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Chapter Text

"Somehow, I think we'll be alright."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

- Ron Weasley to Harry Potter at the end of their fifth year.

It was a relatively warm day in Britain. The breeze as he drove on Sirius' motorcycle was pleasant against his face.

Everything was good.

Except for a very tight pressure around his stomach.

"I'm not even going the actual speed limit," he said loudly over the bike's engine. He rolled his eyes.

"We're not wearing helmets!"

Johnny actually laughed at that one, of course, that was what she was worried about.

"You're going to make me get winded the way you're squeezing so tight."

Her grip loosened fractionally, and in the rearview mirror, he could see that she was blushing.

Some passersby's stared as he drove. Unsure of his age or the lack of helmets, he didn't know. Or care, really. They could be nosy if they wanted, so long as nobody called the police or something.

Another few minutes and they were at their destination.

Johnny snorted as he looked at her hair. It had gotten better since the time he first met her, but much of it was still very bushey. It was made even worse now by the lack of a helmet while driving.

"It looks terrible, doesn't it?" She asked self-consciously.

"Messy," he admitted, "not terrible. Kinda funny though." 

Hermione huffed as he locked the bike and they made their way to the library entrance.

"A perfect summer day," he lamented dramatically, "spent inside a prison of books."

She smacked his arm playfully. "You could have just dropped me off and left."

"Oh stop," he said, holding the door open for her. "You know I couldn't."

He was here to protect her family, after all.

"I expect you to be there for them, at least for a few weeks before Ms. Granger goes to the Burrow," Dumbledore said.

Johnny raised an eyebrow. "My powers are gone, how could I possibly protect them if the Death Eaters come knocking?"

Dumbledore just smiled that infuriating smile, before tossing him a locket. 

"Say the word 'Goodstock', and help will arrive immediately."

He toyed with the little locket between his fingers. It was around his neck, faintly warm against his skin. An amethyst pendant was attached to it.

Johnny still didn't much like the idea of only him being here for them, but he supposed he should trust Dumbledore.

They found a table in a semi-secluded corner of the library. The place was huge, even bigger than the one at Hogwarts, according to Hermione, who was really sad when she found out he hadn't bothered to visit it during his stay for the last few days of term there. He didn't tell her - and likely never would - that he was watching over her the entire time, not exploring. 

Immediately, Hermione had pulled out some books. "These are the next ones I've been wanting to read," she said, still looking at the nearest shelf. She pulled out a fourth, purple book that had old Norse on it. "I'm still incredibly jealous that you met Odin! That the Gods are even real at all!"

"Yeah, it was pretty cool, almost being killed in Hel notwithstanding." He took two of them for her and set them on the table. "If you read all of these in one go, I'm gonna have to start getting you ones that actually teach you stuff, like how to cook or something."

Hermione, who had sat down across from him, blinked.

"That did not come out right." He said, a little fearful. "It sounded really sexist, I swear I didn't mean it like that."

"Do enlighten me then," she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"Cooking is a useful life skill," he said, waving his arms a little wildly in desperation, "I love to cook - I could even teach you if you wanted. But you really don't have to, as a woman does not need to know how to cook, but, er, everyone should, in my opinion."

Hermione held a blank expression on her face for a few seconds before cracking a grin.

"You're such a dick!" Johnny said in exasperation.

She was laughing. "I'm sorry - but you had to see your face!"

Someone shushed them from a nearby table.

They quieted down after that.

"You are right though," she whispered to him, "everyone should learn to cook, and I'm happy you have a different viewpoint on it than most."

"It's really the bare minimum," he replied.

She returned to her book, and it was after a few minutes of pure boredom from looking around the spacious library did he turn back to face Hermione. Johnny watched her read for a moment and shook his head. He liked reading too, but this was a little ridiculous.

"I can't believe this," he said, smiling, "y'know summer break is supposed to be fun, right? Why are you spending it all in the library?"

If it was anyone else who said that, he was sure she would have replied with something snappy, but she just smiled back.

"I suppose I could take them out with my library card," she conceded, "I should get back home and do some of the homework assigned..."

"No," he said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow again. "No?"

He shook his head. "You are absolutely not going back home just do to homework. We're getting a slushy or something."

"That's so bad for your teeth," she said, making a face.

"So what? Live a little, dude." He countered. "C'mon, we're leaving."

"Wait, wait wait!" She said, hastily reading a page before turning it and placing a bookmark.

They went to the front desk, where an old lady sat.

"Hello, I want to take these books out," Hermione said politely, showing the books and her card that she retrieved from a wallet in her handbag. 

The old woman smiled. "Oh, don't worry dear, I know you'll return them, you always do."

"But-" She tried to protest.

"Nonsense," the old woman said, chuckling a little, "you go on, it's so nice to see you bring someone along after all this time." At this, the lady looked at Johnny, giving him a warm smile.

Hermione took the books and put them in her handbag without a word, but her face was a little pink.

Johnny didn't say anything either, his face was also heating up.

They got back on the bike in silence then, and Johnny was even more aware now when she hesitantly wrapped her arms around his stomach. He was glad she didn't have super hearing or something because his own heartbeat sounded plenty loud to him.

Jesus, what was happening to him?

The slushy was forgotten now, his only mission was to get them home so he could put some distance between them because why was his stomach fucking fluttering??

They went home with no further words, and when Hermione got off the bike, her hair was even worse than before.

Her parents weren't home, unsurprising he supposed, they were workaholics.

Johnny liked them though, and they clearly adored Hermione, despite not really knowing much about her life at Hogwarts.

Mrs. Granger, who insisted he called her Emma, was laid back and far different than her daughter. She was still incredibly smart but was far more subtle about it. Mr. Granger - Dan - talked more openly about a bunch of things that went over Johnny's head but he nodded his head politely along anyway. Dan had a bit of a more crass sense of humor that contrasted greatly with his wife and daughter that every time he made a joke it made Johnny burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity of it.

It was a nice environment, he had to admit. They provided him with the guest room, and mostly let him and Hermione do whatever they wanted.

Its why he also brought the cookbook up earlier in the library was because none of them actually knew how to, and it was the first major hiccup in his stay, where the Grangers simply refused to let him cook for them. They usually ordered out or bought premade stuff or kept leftovers from Mrs. Granger's mother.

It ended in a compromise of sorts, in which Johnny made breakfast, and they ordered for dinner. He usually made lunch too when they were at work, or just took Hermione out for it.

Now, Johnny desperately wished he was with Sirius and Harry at Grimmauld Place, if only to get his heart to stop beating so fast.

Hermione took out the books and placed them on the dining table, resolutely looking anywhere but at him.

God, Johnny had a feeling that this was going to be a long day, and it wasn't even lunch yet.

He hated being right.

"A birthday party?"

"That's right!" Mr. Granger confirmed enthusiastically. "It's my brother's birthday, I'd nearly forgotten what with how busy the practice is."

The Grangers had gotten home an hour or two after Johnny and Hermione.

"So we've taken the rest of the day off to get ready," Mrs. Granger said, dropping a handbag onto the couch. "The others should be fine on their own."

"I'll make sure not to make a mess here then," Johnny said from where he sat at the dining table. Hermione was upstairs in her room. They had loitered around for a few minutes before she awkwardly made an excuse to leave.

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Granger asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion, "you're coming too, we can't just leave you on your own."

He sighed internally. He may not be an adult, but he was still very mature and capable of being on his own goddammit. "That's really unnecessary, what will you tell your relatives when they ask who this strange American boy you've brought over is?"

"I have family in the states," Mrs. Granger said simply, "you are a distant cousin that is staying with us for a sort of apprenticeship over the summer."

That was... actually a pretty good lie, which was worrying in of itself coming from a Granger.

"If you're sure..." he said hesitantly.

"We are," Mr. Granger said with a nod so full of confidence that reminded him so much of Hermione. "D'you think you could go upstairs and let Hermione know to start getting ready?"

No. He said inwardly, not quite ready to face her just yet. But out loud, he said; "sure, no problem."

This was so stupid, they were friends - good friends, even. Johnny shouldn't be nervous around her, he didn't get nervous around anyone.

It was with this newfound resolve that he trudged up the stairs, his socks making no noise against the flooring.

Her room was the first one you'd see at the landing, straight ahead when you went up. The guest room - the one he was staying in, was at the end of the hall to the left.

Johnny knocked on her door, but there was no answer.

"Hermione?" He called.

There was a shuffling noise, and finally she responded, but she sounded odd.

"Y-yes?" Hermione said.

"Uhm, your parents want you to start getting ready for your uncle's birthday party. It's today and they forgot to bring it up."

Another moment of silence.

"O-okay, thank you."

"Yeah," he said awkwardly and went back downstairs.

Only Mr. Granger was still there when Johnny came back.

"I let her know," he told him.

"Great, thanks," Mr. Granger said, "are you coming like that?"

He said it politely enough, and Johnny knew these people to be genuine. Still, his hackles rose minutely.

Johnny was wearing the brown leather jacket that Sirius had gotten him for Christmas, some black skinny jeans that had rips around the knees, and a Pink Floyd shirt.

"Er, yeah, is... is that okay?"

Something flickered on the other man's face, but it happened so fast Johnny barely noticed. "Yes, of course, we don't mind it at all. I'm a bit partial to most of the bands that you have shirts for."

'We' didn't mean the rest of his family, Johnny noticed. He suddenly had a bad feeling.

"When are we leaving?" Johnny asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, in an hour and a half, ideally." Mr. Granger responded, apparently glad for the change. "We'll be eating dinner there, so just wait around and relax until then, I suppose."

Johnny nodded, taking a seat on the comfortable couch they had and turned on the television. He felt very weird using their stuff without asking, but they had frequently encouraged him to do as he pleased as if it were his house too.

"We're here in Geneva, Switzerland for the Champions League draw..." 

He didn't mind soccer, so he kept it here.

Mrs. Granger came out from the washroom a minute or two later, and she smiled at him broadly when she saw him sitting down, which he found a little strange. She and Mr. Granger both then went upstairs to get ready, leaving Johnny all alone and very confused.

He sat awkwardly in the backseat next to Hermione as Mr. Granger drove. Johnny had initially wanted to drive his bike there behind them, but like with most things, they insisted he'd join them in the car.

So here he was, his breath hitching every time his and Hermione's knees bumped together. Their car was annoyingly small, didn't they have a lot of money?

Hermione was determinedly staring out the window, making him feel even worse.

Johnny had no idea what was happening between them, but he knew he didn't like it. Not talking to her sucked. He knew she wasn't mad or anything - Hermione usually had no problem making that clear to people - but what else could it be?

Well, he did have some idea of what it could be, but it was so stupid and unlikely that he just shook his head in annoyance. Mostly at himself.

He tried to think of something else, but doing that meant remembering the prophecy or Blackheart's death, and he'd already seen plenty of that in his nightmares. Hermione was a preferable topic to constantly have on his mind.

The ride there was quiet and uneventful. Some music played on the radio that Johnny didn't really care for, but that was pretty much the only other notable thing. It took around an hour to reach Mr. Granger's parents' house, which was a rather large one in a secluded and semi-wooded area. A gate went around the property.

It reminded Johnny of some of the houses in Upstate New York, which was already a small red flag to him.

"We're here," Mr. Granger announced, getting out of the car to unlock the gate. He got back in and drove them up the paved driveway that was damn near a road what with how long it stretched.

Four other cars were parked near the actual house itself. They stopped behind the nearest one.

"How many people are here?" He asked a little nervously.

"Oh just my siblings," Mr. Granger replied, smiling. "My sister and her two kids, my brother and his three, my cousin and her two, my other cousin with his two..."

Dear god. Johnny nearly shuddered at the prospect of that many screaming kids. Was this a nightmare? He certainly hoped that he'd wake up soon.

They walked up to the front door, which was dark oak and expensive-looking. The house itself was large and modern-looking. Much nicer than his place in Upstate New York. The sun was already going down by the time they arrived.

Mr. Granger rang the doorbell and waited patiently. The door was answered a moment later by a woman with graying hair and wrinkles. She wore glasses with one of those beaded chain things that Johnny never knew the purpose of and smiled broadly at the sight of them. 

"Oh, Dan! So glad you could make it!" She said, with an accent he could only describe as posh. It was similar to Hermione's in that way.

Mr. Granger gave the woman a hug. "Hello, mum, good to see you too."

Her expression twitched only slightly - but still enough for Johnny to notice - when she laid eyes on Mrs. Granger, who was smiling pleasantly at her. 

"Emma," she said not as enthusiastically, "lovely to see you too, dear."

"Likewise," Mrs. Granger returned.

And then her eyes fell on Hermione, who was dressed in a sky blue fluffy sort of turtle neck, and her expression brightened again.

"And there's my little Jeanie!" 

Hermione blushed, Johnny snickered.

This was the wrong thing to do, however, because now the woman's attention was on him.

"And who is this?" She asked.

"Oh, this is a cousin of Emma's from the States," Mr. Granger explained, "he's staying with us over the summer for an apprenticeship of sorts." He turned to him. "Johnny, this is my mother, Elizabeth."

"Nice to meet you," he said politely, offering her a smile.

But Elizabeth did not smile back. She appraised him for a moment, lingering on his jacket and ripped jeans, before turning back to her son.

"Yes, well, do come in. And mind you, take your shoes off on the carpet."

Yeah, this was going to fucking suck.

They walked in, Elizabeth already halfway towards another room. The entrance area was round, with a staircase straight ahead and two different rooms to the right and left.

He took off his shoes and left them neatly on the carpet. Not because she asked them, but because something like that was taught to him early on by Crash and Mona.

Mr. Granger started leading them towards the room to the left. It was a dining area that connected to a large kitchen. Many adults were littered around and having conversations. Some held glasses of wine in their hands.

A few of them noticed as they entered, and called out.

Johnny had never felt so out of place in his entire life. They were all dressed smartly, and as they greeted the Grangers, their eyes would flit over to him. Even as Mr. Granger repeated their perfectly crafted lie, Johnny could see it in their faces. They were disgusted by him. His presence here. Clearly, they agreed that he didn't belong either.

They wouldn't say it, and their expressions became welcoming and polite a moment after, but it was too late.

He greeted them all, before disappearing into another room. It was empty and seemed to be a study of some sort. He took a moment to let out a deep sigh.

How was he meant to survive the night here?

Figuring it would be rude to not talk to anyone all night and only prove to validate their initial, incorrect opinion on him, Johnny decided to brave the dining room once more.

The first thing he noticed was Mr. Granger speaking to a group of other men, and Hermione over in a corner with two other people that must have been cousins because they looked around his age. Mrs. Granger was also in a corner in the kitchen with some of the women. Not really talking to them, but scanning the room. Her eyes landed on him, and she offered a small smile. He could have swore she also mouthed the word 'sorry'.

"So, Johnny, right?"

He turned, two women also apart from the group were to his right at the kitchen island. The one who spoke had brown hair the same color as Hermione's, and the other was a blonde. The one who spoke to him was the blonde.

"Yeah, that's right." He responded.

"How are you adjusting to Britain?" The brown-haired one asked.

"It's been alright," he said. There was something funny about not mentioning that he'd already been here for almost a year now, and that the adjust was anything but smooth. "I've met some good people working with Dan and Emma."

"What did you do before for work?" The blonde one asked.

"I was a mechanic, I worked for my father in Harlem."

"Is that where you grew up then?"

They probably didn't know much about New York other than it smelled and was riddled with crime. So any place he named wouldn't matter, really.

"I moved around a lot," he answered. Like hell, he was going to go into detail with them. "Manhatten, Washington Heights. We finally settled in Upstate New York after a few years."

Their eyes widened in recognition. Figures they'd only know one of the rich parts of New York. 

"That sounds nice, then," the brown-haired one said.

"It is," he said.

They were testing him in some way, he knew. But what they thought of mechanics, he would never know, as they went to join the other group of women in conversation.

He eyed Hermione again, but she was still talking with her cousins, so he decided against it. If they were anything like the other people here, he knew that it wouldn't be worth approaching them.

Johnny walked into the study from before again, but this time kept going towards a door on the other side. It went around to the left room near the main entrance. There was an old man sitting on a leather couch with his feet up watching a soccer game on the television. Kids were playing on the carpeted floor nearby.

Six little brats all stared up at him as he entered.

They all had various shades of brown for hair. The kids stood up and surrounded him in seconds. A myriad of questions coming from their mouths.

"Who are you?"

"...one of auntie Jess's 'friends', I bet..."

"What do you know about that, Mark?"

"Are you a criminal?"

Alright, that last one really surprised him.

"What?" He said, laughing a little bit.

The boy - who looked to be the youngest of them all - eyed him with scrutiny.

What the fuck did they teach these kids?

"Grandma says that anyone who dresses like that is a criminal."

Feeling more than a little annoyed, he crouched down to the kid's height and smirked.

"The worst kind of one," he said, "so you all better move out of my way before I get mad."

The kids gave him a wide berth after that, and he saw a couple of fearful glances as he walked towards the couch.

It was a dick move, but he didn't really care at the moment.

Johnny'd regret deciding to sit down soon, though.

The old man, who he assumed to be Hermione's grandfather, shook his head as Manchester United was put into a group with Juventus for the upcoming champions league.

"Unlucky, that," the old man said, "Juventus has a decent side this year. Can't say the same for United when they still have Andy Cole in the starting eleven..."

Johnny didn't respond, instead, he found himself counting down the minutes until they left and fearing for when dinnertime came around.

"What's New York like, Johnny?"

He paused with a fork of spaghetti wrapped around it about halfway towards his mouth. This was a question he was sort of dreading. Well, any question directed towards him was enough to be alarming, but still. One of Mr. Granger's brother's asked the question, Johnny had already forgotten his name.

"It's..." he trailed off, thinking.

Smelly, crime-riddled, the people are assholes...

"It's home," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips, thinking of James. "It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but... there's no other place like it."

There was silence for a moment, everyone was looking at him. Hermione was grinning.

"I'll say," another one of Mr. Granger's brother's piped up suddenly, "bloody alien invasions every week!"

"Richard!"

"It's true!"

Johnny laughed. He wasn't exactly wrong.

"They've got a fantastic music scene," one of the women said.

"And loads of talented artists," another added, nodding.

Alright, maybe some of them weren't so bad.

"Well when I went, I was hoping to see that Spider-Man bloke, but he never showed up where I was walking around. Some fight with a nutter called the 'Shocker' at a bank."

He laughed again.

Twenty minutes later, dinner was done and the adults were back to chatting in their little groups as the kids played.

He was in the library because of course, they had their own damn library.

Fascinating books mostly on history, and the place wasn't really all that big. Some philosophical one's in there too.

A voice from behind him startled Johnny out of his skimming of a Shakespeare book. Really, he ought to be used to it now.

"That's one of my favorite plays from Shakespeare."

At first, he thought it was Hermione, but the girl in front of him looked nothing like her, it was just the voice that was similar.

She was blonde, with striking hazel eyes. Her face was a bit fuller than Hermione's and her hair was shoulder length.

"I'm not too big on him," he admitted, looking back down to 'A Winter's Tale'. "Too much drama and forced scenarios."

She chuckled, and he had to admit, it was a little endearing.

"That's fair," she said, "a product of its time, I suppose." She stuck her hand out. "My name is Emily."

He took it. "Johnny."

"I know," Emily said, still smiling, "my relatives gossip a lot."

"I would say hopefully good things, but they don't seem the type." He said, not really caring if it was rude to say that.

Thankfully, she laughed again, and it was almost melodic.

"You'd be right, unfortunately. It gets tiring after a while."

"I don't know how you survive," he admitted.

"By going along with it, of course." Another voice said.

Hermione was here too now, standing near the end of a shelf and glaring daggers at Emily.

"Ah, Hermione, there you are," Emily said a little stiffly.

He didn't remember seeing Emily with Hermione and her other cousins when they first arrived now that he thought about it. Guess he knew why now.

"Yes, well, I need to speak to Johnny, if you don't mind."

Jesus Christ, he'd never heard Hermione talk like that before.

"Not at all," Emily responded coolly, stepping around her and waving at Johnny. "Nice meeting you," she said.

"You as well," he called.

It was just him and Hermione now. Johnny raised an eyebrow at her. "Anything you want to tell me about that?"

"She's a horrid person," Hermione said bluntly, crossing her arms.

"I kinda got that, by the way you were trying to kill her just by looking at her." He joked.

Hermione ignored the slight jab and led him out of the library. "She likes to pretend she's above all the gossip, the down talking, but really, she can't get enough of it."

Inwardly, Johnny was hit with such a strong sense of relief that it was almost staggering. At least Hermione knew how unlikeable her relatives were. He had been an idiot to think she'd be blind to it, this was Hermione for chrissake, she knew what people who looked down on others looked like.

Hermione huffed to herself as they idled in the hallway.

"Want to get some fresh air?" He suggested.

She nodded stiffly, so off they went to the front door. There were people in the back, last time he checked before going to the library, so this seemed like the safer option.

They sat down on the front porch, their legs stretched down the steps. It was dark out now, the moon was completely unobstructed by the clouds. It was a beautiful night.

"What's up with you?" Johnny asked. "I've never seen you talk to anyone like that, not even Ron when he was annoying you."

Hermione was silent for a few moments.

"When we were younger, there was a boy I fancied at school. We went to the same one together, you see, and... well... I told her about it. This boy wasn't popular like the other time I'd confessed my feelings, there was actually a chance he'd say yes. Well... she swooped in and... and - nobody ever really talked to him, so of course, he'd take any sort of attention as romantic feelings. It was easy for Emily to get him to like her. She only did it to get at me, and barely a month or two later they broke up."

"Damn," he said, eyebrows raised, "what a bitch."

Hermione let out an exasperated chuckle. "Yup."

He laughed and nudged her with his elbow. "Well, I don't think you'll have to worry about her stealing me."

She looked at him, with a smug little grin on her face. It was something he'd never really seen her do before, and it made his breath catch.

"Oh, yeah?" Hermione said, a taunting lilt to her voice.

Johnny opened his mouth - probably to stutter dumbly and-

Crack!

They jumped apart, and Johnny hadn't even realized that they had been sitting so close in the first place.

Severus Snape stood before them on the driveway, dressed in his classic black robes, a small smirk on his face.

"Am I interrupting something?" He drawled, waving his wand slightly.

"No," Johnny bit out, glaring at the man. "Not at all."

Normally, he didn't have a problem with Snape. Johnny found his sniping comments pretty funny most of the time. But right now, Johnny would love nothing more than to clock him in the face.

"Excellent," Snape said, still smirking. Johnny was determinedly not looking at Hermione. "I've come here to let you both know that Professor Dumbledore has requested that you both spend the rest of your summer vacation at the Weasley's home. He feels it is a safer move than staying with Mr. and Mrs. Granger."

"Why send me here then in the first place?" Johnny asked, feeling annoyed.

"No doubt, you have heard about the Brockdale Bridge being destroyed?" Snape said instead of answering.

"Yes," Hermione said, "it was all over the news."

He remembered hearing about that, and indeed, Hermione's parents were glued to the television for the entire coverage of it on the local news channel.

"Well," Snape said, "that was very clearly an attack by the Death Eaters. Our now former Minister, Fudge refused to step aside for the Dark Lord, and that was the repercussion. Additionally, Emmeline Vance and Amelia Bones have both been murdered."

Hermione gasped loudly while Johnny swore under his breath. He turned his head behind him to make sure nobody was coming outside to check on them, but there was no movement by the front door.

"Professor Dumbledore feels it is no longer safe to keep you both here," Snape continued, "and thus, has sent me to deliver the message."

"Do we have to go right now?" Hermione asked.

"No," Snape said, "you are both free to return home to pack, of course, someone will be by either tomorrow or the day after you pick you up."

"Wait," Johnny said, "how did you even know we'd be here? I didn't tell anyone about the birthday party."

Snape smirked again. "How else? We've had extra Order members watching over the house. Didn't want to bruise your pride by having you do nothing all summer. There is so much you have to learn about how Dumbledore operates."

"I do know one thing," Johnny said, wishing he could punch him.

"And what's that?" Snape asked.

"You're a dick."

Snape bowed his head in acknowledgment. "That's true. Now, if there is nothing else..." He waited a moment, but neither teen spoke.

He disappeared with another crack.

Johnny looked at Hermione, there was an unreadable expression on her face. But he had a good idea of what she was thinking about.

If Emmeline was dead, which one of them could be next?

Chapter Text

"I thought you would be angry with me," Dumbledore confessed.

"Oh, I am angry with you, sir, but I think it'd be a little bit rude to start screaming and destroying your belongings."

- Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter after the latter learns of the prophecy.

"Who the blazes is calling at this time of night?"

Harry froze midturn of a page from the book he was reading.

Shit, he'd totally forgotten Dumbledore was picking him up today! The entire summer break so far had been leading up to this. Harry had stopped really caring about his chores or the Dursley's threats. Dudley mostly kept out of his way too, which was nice.

And so feeling both panicky and close to laughter, he clambered over the trunk and wrenched open his bedroom door in time to hear a deep voice say, "Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you we would be coming for him?"

Harry ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught him to remain out of arm’s reach of his uncle whenever possible. There in the doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length silver hair and beard. Halfmoon spectacles were perched on his crooked nose, and he was wearing a long black travelling cloak and a pointed hat. And beside him, dressed in a rather expensive-looking black muggle suit was Sirius!

"He doesn't look the type to be a good listener, anyway, Albus," Sirius said, grinning a little evilly at Uncle Vernon.

"I have to agree with you there, Sirius." Dumbledore concurred.

Vernon Dursley, whose mustache was quite as bushy as Dumbledore’s, though black, and who was wearing a puce dressing gown, was staring at the visitors as though he could not believe his tiny eyes.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that we were coming," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times."

He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind him. "It is a long time since my last visit," Dumbledore said, peering down his crooked nose at Uncle Vernon. "I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing."

Sirius snickered as Uncle Vernon took a few steps back. His uncle said nothing the entire time. Maybe he had sensed that Dumbledore and Sirius would be particularly hard to bully?

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, seeing him on the staircase, "there you are."

He met Sirius' eyes first, and everything seemed to just feel better.

"Now wait just a minute," Uncle Vernon said, finally finding his voice, "I don't mean to be rude, bu-"

"And yet," Dumbledore cut him off smoothly, "sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often."

"Yeah," Sirius chimed in, "best to shut your trap sometimes, believe me, mate."

"Now," Dumbledore continued, "we won't bother you long, there's just a simple but important matter to discuss, and then we can take Harry and be on our way." He took out his wand from his robe, and with a wave, glasses of a sparkling amber liquid appeared in front of everyone. Dumbledore walked into the living room and took a seat on the recliner by the fireplace and sighed in content as he sat down. 

