They were already clean, but he needed an excuse to stay.

“You have her eyes, you know.”

Harry looked up and met Snape’s black eyes. He no longer appeared to be staring at something he neither understood nor liked. No, there was something in there, not an admiration or anything, but something. Acceptance, perhaps? No, his eyes were too worn.

Regret.

“Harry.”

Harry flinched at his first name.

“That will be all.”

Harry set down the vile and made his way to the door.

“And don’t be too trusting of every wizard you meet.”

Harry turned to see Snape at his desk, staring like he wanted Harry to promise him he wouldn’t be.

He smiled and gave a nod “Never dream of it.“

The Great Hall was decked in emerald banners that the school had clearly gotten their value out of. All the students sat at their tables in their silly hats knowing full well what was about to happen: a victory lap for Slytherin.

As they took their seat across the table for Hermione. She was leaning on her elbow in a way that screamed Lets get this over with.

Knowing Hermione, Harry had no doubt she had calculated all their house points in her head and knew they were in dead last.

“Even if we did lose,” Ron said as he nudged Harry “I had a great year.”

“Me too,” Harry smiled.

“Me too,” said Hermione “It still would’ve been nice not to lose to those guys.”

None of them had to look to see the Slytherin house sneering and giving each other preemptive congratulations.

Harry sighed. He wasn’t sure how much he actually did this year. Yes, he defeated Voldemort, but things seemed to be the same as they were at the start of the year. He read The Daily Prophet and knew that nothing had changed for the Goblins. Wasn’t that why he was sent here?

Dumbledore signaled for the chatter to stop.

“Thank you all for coming to our last gathering of the year. Before you all board the train home, I want you each to know that I am proud of each and every one of you for the excellency shown this year. All graduates have their own skills,”--Dumbledore looked directly at harry-- “but this one is particularly exemplary “

Dumbledore spoke once more to the entire room.

“Let’s all give a round of applause for Slytherin, the winners of the house cup.”

The Slytherin table erupted into a borderline row while all the other tables gave a halfway decent round of applause.

“And the winners of the Inter-house Quidditch Cup, Gry--”

The second part was drowned out by the cacophony of cheers, slaps on the back, and overall jubilance.

George came up from behind Ron and shook him “Ya’ hear that, Ron? Three years here and we’ve never heard anything like it.”

Harry looked around, slightly dazed.

Fred shook Harry’s shoulders and grinned from ear to ear. “You helped do that, Seeker of the Year.”

“Why is everyone so happy?” Harry looked around bewildered to find his entire house was celebrating “We lost the house house cup?”

“Ah!” Fred gave a playful push “Slytherin always wins the house cup; you know how many points Snape takes from other houses! It's not a real victory--and everyone seems to know it but them.”

George put his arm around Harry “But we won the inter-house Quidditch Cup! That’s from skill, not favoritism. That hasn’t been done in years! People will always forget who won the house cup from year to year, but the Quidditch winners are carved onto trophies for all of Hogwarts to see forever!”

You gotta celebrate all the victories, Harry. That’s what we always teach Ron. Isn’t that right?”

“You mostly just prank me.”

“Exactly!” Fred grinned “Those are our small victories.”

“We may not have accomplished our ultimate goal for this year, but we didn’t have to. I mean, we don’t graduate for years!”

Harry looked at Fred and George “Things don’t happen fast.”

“Exactly! But we’re close and on the path. Who knows, maybe the next Quidditch streak will be ours?”

Harry smiled. It had been a solid minute and the cheering had yet to die down. He looked at Ron beside him and across the table to Hermione, who had transformed from sunked to beaming. Harry clapped his hands with a new vigor, and the triumph seemed to double in volume.