At that time, Aunt Petunia and Dudley walked in to see who had visited, and the horror on Petunia's face was a look he'd not soon forget.

"Ah, Petunia," Dumbledore said politely. "How good to see you, we've corresponded before."

If, by corresponded, Dumbledore meant sending a howler last summer to keep Harry from being kicked out by the Dursleys, then yes, they had.

"And this must be Dudley," Dumbledore continued, as Harry's cousin in question poked his head out from around the wall connected to the staircase. "As I have just told Vernon, there is something important we must share with you all."

"It's about him, isn't it?" Aunt Petunia said, surprising Harry by finding the courage to speak. "That monster that... that..."

Dumbledore nodded his head sadly. "Yes, Petunia, it is about Lord Voldemort."

A heavy silence filled the room, even Sirius' smirk slipped from his face. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder from beside him where they stood near Dumbledore.

"I've heard of this Voldemort character," Vernon said, still looking cross, "the boy has tried to threaten us with him-"

"I have not!" Harry cried, and Sirius' grip on his shoulder tightened.

"Yes, well," Dumbledore said, "I rather doubt Harry has done that, you see, he was trying to warn you..."

Vernon grunted. "I doubt it, why would that Lord nutter come here?"

"If Voldemort thinks you know anything that could help him get to Harry," Sirius said, "he wouldn't hesitate to torture you. And here's the best part, Dursley, even after giving Harry up - because you would - he'd just kill you anyway. He hates muggles."

"Is that all we are to you people, then?" Vernon spat. "Just worthless sacks of meat for you to poke and prod at your whim?"

"Not to me, no," Sirius replied smoothly, "to me, you're just a coward who abused a young boy for absolutely nothing at all."

"Why you-"

Dumbledore waved his wand, and just as Vernon stood up from the couch, an invisible force made him sit down again. Vernon struggled and struggled, but it was fruitless. His face was turning purple in anger, and though he was shouting and his mouth was moving, no sound came out.

"I believe we've heard enough from you, Vernon," Dumbledore commented idly before looking at Harry's aunt. "Now, Petunia, I will try to get on with what I was trying to say... Lord Voldemort is back, gathering strength in hiding right now while the rest of his followers create chaos all over Britain. The collapse of the Brockdale Bridge? That was no freak accident, I assure you."

Aunt Petunia was white-faced and wide-eyed, but she did not dare speak a word.

"What this all means is, well, you'll have to move," Dumbledore said. "Somewhere on the other side of the country. Perhaps a name change, as well. I doubt Voldemort knows what any of you look like, so you should be fine on that front. I can offer you protection, as well as any comfort your family might need. I can have your house sold today if you'd like."

Uncle Vernon was struggling as hard as ever now, spit was flying from his mouth as he soundlessly shouted.

"I..." Petunia choked out. "Are you quite sure it's necessary for us-"

"Yes," Dumbledore cut her off, "I am. This is for your safety, not ours or Harry's. We benefit nothing from this. Because the truth is, you do not know anything of worth to tell Voldemort in the first place. And though I am extremely disappointed with how you have treated Harry all these years, I'm here offering you this chance regardless."

Petunia was silent for several moments, and even Vernon stopped his soundless tirade to look at his wife. Dudley was staring pointedly at the floor.

The moment stretched, and Harry found his heart beating strangely fast.

But it seemed Petunia could not answer. She shook her head, opened her mouth to speak and-

"I want to leave."

Harry could not help it, his jaw dropped dumbly.

Dudley was looking firmly between Harry and Dumbledore. "If this bloke who killed Harry's parents is back and wants him dead, then I want to get as far away as possible."

Vernon resumed his silent shouting while Petunia's expression mirrored Harry's.

"Dudders," she said, "a-are you sure?"

Dudley nodded and Petunia buried her face in her hands for a few seconds.

"Well," she said slowly, "it would make me feel a bit safer too..."

Vernon was shaking his head violently. Petunia paid him no attention.

"We'll do it," she said finally. "We'll move. Can it really be anywhere?"

"Yes," Dumbledore answered with a small smile. "Anywhere you like, we can arrange."

"I've always wanted to visit Buenos Aires," Petunia admitted slowly.

"I can have you moved in there in three days," Dumbledore responded immediately.

"Alright then," Petunia said after a small pause, "we'll do it."

Harry could hardly believe that this was happening. He knew that he'd be leaving forever this summer, but to know that the Dursleys would also be gone shortly after was a shock.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together, "I shall send someone by in a few days then if that works out for you?"

Petunia nodded, and Dumbledore looked at Harry now. "Go and pack, Harry, we'll be leaving soon."

He left in silence, barely registering Vernon's fruitless attempts to get Petunia's attention. Sirius followed him upstairs.

"Figure I'll just wave my wand and we'll be done with things quickly, yeah?" He said.

"What about the trace?" Harry asked as they ascended the stairs, his brow furrowed in confusion. "The ministry might think it's me doing it again."

Sirius grinned cheekily. "Perks of being the chosen one, kiddo, they wouldn't dare expel you now."

Harry felt a small twinge of annoyance at that. He hated the preferential treatment given by the ministry as it was often never without purpose.

Sure enough, as soon as they entered his bedroom, Sirius waved his wand and everything Harry owned started packing itself into his trunk. Admittedly, it wasn't a lot. As it happened, Sirius scowled at the room. Harry knew he likely wanted to turn the Dursleys into goo right now or rant to Harry about how unfair it all was.

But he already knew about all that, and Harry rather wanted to just leave and put it behind him.

A few moments later, and Harry was all packed.

Just as they were about to leave, Aunt Petunia made her way into the doorframe. She ignored Sirius completely.

"I've lived in this house for twenty years..." she said, "and now in a few days, I'll be on a different continent entirely."

Harry was confused, had she changed her mind?

"The protections around this house will be gone once I no longer consider this place home," Harry said plainly, recalling Dumbledore's words from their conversation in his office after the fight at the ministry. "I'm leaving with Sirius tonight. They'll torture you. If they think for a moment you know where I'm going, they'll stop at nothing."

There was a long pause. Petunia just stared into his eyes without saying anything. It was unnerving to Harry, and her gaze was without the normal disdain it usually held whilst regarding him. Her features softened, and she looked almost sad. "You think I don't know what they're capable of?" She said softly. "You didn't just lose a mother that night in Godric's Hollow, you know. I lost a sister."

She left soon after, leaving a stunned Harry to stew on that.

Sirius cleared his throat a few moments later. "C'mon, pup, let's leave this ruddy place."

But the surprises did not end with Petunia. Dudley was waiting for him at the end of the stairs, making shaky eye contact.

"You're leaving for good then?" Dudley asked slowly.

Harry blinked. "Yeah, D, I am. You can finally be rid of me and I'll never have to hear Vernon call me a waste of space again, so, it's a win for both of us."

Dudley looked away towards the wall of the stairs, his mouth moved but no sound came out.

"What?" Harry asked, leaning closer.

"I... I don't think you're a waste of space." Dudley said.

If Petunia's weird little speech shocked him, Harry was absolutely floored by Dudley's admission.

Was this a weird change of heart spell that Harry had never heard of before? It had to be.

Dudley awkwardly extended a hand, which Harry took with a slight amount of hesitation. It was a quick shake, but it only increased Harry's bewilderment tenfold.

Dudley stepped aside as soon as he let go of Harry's hand.

"Good luck, mate." He said.

Harry nodded back, unsure of what to say.

Dumbledore was waiting by the front door now, a smile on his face.

"Are you ready, Harry?"

He took a deep breath and glanced around the house one last time before nodding once more.

"Yeah, I am."

Dumbledore clapped him on the shoulder before bidding the Dursley's farewell.

They were one step outside of the house before Dumbledore suddenly turned around.

"Almost forgot," he said, before reopening the door and waving his wand in the direction of the living room.

At once Vernon's deranged yelling could be heard, even as Dumbledore closed the front door and they made their way onto the street.

"Now, gentlemen," he said, "it's time we visit an old friend of mine."

Harry gulped great lungfuls of cold night air and opened his streaming eyes. He felt as though he had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube. It was a few seconds before he realized that Privet Drive had vanished. He, Sirius and Dumbledore were now standing in what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the center of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches. His comprehension catching up with his senses, Harry realized that he had just Apparated for the first time in his life.

"Are you all right?" Dumbledore asked, looking down at him solicitously. "The sensation does take some getting used to."

"And by that," Sirius added with a chuckle, "he means that you'll never get used to it."

"Of course," Harry choked out. Because why would any form of transportation in this ruddy world be pleasant? "I think I'll stick to brooms."

Sirius let out a laugh that was more like a bark at Harry's words.

Dumbledore merely smiled and drew his travelling cloak a little more tightly around his neck. "This way," he said, taking off at a brisk pace.

They passed by an Inn, a couple of houses and a church before Dumbledore spoke again.

"So tell me, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Your scar... has it been hurting at all?"

Harry raised a hand unconsciously to his forehead and rubbed the lightning-shaped mark.

"No," he said, "and I’ve been wondering about that. I thought it would be burning all the time now Voldemort’s getting so powerful again."

"I've been wondering about that too," Sirius commented.

He glanced up at Dumbledore and saw that he was wearing a satisfied expression.

"I, on the other hand, thought otherwise," Dumbledore said. "Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you."

"Well, I’m not complaining," Harry muttered, who missed neither the disturbing dreams nor the startling flashes of insight into Voldemort’s mind.

They turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter.

Harry looked sideways at Dumbledore again. "Professor?"

"Harry?"

"Er - where exactly are we?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, "we are in the charming little village of Budleigh Babberton."

"To see a colleague of yours," Harry added.

"Yes," Dumbledore said with a nod, "once again I find myself missing a member of staff, though perhaps missing Dolores Umbridge is too generous a term."

Sirius snorted, "I'll say."

There was still something Harry didn't understand.

"But, sir, why do you need me here for this?"

It wasn't as if Harry actively didn't want to be here, but as his shrunken luggage trunk bounced lightly in the pocket of his hoodie, he couldn't help but yearn to be at Grimmauld Place already.

Dumbledore regarded him with an odd glint in his eye. "I'm sure we'll find a use for you."

"Slughorn was teaching potions while I was at school," Sirius mentioned, "he's good, if prone to droning on about his connections. Useful if you want to make some money and get into good positions though."

Harry nodded. He didn't much care for the last bit, but if Sirius thought he was a good teacher then that was good enough for him. Potions needed a new professor anyway-

"Wait," he suddenly said, eyes wide. Dumbledore and Sirius turned to face him.

"What is it?" Sirius asked with an eyebrow raised.

"If Slughorn's teaching potions... what's Snape teaching?"

"Defence against the Dark Arts, of course," Dumbledore said.

Harry stared at Dumbledore with his mouth agape.

"B-but..."

"I was under the impression that your relationship with Professor Snape was improving," Dumbledore said with a slight frown.

"Well," Harry sputtered, "well, yes, but... seriously?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I have no doubt that Severus will prove to be an excellent teacher in that field."

"He's only bloody wanted it for years," Sirius muttered.

"Yes, well, I am left with little alternative," Dumbledore said. "Left here, gentlemen."

They turned into a street with a bunch of houses that had their lights off. There was a chill in the air that was even present at Privet Drive. Thinking of Dementors, Harry cast a worried look over his shoulder, but nothing was there.

"Why couldn't we just apparate into his house, Professor?"  He eventually asked.

"Because that would be quite rude, Harry," Dumbledore admonished lightly, "and at any rate, Horace would certainly have wards in place to prevent such a thing."

"Like at Hogwarts," Harry said, "Hermione says you can't apparate in or out of there."

"And she is quite right," Dumbledore acknowledged.

The clock of the church they had passed a little while ago struck midnight.

"Sir, I read about Fudge being sacked," Harry said.

"That is correct," Dumbledore replied.

"Bout bloody time," Sirius added on. "Scrimgeour is a decent replacement, tough bloke, he is. Was head of the Auror office for a long while."

"He will not underestimate Lord Voldemort either, which is considerably better than Fudge," Dumbledore said plainly.

"Though that's a low bar for you, eh?" Sirius said with a smirk. "No doubt you've read about their disagreement, Harry?"

He did actually. But Harry wasn't sure how to bring it up. However, now that Sirius had done it for him...

"Yes, well, disagreements tend to happen from time to time. It's not unnatural." Dumbledore said, smiling benignly. Only Sirius could get away with needling the older wizard like that, Harry thought. And now he rather didn't want to push his luck.

"Can't really blame you though, Albus," Sirius continued on, "have you seen those leaflets they've been sending out?"

Dumbledore kept his smile. "I have, yes, they were quite an interesting read."

"An understatement," Sirius chuckled.

Harry remembered receiving one as well. Needless to say, it found a new home very quickly in the bin. There was one thing he wasn't quite sure about though.

"On the leaflet, they mentioned Inferi," Harry said, "but they didn't really explain it very well. What are they?"

"They are corpses," Dumbledore said calmly. "Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizard’s bidding. Inferi have not been seen for a long time, however, not since Voldemort was last powerful. He killed enough people to make an army of them, of course. This is the place, Harry, just here..."

They were nearing a small, neat stone house set in its own garden. Harry was too busy digesting the horrible idea of Inferi to have much attention left for anything else, but as they reached the front gate, Dumbledore stopped dead and
Harry walked into him.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear."

Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.

Dumbledore glanced up and down the street. It seemed quite deserted. 

Sirius was already heading towards the house with his wand out, Dumbledore quickly following behind him.

And even though he had been assured that the Ministry was not likely to expel him for performing magic, Harry still hesitated for just a moment before pulling his wand out and also heading to the front door.

Inside the main hallway, their wands were alight and illuminating the area. There was a door to the left that was open, but Harry's attention was immediately drawn to the sitting room. It looked as if a bomb had gone off. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, a piano was tipped over with its keys scattered everywhere, vases were destroyed on the floors, and couch cushions looked slashed. On the wall directly to the right inside the sitting room, was a dark splatter of what Harry could only assume was blood, still wet.

Dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet. Harry followed, gazing around, half-scared of what he might see hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the overturned sofa, but there was no sign of a body.

"Maybe there was a fight and - and they dragged him off, Professor?" Harry suggested, trying not to imagine how badly wounded a man would have to be to leave those stains spattered halfway up the walls.

"A smart conclusion to come to, and yet, I do not happen to agree," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Albus?" Sirius said questioningly. "You mean he's somewhere still here?"

"I believe so," Dumbledore responded, "observe."

And without warning, Dumbledore swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said, straightening up again.

Harry’s jaw dropped. Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched a rather wide, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye.

"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. "It hurt."

The wandlight sparkled on his shiny pate, his prominent eyes, his enormous, silver, walruslike mustache, and the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk pajamas. The top of his head barely reached Dumbledore’s chin.

"What gave me away?" The man grunted.

"My dear friend, if the Death Eaters truly had come calling," Dumbledore said with a small smile, "the Dark Mark would be up in the sky."

The wizard clapped a pudgy hand to his vast forehead. "The Dark Mark," he muttered. "Knew there was something... ah well. Wouldn’t have had time anyway, I’d only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

He heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his mustache flutter.

"Would you like our assistance clearing up?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Please," the other man said.

The two of them and Sirius then stepped up and waved their wands at the same time in one grand sweeping motion.

At once, the room started putting itself back together. The grandfather clock stood up on its own, the piano flipped itself and all of its keys flew back to it. The blood on the wall found its way back into a crystal bottle that was previously smashed into dust. It was an amazing sight.

It quickly grew loud, however, and Harry covered his ears as the clock started chiming again and the chandelier rammed itself back into place hanging from the ceiling.

"What kind of blood was that on the wall, incidentally?" Dumbledore asked with polite curiousness.

"On the wall? Dragon's." The wizard called Horace answered. "Costs a fortune, as well, it's my last bottle." He picked up the crystal bottle and examined it from where it was sitting on an end table. "A bit dusty," he remarked, before turning back to them. "Oho," he said, his large round eyes flying to Harry’s forehead and the lightning-shaped scar it bore. "Oho!"

"This," Dumbledore said, moving forward to make the introduction, "is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn. And Horace, I'm sure you remember Sirius Black.

Slughorn nodded. "Yes, of course. Cleared of all charges, I've heard, I'm sorry for doubting you all these years."

Sirius bowed his head a little, "you weren't the only one who did."

"Still," Slughorn sighed, "I never could truly believe the boy that had his potions blow up in his own face almost every class would ever do such a thing..."

Sirius nodded awkwardly, and Harry thought that maybe he was unsure how to respond.

Slughorn then turned on Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. "So that’s how you thought you’d persuade me, is it? Well, the answer’s no, Albus."

He pushed past Harry, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" Dumbledore asked. "For old time’s sake?"

Slughorn hesitated.

"All right then, one drink," he said ungraciously

Dumbledore smiled.

"Well, I think that went quite swimmingly," Dumbledore said cheerfully as they stepped out of the house.

Harry cast the headmaster a confused glance. "But sir, he didn't say yes..."

"Oh, just give it a moment," Dumbledore assured him as the three of them continued to walk.

Sirius snickered.

A few seconds later, and there was a shout from the house.

"Alright, I'll do it! I'll come back and teach!"

They turned to see Slughorn looking breathless standing in the doorway.

"You will come out of retirement?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, yes," Slughorn said impatiently. "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said, beaming. "Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," Slughorn grunted. 

As they started walking down the street once more, Slughorn shouted after them again.

"I'll want a pay rise too!"

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Good job in there, Harry," Sirius said, patting him on the back.

"But I didn't do anything..." Harry said.

"Oh yes you did," Dumbledore interjected, "you showed Horace exactly how much he stands to gain by returning to Hogwarts. Did you like him?"

"Er..." Harry wasn’t sure whether he liked Slughorn or not. He supposed he had been pleasant in his way, but he had also seemed vain and, whatever he said to the contrary, much too surprised that a Muggle-born should make a good witch.

Sirius laughed. "Don't worry, you're not the only one to be put off by him."

"A friend he is, but I must say he is quite vain," Dumbledore admitted. "Horace likes his comfort you see, the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat - more room to spread out. He used to handpick favourites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a kind of club of his favourites with himself at the center, making introductions, forging useful contacts."

"My brother was in his group," Sirius mentioned, "a right git he was about it too."

"I do not say this to turn you against him," Dumbledore continued, "but to put you on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you, Harry. You would be the jewel of his collection; 'the Boy Who Lived'... or, as they call you these days, 'the Chosen One.'"

Harry repressed a shudder, suddenly remembering the words of the prophecy from the end of last term. Neither can live while the other survives.

"Don't be afraid of making nice with him though, kiddo," Sirius said. "As crafty as he might be, he still has loads of different connections. Useful connections that could really benefit you."

Harry nodded, not really liking the idea of using his fame to get access to those connections.

"Ah, this should be good," Dumbledore said as they were now back where the church was. "Harry, if you could please grab hold of my arm. Sirius, we'll see you in a moment."

Braced this time, Harry was ready for the Apparition, but still found it unpleasant. When the pressure disappeared and he found himself able to breathe again, he was standing in an empty street in London, staring up at a grand house. Sirius popped in right next to them, smiling cheerfully.

But as Harry walled ahead with Sirius, Dumbledore spoke again.

"If you don’t mind, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I’d like a few words with you before we part."

For a moment, Harry thought he'd ask to do it in private, but Dumbledore merely beckoned Sirius back as well, who looked very interested.

"Firstly, I must say how proud I am to see how well you are taking what happened at the Ministry. You fought against Death Eaters with great skill, despite your age, and being possessed by Voldemort is no small thing to shrug off."

Harry felt warm at the praise.

"And now, Harry, on a closely related subject. I gather that you have been taking the Daily Prophet over the last two weeks?"

"Yes," said Harry, and his heart beat a little faster.

"Then you will have seen that there have been not so much leaks as floods concerning your adventure in the Hall of Prophecy?"

"Yes," Harry said again. "And now everyone knows that I’m the one -"

"No, they do not,"  Dumbledore interrupted. "There are only two people in the whole world who know the full contents of the prophecy made about you and Lord Voldemort, and they are standing on this dark street together. It is true, however, that many have guessed, correctly, that Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to steal a prophecy, and that the prophecy concerned you. However, while I doubt you would have disclosed the exact wording of the prophecy in a letter, but please, do tell your friends. Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, to be specific. And of course, Sirius. It would not be good for your mental health to keep any of that in you."

"I didn't wan-"

"To worry them?" Dumbledore said with a small, sad smile. "You need your friends, Harry, and I think I would be quite right in saying that they are always worried about you."

Harry nodded and met Sirius' eyes, which were so filled with concern that it was staggering. He felt a rush of affection for his Godfather at that moment.

"On a different, though related, subject, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year."

"Private with you?" Harry repeated dumbly.

"Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education."

"What will you be teaching me, sir?"

"A great multitude of things," Dumbledore said, "duelling, ward setting, as well as taking a deep dive into Voldemort's past. But we can talk more about all of that once term starts. For now, enjoy the rest of your summer vacation."

Harry wondered if he'd still be taking Occlumency lessons with Snape this year again. He wouldn't mind it, he supposed. There was an odd relationship between them now, one in which Snape didn't constantly bully him in class or otherwise. It was still there, likely to both keep up appearances and because Snape found it fun, but it was much better than it'd ever been before.

Dumbledore was already gone though, disappearing with a soft pop.

"So," Sirius said after a moment, "I guess there's something you wanna tell me?"

And Harry did. He told Sirius the entire prophecy, and about how damn scared he was. By the end of it, Sirius had him engulfed in a tight hug. "You'll be okay, pup." He kept repeating. Who Sirius was trying to convince, himself or Harry, he was not sure.

"Let's get inside, yeah?" Sirius said after a few moments in a wobbly sounding voice.

Harry nodded.

Once inside, he noticed the absence of Mrs. Black's portrait on the wall.

"Had Dumbledore remove it, finally," Sirius said as they walked down the main hall.

The walls were now a muted red colour instead of their sickly gray and green, and the place looked cleaner than it ever had before.

"Sirius," Harry said in amazement, "the house looks great!"

His Godfather flashed him a wide grin. "Figured if this ruddy place is going to stay as headquarters, I might as well make it look liveable."

It was obvious that Sirius' newfound status as a free man was motivating him greatly. As even though he had more than enough time to do this before, he was too depressed to do so.

"Thank Merlin for that," a female voice said from the dining room, "a bloody eyesore, it was."

"Hello Tonks," Harry said to the Auror, whose hair was a sunny yellow and in a bob cut.

"Wotcher, Harry," she greeted in return, eyes glued to a newspaper she was reading.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Sirius asked.

"Just got back from work," Tonks said, "gonna finish my snack before I shower and then turn in."

She was eating a sandwich that looked to have jam and peanut butter in it.

"Remus is here too," Sirius said, sitting down at the table. Harry took the seat next to him. "Sleeping right now, of course. Last night was a full moon."

"He didn't transform here, did he?" Harry asked.

"No, no," Sirius assured, "we took him to the Shrieking Shack."

Harry nodded. That made more sense, at least. "Is anyone else staying here?"

Sirius shook his head. "Just us four, kiddo. 'Course, Order members will pop in and out, and there's a meeting in a few days. But for the most part. it's just going to be me, you, Remus and Tonks."

That was nice, he thought. Harry liked all the members of the Order, but last summer it was far too crowded here.

"Oh, I should mention, the Weasley's have invited you over for the day tomorrow. So after you get your O.W.L. results, we can head there. Hermione and Johnny arrived yesterday per Dumbledore's request, so you'll be able to see them too."

Harry beamed at the news, it had only been a week or two since he'd last seen them, but he missed his friends dearly.

The summer was shaping up to be a fun one.

Chapter Text

"I remember the first time I laid eyes on Mona... well I could barely look away."

- Crash to Johnny and James, showing them the gift he got Mona the night before their twentieth wedding anniversary.

The 'Burrow' as Hermione referred to it, was an interesting place.

This was where the Weasley's lived, and it certainly suited them. The house itself looked like a halfway played-through Jenga game.

It was only their second day of staying there, and he still found interesting things to marvel at.

There was a beautiful pond nearby, that really should have been more of a lake. There were no houses nearby for miles, and Arthur loved grilling him on his multiple muggle and magical amalgamations in his spider-filled shed.

A chicken coop wasn't far off, as well as a barn, but Molly told him that those hadn't been used in ages.

Johnny and Hermione spent most of the time together, either hanging out in the twins' old room - which was where Johnny slept - or in the living room. He was itching to get out already. Snape hadn't said anything about him leaving the property, but Johnny had a feeling it'd be frowned upon, to say the least.

It was boring, to put it bluntly, and Johnny was not one to sit still. Sirius' bike was there in the shed, just begging to be ridden, and it wasn't like the Weasley's had any close neighbours for him to annoy with the noise...

He sighed heavily, resigning himself to his fate. Johnny still wasn't used to having to ask permission to do things.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking up from her book. They were in the twins' old room, he was in the bed farthest from the door, and she was in a chair that looked almost ready to fall apart.

Johnny shook his head. "I wanna go out for a ride."

Hermione frowned, and it immediately annoyed him. "I don't think Mrs. Weasley would appreciate that, nor would Professor Dumbledore."

He nodded. "I'm gonna go ask."

"Wai-!" Hermione tried, closing her book, but Johnny was already gone. He could hear her footsteps following after him. 

He stopped at the landing, watching as Molly spoke heatedly with Arthur. He could not hear them, but the conversation seemed intense as they whispered to each other.

"She's not going to say yes," Hermione said quietly into his ear from behind him. Johnny nearly shivered at the feeling of her breath on his neck.

"Then why are you following me, if you already know the answer is no?" He challenged, and she did not answer.

It was then that Molly noticed them standing there, and her conversation with Arthur swiftly ended.

"Ah," Molly said, a transparently fake smile on her face to hide the fact that she and her husband were maybe arguing, "dinner's not ready just yet but you're both welcome to join me-"

"Actually," Johnny said, hating himself for feeling nervous. "I was thinking I'd go out on a ride."

Molly's false smile dropped. "Oh, well, Johnny - I'm not so sure that's a great idea..."

Hermione hummed from behind him, but Molly didn't seem to hear it.

"I'll be out for an hour at the most," he assured her, "forty-five minutes, honestly, I just need some air and a chance to clear my head."

There was still some sunlight out as well, Johnny was sure there could be no issue.

But Molly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Johnny, really, but it's too risky. If anything were to happen, well..."

Johnny nodded, recognizing defeat. He felt a strong twinge of annoyance rise up within him, and Johnny found that he didn't want to face Hermione right now.

"If you want to get outside," Molly continued, an apologetic look on her face, "the garden needs to be de-gnomed, you can ask Ron to show you how."

Johnny sighed. Chores were the last thing he wanted to do, but he didn't want to be rude to Molly. "Yeah, sure, I'll go find him."

"He should be in his room," Molly said, "thank you, dear."

So Johnny trudged back upstairs, ignoring Hermione entirely. When he got to Ron's room, he knocked roughly. He could hear Ron mutter "bloody hell" on the other side of the door.

He was a little surprised, to say the least when it was Johnny.

"Thought you were mum," he said, "should have known something up when I couldn't hear any yelling."

Johnny snorts a little at that. "We've been sentenced to de-gnoming the garden, and I'm afraid to ask why there are gnomes there in the first place."

Ron groaned as they went back downstairs. "Little buggers like to hide in our crops and eat the food before we can pick them. They're a pain to catch."

"Sounds great," Johnny said sarcastically. This was what his night was going to be like it seemed. How amazing.

Hermione wasn't in the living room anymore, she must have snuck back upstairs after him. Ginny was here now though, reading a magazine on the couch. Molly had started her cooking, and Arthur was scribbling away on a notebook.

They went outside, and Johnny was relieved to note that the sun hadn't gone down completely yet. It was on its way, but there was plenty of light to see the gnomes in. And yeah, Johnny could see them now. They weren't like regular garden gnomes at all that you could buy. No jolly smile and white beards with a pointed hat. They were humanoid and tiny and had shifty expressions on their faces. They were scattered throughout the planted carrots. Tufts of hair on their heads, they looked more like tinier than normal elves.

"You just gotta catch one and chuck them as far as you can. It dazes them and keeps them out for a few days." Ron instructed, already catching a gnome and tossing it far away from the property. It hit the ground and immediately tried to get up but fell down again, stunned. The second one he threw was knocked out cold immediately.

It was harder than it looked. The little shits were fast and crafty. The longer it went on as Ron got more and Johnny was still struggling on one, the more he was starting to get really annoyed. His ire from earlier was back at full force.

But after a few more minutes, the gnome that Johnny had been focusing on the entire time got cocky. It stayed a little too close as Johnny feigned being tired when in reality, he was far from it, and Johnny caught it around the neck. Its face turned purple immediately, strangely enough, but Johnny was gripping it pretty tightly. With a yell of triumph, Johnny took a moment to show his catch off to Ron, who by that point had already caught five or six more, before turning on the spot and chucking it as far as he could.

Both boy's jaws dropped as the gnome sailed so far away into the sky that in a few seconds they couldn't even see it anymore. They never heard it hit the ground, either. 

"Bloody hell, Johnny," Ron exclaimed, "how'd you manage that?"

"I... I-" He was looking at his hands. The gnome barely weighed anything in his hands, when Johnny knew he should have felt the weight. "I don't know."

Ron looked at him seriously. "Do it again."

And so Johnny attempted to grab another gnome, but it was still as hard as before, so Ron stepped in. Once he had a second gnome held firmly in his hand, he threw it again, barely rearing his arm back. The gnome flew almost as far as the first time.

"Jesus..." Johnny muttered. "What the fuck?"

He turned to see if there were any more gnomes, but they were all fleeing from the two boys.

Ron seemed to be thinking hard. "I'll be right back." He ran off to the nearby shed, returning moments later with a basketball-sized red ball. "Try throwing this." He said.

Johnny took the ball. It was bigger and rounder than the gnomes, so it was a bit annoying to adjust to gripping it with one hand, but when he threw the ball, it too disappeared into the sky.

"That was our only quaffle," Ron murmured.

"Sorry," Johnny said.

"Sorry?" Ron suddenly said loudly, turning to him with an excited smile. "That was brilliant! Since when did you get so strong?"

"I have no idea," he admitted. Johnny hadn't noticed anything like this while staying with Hermione and her parents, but then again, he wasn't really doing anything like this over there. He didn't have the rider anymore, so how was this possible?

He didn't have an answer, but Ron was already grabbing a bunch of random objects for him to throw, and Johnny decided that the questions could wait.

Until Hermione found out, anyway.

It didn't take long.

In fact, it happened as soon as he went back to his room. He and Ron hadn't said anything to Molly when they reentered the house, but Johnny was felt like he was buzzing with excitement. He had powers that didn't involve bursting into flames! Powers he could actually control without strain or fear.

Hermione picked up on his new mood immediately.

But she was Hermione, so as he sat down on his bed, she continued to flip through her book exactly as she was before he had gone downstairs in the first place. Occasionally shooting looks his way. Wanting so badly to know what's happening but also not wanting to be intrusive or annoying.

His annoyance with Hermione from earlier forgotten, Johnny decided to cut her a break.

"I discovered something," he said, taking off his jacket and hanging it off the headboard.

She closed her book, "you did?"

Johnny nodded. "I was de-gnoming the garden, and it's not as easy as it looks. I got frustrated quickly, and when I finally caught one, I chucked it, and - I mean, Hermione, you had to be there. It went so far that I couldn't even see it anymore in the sky."

"Oh," Hermione said, "well, that sounds like it was fun."

He didn't register her words at first, instead, a thought occurred to him.

"I probably killed those two gnomes," he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes a bit. "I highly doubt that, they're known to be pretty durable."

Johnny then realized that Hermione didn't believe him.

So he stood up and grabbed her hand, dragging her out of the chair and towards the door.

"Johnny-!" She said, startled.

But he wasn't having any of it.

For what felt like the thousandth time tonight, he went downstairs, Hermione in tow.

"Johnny," Hermione said again as they reached the landing, "really, this is-"

They both froze. Everyone was seated for dinner. And all eyes were on them.

"I was just about to come call you," Molly said. 

Arthur had a curious look in his eyes, Ginny seemed to be happy about something, and Ron's expression was unreadable as he slowly chewed on his chicken.

They were still holding hands. 

Johnny let go as if Hermione's hand was on fire, and quickly started to take a seat at the table next to Fleur.

Showing off his newfound strength could wait, he thought as Hermione took the seat in front of him, her face as red as his surely was.

If he could even live through the embarrassment of it all, maybe he'd show her.

He awoke the next morning to a shriek, and Crookshanks trying to turn his leg into a scratching post.

Johnny got up in an instant, albeit very wobbly on his feet. He darted down the stairs, Crookshanks close behind him.

"What's the problem?" He said once in the living room, now more alert.

"Ah, Johnny, good morning," Molly said warmly. "Exam results have just arrived, and, well..."

He looked over to Hermione, who appeared to have just rolled out of bed, much like he had, and was reading a long piece of paper with a frightening intensity. Ron was looking a little morosely at his own paper but didn't seem as interested as Hermione.

"We would take our tests after six years, instead of five," Fleur said from her seat at the table, her plate picked clean. "Eet, was better zhat way, I think."

The woman was nice and incredibly beautiful. Hermione had helpfully informed him that she possessed a kind of magic that entranced men. She seemed disgruntled while explaining that on the first night here after Johnny had spent a good five minutes unabashedly staring at Fleur.

He was a muggle, and therefore even more susceptible to her magic than the average wizard. Over the last two days though, he managed to shorten that time down to a minute of weird staring.

Molly did not respond to her words, nor did anyone else really. He knew that she and Ginny were particularly unhappy about their guest. Because Fleur could be pretty blunt at times, as well as show little regard for certain customs. Like insulting some of the music Molly played. Mercifully it was out of the Weasley matriarch's earshot.

Johnny walked up to Hermione and peered over her shoulder. There was a long list of subjects, and he briefly marvelled at just how damn smart she was. A lot of the subjects had black O's next to them. All but one. "I assume an O is good?" He asked.

"The highest grade," Hermione answered, still looking at the paper. Next to Defence Against the Dark Arts was an E.

"Is an E bad?" Johnny asked. He knew how much she cared about her grades.

"Well - no, it's not, I suppose." She said. "It's the second-highest grade."

He chuckled a little bit, and she finally looked at him. 

"So out of ten classes, you got a perfect grade in 9 of them, and a near-perfect grade in the other," Johnny said. "You're actually sad about that, aren't you?"

"Oh, shut up," Hermione said, smacking him lightly, but there was a trace of a smirk on her face. 

"You're annoyingly smart, don't be down on yourself about this."

She hmphed, and he laughed again.

"Oh, look!" Molly said happily. "There's Harry and Sirius!"

Everyone looked out the window to the front yard. Even Ginny, who had looked like she was about to fall back asleep with her face in her bowl of cereal was watching intently.

Sure enough, Sirius was walking with Harry up to the front door, wide smiles plastered on their faces. Following right behind them were Remus and Tonks.

Johnny went to the door and opened it. Sirius immediately pulled him into a tight hug.

"Would it kill you to visit once?" He said. Johnny laughed.

An immense weight lifted off of his shoulders. The weight of the prophecy that he still had no idea how to fulfil. He and Sirius had talked at length on the way back from New York about it. And they both agreed that waiting for an opportunity to present itself was the only option for now.

Sirius made him feel safe. Like everything was going to be alright.

"I will soon," Johnny promised.

He gave Harry a fistbump next and shook Remus' hand.

Finally, there was Tonks, whom he also hadn't seen since the Department of Mysteries.

"Wotcher," she said, but it was without its usual exuberance. He wanted to hug her, she had been his first real friend in this new world, but after greeting him, she walked on further inside.

Johnny closed the door behind them, confused for a moment. 

"Your scar doesn't look too bad, Hermione." He heard Remus say.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey says that this is as much as it will heal though, sadly."

"Don't worry, Hermione," Sirius chimed in, "you look like a hard nut."

Johnny snorted. "What does that mean?"

Sirius frowned at him. "You know... she looks tough as nails."

"Then just say that, or call her a badass." He said.

Sirius' frown deepened. "That just sounds like you're saying she farts a lot."

Thankfully, the only people still within earshot were Remus and Hermione, because Johnny snorted again embarrassingly loudly.

"I hate the way you guys say things."

Sirius pulled him into a headlock. "Your colloquialisms sound plenty stupid to me too, kiddo."

It was then that Johnny remembered his newfound powers.

He grabbed at the arm around his neck and pried it off with ease.

Sirius chuckled. "You been working out, Johnny?"

"No," he said excitedly, "I have something to show you. Something amazing. But it can wait, you just got here."

Sirius nodded and went with Remus to greet the Weasley's properly.

Johnny caught Hermione's eye, her expression was unreadable. He looked away first, before going to join the others.

Hermione fidgeted in nervousness as she sat awkwardly across from Tonks.

Johnny had gone upstairs with Ron, Harry and Sirius. Only the two of them, plus Professor Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny remained downstairs. Fleur too, she supposed.

There was something she needed to ask. Something that was important to her. Hermione stared her own mortality in the face every day, literally, when she looked in the mirror.

If Mrs. Weasley had not come along to attend to the wounded, Hermione wasn't sure how she would have ended up.

For a brief time in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, Hermione was furious with herself for being weak. For only proving to be a liability rather than a help in battle. She never wanted to feel like that again. 

So she stood up and walked over to the young Auror.

"Tonks?" Hermione asked hesitantly, cursing herself internally for being so nervous.

"Wotcher, Hermione," Tonks responded, there was a faint smile on her face, but it seemed a little forced.

"Do you think - I mean, would it be okay if we spoke outside for a moment?" She said quietly. It's not that she thought what she was doing would get her in trouble, but... well, it was personal. And Hermione knew how much Mrs. Weasley didn't want any of them involved in any part of the war effort. But, like it or not, with Harry as her best friend, it was almost a certainty that she would be anyway. Hermione would rather be prepared now and not have to suffer for it later.

There was an annoying voice in her head that sounded too much like Johnny, teasing her for the slight bit of rebellion.

"Sure," Tonks said immediately, and Hermione was immensely grateful. Professor Lupin watched them go to the front door but did not say anything. Ginny was reading, and Mrs. Weasley was washing the dishes, and Fleur was talking to her about something that Hermione had tuned out long ago.

Once outside, Tonks spoke. "Is everything okay, Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione answered immediately, "I just, well, I wanted to ask you a favour." Tonks nodded, so Hermione continued. "At the Department of Mysteries, I was taken out rather quickly. And, it made me realize how woefully unprepared I am for what's coming. I know a lot, yes, I can list several spells that could be useful in a duel, but I don't have the experience."

Tonks nodded again. That's what she liked about her. Tonks wasn't like the others, perhaps it was her young age. She didn't try to immediately talk her out of it, or tell Hermione she was still too young. Tonks was practical. Immature, at times, but still a very good Auror.

"You want me to train you," Tonks concluded for her.

"Yes," Hermione said.

Tonks broke eye contact for a moment, before looking at her again.

"You're in luck then," she said, "Dumbledore's gotten me on the squad of Auror's that have been assigned to Hogwarts as extra protection for this year, so we'll be able to meet easily enough. Finding a good spot will be hard though..."

Hermione beamed. "I know a place," she said, "one where no one will be able to interrupt us."

"Brilliant," Tonks said, adjusting the small dark purple leather jacket she was wearing.

"Thank you," Hermione said, "this means a lot to me."

"I understand," Tonks replied, "I wish I had done better against Bellatrix too, otherwise maybe Johnny wouldn't have had to... to..." she trailed off, and Hermione was astonished by the amount of self-loathing etched into Tonks' expression at that moment. "Well... he's alive, so, there's that."

Hermione nodded but was unsure of what to say.

"Anyway," Tonks said, clapping her hands together, making an embarrassingly obvious attempt to change the subject. "We can talk more once term has started and you know your schedule, yeah?"

"Yes, that sounds good." Hermione agreed. "Thank you, again."

"So what, you think some of the Rider's power stayed with you?"

Johnny nodded seriously. "I don't know how your magic works, so believe me, I could be wrong. But it's the only thing that makes sense to me."

He had given this a lot of thought since discovering his newfound strength. He was in his bedroom with Sirius and Remus. They were the ones he trusted the most to talk with this about. There was Tonks as well, but she was off somewhere with Hermione as everyone prepared to go out for a swim at a nearby pond.

Remus was rubbing his chin and sitting forward in his seat next to Johnny's bed.

"You've been exposed to a lot of magic recently." He said. "The curse initially put on you by the devil two years ago, which is magic that we as wizards have most likely don't have access to. Plus, going to Norse Hel when you fell through the veil, and on that same day, being his with the most deadly curse we can use... it must be doing a number on your body. Keep in mind, what the Norse use, what that demon that cursed you used, and what we use are all three very different kinds of magic. There's no telling what it's doing to you. It's perhaps not as surprising as we initially believed that Bellatrix using the killing curse on you took away the spirit that was bonded to you but left you alive. An imprint of said spirit or perhaps some residual bits of it remaining? I'm just not sure." Remus said.

It was a lot to take it, for sure. And the shitty part was, it didn't really answer much.

"So," Remus continued, leaning back, "there's no real way for us to know. We can guess, certainly - and I for one, am inclined to agree with you - that the latter is likely what has happened, but unfortunately, I'm not sure you'll ever know for certain."

Johnny nodded. He didn't expect anything different, to be honest.

"If I were you, I'd be celebrating," Sirius said with a shrug. "I mean, super strength? You're a regular superhero now, mate!"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't go that far, Sirius."

"You wouldn't, would you, Moony? You're a right old stick in the mud." Sirius countered.

"I know how to have fun," Remus said defensively.

Both Sirius and Johnny snorted at that, which he immediately felt guilty for.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I don't think it's a bad thing, really, but you are a bit boring."

Remus chuckled. "That's alright. It's really better this way."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed, "Remus here had to quit the party life, especially after our graduation party in '78. I swear, I've never seen Minerva so mad at us."

Remus buried his face in his hands. "Oh, no. I'd nearly forgotten about that."

"I haven't," Sirius said with a laugh. "You were running throughout the entire school completely starkers!"

"When she handed me my diploma, I completely avoided her eyes," Remus said in a muffled voice.

Johnny laughed as Sirius cackled.

"James got it the worst, though," Remus said, lifting his face up. "She was about to let Filch have his way with him until Dumbledore stepped in."

He didn't know who James was, and Sirius saw his confused expression so he explained.

"James was Harry's dad, the life of the party he was, and a bloody idiot."

Harry was vastly different than his dad then, but that wasn't very surprising...

"Ah, there you all are." A voice said from the doorway. It was Molly. "We're leaving soon, are you all ready?"

"I don't have a bathing suit, Molly," Johnny said.

"Well that's alright," she responded easily. "Just have one of them transfigure your pants for you."

She left and he shook his head. "Sometimes I forget that magic is more than just for fighting."

"Yes, well," Sirius said, "don't be too grateful just yet. What do you say about giving our friend here a pink speedo, Moony?"

Remus smiled, standing up. "Padfoot, I was thinking exactly the same thing."

Johnny looked between both adults in fear. "You're kidding, right?"

They were both grinning evilly at him, and Johnny had a terrible feeling.

"Of course, kiddo," Sirius said.

"Just a joke between friends," Remus added.

Johnny walked outside in a grey muscle tee and pink swimming trunks. He didn't care about the color, his masculinity wasn't fragile, but there was no way he was going to basically show everyone what he had going on down there.

Sirius still giggled like a schoolgirl, though. And Johnny desperately wanted to punch him in the arm.

The pond was close by, and he had seen it when he first arrived here days ago.

Most of the Weasley's were there already. Ron was doing laps, Ginny lazed about on a beach chair set up nearby. The pond itself was huge, and clearly deep enough to swim in. Molly and Arthur also sat on chairs, though they were dressed down, but not in any swimwear. 

Remus plopped down onto his own chair next to Arthur while Sirius took off his shirt and began to rush into the pond with Harry.

Tonks and Hermione had also arrived shortly before them. Tonks was wearing a not exactly modest bikini that Molly kept shooting disapproving looks at. Johnny knew she had a nice body already though, due to their Christmas shopping the year prior. However, he was not prepared at all for what he saw next.

Hermione removed the oversized shirt she was wearing (that he was pretty sure was his), and he found it incredibly hard to look away.

He was not a pervert. He was not a pervert. He was not a pervert. 

Johnny looked again and swore internally.

His face was red, he just knew it. Where had she been hiding all that?

Stop. He thought forcefully. 

Johnny caught Tonks' eye and saw her smirk a little. He shook his head and removed his shirt. Best to cool off.

He walked into the water and chuckled as Sirius wolf-whistled. He was determinedly not looking at Hermione as she went waist-deep into the water.

"Oi!" Ginny - who was now in the water - cried as Ron rose out of the water under her and lifted Ginny into the air on his shoulders.

"Ronald put your sister down!" Molly said.

"Aw, c'mon!" Ron responded. "Let's have some fun!"

A moment later, and Harry yelped in surprise as Sirius lifted him up as well.

"Grab Hermione!" Sirius said loudly as Ron trudged toward him menacingly. 

Johnny turned and saw that Hermione was looking at him with a you better not expression. Still... Ron, Sirius, Harry and even Ginny now - who had gotten over the initial shock, were calling for them to join.

Hermione was backing away slowly, almost near the shore, when Johnny shrugged and jumped towards her.

The joke was entirely on him.

Was it funny to chase her around for a bit? Yes. When she finally gave in - a scary glint in her eye - and he hoisted her onto his shoulders, he realized how stupid he had been.

Because now her legs were wrapped around his head as she tried desperately to shove Ginny off of Ron.

She weighed nothing to him, but that hardly mattered.

And, for someone who didn't want to participate at first, she was certainly the one doing the most. Hermione had accidentally knocked Harry's glasses clean off while they engaged in combat for a bit, leading to Sirius letting him down so he could find them. And with one last shove, Hermione sent Ginny falling into the water below.

The youngest Weasley came back up laughing.

Johnny looked up at Hermione and was briefly mesmerized by her brilliant smile. It was enough of a distraction for Harry and Sirius to get the jump on them. If it wasn't for Johnny's strength, they would have lost then and there.

But he held on, and Hermione fought back with a ferocious intensity. Not giving Harry an inch, even though the boy was stronger physically. Sirius tried to cheat by using on hand to splash at Johnny's face, but he did not let Hermione fall. In the end, Sirius had to concede.

"I'm getting too old for this," he said, letting Harry down off his shoulders. "Sorry pup, maybe next time." He gestured to Johnny with a thumb. "This prat's a bloody cheater anyway."

Johnny laughed, and Hermione raised her hands in victory as the other adults cheered from their chairs.

He let her down, and they were both grinning stupidly. His eyes sought hers first, but they quickly moved down. He felt ashamed, and immediately corrected his gaze, but Hermione was looking at him too.

They both locked eyes again, before quickly looking away, blushing intensely.

Mercifully, Molly was calling them all back to eat lunch. Maybe then Hermione would put back on the shirt she had and he wouldn't have to feel like a creep.

God, this was bad.

Chapter Text

"Bloody hell,"

- A dejected sounding Sirius Black as he read that morning's Daily Prophet, sometime in the summer of 1996.

Zabini Manor was breathtaking.

Harry had never seen anything like it before in his life. Save for perhaps Hogwarts. Blaise's house truly felt like a modernized version of what a castle would look like. If that even made any sense. It was huge, with sprawling fields and gardens. Pristine white marble foundations and walls.

Sirius whistled appreciatively from beside him. They were at the front gate.

"I knew his mother had money, but I didn't realize it was this much."

Harry looked at his Godfather curiously. "You know Blaise's mum?"

Sirius nodded, still looking at the manor. "Course, we went to school together. Beautiful woman, and very intelligent as well. Had some of the best test scores of our year next to Lily." He then frowned. "She got a bad reputation, though. For being someone, who, er, slept around. Most of it was probably bollocks, but, well, you know how Hogwarts gossip is. It followed her outside of school too. She's been married and then widowed seven times, being left a sizeable inheritance each time."

Harry was surprised. So that's how she could afford this place despite being a single mother.

"Anyway," Sirius continued, "we're here, so, shall we go in?"

Honestly, Harry wasn't even sure if the gate would open for them.

"If it'll open," he said, gesturing at the gate.

"Ah," Sirius said, "right, well, I may have a solution..." He pulled out his wand, and for a moment, Harry foolishly thought Sirius was about to blast it open or try to unlock it. But Sirius, with what looked like no small effort cast a Patronus in the form of a large dog. "This is Sirius Black and Harry Potter," he said, "we're here at the front gate."

The dog bounded off towards the manor.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Harry said with barely restrained excitement.

Sirius chuckled. "Of course, but not right now."

After a few moments, two figures were bounding down from the entrance. It was taking them a while.

Harry smiled as Tracey and Blaise finally come into proper view. They both had identical grins plastered on their faces once they laid eyes on Harry. But upon looking at Sirius next, her expression became unreadable.

"I take it you must be Ms. Davis," Sirius said jovially, "I must thank you for going along with my idiot of a godson to come and save me, even if I was completely fine. You are very brave. And of course, I can't downplay your contribution either, Mr. Zabini."

Both fidget under the praise, looking anywhere but at Sirius. Harry catches Tracey's eye though and offers her a smile. She returns it tentatively.

"I know he'll be in good hands with you two," Sirius continued as the teens muttered awkwardly and embarrassedly about it not being a big deal. "I'll be back in around five hours to pick him up. Have fun you lot!" He shoots Harry a wink, before turning on the spot and disapparating with a small pop.

Tracey pushed open the gate slowly. "S-shall we?"

Johnny marvels at what Sirius has done with his home. Grimmauld Place is not even remotely like the depressive manor it once was. It felt more lively. It felt much more like Sirius. Kreacher still roams the halls, insulting any living thing that dares to cross his path, but other than that, it's like an entirely new place.

He takes a seat at the dinner table. It's barely past lunch, but there's a meeting to be held soon. Most of the Order is assembled.

Remus, who's reading a newspaper across from him. Tonks, three seats down from Remus, pointedly staring at the tablecloth. Johnny frowns. Mad-Eye Moody is in deep conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt at the end of the table. Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour are sitting very close together just two seats down from Johnny's left. He wishes he was deaf. Though when he looks over at Fred and George Weasley, he smirks as he sees them miming gagging. Arthur is next to them, failing horribly at smothering his grin. Molly looks on disapprovingly. Hagrid has taken a rather large seat next to a very short man Johnny's never seen before, as well as Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, and Sturgis Podmore They are all talking animatedly. Mundungus Fletcher is soundly asleep by Hagrid's elbow.

It's a fun sight. Things are a little bleak, with attacks almost every week. But to see everyone assembled here, well, it gives him just the tiniest bit of hope.

"Why are you so happy?" A gruff voice greets in Russian. Igor Karkaroff plops down in the seat right next to Johnny, looking around with a vaguely annoyed expression.

"We're all here aren't we?" He responds in English. His smile vanishes though when he remembers Emmeline Vance. He'd barely ever spoken to her, but her absence was felt. 

It's then that the front door opens, welcoming in Dumbledore, Snape, and an old but fierce-looking woman he's never met before.

Dumbledore takes his seat at the head of the table, Snape and the woman sit on either side of him. The room quiets immediately, even Mundungus wakes up.

"We're just waiting on Sirius and a few others," Dumbledore said idly, his hands clasped and a polite smile on his face.

Two minutes later, there's a knock on the door.

Dumbledore is the one to get up and answer, surprisingly, despite Johnny already being halfway there. He follows the old man anyway.

It's Hestia Jones, looking around nervously. But relief takes over her expression once she sees Dumbledore. "Good to see you, Albus." She said.

"And you, Hestia, and you. I see you've brought some friends." He returns kindly.

Three men stood around her, hoods over their heads. Johnny could barely make out their features.

Hestia began to introduce them. "My uncle," she said, pointing at the one nearest to her, "Tiberius Jones. Gabriel Pascal," the one directly behind her, he's the tallest of them all. "And Garett De Jong." The one on the left nods stiffly.

"A pleasure to meet you all," Dumbledore said. "Please, come in."

The three men rush in as if they'd been desperately wanting him to say those words. Bringing up the rear is Sirius, whom Johnny had not noticed before.

"It's my bloody house," he grumbled to Dumbledore as he walked in. "You'd think I'd be able to let them in."

"I don't believe that's how it works, my friend." Dumbledore chuckled.

"Where've you been?" Johnny asked.

"Nice to see you too," Sirius responded, as they re-entered the dining room. "Just dropped Harry off at a friend's house, that's all."

They retook their seats. Everyone was here now.

"Firstly," Dumbledore said, everyone's attention now on him. "I would like to thank you all for making it here today. This meeting will not be a long one, I promise. There are a few things I would like to go over, some tasks to assign, but that is all." He looks around the room, his eyes looked sad. "Before all that though, as I'm sure most of you already know, we've lost one of our own recently. Emmeline Vance was a brave and intelligent witch. I remember the day she walked into Hogwarts and was sorted into Ravenclaw. I remember when she joined the Order when Voldemort rose to power for the first time. Her loss will not be in vain, and Emmeline will never be forgotten."

Dumbledore did not speak for some time after that, and the room is silent with him.

When he spoke again, it is more businesslike. "We have new members joining us, friends of Hestia." He gestured to each one in turn. "Tiberius Jones, Gabrial Pascal, and Garett De Jong. They are vampires, and I ask that you would treat them with the same respect you would show me, or any other member of the Order. Though I know we'll all get along just fine."

The men had taken off their hoods. Tiberius looks much like Hestia, though that's no surprise considering they're related. Short stature and dark, balding hair. Gabriel is a Hispanic man with high cheekbones and jet-black hair. Garett is blonde with blue eyes, and clearly the youngest of the three.

"Now, as well all know, Lord Voldemort does not care for staying in the shadows any longer as it no longer benefits him. While this now means everyone believes us, it also means an increase in attacks." Dumbledore's face was set in a deep frown as he spoke. "Just in the last week, there's been almost one hundred deaths. Most of them came from the destruction of the Brockdale Bridge, but there have been several reports of attacks on small muggle towns on the coast. This is an easy target for the Death Eaters, as these places are small, and there is usually no Ministry personnel nearby to intervene. By the time we or the Ministry hear about the attack, it's already over."

This is news to Johnny, and he wondered how they'll combat it.

"We cannot put out every fire," Dumbledore continued gravely. "It is heartbreaking and frustrating, our arms can only stretch so far... but that is not to say that we will do nothing. I will be sending a few members to safe houses we have in coastal towns and cities all around Britain. As far as I can tell, it's mostly in England. Only one or two have occurred in Scotland, and none in the entirety of Ireland whatsoever. I understand that almost all of you have jobs and regular lives to live, and I cannot ask you to give that up. However, a schedule will be decided upon, in which some of you will go to your designated towns to check in from time to time. Spending the occasional night or two there. Those members are as follows; Dedalus, Hastings. Sturgis and Elphias, Crosby. Alastor and Mundungus, Folkestone. Sirius and Igor, Stromness. Fred and George, Plockton. That is all."

"I can stay there full time, Albus," Elphias wheezed, "it's not like I have anything better to do."

"That is appreciated, old friend," Dumbledore said with a nod. "A large band of werewolves have set up in Galloway Forest and have been terrorizing the muggles there, no doubt led by Fenrir Greyback, though thanks to Severus' intel, we know that Greyback himself is not there all that often. Remus," Dumbledore turned to the man in question, "I would like for you to infiltrate them, see what you can learn, and, if possible, turn a few to our side. Do not outstay your welcome, however. If you feel it is pointless to continue, or if you feel you are in danger, please, get out of there."

Remus nodded, but whatever little color was on his face was now drained. Sirius and Tonks both frowned.

"Kingsley and Arthur," Dumbledore continued, "remain alert at the Ministry, keep your ears open for any valuable information. The same to you, Bill and Fleur, Gringotts brings in a variety of customers."

Bill scoffed. "They have me working a desk now, while they figure out what to do with me. Not a lot of places here need curse-breaking. Or, at least not ones that aren't inhabited by Death Eaters," he amended. "I've just mostly been training Fleur."

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "We'll see if we can find something more, ah, exciting, for you. More members will be stationed at Hogwarts this year," he continued, "mostly due to the Ministry's insistence to protect Harry Potter." Dumbledore's eyes harden at this. It's hardly noticeable, but Johnny sees it. "While it helps the other students, believe me, it is mostly for the boy. Of course, Severus, Fillius, Minerva, and I will be there, but Nymphadora will also be joining us in a larger Auror detail." The old man's blue eyes float over to him. "As well as Johnny, who I'll be having stay at the castle as a 'special enforcer' of sorts."

The reaction is immediate.

"He's just a muggle!"

"You can't be serious, Dumbledore!"

But the old man wasn't hearing any of it. He raised a hand, and very soon after the room quieted down.

"I understand everyone's concerns," he said calmly, "it's not a decision I make lightly. But this is the best place for him." 

Dumbledore did not look at Johnny anymore, did not give anything away with his expression.

"Put it out of your minds, he'll be just fine."

He then continued to talk about other Order things, but Johnny tuned it out.

God, was it bad he was only thinking about how he was going to be around Hermione for around ten months?

"He is up to something," Karkaroff murmured to him.

Oh, Johnny knew that already. In fact, he thought he had a good idea of the reason why.

The meeting went on and there were no more real announcements to be made. Voldemort was staying hidden while his Death Eaters carried out attacks all over the country. There was no word on any more Horcrux's, nor any further attempts to steal Norse artifacts. The Norweigan Ministry still wasn't very happy though, but thankfully they couldn't trace what happened back to them.

When the meeting ended, Dumbledore gave Johnny a short pointed look, and he knew to follow the old man down the hall.

The inside was even more extravagant than the outside. Glittering gold artifacts all over the place, more marble support pillars and walls, beautiful paintings.

Half a dozen house-elves milled about in different directions, entering multiple separate rooms to do various tasks. Harry knew Hermione would have something to say about that if she saw it.

"Have you eaten yet, Harry?" Tracey asked as they lead him to a sitting room just as nice as the last.

"I had breakfast a few hours ago," he said, "I could definitely eat though." 

Blaise waves an elf over and signs something to it.

The elf nodded. "Of course, Master Zabini."

"Thank you, Tabby," Tracey added kindly.

The elf left with a pop a moment later.

They waited in silence. To be honest, it was a little awkward. He knew they were good people, he liked them, but, Harry wasn't very social to begin with, and Blaise and Tracey only ever really talked to each other.

"So..." he tried, "so Greengrass is still in trouble?"

Tracey and Blaise share a look.

"Yeah," Tracey answered, "I've hardly heard from her all break. Only one letter at the start of July and that was it." She wrung her hands together. "I'm worried about her."

Harry nodded, unsure of what to say. They're at war now, telling them that Daphne would be okay was a promise he couldn't make and they all knew it.

"I'm sorry," he settled on, "I shouldn't have let you come."

It was the wrong thing to say apparently, Tracey and Blaise looked almost offended.

"We made a choice to help you, we did it because you're our friend." She sounded very passionate, her eyes were narrowed. "Daphne might have been forced to choose a side, but nobody's forcing us!"

Harry was taken aback, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

"I didn't know you were so passionate about it," he admitted, still so unused to people caring about him.

"Well," Tracey mumbled, confidence gone, her face red at her outburst. "We are your friends, after all, aren't we?"

"Of course," he answered immediately.

Tracey looked relieved, and just then, Tabby the elf came back, a platter of food in her hand.

Blaise signed something, and Tracey smiled.

"What'd you say?" Harry asked.

Tracey answered for him.

"We've got your back."

He caught up with Dumbledore, who was bidding goodbye to the older woman and short man from the meeting. Snape was standing with him.

"Wanna get out of this hallway so you can give it to me straight?" He said.

Dumbledore nodded without a word, and so they walked up the stairs to Johnny's bedroom.

The door closed behind them, and with Snape jabbing his wand out slightly, a low buzzing filled the room.

"So, are you going tell me why you've decided I'm coming to an all wizards school as a normal human?" Johnny asked, arms crossed. He trusted Dumbledore, but it took a while to get there. And he knew the old man was crafty, even if he meant well. 

"We believe it's in everyone's best interest that you come and stay at Hogwarts during the school term. The Ministry is attempting to have some influence over there, and while understandable, and not nearly as meddling as it was last year, I'd rather have more than just Nymphadora close by." Dumbledore answered.

"You've got Snape," Johnny said, gesturing at the man. He didn't like having to go spend time at school while all the adults did important work.

Dumbledore smiled in that way that never failed to make him mad, but it faltered. "My boy, I..." Dumbledore stopped and sighed. "To be brutally honest, without your powers, all you'd be doing at Grimmauld Place is sitting around. I'm sure that you remember, Sirius was very displeased by this when he had to do it last year. And I do not wish for you to go through the same thing. At school, you can add an extra sense of security. And we can continue what we started at the beginning of Spring."

Snape raised an eyebrow at the old man but did not say anything.

Johnny knew what he was saying though, the ring they destroyed at the Gaunt house. The Horcrux.

God, he hated that the old bastard was right all the time. Truthfully, he was worried about how he'd be able to contribute to the Order as well without his powers. He was happy to be free in the Rider, but now he needed it more than ever. There was something ironic about that.

"Fine," he muttered, "whatever."

"Don't think of this as busy work or pointless," Dumbledore continued, "you are an intimidating young man, Johnny, and I believe you can bring a sort of order to Hogwarts that even the Auror's could not."

He didn't know how much he believed that, but, at least it was something to do. And... he'd be able to see more of Hermione, so it wasn't all bad. He groaned internally at the fact that he was thinking about that.

"School starts on the first of September," Dumbledore said. "I look forward to seeing you there, and continuing our meetings."

They left, but not without Snape sparing him a pointed stare before the door closed fully. The buzzing went away, and Johnny let out a sigh.

Honestly, being cooped up at a school was going to make him go stir crazy more than being here ever could, but maybe he could get away to that wizarding village that he and Hermione went to on Valentine's day. There were still a lot of those candies he wanted to try. And he could always ask Tonks to take him somewhere if she ever felt like speaking to him again.

There was the promise of finding more Horcrux's too, which was probably the most important thing Dumbledore could entrust with any member of the Order.

He just hoped he could prove himself worthy of that trust.

Shaking his head, Johnny left his bedroom as well. He decided to go back downstairs.

Almost everyone was gone. Only Remus, Sirus, and Karkaroff remained in the dining room. Kreacher walked by Johnny's feet, muttering obscenities as he passed. Remus and Sirus were in conversation, the latter seemed to be comforting the former, their heads bowed down close to each other. Karkaroff was eating some leftover food from the day before. 

"What did the old man say to you?" Karkaroff asked between bites. Johnny was momentarily shocked. "You followed after them not long after they left, it shouldn't be that surprising that someone was able to figure it out."

Johnny eyed him. "It was nothing you need to concern yourself with, Igor." 

The man harumphed. "I am stuck here with nothing to do but glean information from hushed conversations." He said bitterly. Honestly, Johnny felt bad for him. It was the same situation that he might have been in, or like how Sirius was. 

Johnny thought on it for a bit. "I'll let Dumbledore know you want to contribute more. I don't know what he'll decide in the end, but I do know he'll hear me out."

Karkaroff regarded him strangely. "You will?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"You are a strange man, Johnathan," Karkaroff said, switching to a heavily accented English. "Vhy vould you do this for me?"

He shrugged. "Same thing was gonna happen to me if they didn't send me to Hogwarts. The same thing did happen to Sirius all last year. I guess I just feel bad for you."

Karkaroff looked away. "I do not need your pity." He said stubbornly.

"Whatever," Johnny said, shrugging again. "You can be prideful all you want."

A silence settled between them. He looked over at Sirius and Remus, they were both still talking, though whatever conversation they were having now seemed miles less tense than before.

"Vhy do you follow Dumbledore?" Karkaroff asked suddenly.

Johnny was momentarily taken aback by the question. It was one he thought of somewhat often, he supposed. At the start, one year ago, his answer would come out fast. Kill demons. Allying with this group of wizards seemed like the fastest way to accomplish that mission at the time. It then shifted to fighting Blackheart. But even then, he began to care for the people dearly during his stay here. Tonks and Sirius became some of his closest friends, even Harry and Remus to an extent. Hermione too, though that was more complicated now.

It's not what he intended to do, really, and yet, he's here without his powers anyway, going to a school and staying there for the next ten or so months. Somewhere along the way to getting his vengeance, he found a cause to fight for and a family instead. Months ago, the realization might have made him mad, but now, he just smiled.

The threat of Mephisto and his prophecy still hung over him, as well as the brewing war that was sure to come soon, but it all seemed distant at the moment.

"Vhy are you smiling like that, you idiot?" Karkaroff interrupted. "Are you going to answer my question?"

Johnny scowled. "One is a murderous racist psychopath, and the other one is trying to stop him. Some things aren't that complicated, Igor."

Karkaroff glared at him in return. "It is not your fight, you could return to America at any time."

"No," Johnny replied, shaking his head. "I couldn't, not anymore." He thought of all his friends now, thought of Hermione especially, how she'd be treated if Voldemort won and took over. Maybe it was selfish not to care about the rest of the population that would suffer, but maybe he was allowed to be selfish now, after everything. "Some things are worth fighting for."

Karkaroff did not have a response for that immediately, but a few moments later, he spoke.

"I used to think that too," he said, "ven I was a boy." Karkaroff then switched back over to Russian. "I grew up in a small town in Russia that gained popularity for its gold mining business. We were poor, but when a group of local prospectors got lucky, it made national news. We thought it was wonderful to finally be recognized. I had never seen my mother that happy in years. We lived among muggles, but even we felt pride in our town's accomplishment. Government officials paid us a visit not long after. We thought maybe they'd want to buy from us, and thus improve our economy." Karkaroff's expression turned sour. He wasn't angry, exactly, his tone was hollow. "But they seized the gold that the workers had found, and took over the caves where they had been discovered in the first place. They drained the place dry in weeks and left us with nothing. But during that time, the workers, and others not even involved, including my father, banded together against them." Karkaroff scoffed. "They were all arrested or shot, sent off to a graveyard or the gulags." 

"But wasn't your father a wizard?" Johnny asked. "How could someone with magic be arrested by normal people?"

Karkaroff shook his head. "One man with a wand against an army with guns. It would have been suicide to fight them. Instead, he was able to slip away at night as they were being brought to prison. It was a noble cause, that these men fought for. To protect what was there's. To help our town survive off the back of it. The men that found the gold wanted everyone in Takhtoyamsk to profit from it. But in the end, what did their fighting get them? Death and misery. The wives of the men who were taken spoke up about this at the men who had taken over, and they were fired upon. My home was now nothing more than a ghost town, we moved to Kamchatka after, and two years later, I went to Durmstrang for school. Nothing that the men did there changed anything. The news did not talk about the massacre, the unfairness of it all."

He looked at Johnny seriously. "I fear that is vhere all this vill lead us too."

Chapter Text

"I will be free once again, I promise you that!"

- Zarathos, spirit of vengeance, locked away in Mephisto's realm, unknown year.

To Mrs. Weasley’s displeasure, Harry’s sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings brought to the party by Remus Lupin, who was looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever. "There have been another couple of dementor attacks," he announced, as Mrs. Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake.

"Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?" Bill asked, who was being plied with wine by Fleur. "The man who ran -"

"- the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?" Harry interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. "He used to give me free ice creams. What’s happened to him?"

"Dragged off, by the look of his place."

"Ollivander too," Mr. Weasley added. "His shop was burned down."

Everyone was shocked.

"But what'll people do for wands?" Ginny asked, Harry was wondering this too.

Mr. Weasley shrugged and took a sip of his tea. "They'll have to make do with other makers I suppose, but if the other side has Ollivander, it's not so good for us."

The day after his gloomy birthday tea, their booklist from Hogwarts arrived. It was early in the morning, only he, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Johnny were up and downstairs. His owl did not just deliver a booklist though, it also included a shiny gold badge with the Gryffindor crest and the letter 'C' on it. He had been made Quidditch Captain.

"That gives you equal status with prefects!" Hermione cried happily. "You can use our special bathroom now and everything!"

"Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these," Ron said, examining the badge with glee. "Harry, this is so cool, you’re my Captain - if you let me back on the team, I suppose, haha..."

Johnny went a little white, his eyes widening. Only Harry saw it, but a moment later the expression was gone.

"Well, I don’t suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you’ve got these," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "We’ll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn’t have to go into work again. I’m not going there without him."

"Mum, d’you honestly think You-Know-Who’s going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?" Ron sniggered.

"Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?" Mrs. Weasley said, firing up at once. "If you think security’s a laughing matter you can stay behind and I’ll get your things myself-"

"No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George’s shop!" Ron said hastily.

“Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you’re too immature to come with us!” Mrs. Weasley said angrily, snatching up her clock, all nine hands of which were still pointing at 'mortal peril,' and balancing it on top of a pile of just laundered towels. "And that goes for returning to Hogwarts as well!"

Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room.

"Blimey, you can’t even make a joke round here anymore..."

Johnny fidgeted back and forth, the night before they were set to go shopping at 'Diagon Alley' (what the hell even was a diagon?). 

He was nervous, to say the least. Not because of the shopping, no, there were a lot of them coming along, they'd be fine, but because of the fact that he hadn't told anyone else about how he was being sent to Hogwarts with them.

And by anyone, he mainly meant Hermione.

God, he didn't even know why he was so fucking nervous in the first place. It wasn't a big deal.

That's not what his annoyingly sweaty palms were telling him though.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He'd faced frost trolls, the son of the devil, multiple other mythological creatures, demons, and he even killed the Goddess of Death! This shouldn't be bothering him this much.

"Hey Hermione," he started, and she looked up at him from her seat on his bed, legs stretched out as she read a book.

"Yeah?" She responded.

He faltered for a moment, his heart beating uncomfortably fast.

"Oh, I just wanted to tell you," he went on, "at the recent Order meeting, Dumbledore's assigned me to come along to Hogwarts for the school year as a sort of extra protection."

Nothing happened at first, they just stayed in their positions for a few seconds. But then, all at once, Hermione snapped her book shut, not even bothering to put in a bookmark to keep her place, and shot off the bed excitedly, a flurry of words escaping from her mouth.

"Are you serious?! Oh my God, I have so much more to show you that I couldn't in Hogsmeade! There's such a rich history there, the ghosts, the paintings, the architecture, everything has its own story! You'll be the first muggle to ever step foot in Hogwarts! Don't you realize the history you'd be making?"

But just as suddenly as it came, it was gone in a moment.

Hermione frowned and regarded Johnny almost sadly. "But you don't have your powers, I-I don't mean to sound rude but, what protection would you be providing?"

He barely held back a wince. It was exactly what Johnny, and also likely what every other Order member was thinking too.

"Mostly that's a front," he said, "not a very good one though, but yeah." Johnny didn't even hesitate to tell her about Dumbledore's plan for him. "I'm actually there to meet with Dumbledore privately. We started something together in the Spring, and he wants to continue it."

Hermione's eyes widened a bit. He could tell she wanted to know.

Given the fact that Dumbledore never spoke at meetings about the Horcrux's, and Snape's confusion from the day of the meeting when Dumbledore mentioned their Horcrux hunt was telling. The old man may have not have said it, but Johnny knew this was meant to be kept quiet.

"I don't know if he wants anything said about it," Johnny admitted, "I want to tell you though..."

Hermione was such an inquisitive person, which is why it surprised him when she nodded. "That's okay - I mean, I do want to know - but, I also don't want you to be in trouble with Professor Dumbledore."

He smiled softly at her. "Thanks."

She returned it. "Of course."

Johnny frowned as an inconspicuous black SUV pulled up to the Burrow's front yard.

It felt so out of place to see something from the human world be at the home of a family so magical. 

"How are we all meant to fit in there?" He asked.

Arthur smiled slyly at him. "Magic."

He snorted. Really, Johnny should just stop asking at this point. He saw Arthur and Molly slip into the passenger seat as it obligingly stretched to fit two people. The outside of the car was unaffected. Shrugging, he got in the backseat. Hermione slid in next to him, and so on for Ron, Ginny, and Harry. As each teen got in the back, the seats stretched out and out.

"You don't have any more do you?" The driver asked, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. He was a rather nondescript man. "Another passenger would be pushing it, I'm afraid."

Arthur shook his head. "That's all."

The driver nodded and with that, they were off. It felt smoother than a normal car ride, it was the strangest experience. It felt like they were gliding over the road rather than actually driving on it. The sensation unsettled him.

"It's good dad can get us these again," Ron said appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from the Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window.

"Don’t get used to it, it’s only because of Harry," Arthur said over his shoulder. "He’s been given top-grade security status. And we’ll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron too."

Johnny looked over at Harry and noticed that he was frowning. Hell, he was too, trying to figure out how one decided on 'leaky cauldron' as a name for a place.

The Ministry was being extremely cautious, though Johnny supposed this was better than how they were acting last year.

He gazed out of the window as the scenery whipped by. He didn't even care anymore about how fast they were going. He noticed Hermione was doing the same, and when he had turned his head to look at her, their eyes met. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling like an idiot.

"Here you are, then," the driver said, a surprisingly short while later as he slowed in some street and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. "I’m to wait for you, any idea how long you’ll be?"

"A couple of hours, I expect," Arthur said. "Ah, good, he’s here."

Johnny could not see exactly who was here, as all of the other teens had moved around and craned their necks to see whom Arthur was referring to.

But as the doors opened, and Harry got out first, Johnny figured it out pretty fast.

"Harry!" A booming voice said. One he recognized to be Hagrid's.

Hagrid continued to say something to Harry not-so-discreetly about Buckbeak. Johnny merely looked around the street instead as Arthur told the driver they'd be shopping for a few hours. The driver was apparently meant to wait for them here.

"We didn’t know ‘security’ meant you!" Harry said, grinning.

"I know, jus’ like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore said I’d do," Hagrid said proudly, throwing out his chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. "Let’s get goin’ then - after yeh, Molly, Arthur-"

When they entered the 'Leaky Cauldron', it was empty. Only the bartender was there, cleaning some glasses out with a rag from behind the counter. He looked up hopefully as the group entered, but Hagrid raised a hand.

"Jus’ passin’ through today, Tom, sure yeh understand, Hogwarts business, yeh know."

'Tom' nodded sadly, returning to his work, but he looked decidedly downcast.

It was depressing, but nothing compared to how the street beyond the other door looked. When they exited on the other side of the Leaky Cauldron, the streets of Diagon Alley greeted them. They were almost as barren as the place before, only a few people went about their shopping, as well as some shady-looking street vendors littering the area. Many shops were wrecked or boarded up, large Ministry pamphlets and wanted posters posted over the closed shops.

One of the vendors called out to them from behind a shabby-looking stall, motioning at an array of ugly and ancient-looking necklaces and amulets that proclaimed they could protect wearers against werewolves, dementors and inferi. He was seedy-looking and leered at Hermione and Ginny.

"One for the girls, madam?" He asked Molly. "Protect their pretty little necks?"

Johnny subtly stepped in front of Hermione and glared at the man, but otherwise, they kept on.

"If I were on duty..." Arthur grumbled.

"Yes, but don't go arresting anyone now, dear, we're in a hurry," Molly responded, nervously consulting a list. "I think we’d better do Madam Malkin’s first, Hermione wants new dress robes and Ron’s showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and you must need new ones too, Harry, you’ve grown so much - come on, everyone-"

"Molly, it doesn’t make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin’s," Arthur said. "Why don’t those three go with Hagrid and Johnny, and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone’s schoolbooks?"

"I don’t know," Molly said anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack. "Hagrid, do you think - ?"

"They'll be fine with me an' Johnny, Molly," Hagrid assured her, waving one of his giant hands airily at her. Johnny nodded in agreement.

Molly did not seem entirely convinced, but allowed the separation anyway, scurrying off to Flourish and Blots with Arthur and Ginny while he, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid started walking towards Madam Malkin's.

A lot of the people they passed on the way to their destination had the same anxious look as Molly. Johnny found it hard to blame them as they frantically did their shopping.

"Migh’ be a bit of a squeeze in there with all of us," Hagrid said, stopping outside Madam Malkin’s and bending down to peer through the window. "I’ll stand guard outside, all right?"

So Johnny, Harry, Ron and Hermione all entered the shop by themselves. He had initially thought by tight squeeze that Hagrid meant there were some others in there, but no, the place was just tiny as hell. It was empty on the inside, but as soon as they shut the door behind them, he heard a voice he vaguely recognized coming from behind a rack of clothing.

"-not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

A woman's voice clucked at the other. "Now, dear, your mother’s quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it’s nothing to do with being a child -"

"Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you!"

A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed all of them standing behind him in the reflection, his light grey eyes narrowed.

"If you're wondering what that smell is, mother, a mudblood just walked in."

"There's no need for language like that!" A tall woman said, coming from around the clothing rack as well, holding a measuring tape and a wand. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!"

Johnny looked at Harry and Ron, who both had their wands pointed at the blonde boy. Johnny remembered him now, he was the one insulting Hermione when they went to Hogsmeade together. His fists clenched as he also remembered what mudblood meant.

But Hermione gripped his arm and spoke pleadingly to the three of them. "No, please, honestly, it's not worth it..."

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic outside of school." The boy sneered. "Who gave you that scratch, Granger? I want to send them flowers."

"Like you don't know," Ron snarled.

The boy smirked but said nothing. Johnny noticed something in his eyes though, something about them seemed familiar. There were dark bags under them, and they looked hollow. Emotionless.

"That's quite enough!" The owner said loudly, before looking over her shoulder for support. "Madam - please -"

A third person walked from around a rack, she had a platinum streak of color in her otherwise black hair. She was tall and looked down at them disdainfully. "Put those away," she demanded coolly, "if you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."

"Really?" Harry asked challengingly, stepping forward a bit, and Johnny blinked in surprise. "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

The owner squealed and clutched at her heart. "Really, you shouldn't accuse - dangerous thing to say - wands away, please!"

But Harry did not lower his wand, and neither did Ron. The woman smiled unpleasantly.

"I see that being Dumbledore’s favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect you."

Harry looked around mockingly. "Wow... look at that... he’s not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

The blonde teen made to step towards them angrily, but he stumbled over the robe that was too long for him. Ron laughed loudly.

"Don’t you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" He snarled.

"It's all right Draco," his mother said, placing a calming hand on her son's shoulder. "I expect Potter will be reunited with his dear parents long before I am reunited with Lucius."

Johnny watched as Harry raised his wand higher. He moved up to place his own hand on Harry's shoulder as Hermione begged Harry to put his wand away.

"Don't start a scene," he warned him.

"You mustn't," Hermione agreed, "you'll be in such trouble."

But the older woman's eyes flickered towards Johnny. "I see you've brought... it, with you too, how nice of you to take your pet out on a walk."

Even with Johnny squeezing hard on Harry's shoulder, the teen did not lower his wand, and now Ron seemed ready to fire off a spell at any moment. Even Hermione, who was just five seconds before trying to help him stop the two boys from starting a fight, was angered by the comment.

"Of all the - !" She let go of Harry's arm and was glaring daggers at the woman too. Johnny put a hand on her shoulder as well.

"Can you all please calm down?" He whispered harshly. "Ron I swear to god, if you raise your wand any higher I'm going to kick your leg out from under you!"

The woman smirked even as her son bellowed in pain. The owner had tried to go back to her work as if nothing was happening. He yanked his left arm away from her in anger.

"Watch where you’re putting your pins, woman! Mother, I don’t think I want these anymore." He pulled the robes over his head and threw them on the floor at the owner's feet.

"You’re right, Draco," the woman said with a contemptuous glance at Hermione and Johnny, "now I know the kind of scum that shops here... We’ll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting’s." And with that, the pair of them strode out of the shop, the blonde teen taking care to bang as hard as he could into Ron on the way out.

"Well, really!" the owner said, snatching up the fallen robes and moving the tip of her wand over them like a vacuum cleaner, so that it removed all the dust.

She was distracted throughout their fitting, but Johnny paid it no mind. His thoughts were still on the blonde teen's eyes, they were so damn familiar.

He didn't get much time to think on it though, as the fitting was done with rather quickly. No doubt, the owner wanted them out of there as fast as possible after what had just happened.

"Got ev’rything?" Hagrid asked brightly when they reappeared at his side.

"Just about," Harry answered. "Did you see the Malfoys?"

"Yeah," Hagrid said, unconcerned. "Bu’ they wouldn’ dare make trouble in the middle o’ Diagon Alley, Harry. Don’ worry abou’ them."

The four of them exchanged looks, and Johnny noticed that they were all still looking a bit sour after the confrontation. Especially Hermione.

He frowned, but did not say anything as Molly, Arthur and Ginny returned, all holding heavy-looking bags filled with books.

"Everyone alright?" Molly asked. "Got your robes? Right then, we can pop in at the Apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George’s. Stick close, now."

At the Apothecary, only Hermione and Ginny needed to go in to shop. Molly went with Ginny, and Johnny went in with Hermione.

The place stunk a little, but he'd smelled worse before. Hermione was reading the letter she'd received from Hogwarts, muttering the names of items from her list under her breath. She still seemed upset, or maybe just focused.

"I'm still surprised you lost your cool in there," he said quietly as she grabbed a handful of asphodel flowers from a shelf. 

Hermione did not speak immediately, but after getting something called 'Boomslang', she sighed. "The comments towards me, I can handle, but - I mean, how dare she refer to you as a pet? How do they know that you're a muggle?"

"I don't think they do, per se. Just the I am -  was the Ghost Rider. That's probably what they were referring to." He felt inexplicably warm at her words though. "Still," he continued, "bad enough Ron and Harry can't keep their tempers in check, now you too? You're supposed to be the logical and smarter one."

Hermione scowled. "Well, why is it that I have to be some paragon of restraint and responsibility all the time? But the two boys can go off and act like it, and it's expected of them?"

"Don't try and flip this," he said as they moved along the aisles, "you're right, it's an unreasonable expectation of you, but what if I didn't stop you? Or if I wasn't there and she said something about me anyway? Would you have rather had the fight that was seconds away from happening?"

She did not respond to this.

"I've had to hear that kind of talk from people towards my parents and brother for years, and if I did react, I got an earful and a lecture back at home for it from the people actually being discriminated against. The least you could do is take it for five minutes."

Johnny felt bad immediately. She was discriminated against in this world too, he shouldn't have spoken like that to her.

After she had paid for all her stuff, he squeezed her hand briefly as they were walking to the door.

"Thank you, though." He said softly.

Her lips quirked up a bit, nearly a smile. She nodded.

As he looked around at the shop, he had to admit, the twins were geniuses. Business-wise, and creatively. The sheer amount of stuff he saw really shouldn't have surprised him, considering they could use magic, but little candies that made you throw up, shoes that let you climb walls and ceilings, hairbrush's that could change the user's hairstyle... and there were plenty more. Ginny and Hermione were looking at daydream potions, Ron was examining the weather in a bottle, and even Molly and Arthur were looking around at some of the fireworks on display.

Harry wasn't though, he was near the entrance, staring at something outside the shop.

Johnny frowned. What was he looking at?

"Well, well, well," a familiar mischievous voice said, from behind him.

"Look at what we have here," another identical one continued.

He turned around to face Fred and George, a smile on his face.

"Our favourite leather-clad tosser," they said together.

"Hello boys," Johnny greeted them, "business is good, I take it?"

"Booming," Fred confirmed with a nod. He was able to tell the difference thanks to the sewn-on 'F' that was on his right breast pocket. George had a similar 'G' one on his suit as well. "Came as a surprise to us, what with all the gloom and doom around lately."

"Yeah," his brother agreed, "we were really upset about the timing, to be honest, but somehow it's - Oi!" George suddenly said loudly at a boy who was reaching his hand into a bowl labelled edible dark marks. "That's the second time! What did I say before?" He walked off towards the boy, but the kid was fast and was able to sprint out of the shop before George could get to him.

"Does that happen a lot?" Johnny asked.

Fred shrugged. "A bit, yeah, but just yelling at them usually works."

George returned, shaking his head. "Little brat," he grumbled.

"We've actually got to thank you," Fred said suddenly as if he was just remembering something. "That shock gum you gave us at Christmas last year? Well, we thought it was pretty funny, so we've developed our own spin on it."

The twins led him over to a shelf that was filled with a product called 'Electric Shock Shake'. 

"It basically works as a fake hand," George explained, "simply pop it in your sleeve, go to shake someone's hand, and watch as they get shocked."

Johnny nodded appreciatively, it wasn't much like the shock gum at all really then. "Kinda like a joy buzzer, right?"

Both Fred and George were now looking at him as if he had some grotesque deformity.

"A what buzzer?" They asked in unison.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "A joy buzzer, how have you never heard of it? You've got a whole section of things for muggles!"

"You mean to tell us," Fred said.

"That we've made a product that muggles have already come up with before?" George finished, looking aghast.

Johnny shrugged apologetically. "Kinda? It's not the entire hand they have, just a metal thing with a strap you wrap around your hand, but.... yeah."

The twins sighed, and with a wave of George's wand, the contents of the shelf vanished into thin air.

"Back to the drawing board on that one," Fred muttered sadly.

"I can't believe we got beaten to it," George added.

"Sorry to break it to you guys," Johnny said truthfully, but he the smile on his face might have ruined the effect.

They shook their heads. "No big deal," Fred said.

"We'll come up with something else, we always do," George assured him.

Johnny nodded, and as the twins were called away to do other things around the store, he glanced to where Harry was standing before, only to find him gone. And it wasn't just him either, both Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen.

"You know how to fix it?"

Harry held his breath under the invisibility cloak as he, Hermione and Ron listened in on Malfoy speak to Borgin in his shop in Knockturn Alley.

"Possibly," Borgin said, in a tone that suggested he was unwilling to commit himself. "I’ll need to see it, though. Why don’t you bring it into the shop?"

"I can’t," Malfoy said. "It’s got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

Harry saw Borgin lick his lips nervously through the window.

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn’t guarantee anything."

"No?" Malfoy said, and Harry knew, just by his tone, that Malfoy was sneering. "Perhaps this will make you more confident." He moved toward Borgin and was blocked from view by the cabinet. Harry, Ron, and Hermione shuffled sideways to try and keep him in sight, but all they could see was Borgin, looking very frightened.

"Tell anyone," Malfoy said, "and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He’s a family friend. He’ll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you’re giving the problem your full attention."

"I don't think that's necessary-"

"I’ll decide that," Malfoy said. "Well, I’d better be off. And don’t forget to keep that one safe, I’ll need it."

"Perhaps you’d like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn’t, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don’t sell it."

"Of course not... sir."

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand? I've got real power now, the kind that could rip you limb from limb. Don't test me."

"Of course," Borgin murmured, bowing, but there was fear in his expression as he did so.

The next moment, the bell over the door tinkled loudly as Malfoy stalked out of the shop looking very pleased with himself.

The trio looked at each other from under the cloak, their minds racing.

Chapter Text

"Mate..."

- Ron Weasley to Johnny Blaze as the latter throws the Quaffle back a little too hard, sending it flying into the horizon. Sometime in the Summer of 1996

The last week of August before they had to leave for Hogwarts was a relaxing one. Johnny found that he had to keep internally reminding himself that he wasn't actually going there to learn, he had already finished his education.

He split his time between showing Arthur how to take apart his bike and put it back together, packing, and watching the others play pickup Quidditch games in the yard. It was an interesting sport, he supposed. Hermione was usually begged into playing by Harry, Ron and Ginny despite her unwillingness. He held onto whatever book she was reading at the time as she tentatively clambered onto a broom.

She sucked, to say the least. There was no other way to put it really. Harry grimaced every time the ball flew past her with ease (they had found the old Quaffle after Ron had asked Molly to summon it, the ball took almost a full minute to return though).

Crookshanks often found Johnny wherever he was, all but demanding head scratches every time.

It was the most at peace he had felt in his entire life, much less since becoming the Ghost Rider. Even the looming threat of war could not ruin his mood.

He spent more time just relaxing with Hermione as well. In actuality, she was usually poring over her new school books while he laid back on his bed, her legs stretched out on top of his or vice versa. They weren't always together though, he noticed how Harry often dragged her and Ron off to a corner to heatedly discuss something. He didn't want to pry, so he never asked about it. 

Johnny made a trip into the closest town as well, checking shops for a suitable gift for Hermione's fast-approaching birthday.

Truthfully though, he spent a good amount of his time sleeping. He would joke to himself that it was to catch up with all the sleepless nights he spent out in New York for almost a year and the many months abroad.

Sirius came by again, this time without Tonks and Remus. The former was busy with work and the latter was out in the forests of Scotland.

"I still can't believe you're going with them," Sirius bemoaned after dinner as Johnny was trying to fix a leaking pipe on his bike without breaking any of Arthur's tools. "Who am I going to hang out with?"

"I'm sure Kreacher would if you asked him nicely," Johnny said sarcastically. Though it wasn't without some truth in it, Hermione had spoken to anyone that would listen at length about how if he was just treated better, Kreacher likely would never have lied to Harry when he asked where Sirius was through the Floo at the end of school last year.

Sirius scoffed. "Like hell."

Johnny frowned as he worked so that Sirius would not see. He didn't really like the elf either, but he never took the insults Kreacher dished out that seriously. And he could see how being alone for twelve years in a large house with nothing but a racist and insane painting of his former master for company would mold Kreacher into what he was today.

"I'm kidding," he said, "but would it kill you to treat him a little better?"

However, whenever the subject was brought up, Sirius was usually dismissive or switched topics. There was something in his expression though that led Johnny to believe that he was at least conflicted. There was no usual anger, but something more akin to confusion.

"Just saying," Johnny continued idly. "Anyway, you're a free man now, you can go out and do whatever you want! Chat up anyone that catches your eye, buy the dumbest things with your endless vault of money. And when I see you at Christmas, I'll make fun of you for it."

"I guess I should really start cleaning out all the old heirlooms that my mum and dad had. Got no use for them now."

They grinned at each other, but when the time came to leave, Johnny felt no small amount of guilt for leaving Sirius behind.

The platform was the same as Johnny remembered, which is to say, remarkably busy. When they walked through the pillar to get to the secret platform, nothing was really different except now almost every teen had an owl in a cage added onto their luggage.

"You don't have a lot of time," Molly fretted. "Hurry onto the train now, you lot."

He hugged her, and then Sirius fiercely. before  Hermione led him over to where he could store his luggage, and then they went to the entrance of the Hogwarts Express.

"I'll have to leave and head over with Ron for our prefect duties," she said, already working herself up to a rant. "But if you wait up for Harry and Ginny, I'm sure you could all find a compartment together. And then I'll come to find you."

Johnny smiled at her. "I'm not five you know, I think I'll manage."

She jabbed him in his side, and he feigned pain. "I'll just go on ahead then," she told him, rolling her eyes.

He nodded and waited for Harry, whom he saw talking to Arthur off by the side. Harry's back was to him, and Arthur was frowning at the teen.

The train's whistle sounded off, and Harry turned to board, his head hanging. He looked put out.

Johnny waited for him, and Ginny joined them. They gave one final wave to Molly and Arthur before getting on the train.

The first thing that Johnny noticed, was that everyone was staring at Harry. Not even subtly either. People were pointing and whispering to their friends or just openly gawking. He raised an eyebrow at one girl who looked to be younger than them that was looking at Harry with an almost sultry expression. 

"Fancy trying to find a compartment?" Harry asked the two of them.

Ginny shook her head. "Sorry, I said I'd meet Dean."

Harry nodded, and Ginny went down the corridor of the train.

Once she was gone, Johnny spoke. "Seeing as I don't have any boyfriends to meet up with, let's go find us a compartment."

Harry laughed, which he counted as a win. Something was bothering the dude, and while he didn't want to pry, he could at least try to cheer him up.

They were stared at the entire time they searched for an empty compartment, but mercifully, it didn't take long.

Harry stared out the window anxiously as he waited for Hermione and Ron to be done their patrols. He wanted to speak to them more, though he rather doubted he'd tell them about how Mr. Weasley did not believe him about Malfoy.

He glanced at Johnny and noticed he was leaning back in his seat, he seemed relaxed.

An idea struck him then, to confide in Johnny. He was in the Order, after all. Maybe he could even bring it up to Dumbledore? Either way, Harry was bursting to talk about what Malfoy could be up to.

"Hey, Johnny..." he started, and the other teen turned to look at him.

With his full attention, Harry told Johnny everything he'd seen and overheard Malfoy do at Borgin & Burkes. When he was done, Johnny's initial blank expression made him worry. He probably didn't believe him after all...

"What do you think he meant by 'real power'?" Johnny asked suddenly.

Harry was stunned that he wasn't outright denying anything was up that it took him a moment to answer.

"I-I dunno," he answered honestly, "more threats about Greyback?" It wasn't that far-fetched to believe that in his werewolf form, the Death Eater really could tear someone limb from limb...

"But he already did that, didn't he?" Johnny said, now looking deep in thought.

Harry shrugged. "He's a novice at threatening an actual adult, I suppose. It's not out of the question that he'd go a bit overboard with the threats, is it?"

"I guess so..." Johnny agreed.

There was a few moments of silence before Harry could no longer contain himself.

"So you believe me then?" He burst out. "About Malfoy being up to something?"

Johnny nodded seriously. "I mean yeah, he clearly is. Though they'd be recruiting a little young, wouldn't they? Is that normal?"

"No," Harry admitted, "but is that really so hard to believe from a dark lord?"

"Guess not," Johnny shrugged. "Can't do much about it though until something happens."

"You could tell Dumbledore," Harry said. "I already tried talking to Mr. Weasley, but, he didn't believe me. Even Ron and Hermione don't think he could be acting on Voldemort's orders."

It bothered him more than he wanted to let on that his friends didn't seem to have his back.

"If Arthur didn't believe you, I'm not sure how receptive the old man'll be," Johnny said, and Harry's heart sank. "But I'll bring it up anyway, might as well try, right?"

Harry smiled broadly at him. "Thanks, mate."

Johnny returned it. "Yeah, no prob-"

His gaze shifted to the compartment door, and Harry looked over to see several girls standing just outside.

There was a group of fourth-year girls was whispering and giggling together on the other side of the glass.

"You ask him!"

"No, you!"

"I’ll do it!"

And one of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes, a prominent chin, and long black hair that complimented her brown skin pushed her way through the door.

"Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said confidently, "why don't you join us in our compartment?" She then looked over at Johnny and gave him an appreciative once over. "Your friend can come too if he wants."

Harry felt himself flush, but it was more out of embarrassment than anything else. "Er, I'm actually waiting on some friends, sorry. Thanks though."

Romilda nodded but took it in stride. "No problem, see you at school."

A few moments after, Johnny spoke.

"Does that happen a lot to you?" He asked, smirking a little.

"Not really," Harry answered. "Last year everyone thought I was crazy for saying Voldemort was back, and after my first year, people mostly got used to me being just another student."

Johnny nodded. "I remember Hermione mentioning something about that. So what's changed?"

Harry looked at him confusedly. "But - you mean Dumbledore hasn't said anything to you?"

"No," Johnny said, shaking his head, "tell me what?"

He stopped himself before he just up and told Johnny that he was the chosen one. Dumbledore said he could tell Ron and Hermione, but that's because they were his best friends. And anyway, if Johnny didn't know, did that mean Dumbledore hasn't been totally honest with the rest of the Order too?

"Just, er, in the Daily Prophet, our newspaper, they've been ranting and raving about how there's a prophecy about me being the chosen one to stop Voldemort. I guess some people find that an attractive title..."

There was a pause.

"I won't bother you about it," Johnny said finally. "It's your business. I'd hope that if it were true, Dumbledore would have already brought it up in a meeting, but, well, you know how he is."

Harry nodded. Indeed he did.

Another half-hour passed by in which the sun had finally shown itself and dispelled some of the mist and depressing gray clouds. Ron and Hermione found them after their prefect meeting and subsequent patrols, Ron taking the seat next to Harry, and Hermione the one beside Johnny.

"Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I’m starving," Ron said as he slumped into his seat. "Oh, Harry, guess what? Malfoy’s not doing prefect duty. He’s just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed."

Harry sat up straight, interested. It was not like Malfoy to pass up the chance to demonstrate his power as prefect, which he had happily abused all the previous year.

"What did he do when he saw you?"

"The usual," Ron said indifferently, flipping Harry his middle finger. "Not like him though, is it? Well - that is" - he flipped his middle finger again - "but why isn't he out there bullying first years?"

"Dunno," Harry said, but his mind was racing. Didn’t this look as though Malfoy had more important things on his mind than bullying younger students?

"Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad," Hermione suggested. "Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that."

"He could have better things to do now," Johnny said, looking at Harry intently. They had thought the same thing.

"Exactly," Harry agreed. 

Hermione looked between them in confusion.

"Oh, Harry, did you tell him?" She sighed, and it irked him.

Harry frowned. "For your information, he believes me."

Now Hermione regarded Johnny with a look of disbelief.

"You do?" Ron said, his tone suggesting he shared Hermione's sentiment.

Johnny matched Harry's frown. "Why are you two acting like recruiting a teenager is out of the realm of possibility for a homicidal racist maniac?"

Hermione sputtered indignantly, but whatever she was going to retort with was interrupted by the arrival of someone else.

A breathless third-year girl was at the door with a slip of parchment in her hand. "I'm supposed to deliver this to H-Harry Potter," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry’s and she turned scarlet. She was holding out a scroll of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry took the scroll and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment. 

"What is it?" Ron demanded as Harry unrolled it.

"An invitation," Harry said. "From Professor Slughorn."

"But what could he want with you?" Hermione asked, brows furrowed.

Oh, he had a pretty good idea already.

Several hours had passed, and still, Harry had not come back.

Hermione had already changed into her uniform, and the two of them stepped outside the compartment to let Ron change in private.

"I'm getting worried," Hermione murmured to him.

She had already brought up the concern to Ron as well, but the other boy brushed it off, saying Harry was likely just held up with Slughorn.

Hermione did tend to get anxious pretty easily, but Johnny had to admit that seeing a teacher for this long was suspicious.

Johnny looked in the direction he remembered Harry walking in when he left hours ago.

"I'll go find him," he decided suddenly. Hermione's hands gripped his arm tightly.

"Be careful." She said, and he nodded.

"It's probably nothing," Johnny called back to her as he walked down the corridors of the train cars. 

It was a silly thing to say because they both knew that if Harry was involved, something had to have gone down. And it usually wasn't good.

His eyes scanned each compartment though, hoping that he'd find him sitting with the teacher that invited him. Just a conversation that had gone on too long. But the train had stopped, and people were getting up and leaving, pushing by Johnny to get out. Not once did he see Harry, or even a teacher. His heart was sinking further and further the more he went without finding him.

The Malfoy boy walked past, other students dressed in similar green-tinged robes following him. Johnny had the strangest urge to reach out to the teen, but he shook his head and kept going.

It was at the last train car, that he noticed the blinds drawn on the entrance to it. Johnny walked towards the door and opened it. He looked around, but there was nobody in any of the compartments. But then why make it so nobody could look inside?

He walked inside further and nearly fell when his foot connected with something on the floor.

Johnny glanced down but saw nothing.

What the fuck? He was sure he'd just hit something.

Tentatively, he crouched down and put his hand on the floor.

Or, he tried to. Because in actuality, his hand was met with a silky feeling fabric.

Johnny grabbed what he could, and pulled.

The stiff body of Harry Potter was underneath the strange invisible cloth with a very badly messed up nose, and then he remembered Harry talking about how his father had owned an invisibility cloak that was passed down to him.

"Harry?" He said. "Who did this to you?"

He was still breathing, but Harry just stared up at Johnny blankly in response.

"Jesus," he muttered. The train would leave soon, no doubt, he had to think fast. 

Johnny bunched the cloak up so that it was small, and then reached down with one arm to lift Harry up. He still kept his position, frozen in place and sprawled out as if he were still on the floor. It was awkward at first, and he had to hook one of Harry's arms around Johnny's neck to be able to carry him properly, but eventually, he was making his way back up the train to get off. When he did make it there, he tried very hard to avoid being seen, but a dude in a leather jacket carrying the most famous person in wizarding Britain around like he was a sack of potatoes was kinda hard to be 

Johnny looked back at where they kept the luggage, and he hoped desperately that Hermione had the foresight to take their stuff with her.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long to know. He saw Hermione and Ron waiting up the path a bit from the station. There was a carriage being attached to two Thestrals near them.

As he approached them, he noticed Hermione worried expression, and it didn't get much better at the sight of them.

"What's happened to him?" Ron asked as the two of them rushed forward.

"I don't know," he answered. "I found him like this under his cloak in the very last train car."

"He's been petrified," Hermione said, taking out her wand and waving it at Harry.

At once the teen in his arm went limp and then got off his shoulder.

"Thanks," he said gruffly.

"Who did this to you?" Ron asked.

"Malfoy," Harry said with no small amount of venom in his tone. "I was trying to spy on him and see if he'd reveal anything to his friends once they were alone, but he caught me."

Hermione flicked her wand at him again, muttering "Episkey!" under her breath, and Harry's nose was fixed. She began siphoning the blood off of his face.

"Did you at least learn something?" Johnny asked.

Harry shook his head in defeat. "No, he wasn't telling them much of anything really, but it's the way he talked about it, he sounded like he was keeping something from them. Even Parkinson."

"He might have just been showing off for her," Hermione said after she was done cleaning Harry's face. "She's his girlfriend, after all."

"I really don't think that's it," Harry said. "He's already got her wrapped around his finger, he doesn't need to do anything like that to impress her."

"Let's talk about this later or something," Johnny said, looking around. A small crowd was forming around them, trying to listen in.

All four of them got in the carriage, and the Thestrals started bringing them towards Hogwarts.

He had to admit, the castle was very impressive. The huge lake nearby glittered beautifully in the sunset.

Johnny looked across to Hermione, she was smiling knowingly at him.

"I had the same expression on your face when I first came here," she said in remembrance. "No amount of books and pictures could have prepared me for it."

"It'd be cool to see what house the Sorting Hat would put you in if you were a student," Ron said with a thoughtful expression.

"He'd probably be put in Gryffindor," Harry said, to which Ron nodded.

"Those are based on the founders right?" Johnny asked, and Hermione's smile grew even wider. He remembered her mentioning how the houses worked in one of her letters.

"Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin," Hermione confirmed. "I have to agree with them though, I can't see you fitting in any other house but Gryffindor."

"Why?" Johnny asked curiously. He knew about them but didn't know how one was sorted. What traits someone needed to have.

"Our house values bravery, nerve, daring and chivalry," Hermione explained.

Johnny looked away briefly. "I don't know about me being brave." He admitted, thinking of when he tried to leave the Order months ago and he was hit with a wave of shame. It was right after Christmas too, right when he was feeling so happy, his rage took over. It happened a lot thanks to the Rider's influence. He hadn't noticed it recently, but Johnny can't place the last time he's gotten really mad or had a random mood swing since losing his powers.

"Didn't you fight frost trolls?" Ron asked. "I'd probably just run away..." 

"It was only one, not multiple," Johnny said.

"You fought a God and a Giant from Norse myth," Hermione said, sounding a little stern. 

"Bloody hell," Ron said, "you did? When?" Even Harry looked surprised.

"When I fell through the veil," Johnny answered, and then he explained to them what happened in Hel, including meeting Odin. He left out Mephisto though, just as he did with Hermione. He didn't feel good about lying, but that was one thing he wasn't ready to tell them yet. Even Sirius and Harry got a watered-down explanation.

He'd tell Hermione soon if anything. She wasn't owed it, he supposed. But Johnny strangely felt like he was lying by omission to her, even if rationally that didn't make any sense.

"Bloody hell," Ron said again, Harry nodded in agreement.

Nothing else could be said, for they finally reached Hogwarts entrance. They got off the carriage and Johnny handed Harry his invisibility cloak back.

Once they entered the castle, he couldn't help the look of amazement that quickly worked its way onto his face again.

There was a large hall that was lit by both floating candles and torches on the walls. It was a bit dark, but it fit what with how the sun was going down now in real-time.

Hundreds of students sat around at four large tables. Johnny guessed it was the four houses, seas of green, blue, red and yellow accented uniforms. 

"What about our suitcases?" He asked Hermione as they walked in, just now remembering that he'd never grabbed his.

"The elves will take them up to our rooms," she answered, looking a little bitter. "Much easier and safer that way now, it was included in the letter Hogwarts sent us in the summer."

"Oh," Johnny said. He supposed that made sense.

"Do you know where you have to sit?" Hermione asked, still at his side, making sure everything was going to plan despite not knowing the plan herself. Johnny greatly appreciated it, he was suddenly feeling very nervous.

He shook his head in response, but Ron nudged his shoulder.

"Look at the staff table, mate."

Johnny did and saw Dumbledore jovially waving him over. With one last nervous smile at the trio, he walked towards the long table that sat higher up on a sort of stage. He saw a few he recognized from the Order meetings, but that was only a third of the staff. A lot of eyes were on him as he went, dinner was not served yet, and so with nothing better to do, the students watched the newcomer with open curiosity.

He took a seat next to Snape, which was one of the only ones available.

"Hey," he greeted, to which Snape gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Better than a jibe or an insult, he supposed, though Snape had never really been all that mean to him before really. Just acted superior.

To his right was the older woman he had seen at the recent Order meeting.

She was regarding him with a calculating look, her lips were pursed. She seemed to disapprove almost, but Johnny couldn't be sure. He assumed it was either because he was a muggle in a magical school, or because of his attire. More than likely it was an even mix of both.

Still, he introduced himself politely. "Johnny Blaze." He extended his hand.

The woman grasped it only for a second. "Minerva McGonagall," she replied in a Scottish accent.

They sat in awkward silence after that, and neither Snape nor McGonagall seemed keen to break it. How lovely. He didn't really care when it came down to it, it'd just make meals a bit boring.

"I trust the ride here was alright, Johnny?" Dumbledore called from his seat in the middle of the table.

He nodded. "The scenery was nice." He didn't mention Harry almost being left behind.

"Of course," Dumbledore smiled. "Scotland is beautiful and full of wonderous nature." He then looked at McGonagall. "Minerva, I believe it's time."

The woman gave an almost imperceptible nod, before reaching under the table and taking out a brown hat that almost looked like it had a face. She stepped down the steps to the main area just in front of the long table and a chair appeared out of thin air. She ignored it though and walked to the entrance. She opened one of the double doors and stepped outside for a few moments.

In that time, Johnny sought a familiar pair of brown eyes. And he was not disappointed when he received a smile.

McGonagall returned less than five minutes later with a large line of little children trailing nervously behind her. They couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve, he thought. Once they reached the chair, McGonagall placed the hat on the chair, and Johnny's eye went wide as it began to sing.

Damn, it did have a face.

It wasn't a half-bad singer, either. It was one of the weirdest things he'd ever witnessed, which by this point in his life was really saying something.

After the song was done and the students and teachers applauded, McGonagall took out a scroll and began to read names off it in alphabetical order. 

One by one, each terrified-looking kid walked up when their name was called at sat on the chair as McGonagall placed the hat on their heads. After a few moments for most, a couple of minutes for a few, the hat would call out the name of a house.

Johnny watched on, genuinely intrigued as each table cheered for its new members.

It was a nice thing to see, as the houses readily accepted the kids that would be living with them.

Eventually, the last kid was called, and food began to appear on every table. Hungry students dug in with a scary eagerness. Admittedly, Johnny was pretty hungry too by this point, and when a large platter of chicken wings appeared out of nowhere at the table, he quickly grabbed a few along with some beans and mashed potatoes as well.

Hagrid came in about five minutes later, looking a bit bruised but waving happily at Harry, Hermione and Ron. He took his seat and greeted everyone there in a jovial tone.

The feast was over far too soon in Johnny's opinion, but his stomach was full and he was content. Dumbledore stood up and the entire hall went silent. Much how the room did at Order meetings when the old man had something to say.

"The very best of evenings to you!" He said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room. "To our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you."

He went on to talk about an updated list of banned items at the school, which now included anything bought at Fred and George's new shop. It was maybe a little rude, but Johnny couldn't help the smirk that worked its way onto his face. Looking over at the Gryffindor table, he could see he wasn't the only one.

"...those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise." Dumbledore then gestured at a man with a big belly and mustache that reminded Johnny of a walrus. "We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

There was no immediate reply, instead, Johnny heard multiple students say out loud "Potions?"

The word echoed all over the hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Dumbledore said, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some small outcry from three of the tables, but it was almost completely drowned out by the thunderous approval from the table dressed in green and black robes.

Johnny looked sideways at Snape, who raised a lazy hand in acknowledgment instead of standing up, but there was no mistaking the look of triumph in his face.

"And finally," Dumbledore continued over the students' voices. "We have added some extra security this year." Dumbledore's expression turned grave for a moment. "As everyone in this hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength. I take the safety of everyone here very seriously, which is why I am happy to introduce you to a good friend of mine, and new enforcer here at Hogwarts, Johnathan Blaze!"

He stood up, cringing a little at the use of his full name, as well as the title they had given him. Way to make him sound like a cop, Jesus...

Johnny waved politely, just managing a small smile. Again, he sought out a specific pair of eyes, and when he found them, they put him at ease.

"He will be living here and assisting the prefects in their patrols. He can hand out detentions as well, so please keep that in mind..." Dumbledore took a breath as Johnny sat back down. "I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them - in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety."

Dumbledore’s blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

Chapter Text

"I remember those days. Ah, was I ever popular with the ladies... Granted, I never cared much for them in return, but alas, such is life."

- Albus Dumbledore to a very confused and embarrassed Johnny Blaze in his office, Hogwarts, sometime in early September 1996.

There was a loud screeching of hundreds of seats at once as the students left to go to their dorms. He lost her in the sea of people. Johnny turned to Dumbledore instead of continuing the futile search. "Where am I sleeping?" He asked.

"Dobby will show you to your room," Dumbledore said, before snapping his fingers.

A loud crack indicated the arrival of an elf. A few teachers looked at the exchange but soon enough cleared off back to their own quarters. 

The elf was small, and a little timid, but he gave a deep bow to both Johnny and Dumbledore. He was wearing a nice knitted sweatshirt and mismatched socks

"Headmaster called for Dobby?" The elf squeaked.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, smiling, "Dobby, would you show Mr. Blaze to his living quarters please?"

Dobby looked a little bit like he was about to cry for a moment before he bowed to Dumbledore again. He turned back to Johnny now.

"Come, sir," the elf said, walking off down the hall. Johnny glanced at Dumbledore.

"We'll talk soon," the old man said.

Johnny nodded and followed Dobby.

The elf lead him down multiple corridors, and Johnny openly marvelled at the number of paintings that had people just moving about in them. A good amount were sleeping, a few were regarding him curiously, but most went about their business. 

A ghost of a beautiful woman glided past them, not sparing either Johnny or Dobby any attention.

"We're here now," the elf said finally, stopping at a random door that was in between two classrooms.

He raised an eyebrow. Was this really it? Perhaps he was a little spoilt from living in a nice house in Harlem and Upstate New York, but this didn't seem like much.

Johnny grabbed and twisted the doorknob. Once inside, he realized how dumb he was. Magic, of course, could be very deceiving. The room he was staying in was like a loft, in terms of size. One huge open room for the most part save for what he assumed were the bathroom and bedroom.

He turned back to Dobby.

"Thanks." He said, but to his alarm, at the words, Dobby began to tear up.

Before Johnny could get out an apology, the elf spoke.

"Sir is too kind" He squeaked shakily. "Too kind to Dobby!"

And with a crack, the elf was gone.

He closed the door behind him and turned the lock. It hit him suddenly just how tired he felt. The train ride and the feast took up almost eleven hours. 

Johnny walked to the bedroom and opened the door. His stuff was already inside, neatly packed away into the chest and on top of his nightstand. The bed was a king, and it looked comfy. Johnny slipped off his jacket and put it on the nearby chair, swapped his jeans out for his fleece pants, and promptly fell onto the bed, instantly falling asleep.

He dreamt something other than the normal reliving of the worst day of his life.

Johnny was in a cell of some kind. The ground felt like gravel, but it was dark red in color. His wrists and ankles were shackled. The air was smoky, though he could breathe fine. Johnny shuffled himself over to the cell door trying to peer through it. 

It was hard to see, the only source of light came from the left, where he could just barely see the start of a staircase made out of the same weird dark red gravel as the floor.

He snapped his head straight forward, something ahead in the darkness shifted. There was another cell.

A glowing pair of pinhole eyes stared back at him.

Johnny jolted awake in his bed. At some point, he had shifted onto his back and his shirt was halfway up his chest.

"Fuck," he muttered softly. A bell rang, and he properly got out of bed, realizing that it probably wouldn't look good on him to be late to breakfast.

God, Johnny hated this already. 

He dressed into something different but kept the jacket and made his way to the Great Hall. He got turned around once or twice, but eventually, he made it there and it looked like not everyone was down yet either.

Hermione, Harry and Ron already were though, and he smiled at them as he walked by.

"Good morning," Hermione greeted him as Johnny stopped at their table.

"Morning," he responded, nodding at Harry and Ron as well. The latter of which mumbled a response through a mouthful of pancakes.

Johnny stood around awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do or say next. He couldn't help notice some of the students staring at him.

"You guys got classes after this, I assume?" He asked.

Hermione shook her head. "We don't know yet, after breakfast we have to see our head of house and get our schedules."

"Ah," he said, "well, I'll see you guys around I guess." Johnny walked away towards the main table with the staff, feeling a little bit like an idiot. He talked to them fine at the Burrow and at Grimmauld. Maybe it was just too early for his brain to hold a good conversation.

He froze halfway towards the table, Johnny caught a pair of grey eyes staring a hole into him from what he thought was the Slytherin table.

The Malfoy boy was looking at him, his usual haughty expression was vacant.

Johnny was hit by a strong sense of familiarity, it was like a weird buzzing feeling in his chest.

"Johnny!" A voice called out, and he turned to see Dumbledore waving him over to the staff table.

A couple of the teachers regarded him oddly for his staring contest with another student, but he ignored them and took his seat next to Snape.

"Your nose is bleeding," the bat-like professor pointed out idly.

He put his hand to his nose, and sure enough, it came back bloody.

"Fuck," he muttered.

Snape raised an eyebrow, taking out his wand and waving it at Johnny. His nostrils felt very cold for a second before they went back to normal. He swiped at his nose again and the blood was gone, even on his hand.

"Thanks," he said.

"I trust you know not to swear like that in front of the other students," Snape drawled in response.

Johnny shrugged. "No promises." He grabbed some eggs and bacon and filled his cup with orange juice.

"Good morning, Johnny." Dumbledore greeted him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," he responded after eating a strip of bacon. "Your beds are really comfy." Johnny did not bring up his strange dream.

Dumbledore chuckled. "But of course, they're charmed."

Johnny nodded. "Right." He ate for a bit longer before asking the question that had been on his mind since he'd arrived.

"What am I supposed to do all day?" Johnny asked.

"Oh, patrol, mostly. I'd recommend coordinating with our newly appointed head boy and girl in the coming days as they set up their own prefect patrols. They'll tell you about what you'd be looking for. Kids out of bed after hours for the most part."

Johnny scowled a little. "That's it?"

Dumbledore regarded him with a hint of amusement. "The safety of my students is of the utmost importance, and that includes any late-night rendezvous in the many empty classrooms and broom closets in this large castle." 

With the twitch of Dumbledore's hand, a note appeared in front of Johnny.

You know what you are here for. It read. Come to my office this Saturday and we can discuss how we will move forward. Look for a gargoyle on the seventh floor. The password is Acid Pops. That satisfied him for now. He knew his position here was mostly a front, but even then, Johnny expected to do more than just catch couples sneaking out at night. To know that they'd start looking for another Horcrux soon was reassuring.

The first day of classes for his sixth year was vastly different from the others. After he and Ron had been cleared for the same classes and received their schedules, they realized that they had several free periods. Hermione had reminded them that those periods were for studying and completing the assigned homework, as the course load this year was supposed to be much harder than any of the previous years by a large margin.

This was proven in his very first class. Defence against the Dark Arts. As he and Ron lazily made their way to class after a free period straight after breakfast, which Harry was immensely grateful for, though it was mostly spent doing nothing of importance, it served as a good time to relax after a meal.

When he and Ron made it to the classroom, Hermione was already waiting outside carrying an armful of heavy-looking books and a worried expression on her face.

"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously when Harry and Ron joined her. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I’ve got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Shame," Ron yawned.

"Just you wait," Hermione said resentfully, "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

He had no idea what to expect from Snape this year, having not spoken to the man since trying to get him to warn the Order as he was being held captive in Dolores Umbridge's office. Their relationship now was weird, and it unsettled Harry, to say the least. Snape was not nice to him near the end of the year, per se, but their Occlumency lessons were not filled with tension, nor did Snape try to antagonize him too cruelly or often. In fact, Snape was actually a good teacher when he wanted to be, and Harry felt that he had made great strides in his Occlumency ability. He even found himself wanting to continue practicing.

In the rest of the Potions classes last year, Snape had treated him the same in front of other students, though he did not go out of his way to attack Harry, which was something.

It's been months though, would Snape have changed his mind? Reaffirmed his hatred for Harry?

"I have not asked you to take out your books," Snape said, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention." His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry’s than anyone else’s. "You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

Harry knew inwardly that Snape must have been at the very least a little pleased to see each one of them go, too.

"Each of them had their own ways of teaching, I am sure, however, you would do well to forget everything you think you know about the Dark Arts. Particularly when it comes to duelling." Snape paused for a moment. "It is," he sighed as if vaguely annoyed, "Professor Dumbledore's belief that unity between us all is our greatest weapon, now more than ever. So, for a good amount of this school year, you will be either paired up or in larger groups. "Perhaps in the Spring, we may be able to go onto the grounds and engage in group battles for marks, but that is a discussion for another time."

Some hushed but excited chatter greeted that announcement. Snape, surprisingly, allowed it to go on for a few moments before going on to describe how different the N.E.W.T. work would be compared to the O.W.L.'s. Snape walked around the room, indicating a couple of the paintings that displayed gruesome fates. Someone being hit with the Cruciatus curse, getting kissed by a Dementor, and a bloody splat on the ground that Snape described as 'provoking the aggression of an Inferius'.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati Patil asked, her voice a little high-pitched and fearful. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," Snape said, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..." he swept back over to his desk at the front of the classroom, " you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Predictably, Hermione's hand shot up straight away. Even more predictable was Snape ignoring her in a fruitless attempt to find someone else that knew the answer.

Once he looked around the classroom and realized nobody else was going to volunteer, he sighed.

"Potter," he said curtly, surprising Harry.

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked.

Snape looked at him as if he were stupid.

"Can you answer the question?" Snape said.

Harry glanced at Hermione. "But, sir, Hermione has her hand up..."

"Yes, well, I'm asking you, aren't I?" Snape said slowly, almost talking to Harry like one would to a child. He heard a few of the Slytherin's snicker.

Harry frowned, thinking about it for a few moments.

"I guess..." he started.

"Don't guess, Potter," Snape said, "be sure of it. In a duel, a lack of self-assurance could mean your demise."

All eyes were on him, annoyingly, even the Slytherin's refrained from any stinging comments or laughing further now.

That's when he caught Tracey's eye where she sat in between Blaise and Theodore Nott. She offered him a tentative but reassuring smile.

"Your opponent wouldn't know what spell you're casting," he said, "so they'd have to figure out how to deal with it as it comes at them. If a certain spell was strong enough to break a shield charm but looked like a stunner or something, it could be fatal to assume."

Snape's lip curled, but not in a sneer, it was more of a smirk.

The room was silent as the class waited for what Snape would say next.

"Five points to Gryffindor," he said finally, so quietly that Harry almost didn't catch it. He was stunned. Harry could not recall any time that Snape had given Gryffindor house even a single point, let alone Harry himself.

One quick look around the rest of the class showed that they could also not believe it.

Severus Snape and Harry Potter famously hated each other. But they hadn't been around for the Occlumency lessons, had not seen Snape suddenly relent in his malice toward Harry until now. Even Harry himself did not fully know why Snape had a change of heart.

"Yes," Snape continued as if he hadn't just completely shattered whatever perception everyone in the room had of him within the first five or so minutes of class,  "those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spellcasting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power. You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

An hour later, Harry left the class a little frustrated at his lack of being able to perform a spell nonverbally, but also considerably lighter than he ever thought possible after a class with Snape.

Hermione and Ron were on either side of him, both still in awe.

"I can't believe Snape gave you points," Ron said, "I don't think he's given points to any house that isn't Slytherin."

"He didn't taunt you at all either," Hermione added as they walked back to the common room for their break. "I know you said that he suddenly became a better teacher during your Occlumency lessons together, but still..."

Ron shook his head. "I still don't know what Dumbledore's playing at, letting Snape teach Defence, did you hear the way he was talking about the Dark Arts? Mental..."

"I think he sounded a little bit like Harry," Hermione said idly.

"Like me?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond. "Yes-"

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year’s Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment.

"For you," Sloper said. "Listen, I heard you’re the new Captain. When’re you holding trials?"

"I’m not sure yet," Harry said, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I’ll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it’d be this weekend -"

But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.

Dear Harry,
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday.
Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are
enjoying your first day back at school. Yours sincerely,

- Albus Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.

"He enjoys Acid Pops?" Ron asked in confusion as he read the note over Harry's shoulder.

"The password to get past the Gargoyle," Harry explained in a low voice.

He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced defensive magic. After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned to the common room, where they grudgingly started Snape’s homework. This turned out to be so complex that they still had not finished when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period - though she considerably sped up the process - they had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon’s double Potions.

On their way to the classroom that used to be occupied by Snape, Harry saw Johnny walking down the hallway towards them. A few students openly stared at him, some even whispered to each other. Harry was a little happy to have some of the spotlight off of him for once. He felt bad for Johnny though. He was a little mysterious to Harry when he first showed up at Grimmauld, so he could only imagine what the other students were saying in private about him.

Johnny smiled at them. "Going to class?" He asked.

They all nodded.

"Potions," Hermione said, still holding on to those thick books from earlier, her book bag was also bulging.

"I'll walk you," Johnny replied easily, "here, let me get those."

He took the book bag from her, Hermione protested weakly, but still handed it over along with the books in her hands, her face was flushed.

Harry snickered a little bit as they continued on their way, just quiet enough that nobody noticed.

One glance at Ron showed that he was not as amused.

They made it to class soon enough, and the four of them waited outside the classroom with the rest of the students for Slughorn to arrive. It was a significantly smaller class than Defence, it seemed. One Hufflepuff, Ernie McMillan, Four Ravenclaws, Padma Patil, Su Li, Terry Boot, and Ginny's ex-boyfriend, Michael Corner. The only Gryffindors in the class were Harry himself, Hermione and Ron. There were four Slytherins as well, but one stood far away from the others. Malfoy, Nott and Greengrass had all gotten the required grade to continue on, as did Tracey, who was very determinedly not looking at her best friend.

Harry wanted to talk to her, make her feel a bit better, but before he could, Slughorn had arrived and was already unlocking the door to the classroom.

"Come in, come in," he said jovially.

There were about six round tables spread across the room. The four Ravenclaws immediately took a table together, as well as three of the Slytherins.

Tracey and Ernie were the odd ones out as the trio chose a table as well. Harry caught Tracey's eyes and beckoned her over. She shook her head sadly at him though and joined her housemates.

Johnny, who Harry forgot was still there, handed off Hermione's stuff to her before turning to leave.

"Ah, Mr. Blaze, I believe, yes?" Slughorn's voice called.

Johnny turned back around to face the professor, a smile Harry knew was fake plastered on his face.

"Yes," Johnny answered, stepping forward to shake Slughorn's hand.

"A pleasure to meet you m'boy," the professor said, "a friend of Dumbledore's, are you?"

Johnny nodded. "I owe him a favour," he said, "so here I am."

Slughorn chuckled as he let go of Johnny's hand. "Oh, one way or another, we all owe him something, don't we?"

Johnny laughed. "Of course."

"I look forward to seeing you at the first staff meeting," Slughorn said, and then he leaned over conspiratorially. "I'll be sure to send any trouble makers your way."

They laughed together again, with Johnny bidding him goodbye. As Slughorn walked over to his desk, Harry saw Johnny look at Hermione with a severely annoyed expression. He raised a finger gun to his head and mimed pulling the trigger.

As he left, Harry thought that Johnny should not underestimate someone like Slughorn, who no doubt took great interest in a young American man being such good friends with Dumbledore that he'd be assigned to help protect the school. Slughorn was a shark, and to him, much like Harry himself, Johnny probably looked like quite a tasty fish.

When they left the class almost an hour and a half later, it was with a bottle of Felix Felicis clutched in his hand, a disappointed Hermione on his right and indifferent Ron on his left.

"How'd you do that?" Ron asked curiously as they walked.

"Got lucky, I suppose," Harry said evasively, but only because he noticed Malfoy was within earshot.

Once they were back at the Gryffindor common room, he explained everything to them about using the potions book in class. How the instructions were scribbled over and changed. Hermione’s face became stonier with every word he uttered.

"I s’pose you think I cheated?" He finished, aggravated by her expression.

"Well, it wasn’t exactly your own work, was it?" She said stiffly.

"He only followed different instructions to ours," Ron said. "Could’ve been a catastrophe, couldn’t it? But he took a risk and it paid off." He heaved a sigh. "Slughorn could’ve handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one’s ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but..." he shrugged.

"It could be dangerous," Hermione pushed.

Harry scowled. "Oh, c'mon Hermione. You can't seriously think that."

"What?" She asked defensively. "Voldemort's diary was plenty dangerous to Ginny back in our second year, how can you be so sure that this isn't too?"

She had a good point, he hated to admit. But Harry did not feel as if this potions textbook was quite the same as an enchanted diary.

"I guess I can't, but it doesn't feel or look the same in the slighte- hey!"

Hermione had leant over and snatched the book from the table in front of them, rapping it hard on the cover and saying "Specialis Revelio!".

Nothing happened. The textbook looked as old and beaten up as ever.

"Finished?" Harry said irritably. "Or d’you want to wait and see if it does a few backflips?"

"I guess it is just an ordinary textbook." She said quietly, sounding a little disappointed.

"Good. Then I’ll have it back," Harry said, snatching it off the table, but it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor.

Nobody else was looking. Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk upstairs.

This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince.

The rest of the week passed by slowly for Johnny. Maybe it was the coming meeting with Dumbledore that made him want it to be Saturday already, or maybe it was because his patrols consisted of strolling around the castle at night, finding absolutely nothing of note. Not even some couple making out after hours. At least then he could act intimidating or something.

No, he'd probably let them off the hook. 

Johnny woke up, the usual dreams and nightmares returning. He went to breakfast, and ate with minimal conversation. Walked around for a bit, and then tried to find Hermione so he could walk her to class.

Annoyingly though, the students, and he was embarrassed to admit it, the girls mostly, pretty much openly stared at him wherever he went.

Had they never seen an American before? Or was it the way he was dressed? Either way, Johnny was scarily close to yelling at someone.

He got his chance when he came across a boy he vaguely recognized talking to the trio before being talked down to by a group of older-looking Slytherins on the second floor.

"Piss off, Warren." The boy said. The Slytherins laughed.

"It's a new year, Longbottom," one of them said, he was tall and broad-chested.

"You should learn to be nicer to us," another tacked on, he was of average height with sandy blonde hair. "You're a pure blood. Things could still work out for you."

Longbottom stood up straighter, his right hand held at his side and clutching his wand. "I don't think that V-Voldemort would want a couple of morons like you working for him."

All four older boys stepped forward menacingly. The broad-chested one was practically growling. "What did you say, you little-"

"There a problem here?" Johnny said loudly, walking forward.

The four boys froze, clearly not expecting a teacher to be around, as classes were still going on. They must have all had a free period right now or something. He wasn't a teacher though, so they were more wary than actually afraid.

They all stepped back, hands in their robes that Johnny knew must be holding wands.

"No, there's no problem, sir." One of them said.

"Longbottom here just wanted to know where Professor Flitwick held his sixth-year Charms class." The sandy-haired one added.

"Is that true?" Johnny asked, turning to Longbottom, trying to ignore how weird being called sir made him feel.

Longbottom nodded.

"Alright well, get going then. You've helped him, haven't you?" He said. The four boys looked confused for a second before leaving, and that was all he needed to know that they were lying. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you didn't actually ask them for help," Johnny said once they were out of earshot.

Longbottom shook his head. "They peered over my shoulder to look at my schedule. I was actually just on my way to the library actually."

Johnny frowned. "You should have said something. I can take points away and bring them to a teacher for detention you know." But even as he said it, he knew it wouldn't help anything for the teen. Johnny's known people like that his entire life. Telling on them would only make things worse.

"There's no point," Longbottom said in a resigned voice. "Thanks anyway, sir."

Johnny sighed. "Let me walk you to the library, at least. And no more of that sir shit, just call me Johnny."

That, at least, seemed to make him smile.

Harry walked through deserted corridors towards Dumbledore's office, though he had to step hastily behind a statue when Professor Trelawney appeared around a corner, muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack of dirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked.

"Two of spades: conflict," she murmured, as she passed the place where Harry crouched, hidden. "Seven of spades: an ill omen. Ten of spades: violence. Knave of spades: a dark young man, possibly troubled, one who dislikes the questioner -"

She stopped dead, right on the other side of Harry’s statue.

"Well, that can’t be right," she said, annoyed, and Harry heard her reshuffling vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind her. Harry waited until he was quite sure she had gone, then hurried off again until he reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall.

"Acid Pops," Harry said, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry stepped, so that he was carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore’s office. He knocked.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice called.

As he entered, Harry was about to politely greet the Headmaster, when he noticed someone else in the room.

Johnny Blaze was leaning against the right wall of Dumbledore's office, right next to the Pensieve.

"So that's who we were waiting for," Johnny said, he didn't look that surprised, just vaguely annoyed. "Y'know, you could have just told me Harry was coming from the start. If I'd known it was him I wouldn't have been so pissy about it."

Dumbledore waved him off. "Let an old man have his theatrics and fun, will you?"

Johnny scoffed and shook his head. "Whatever. It fits that he'd need to be here for this, I guess."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore. Harry knew that he himself certainly didn't say anything about the Prophecy to Johnny. Not without Dumbledore's say so.

"You're a bad liar, Harry," Johnny said in explanation. "And you," he said accusingly, turning to Dumbledore, "are far too good of one. Something about Harry being the chosen one, hm?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "I never once lied to you, my boy."

"A lie of omission is still a lie." Johnny countered.

Harry was stunned into silence. He had never seen anyone keep up with Dumbledore like this.

Dumbledore sighed, looking at both Harry and Johnny.

"Forgive me," he said, surprising Harry. "I had hoped to spare Harry a little while longer, but what happened at the Ministry at the end of last term has showed me how foolish I was to believe I could." He looked at Harry now. "I must apologize, Harry. I know once I tell you this, you will no doubt - and quite rightfully - be upset at my negligence to inform you after I filled you in on the prophecy."

Harry's heart was beating quite fast. It was annoying really. What did Dumbledore have to say? What else was he hiding from him? Johnny seemed to know.

Dumbledore then went on to explain to Harry what a Horcrux was. His initial reaction was one of shock, but it quickly went away. Was it really that surprising that a dark lord knew incredibly ancient and dark magic? No. Also not surprising was that he had to have killed around six people. Harry knew that Voldemort had killed far more.

"But sir," he said, thinking of something, "how can you be sure it was only six Horcrux's he's made?"

Dumbledore smiled at him. "A good question. The soul can only be torn apart so much, you see, so eventually, he'd have to stop anyway, but I believe he was aiming for seven, including the soul still residing inside him. It is a magically important number. We go to school for seven years, we develop our first bits of proper magic at the age of seven. Whether it actually means anything is anyone's guess, but it would be just like Voldemort to use the number that resembled magical perfection. Seven is a powerful magical number too."

"And you've destroyed a few?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore answered, "one with the help of you yourself, Harry, as well as Johnathan."

Johnny cringed visibly.

"I've helped you?" Harry asked incredulously. "How?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "When you destroyed Tom Riddle's diary in your second year."

"Of course," Harry said, scarcely believing it.

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, "a diary that could control minds, bring the owner back to life? Yes, I had a feeling then that it was something special indeed, but I would not be sure years later."

"What else?" Harry asked.

"A ring," Dumbledore said, sliding a drawer on his desk open and taking out a rather ornate-looking ring and placing it on the desk. "As well as Voldemort's snake, Nagini."

"He made the snake into a Horcrux?" Harry asked. This was almost too much to take in...

"He was unusually close to it, even for a pet. And the way it often acted, almost as if it shared a mind with Voldemort, lead me to believe it was indeed a Horcrux. The night you came into my office with your vision of Johnathan being attacked by Nagini only proved my suspicion."

"That smoke device," Harry said, remembering Dumbledore using it.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding.

"So you've destroyed three?" Harry asked. He was about to say how good that was, but then he realized. "But that means there's still three more..." And how were they to know what they were? Not to mention how to get to them.

"Do not forget Voldemort himself," Dumbledore said.

Harry slumped down into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. Feeling quite hopeless.

"I can sorta see why you kept this from me," Harry said. 

"I did not think you needed this weighing on you," Dumbledore said. "But that is still no excuse. You deserved to know the truth."

Harry nodded glumly. He supposed Dumbledore was right. That didn't make it easier though.

There was a pause before Johnny spoke.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way." He began. "Tell me about this prophecy."

Harry heard a few paintings of the former Headmaster's of Hogwarts grumble, and one muttered "impudence."

But Dumbledore did tell Johnny. By the end of it, Johnny was looking at Harry like he'd never seen him before.

"It's him or Voldemort in the end? One of them has to die?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said gravely.

Silence. It was only for a few seconds but it felt longer.

"The Order should know," Johnny said.

"It doesn't affect them," Dumbledore answered.

Johnny opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"They knew what they were protecting, those who guarded it last year." Dumbledore continued. "Alastor, Sturgis, Hestia, Nymphadora, Arthur, Remus, Kingsley. They all knew it involved Voldemort in some capacity. Sirius, Molly, and Severus too."

"But not Harry," Johnny said.

"But not Harry," Dumbledore confirmed.

Johnny did not speak after this, though he looked like he wanted to. His expression was conflicted. Anger and anguish battling for dominance on his face.

"I think it is time to begin," Dumbledore said after a while. "I have a memory from one Bob Ogden. He was once an Auror a long time ago. His family also makes quite a nice bourbon. He died three years ago, but not before I was able to track him down and persuade him to give his recollection of this particular event to me."

He uncorked a vial with a silver wispy strand of what Harry knew to be a memory. Dumbledore guided it out of the vial with his wand and brought it over to the Pensieve.

"Let us take a trip down memory lane with Mr. Ogden," Dumbledore said.

Just over a half-hour later, he and Johnny were leaving Dumbledore's office together. Johnny had offered to walk him back to his dorm so he didn't get in trouble. Harry had the Marauder's Map out to avoid Prefects.

"I guess with relatives like those, it's no wonder he grew up to be crazy," Johnny said.

"He never actually grew up with them," Harry pointed out, though he agreed with Johnny.

"Still..." Johnny said.

"It's hard to fully take in that he actually had parents," Harry admitted. "I've always seen him as a monster, something that wasn't human."

"I get what you mean," Johnny said, nodding. "But if anything that only proves that he's not some immortal being. That he can be killed."

Harry shrugged as they paused to let Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, walk down another corridor out of their way. "I guess. It feels impossible though. It won't be easy."

"These things never are," Johnny said as they continued on their way.

Eventually, they reached the entrance to Gryffindor tower, the Fat Lady eyed them suspiciously.

"Out after hours, are we?" She asked in an accusatory tone.

"He had a meeting with Dumbledore," Johnny said, "I was asked to walk him back here."

The Fat Lady regarded Johnny for a moment, clearly trying to gauge how much she could trust his word.

"Alright then," she said after a moment.

Before Harry could bid Johnny good night, he was pulled into a loose but meaningful hug.

He'd only ever seen Johnny hug Hermione before, and even then she was the one who always initiated it.

"It's unfair." He said quietly. "You're just a kid."

"I'm sixteen," Harry protested weakly, "and you're not that much older than me. You must have been so young when - when it happened to you."

Johnny pulled away. "I was fifteen."

"See? That's way worse." Harry told him. Uncomfortable with Johnny worrying over him. He always seemed so strong to Harry. To see him with a look of anguish on his face was jarring. Even when he asked Harry to keep the man he saw him talking to while Harry possessed Nagini a secret, he was calm in his request, even if there was some hidden pain behind his eyes. "You were practically a kid too. I don't know how you kept going."

"I haven't felt like one in a long time," Johnny admitted.

"Same," Harry said.

They stared at each other for a few moments. 

He found solace in the fact that there was someone else who felt like he did. Someone who finally understood. It was a powerful feeling.

"I should go in," Harry said eventually, his voice coming out weird.

"Yeah," Johnny said, righting himself.

"Goodnight, Johnny," Harry said.

Johnny nodded. "'Night."

He went to bed, feeling very emotional. Everyone was already asleep.

Harry stared at the ceiling of his four-poster until sleep finally claimed him.

Chapter Text

"Do you miss New York?"

"Sometimes. Definitely not the smell though. That shit could kill you if it was a hot enough day."

- Hermione Granger and Johnny Blaze doing patrols together late one night in mid-September 1996.

He awoke to fire and brimstone, black smoke in the air, and a locked cell door in front of him.

So he wasn't actually awake then.

The scenery and layout were the same as before. There was another cell across from his and a staircase to the left.

But there were no pinhole eyes staring at him this time. Johnny was almost relieved. This was unlike any dream he had ever had before.

"Where am I?" He asked out loud to no one in particular.

"You're in his realm." A voice rasped in his right ear. He jumped and spun to look, but as he did, Johnny smacked his head on the floor of his room at Hogwarts.

"Fuck!" He swore loudly, standing up.

It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, but still. What a terrible way to start his morning. It didn't really improve either as he got dressed and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He grumbled a hello to Snape and Dumbledore and waved at Hermione from his seat.

His eyes caught Draco Malfoy's boring into him from the Slytherin table. The pain in his head intensified.

"Your nose is bleeding, Blaze," Snape said from beside him, lazily taking out his wand and cleaning it for him.

"Thanks," he muttered, looking away from Malfoy.

What the fuck?

Breakfast was its usual delicious affair, but Johnny was so irritable and confused that he didn't eat much.

When the bell rang to signal the next period starting soon, he made his way out of the hall. There was a staff meeting scheduled for later in the evening during the free time period every year shared before dinner.

"Johnny, hey Johnny!"

He turned his head towards the person calling his name and smiled when he saw Hermione walking towards him. She was holding some books in her hands with the strap of her bag slung over her shoulder.

"What's up?" He greeted her just as they exited the hall.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to come with us on the next Hogsmeade trip. It's this weekend." She asked.

He remembered the last one he went to back in February very fondly.

"Yeah, sure, that sounds like fun." He said.

"Great!" She beamed. "Oh, and if you aren't busy, you could come down to the Quidditch pitch later. Harry's hosting trials and I'm sure he'd like all the support he can get."

Johnny nodded. "Alright, I'll be there. What class do you have now, by the way?"

"Oh, I have Arthimancy, why?" She asked.

"I'll walk you," he said like always, taking the books out of her hands.

"Thank you," she said, looking away. He could have sworn her face was a little red.

Two hours later and he was making his way down to the Quidditch pitch to offer Harry some moral support as promised.

He'd only ever seen them play two on two matches at the Burrow, and while this was only a tryout, Johnny found himself a little excited to see it anyway. Especially a proper game in the future. He didn't have a lot to do here, so any distraction was welcome.

The field was huge, with the stands themselves pretty damn imposing as well. Three hoops stood tall above them all though on both ends of the pitch. A large group of students stood around in the center, and he could easily see Harry, who was standing in front of the assembled group.

His eyes found Hermione not too long after, she was sitting close by in the stands along with a handful of other spectators.

"Hey," he greeted as he sat down next to her. "Guess I'm just in time."

Hermione smiled at him in return. She was bundled up in a comfortable-looking knitted sweater and scarf. 

"Aren't you cold?" She asked.

"Er, yeah," he said truthfully. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets. Since losing the Rider, Johnny no longer constantly felt warm, he'd completely forgotten that before coming out here in the wet and cold British mid-September weather.

Hermione laughed at him. It was almost a giggle, really, before taking out her wand and waving it at him. Immediately, the cold went away, and he felt normal. 

"Thanks," he said, eyes a little wide. "That's great."

"It's a warming charm," she said. 

"How come you didn't do that for yourself then?" He asked.

"I'd have to reapply it eventually," she answered, "it's much easier to just dress appropriately instead. Oh look, they've started."

Indeed they had. Though it barely lasted twenty seconds. A group of young boys that couldn't have been older than twelve mounted their brooms and rose up into the air. Almost all of them fell off within a few seconds, only one boy managed to stay up longer than the others and he was so surprised with his success that he crashed into a goal post.

The second group wasn't better at all. They were all girls who when Harry blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another. That girl from the train, Romilda Vane, was amongst them. When Harry told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.

The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks. The fifth group were Hufflepuffs.

"If there’s anyone else here who’s not from Gryffindor," Harry roared, who seemed to be getting seriously annoyed now, "leave now, please!"

There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.

"Guess they were only here because of Harry's popularity." He said lowly to Hermione.

"They're all a bunch of hypocrites," Hermione said somewhat scornfully, looking up at him from the book she brought. "Last year they all thought he was mad, now half the school fancies him. To be fair, he's never been more fanciable but still."

Johnny raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"

Hermione blushed. "W-well... he's grown, hasn't he? And his chest is a bit broader than it was before..."

Johnny found himself frowning as she looked back down at her book. Harry was taller than him now, sure, but Johnny wasn't short, was he? And his chest was broad too...

Thirty minutes later most of them had stopped flying. Three girls and two boys, one he recognized as Ginny stood off to one side. Johnny had noticed the girls scoring a lot and flying pretty well (to him anyway) and the boys hitting the small black balls with their bats with frightening accuracy, maybe Harry had found some good candidates after all.

You wouldn't be able to tell it by how he was shouting himself hoarse at the many complainers though.

"That’s my final decision and if you don’t get out of the way for the Keepers I’ll hex you," he bellowed.

Johnny noticed the stands filling up a bit now as both the new team members and rejected players take seats. More students came down from the castle before lunch started.

Ron looked like he was going to be sick, and the larger crowd certainly wasn't helpful.

He'd seen him play in the summer though, and he was good. It seemed that nerves were his problem.

Mercifully, none of the first five applicants saved more than two goals apiece. A taller boy that he saw talk briefly with Harry earlier saved four, but on the last one, he shot off in the opposite direction, completely missing the quaffle. Johnny looked at Hermione, who had her wand out but held low.

"Did you just-?"

"Shhh," she whispered sharply, not looking at him.

When Ron went up, Johnny was happy to see him save all five goals.

The crowd cheered and Johnny joined in. It died out quickly when he noticed the keeper that only saved four shots inches away from Harry, staring down menacingly at him.

He stood up warily. "Could be trouble," he said. 

"Oh, Johnny don't," Hermione said worriedly. But he ignored her.

He made his way down to where Harry stood, talking to the other keeper.

"Look," Harry was saying, "I'm sorry McLaggen, he saved more than you."

"His sister didn't really try," the other one said menacingly.

"Rubbish," Harry replied, "that was the one he nearly missed."

McLaggen took another step forward, but Harry stood his ground. Impressed as he was with Harry's bravery, Johnny took this as a sign to step in.

"You lost fair and square," Johnny called out, he had to resist the urge to look at Hermione when he said this, "step away from him or we're gonna have a problem."

Just as McLaggan was turning around, no doubt to say something he thought was intimidating to him, he seemed to trip over thin air, landing in a heap at Johnny's feet. As he stood back up in front of Johnny, he realized their comical height difference. McLaggen was hilariously taller than him, but Johnny knew he could send the dick halfway down the field with one punch if he wanted.

Realizing that he couldn't hit someone that held almost the same authority as a teacher, McLaggan settled for an ugly grimace and stormed off, muttering what sounded like threats to thin air.

"Well done," Harry said to Ron, who was standing nearby. "You flew really well-" 

"You did brilliantly, Ron!"

Hermione was jogging toward them from the stands.

Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the team and at Hermione. Johnny felt a twinge of annoyance and he wasn't sure why.

After fixing the time of their first full practice for the following Thursday the four of them bade goodbye to the rest of the team and walked off. 

"Where are you guys going next?" He asked.

"Hagrid's," Harry answered, "none of us have taken his class this year, we reckon he's not too happy about it."

"Hagrid's a teacher?" Johnny asked in surprise. As loveable and kind as he was, Johnny could not imagine Hagrid teaching.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione said in answer.

"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Ron was saying happily. "Tricky shot from Demelza, did you see, had a bit of spin on it -"

"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," Hermione said, looking amused. 

"I was better than that McLaggen anyway," Ron said in a highly satisfied voice. “Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he’d been confunded."

Johnny caught Hermione blush, but Ron noticed nothing, he was too busy lovingly describing every save.

He felt that twinge again but mentally shook it off as they got to what must have been Hagrids home on the grounds. An admittedly cozy-looking hut with smoke coming out from the chimney.

Just then, he heard loud footsteps making their way through some fallen leaves. Hagrid had come striding around the corner of his cabin wearing a large flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes. An enormous boarhound was at his heels; it gave a booming bark and bounded forward.

"Oh," Hagrid said, "it's yeh lot."

The dog was jumping up at Hermione and Ron, attempting to lick their ears. Hagrid stood and looked at them all for a split second, then turned and strode into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh dear," Hermione said.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said grimly. He walked over to the door and knocked loudly. "Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!"

There was no response.

"If you don’t open the door, we’ll blast it open!" Harry said, pulling out his wand. 

Johnny's eyes widened in surprise. Surely he wouldn't...

"Harry!" Hermione said, sounding shocked. "You can’t possibly -"

"Yeah, I can." Harry cut her off. "Stand back-"

But before he could say anything else, the door flew open again and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at Harry. Even with the flowery apron, he looked very scary. Johnny stepped forward instinctively.

"I’m a teacher!" He roared at Harry. "A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said, emphasizing the last word. 

Hagrid scowled. "Since when have yeh called me 'sir'?"

"Since when have you called me 'Potter'?"

"Oh, very clever," Hagrid growled. "Very amusin’. That’s me outsmarted, innit? All righ’, come in then, yeh ungrateful little..." Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass. Hermione scurried in after Harry, looking rather frightened.

The four of them took seats. The dog Hagrid owned made its way over to Johnny. He held out a hand to let the dog sniff him. After a few seconds, it seemed content to let Johnny pet its head.

He felt out of place here, despite his mission to go and save him last year, he wasn't as close to Hagrid as the trio seemed to be.

Johnny tuned out the tense conversation happening about how they didn't have space in their schedules. He looked out the window mostly, waiting for them to be done so they could head to dinner.

He found himself glancing at Hermione occasionally, still a little bit irritated from earlier. 

His thoughts were interrupted as Hagrid abruptly burst into tears.

"Hagrid!" Hermione cried, leaping up, hurrying around the table the long way to avoid a barrel of maggots, and putting an arm around his shaking shoulders. "What is it?"

"It’s... him." Hagrid gulped, his beetle-black eyes streaming as he mopped his face with his apron. "It’s Aragog. I think he’s dyin’... He got ill over the summer an’ he’s not gettin’ better. I don’ know what I’ll do if he... if he... we’ve bin tergether so long..."

Johnny didn't know who Aragog was, but felt a little bit sad for Hagrid. Whoever they were, they seemed to be important to him.

Hermione just kept patting Hagrid on his shoulder. Harry and Ron had odd expressions on their faces.

"Is there - is there anything we can do?" Hermione asked. She ignored Ron's grimaces and head shaking.

"I don’ think there is, Hermione," Hagrid choked out, attempting to stem the flood of his tears. "See, the rest o’ the tribe, Aragog’s family, they’re gettin’ a bit funny now he’s ill... bit restive..." 

Ron said something quietly to Harry that Johnny didn't catch.

"I don’ reckon it’d be safe fer anyone but me ter go near the colony at the mo’," Hagrid finished, blowing his nose hard on his apron and looking up. "But thanks fer offerin’, Hermione, iut means a lot."

After that, Hagrid seemed to cheer up a bit, and started acting more like the man Johnny knew him to be. They stayed long, when they started to head back to the castle, it was nearly dusk and time for dinner.

"I'm starving," Harry said once the door had closed behind them and they were hurrying through the dark and deserted grounds. Johnny felt the same. As they came into the castle they spotted Cormac McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the hall after him, but Johnny watched as Harry caught Hermione's arm. The three of them stayed back a bit.

"What?" Hermione said defensively.

"If you ask me," Harry said quietly, "it looked like McLaggen was Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting."

Hermione blushed. "Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he's got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn’t get in, you wouldn’t have wanted someone like that on the team."

Johnny's frown from earlier returned. It annoyed him more that she was right. Harry almost certainly did not want that asshole on his team.

"No," Harry said. "No, I suppose that’s true. But wasn’t that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you’re a prefect, aren’t you?"

"Oh, be quiet," she snapped, as Harry smirked.

"What are you guys doing?" Ron demanded, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious

"Nothing," Harry and Hermione said simultaneously.

He left them alone and walked up to the staff table. 

Johnny didn't want to look anywhere but at his food. He didn't greet anyone. His day started off bad and it seemed it was going to end badly too. Why did it bother him so much? Ron was her friend long before he ever was, her doing something nice for him wasn't something to be upset about. She could have just been blushing out of embarrassment. It was stupid. And what did it matter if she liked Ron? Hermione was entitled to like whoever she wanted.

But even as he thought that he realized how stupid he was being. As Johnny picked at his food and determinedly did not look up from his plate, he knew why it annoyed him.

He had a crush on her.

Johnny felt weird.

He's had crushes before, silly ones in the brief time he attended a school, a very embarrassing one on a stagehand at the circus for a bit, but none of them felt like this.

God, he couldn't stop thinking about her. This was stupid, why did realizing he liked her mean every one of his thoughts had to be about her?

Even as he sat in the staff room awaiting a few other teachers and Dumbledore to show up, he couldn't think of something else. This meeting was important, an opportunity to make a good impression and lessen people's suspicions of him, and here he was thinking about her.

Only he and a few other teachers he didn't know the names of were there, but soon enough more and more started to arrive.

Snape took a seat next to him, looking utterly bored.

"Do these usually go long?" Johnny asked him, an unbidden thought of trying to catch Hermione on her patrols flashed through his mind and he internally cursed himself.

"No," Snape said, and Johnny thought he detected a hint of relief in his voice. "Mercifully, Dumbledore does not like to drone on with these things. I believe he secretly despises them as much as we do."

What a glowing endorsement of what Johnny assumed to be a bi-weekly or monthly thing, terribly boring but over quickly.

One by one more teachers started to show up. McGonagall, Slughorn, Flitwick. Finally, after the staff table made itself bigger magically to accommodate everyone, Dumbledore arrived.

"Hello everyone," he greeted with a smile. "I am grateful that you were able to take the time before bed to attend this meeting, I assure you, it will not run on too long or carry anything of major importance."

That was a relief, he supposed, to hear it from Dumbledore.

"Now, for this year's N.E.W.T. exams..."

He left the staff room an hour later traumatized.

Snape was by his side smirking at him.

"Just endless stuff about courseloads." He bemoaned. "Why did I have to come?"

"To make you feel included, I suppose," Snape said.

"I'd much rather be excluded, thank you," Johnny responded. He felt like his brain was going to melt. "He said it wasn't going to be long..." 

"An hour isn't long for him."

"And you didn't think to warn me?"

Snape regarded him coolly. "I thought you could handle it... no matter." And with that, he walked off.

It only made Johnny more annoyed. Who did Snape think he was? Johnny could handle a lot of things, boring talks about nothing that pertained to him was not one of them.

He was muttering and cursing on his way back to his room when he bumped into someone, sending them to the ground.

"Shit," he said, "sorry." Johnny's alarm grew once he realized who it was. "Hermione! Are you okay?"

Hermione stood up and brushed her robes with her hands. She smiled at him. "I'm fine, but what about you? I heard you muttering all angrily. Are you okay?"

No, he wanted to say. But he didn't feel like bothering her with anything. Especially considering...

"Yeah, I'm good." He answered. She frowned at him. "What?" He asked defensively.

"Well - it's just, you know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is..."

He felt himself flush. Of course, he knew that... she held him up last year when he broke down for chrissake. Thankfully it was a little dark in the hallways due to it being late in the night.

"I-I know," he said, feeling incredibly stupid. Since when had he started stuttering around her? God, this was the worst. "What are you doing out here anyway?" He asked. "It's late."

"I'm on my patrol," she said, "usually I'd be doing them with Ron but he's begged off to do some late-night Quidditch practice with Harry so..."

"I can come with you," he said, perhaps a little too quickly.

Hermione's eyes widened a bit, but if he wasn't mistaken, she seemed to be delighted. "That's great! Maybe with you around the older students will actually listen to me."

Johnny resisted the urge to frown. Was that the only reason she wanted him here? He wanted to groan. This kind of thinking wasn't helpful, whether it was true or not, she was his friend. Of course, he'd help her out.

Everything about this was annoying. He would much rather go back to when he was still oblivious about it all. Granted, back when he still didn't have it figured out, people were assuming they were a couple, like the lady at the library in Hermione's hometown. And when they were swimming at the Burrow, did it start then?

No, he realized, it didn't. It'd been when she had held him while he was crying. When he had impulsively tried to abandon them. Dumbledore wasn't around, the Order was idle, and everyday demons continued to roam the streets.

Now they were out in full force with Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and Johnny was stuck in this castle, worrying if a girl liked him back or not. It wasn't like he could help anymore though really, not without the Rider. And fuck, if that didn't make him madder. The one thing he wanted to be rid of for so long was exactly what he needed right now to be useful. Now when he had no intention to leave these people, the people that had become a family of sorts, he could only stand on the sidelines. He had killed Blackheart, yes, but he was just a pawn like Johnny. The prophecy hung over his head. How was he supposed to beat Mephisto like this? Yeah, it said he'd do it in the end, he'd win, but what would it cost?

Johnny glanced at Hermione as they walked down the hall, she was talking about something or other school-related.

Everything. He thought. It could cost him everything.

Tracey sighed as she entered the dungeons. An essay due on Monday for Snape, another one the following day for McGonagall. Flitwick hadn't assigned them anything yet, but the Charms professor hinted to them that one was likely to come sooner rather than later. This was worse than last year for their O.W.L.S.! The courseload was almost unbearable.

She wished Daphne would speak to her again, at least she'd be able to help, not that Blaise wasn't, he was half the reason she was still passing. Maybe she could go to Hermione...

The common room had a few people sitting around in it. Mostly students from the years below or above her that she didn't know personally. Tracey hesitated on going up to her dorm though, perhaps studying down here would be better.

In the end, it didn't matter. Before she could even choose a place to sit, the very reason why she didn't want to go upstairs made her own way down.

Daphne Greengrass, accompanied by Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and, of course, Crabbe and Goyle entered the common room.

Tracey was frozen on the spot. Her best friend had not reached out to her the entire summer, save a small letter explaining that she was forbidden to speak to her or Blaise ever again. Any attempts on Tracey's behalf to try and talk to Daphne were met with either insults or her being ignored.

Mercifully, they did not even deign to look at her or Blaise. They took the nearest seats to the fireplace, kicking out some of the students from lower years.

She and Blaise shared a look. Tracey had wanted to study with him for Transfiguration, but with Daphne and Draco so close by, she wasn't sure she'd be able to concentrate.

Going up to her dorm wouldn't work, boys weren't allowed. She could go to his maybe, but Tracey didn't see Nott with the others, so she assumed he was up there, especially since it was after dinner.

"I guess we can sit over there," Tracey said quietly to Blaise, pointing at the corner of the common room. Two seats with a table, perfect for them.

They took their seats and started getting out their Transfiguration textbooks and notes. From where she sat, Tracey had a perfect view of her former best friend. Daphne sat alarmingly close to Urquhart, who had joined them a few moments after they sat down. Pansy was laughing at something Draco had said, and while he smiled back in return, it looked forced.

A hum from Blaise took her attention away from them. He didn't seem annoyed though, he had a sad look on his face that was no doubt mirrored on her own. They both missed Daphne.

There was a laugh so girly that came from Daphne that Tracey would not have believed her capable of it if she hadn't seen her just do it. She felt disgusted watching Daphne grab Urquhart's arm. There was no way he was that funny. Or funny period, really.

A wave of sadness came over her. Were they ever really friends at all? Daphne was a pureblood, after all, she fit in more with these people. Was she just pretending? Did she merely feel bad for Tracey and took pity on her? Now that the Dark Lord was back, did Daphne realize there was no point staying friends?

No, she thought. Daphne had said in her letter that she wasn't allowed to speak to them. Her parents were Death Eaters, Tracey knew. This had to be an act, right? She just didn't want the rest of the house telling her parents she was still chummy with the people that helped Harry Potter.

Daphne looked over, so briefly that Tracey thought she imagined it. Their eyes met. At that moment, Daphne sneered, before looking back at her new friends.

Tracey swiped at her eyes. If Daphne was acting, she was bloody good at it.

Chapter Text

"It'll take more than you've got."

- Ghost Rider to Frank Castle, 1994.

Where was Dumbledore and what was he doing?

Harry caught sight of the headmaster only twice over the next few weeks. He rarely appeared at meals anymore, and Harry was sure Hermione was right in thinking that he was leaving the school for days at a time. Had Dumbledore forgotten the lessons he was supposed to be giving Harry? Dumbledore had said that the lessons were leading to something to do with the prophecy; Harry had felt bolstered, comforted, and now he felt slightly abandoned. All the talk of Horcrux's, and how he planned to destroy them with Johnny and Harry's help felt like hollow words now. Though perhaps Harry was being unfair, locating a Horcrux was likely no easy task.

Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. Harry had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the school, but was pleased to know that they were going ahead; it was always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours.

He had spent last night reading through the Prince's potions textbook, even testing one of the spells written in the margins of the book out. It had hoisted Ron up into the air by his ankle, which, while he felt bad for doing while his best friend was sleeping, was admittedly pretty funny. Even the next morning, Ron was laughing about it as he told Hermione what had happened.

Hermione, however, was not as amused. She had not cracked a smile during Ron's retelling, and now turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" She asked.

Harry frowned at her.

"Always jump to the worst conclusion, don’t you?"

"Was it?"

"Well... well yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?"

"Why does it matter if it’s handwritten?" Harry said, preferring not to answer the rest of the question.

"Because it’s probably not Ministry of Magic–approved," Hermione said. "And also," she added, as Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, "because I’m starting to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy."

Both Harry and Ron shouted her down at once.

"It was a laugh!" Ron said, upending a ketchup bottle over his sausages. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that’s all!"

"Dangling people upside down by their ankles? Where have we seen that before?" She asked.

Immediately, Harry knew what she was talking about. The Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup just over two years ago did the same thing to the people there. Harry frowned.

"That was different," Ron said, coming to his defence once again. "Harry was just having a laugh. You don’t like the Prince, Hermione," Ron added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, "because he’s better than you at Potions -"

"It's got nothing to do with that!" Hermione said, her cheeks reddening. "I just think it’s very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don’t even know what they’re for. And stop talking about ‘the Prince’ as if it’s his title, I bet it’s just a stupid nickname, and it doesn’t seem as though he was a very nice person to me!"

"I don't see how-" Ron started, but quickly stopped as Johnny walked over.

"Here," he said, holding a small note out to Harry. "Dumbledore's next lesson."

Harry looked up to the staff table, but the headmaster wasn't there.

"It was in my room when I woke up this morning," Johnny said in explanation.

Harry read the note, indeed, it did say to show this to him. The next meeting was Monday evening.

He opened his mouth to say thank you to him, but Hermione spoke first.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade, Johnny?"

Johnny looked at Hermione, and he flushed. Harry was confused.

"I was thinking about it, yeah."

"You should come with us," Hermione said, smiling. Anger and suspicion over the Prince and his book seemingly forgotten.

"O-okay," Johnny replied. They looked at each other for a few moments before Johnny jabbed his thumb in the direction of the entrance to the hall. "I gotta go do my patrols, I'll see you later."

Harry turned his head to smirk at Hermione as Johnny left, but caught Ron's sour expression and thought better of it.

The trip to Hogsmeade would be entertaining, at least.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

"What does it matter if we’re smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" Ron demanded, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?"

His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Harry wrapped his scarf over his lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. He saw Hermione wave her wand at Johnny and he smiled at her.

"Warming charm," he said in explanation. 

"Yes," Hermione said, nudging Johnny with her arm. "So he can look cool in his leather jacket and not freeze to death."

The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once Harry wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko’s Joke Shop had been boarded up, Harry took it as confirmation that this trip was not destined to be fun. Ron pointed, with a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Harry, Johnny and Hermione staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank Merlin," Ron shivered as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here forever."

"Happily," Johnny said, eyeing some cauldron cakes. He turned to look at Hermione hopefully.

She crossed her arms and stared at him blankly for a few seconds before a grin eventually took over her face.

"Oh, go on then."

"Yes!"

They both moved on to grab some, leaving Harry and Ron alone together.

Harry cautiously looked at his best friend and was not surprised when his expression was sullen.

"Mate..." he started, but Ron raised a hand.

"Don't," Ron said forcefully. "Sorry. Just - don't though, 'kay? I know. I'll get over it eventually."

"I'm sorry," Harry said to him.

Ron shook his head. "Don't be. I spent too many years being a prat to her. It's on me."

Harry thought that was rather mature of him. He pulled his friend into a one-armed hug from the side. He didn't know what had come over him, but this seemed like the right thing to do.

"C'mon, take your pick. My treat."

Ron grinned, looking around at the candy emporium surrounding them, and then back at Harry.

"Cheers."

"Harry m'boy!" A booming voice said from behind him as Ron walked off to get some sweets. Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystalized pineapple. "Harry, that’s three of my little suppers you’ve missed now!" Slughorn said, poking him genially in the chest. "It won’t do, m’boy, I’m determined to have you! Miss Granger loves them, don’t you?"

Hermione, whom Harry had not seen come back, nodded. Johnny was of course, by her side, carrying a bag that held a few cauldron cakes.

"Yes," Hermione said helplessly, "they’re really -"

"So why don’t you come along, Harry?" Slughorn demanded.

"Well, I’ve had Quidditch practice, Professor," Harry said. He'd been conveniently scheduling his practices to coincide with Slughorn's parties. And at least that also meant Ron was not left out. They usually had a laugh with Ginny imagining Hermione trapped there with McLaggen.

"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work!" Slughorn said. "But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can’t possibly want to practice in this weather..."

"I can’t, Professor, I’ve got - er - an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening."

"Unlucky again!" Slughorn cried dramatically. "Ah, well... you can’t evade me forever, Harry!"

And with a regal wave, he left the shop.

"I can’t believe you’ve wriggled out of another one," Hermione said, shaking her head. "They’re not that bad, you know. They’re even quite fun sometimes."

Johnny snorted, and Hermione glared at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "A night hearing Slughorn drone on doesn't sound appealing to me."

"He doesn't drone on," Hermione said defensively. "He likes to hear us talk about ourselves."

"Yeah, so he can figure out whether or not you're worth keeping around so he can ask a favour from you later," Harry said.

"That's - I mean," Hermione sputtered.

"C'mon," Johnny said, "there's no way you can't see that. Not every teacher needs to be held on some pedestal in your mind. Matter of fact, most are shit. At least in my experience. I can count on one hand how many teachers I've had that actually felt like they cared about my education."

Harry knew she was raised to respect authority figures, especially teachers, but to not see what was blatantly obvious? Hermione was too smart to do that. She was just conflicted.

"I don't understand why I'm there then," she said after a moment. "My parents are muggles."

Johnny scoffed and even Harry had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"I reckon it's because you're the smartest person in this school 'cept Dumbledore," Ron said, returning with bags of candy in hand. 

Hermione blushed. "I-I'm not the-"

"Stop being so modest," Johnny said, "you know you're a genius." Her blush deepened.

Harry went to pay for Ron's things and then they all stood near the entrance, uneager to brave the cold once more.

"Where to next?" Johnny asked.

"I have to meet someone in the Three Broomsticks," Hermione said. 

"Who?" Johnny asked, perhaps, Harry thought, a little too fast.

"Tonks, if you must know." She answered.

"Oh," he said, looking a little relieved.

To save himself from having to endure any further awkwardness, Harry took the initiative.

"Then let's go, shall we? Can't imagine the Three Broomsticks will be less full if we waited longer."

"I need another warming charm," Johnny muttered.

"Here," Harry said, waving his wand. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

They left Honeydukes, Hermione going a little ahead of them. He and Johnny walked side by side and Ron was at the back, still eating his candy. 

"You need to be careful, mate," Harry said. "Hermione doesn't much like the protective thing." She was very independent, not that Harry could blame her. She had to work twice as hard due to her blood status.

"I know," Johnny muttered. "I can't help it. Wait-" he suddenly cut off. "You... you know?"

Harry raised a confused eyebrow. "That you like her?" Johnny nodded. Harry couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Sorry, but, mate, it's pretty obvious."

"It is?"

"Maybe not to her?" Harry said.

Johnny shook his head and sighed. "Girls always know, man."

They walked in silence for a bit, Harry watched students rushing off to do their shopping. Most, like them, were heading to the Three Broomsticks.

"Fuck," he heard Johnny mutter softly.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, more than Hermione had ever seen in her life. The extreme snowfall in October seemed to surprise everyone. Even with this though, it wasn't hard to find Tonks in the sea of people. Her purple hair would stand out anywhere.

Tonks was situated in a corner booth, her attire and scowl keeping away anybody who would deign to take the seat across from her. 

The scowl lifted when she caught sight of Hermione though, morphing into a small smile.

"Wotcher," she greeted.

"How are you?" Hermione asked as she sat down.

"Not too bad," Tonks said, taking a sip of her Butterbeer. "Dreadfully boring here though. Here, got one for you too."

"Thank you." She said, Tonks nodded.

"I thought you'd bring the boys," Tonks said.

"They know I'm meeting you, but Ron wanted to order drinks first," Hermione explained.

Tonks looked over in the direction of the bar. Indeed, Ron was talking to Rosmerta, no doubt fumbling through his words. It was a running joke that he fancied the barkeep.

"So," Tonks said. "I take it you're ready to start then?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "I have my schedule figured out, and I'm ahead on my homework. I think we'd be able to meet once or twice on the weekend. Does that work for you?"

Tonks chuckled. "I'm really not that busy, so, yeah. That works for me. Is there anything specific you want to learn besides just duelling?"

"Not really," Hermione answered. "Duelling's my biggest weak point, I think." It was hard to admit that she wasn't good at something. But for the sake of getting better, Hermione knew she couldn't be prideful. Too often she had bemoaned silently at Harry's practical prowess in magic. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and start improving.

"Alright," Tonks said. "We can start this weekend if you like."

"That would be great," Hermione said.

"Cool." Tonks took another sip and Hermione did the same. "So, how's-"

"Fuck!"

Both of their heads snapped towards the bar, Tonks was halfway out of her seat.

Johnny had a man by the wrist, and it was twisting in a painful-looking way. 

The bar was deathly silent.

Three other men stood up around him, wands pointed.

"We have you three to one." One of them said angrily. "Let go of his hand you prick."

Immediately, both Harry and Ron took out their wands and aimed at the men.

Johnny was still looking at the man he had by the wrist. He did not seem bothered by the people surrounding him.

"Maybe you oughta go back to school, hm? Seems like you forgot how to count."

"Why you little-"

"Alright, that's enough!"

Hermione had not even noticed Tonks get up, but she was now stepping between them. "I'm an Auror. Wands away, all of you. And sir, let go of his wrist."

She aimed that last part at Johnny, who looked confused for a moment at being addressed like that. He complied after hesitating only for a moment.

"He was saying some racist shit," Johnny said.

Tonks spared the man, who was cradling his wrist and looking down, a scathing look. "Even so, that doesn't give you the right to assault him."

Johnny glared at him angrily. "He'll be fine. He could heal that himself. But you won't say anything like that again, will you, asshole?"

"I said enough!" Tonks all but shouted. "You're coming with me."

Now, Johnny actually looked at her. "What?"

"You're coming with me," Tonks repeated forcefully.

Johnny looked for a moment like he wouldn't go, but something in Tonks' expression Hermione couldn't see must have convinced him to comply because he let her lead him out of the building.

Hermione quickly went to find Ron and Harry, who were both eyeing the men warily.

"What happened?" She asked.

Harry and Ron shared a look. "The guy was saying some foul stuff about muggles and muggleborns," Harry explained.

"He deserved it if you ask me," Ron said.

Hermione had half a mind to scold him, but she wanted to get to Johnny first. "Let's go after them and head back, I've got everything sorted with Tonks anyway."

"But I didn't even get my Butterbeer!" Ron complained, but said "nevermind." When she glared at him.

"Harry!" Someone called as the chatter in the bar resumed. They all turned to see Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini walking towards them.

"What just happened?" Tracey asked.

Harry explained it to them as well, and afterwards, Blaise had a scowl on his face.

"Sounds like he deserved it," Tracey said, and both Ron and Blaise nodded approvingly. "But what about your friend, Mr. Blaze? Will he be arrested?"

"Nah," Harry said, "the Auror is a friend of ours, I think she just wanted to get him out of there before it escalated. We were just about to go find them and head back."

"We'll come with you," Tracey said.

And so the five of them left the Three Broomsticks in search of Tonks and Johnny. They didn't have to look very hard.

Barely a few metres outside the front door they found the two of them conversing heatedly. Johnny had a scowl on his face.

"Fine," Hermione heard him say. "I'm sorry. I won't do anything like that again."

"Good," Tonks said, "because next time I might not be there to bail you out."

Johnny scoffed. "I could have taken them."

Tonks sighed. "That's not the point, you bloody idiot." She looked like she wanted to say more, but she saw them approaching.

"He's all yours," Tonks said. "Try not to let him get into any more trouble." She winked at Hermione. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall next Saturday after dinner?"

"Yes, that sounds good," Hermione said, "thanks again, Tonks."

"No problem," she gave Johnny one last look. "See you around guys."

"We were gonna head back to the castle," Harry said to Johnny.

"Whatever," Johnny shrugged. "Fine by me."

They walked back in silence, the crunching of the snow beneath their feet and the arguing voices of two girls ahead of them the only sounds for a little while.

Hermione kept shooting glances at Johnny. She wanted to say something, but couldn't put it into words. Or, at least not words that wouldn't cause him to get more mad. Why would he do that? Last year he had gotten mad at all of them for not being able to handle negative talk about his parents when he had heard it all his life. So what had the man said that set him off? Something terrible about muggles and muggleborns, she knew, but why would he get so upset at that? Unless...

"Have you completed Snape's essay yet?" Tracey asked quietly to Harry. In the tense silence though, Hermione heard it clearly.

"No," Harry admitted, "I've got the first half figured out, but I still need to work on good spells to use against Inferi that aren't fire-based."

"We could work on it together, i-if you wanted, I mean. In the library." Tracey said, thanks to the cold, Hermione didn't think Harry would think she was blushing. He could be a little thick sometimes.

Ron, who was beside Harry and partially blocked from Tracey's view, jabbed Harry in the arm.

"Oh, y-yeah. That'd be great. Yeah."

Tracey smiled up at him.

And then a blood-curdling scream made them all jump.

Hermione had not really paid much attention to the duo in front of them, or their voices as they argued.

One of them rose into the air, limbs outstretched and she was screaming. Her companion was too.

"Katie!"

Katie? Katie Bell?

They were all running forward now. The other girl tried to tug Katie down by her ankles, and Johnny went to help.

He was able to get her down with one tug, and she collapsed into his arms. But as soon as he had her, Katie started writhing. 

Johnny dropped her in surprise. Hermione eyed a couple of beads of what had to be a necklace peeking out from a ripped brown package. She stepped forward a little to bend down. 

Johnny's hand shot out to stop her, grabbing at her scarf and pushing her back a little.

"Don't get near it!" He shouted over the now howling wind that had seemingly come out of nowhere. The scarf was nearly ripped in half.

He swooped down and picked up Katie again, who was still screaming and writhing. He held her tight and started moving off quickly towards the castle. Slowly, the screaming faded as he got farther and farther away.

Once he was gone, she took out her wand and levitated the necklace in its package, and wrapped her scarf around it carefully where the package was torn, all with her wand.

"Leanne, right?" She asked the girl.

Leanne nodded.

"Let's go back," she said over the wind. "I'm sure Katie will be okay. Let's get you in the castle where it's warmer."

Once at the castle's entrance, they could see Johnny speaking to Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. Katie was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Filch.

"Professor!" Hermione called to Professor McGonagall. 

"Ms. Granger, is that the object?" She asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered, floating the package over to a bench.

The two teachers carefully extracted the necklace from the packaging and Hermione's scarf with magic. Professor Snape stepped forward to analyze it.

"I've seen that necklace before," Harry said. "In Borgin and Burke's."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Since when do you go to Knockturn Alley, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked in surprise.

"No matter," Professor Snape interrupted. "The necklace is cursed, clearly, but now I recognize it too."

"Sir, I-" Harry started and stopped. "I think Draco Malfoy gave her that necklace."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron look away. Tracey and Blaise looked confused. Johnny did not look surprised.

"And why, Potter, would you say that?" Snape asked, sounding almost dangerous.

Harry hesitated, seemingly taken aback by his tone. "In my second year, I ended up there by accident, a-and I saw him looking at it like he wanted it."

"So you're making very dangerous claims based on something you saw four years ago?" Snape asked.

Harry flushed. "But-"

"It does not matter, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. "You see, Draco Malfoy did not even go to Hogsmeade today. He was serving detention with me for failing to hand in homework for the fifth day in a row."

Harry looked stumped and stayed silent.

"I'll go tell Poppy what countercurses to use," Snape said, levitating the necklace and leaving the room with the flap of his cape.

"Is this your scarf, Ms. Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked. Holding out the ripped scarf to her. "It does not seem to be cursed from touching the necklace, so you may have it back."

"Thank you," she said.

"That's the one I gave you for your birthday," Ron said, "can it be fixed?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, hardly finding it important at the moment. "I can-"

"Your birthday passed already?" Johnny asked suddenly. 

"Yes," Hermione repeated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Johnny said, frowning.

"Does that really matter right now?" Hermione said a little harshly. Her mind was racing. If Harry was right about seeing Malfoy eye this necklace in Borgin and Burke's all those years ago, could he have remembered it now? She didn't believe he could be a Death Eater before, but this was a little too coincidental to keep assuming that.

She completely missed Johnny's hurt expression.

Screams. That's what his dream that night was filled with.

Johnny was locked in the cell again, the smoke from fire almost choking him. An endless scream pierced the usual silence. It sounded like the one of the girl from earlier in the day, but it soon morphed into one that sounded more like a boy's.

He wanted to get out if anything just to shut the boy up himself. He stood to try and open the gate. 

An invisible force kept him back.

"Wait your turn," a voice called from up the stairs, easily heard over the screaming somehow. It was the raspy one he had heard in his last dream here.

"Fuck you," he said defiantly.

The voice chuckled. "You need me, kid. But I can't help you right now."

"Why the fuck would I need you?" Feeling a wave of all too familiar anger rising up in him. "Why am I here? Who are you?"

Silence. Even the screaming stopped.

Johnny banged against the cell door, there was no barrier holding him back now, but the cell door did not budge.

"Who are you?!" He shouted.

"An old friend," a voice whispered from right beside him.

And then he woke up.

Chapter Text

"It was just a dream baby, you're alright."

- Mona Simpson to Johnny Blaze after a nightmare. Late one night in August 1992.

The next morning he woke up with a cold. Nothing too terrible, just a stuffy nose for the most part, but it was something he hadn't experienced in around two years.

Being the Rider was a curse, and yet while he could die in human form, it always kept him healthy. Not being able to get cold, sick, or things like that. He didn't like being reminded again of what was lost. 

Sighing, he got ready to go down for breakfast. There was likely a spell or potion or something to get rid of the cold, at least. 

It was Sunday, most students were probably sleeping in. His dreams were plagued with death and imprisonment, at least maybe some bacon could cheer him up. Staying in bed was never an option.

He put some pancakes on his plate, along with a few breakfast sausages. One thing he'd never get over was the food. It wasn't quite as good as what Molly made, but he hadn't eaten this consistently good in goddamn ages.

Only the teachers were down this early save for some Ravenclaws, and, his heart skipped a beat as he noticed a lone Gryffindor make her way to the house table. Of course, she'd be one of the few to wake up this early.

She smiled at him from afar, and he returned it. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape looking at him.

"What?" He asked defensively.

Snape just shook his head and returned to his food.

Johnny felt like an idiot now. Only Snape could do that without saying a word.

He was surprised when Malfoy showed up a few minutes later too.

"That's unusual," Johnny commented to himself.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked anyway.

He nodded in Malfoy's direction. "Him being actually at a meal. Harry and Hermione say he's been missing them a lot lately. Skipping classes too, now that I'm thinking about it."

"There's a point to your words, I assume."

Johnny eyed him with disdain. "It's weird, isn't it? He looks terrible. Hell, he reminds me of myself back when I first became the Rider."

"Perhaps it is the stress of the harder course load, he has not been handing in any of the homework I've assigned," Snape suggested.

He opened his mouth to disagree, but decided against speaking. He didn't trust Snape that much. Malfoy was up to something. He agreed with Harry on that. Telling Snape would mean he'd go to Dumbledore, and he was sure the old man wouldn't entertain the idea either. 

Malfoy looked at them, presumably mostly at Snape, but their gazes crossed for a second.

A flash of imagery blinded him, too quick to discern anything, but it made him jump slightly.

He was struck with the sudden urge to go up to him. To do what, Johnny had no goddamn idea. But the urge was there, and it was fucking strong. What was happening to him? What was it about Draco Malfoy that had him so wound up? When they had briefly met last year on his visit in February, he didn't notice anything special about him. He was just some bullying prick. What had changed?

"What is it?" Snape asked.

"Nothing," Johnny answered, not looking at the man. He dug back into his food, feeling the effects of his cold worsen and his confusion rise.

Hermione waited around the entrance after breakfast. 

She was excited, to say the least. The premise of training with a full-blown Auror that was in the Order was sure to be invaluable. Hermione was good in a duel, but being tossed aside, even by a werewolf, was something she didn't want to experience again. Hermione wasn't ashamed of being defeated that easily by Greyback. She and the others gave the Death Eaters a run for their money, but it hadn't been enough. She needed to get serious about being better, and not just in her studies.

Tonks didn't make her wait long, the Auror, sporting a rather tame bob of mousy brown hair opened the front doors after only a few minutes.

"Wotcher, Hermione," she greeted.

"Hello, Tonks," Hermione responded. "How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"The same," Hermione said, barely able to restrain her excitement.

"Brilliant, so where's this place you've got for us to train in?" Tonks asked. "All my years here roaming around after hours and I've never found something like that."

"It's on the seventh floor," Hermione said. Starting to walk in the direction of the stairs. "We used it for our defence group last year." And while last year with Umbridge at the school, the group had been against the rules, this year, what she and Tonks were doing was perfectly fine under Dumbledore's watch. Which, really, said something about the headmaster's lax way of running things. Nothing too good either, but at least in this instance, it worked to her advantage.

Really, she ought to have been in Slytherin for that kind of thinking. Hermione had a good giggle internally at that. The first muggle-born of that house, no doubt. The looks on their faces would have been priceless to her now, much less so to her first year self. No doubt the bullying would have been worse if that had happened.

Once they were just outside where the room would be, she began to pace.

I need a room to learn how to duel in, I need a room to learn how to duel in, I need a room to learn how to duel in.

A door formed only a few moments later.

"Brilliant," Tonks said. "How in the world have I never known about this?"

Hermione merely smiled as they entered.

Inside the Room had created something very spacious. About half the size of a school gymnasium. There were bookshelves off to the left, no doubt crammed with books on duelling. Straw dummies were set up on the right, good for target practice. A fridge was against the far wall. 

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement," she said, turning to face Tonks. "So, what shall we start with?"

Over her awe at the Room now, Tonks met Hermione's eyes and grinned.

"Stupefy!"

Hermione ducked and rolled for what was possibly the hundredth time that night.

Tonks' method of training her was to be as relentless as possible in their duelling and extremely blunt in her criticisms of Hermione's ability and skill, or lack thereof.

Hermione tossed back a few spells of her own, all nonverbally. A stunner, a bludgeoning curse, snd two back-to-back bone vanishing spells.

"Impressive!" Tonks called to her, still standing in exactly the same spot as she had for the entire duel. Meanwhile, Hermione had been ducking and rolling like her life depended on it. "I was telegraphing what I was sending at you by saying the incantation out loud, thought it'd make it not so hard! Good to see you don't share the same sentiment. Never assume your opponent will fight fair."

This was meant to be not so hard? Hermione felt like she was going to die. The last time she had moved around this much was running at the Department of Mysteries. She was out of breath then, but Hermione was on the verge of collapse now.

She made to attack again, but she was so exhausted, a red spell caught her in the chest and her wand was in Tonks' hand seconds later.

It was all Hermione could do to not keel over then and there as Tonks walked towards her.

"Let me guess," Hermione gasped out. "I'm terrible, aren't I?"

"No," Tonks shook her head. "You're not terrible."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Here," Tonks said, summoning a water bottle from the fridge and handing it over. "I'm serious. Your expansive knowledge of spells is really impressive. You were throwing out things I forgot even existed, and one or two that I'd never heard of before." Tonks chuckled. "I mean, bone vanishing spells? Merlin, Hermione, were you trying to hospitalize me?"

"I just wanted to throw you off balance, I figured you'd have to dodge them in a flurry like that. But I was wrong, your shield charm was too strong." Hermione answered, taking a few big gulps of water.

"Not a bad idea and you're right, the shield charm I used was a bit more advanced than the normal one they teach you here."

"I'll say," Hermione responded.

"But listen," Tonks continued, "you can't be too hard on yourself. The only real fights you've been in weren't proper duels, you were running for your life and fighting desperately. And you managed to come out of it okay."

Hermione unconsciously raised a hand up to touch her face, right where the scars that Greyback gave her were.

"You've got a strong base to start with, is what I'm saying. We've just gotta build on it."

Tonks walked over to one of the bookshelves and browsed it for a few moments before pulling out a book. 

"This is a good one, let's start with this so you can get a hang of the theory and different strategies."

Hermione smiled a bit. She could at least do this better than anyone else she knew.

Patrols were dreadfully boring, even during the night at this school. There was nothing to do, nothing more serious than a few couples out at night on a romantic rendezvous. But now instead of it being nighttime, it was just after lunch on a Sunday. Mostly everyone was either in their dorm rooms or in the library studying.

So Johnny walked and walked. Desperately hoping to find something at least slightly interesting.

There was a would-be killer on the loose, but until his scheduled meeting Monday night with Dumbledore and Harry, Johnny couldn't do much about it. Even though he suspected Malfoy, he had no proof, and trying to force a confession was more trouble than it was worth.

He was walking around the seventh floor when he felt it. A calling. Moreso a pull, really, in his gut. His body moved without him realizing it down a hallway. It was instinctive, Johnny had never felt something like this before.

Two girls stood along the wall of the hallway, and once they caught sight of him, they both dropped whatever they were holding onto the floor. Glass shattered loudly, and they yelped. The girls couldn't have been older than eleven or twelve.

"Sorry," he said kindly. "Didn't mean to scare you."

The calling was still there. Stronger now, even. There was something... in the walls? Something he needed to get to, but how? Start breaking it open? That certainly wouldn't turn out well for him. But still... he needed to get in there.

He looked back down at the girls, they were regarding him in fear, and Johnny finally snapped out of it. He took several steps back.

There was no other way to describe it, he felt utterly insane. Something inside the walls? What the fuck?

"Sorry," he said again, and promptly turned and walked towards the stairs going down.

Being in the library wasn't Harry's typical idea of a fun or relaxing time in general. Every year at Hogwarts was a different experience.

First year, everyone was fascinated by him and the wide eyes and whispers followed him everywhere. Second year, everyone thought he was evil and a murderer. Third year, everyone looked at him in pity at his predicted fate in Divination and Sirius Black on the loose. Fourth year, accused of being a cheater. Fifth year, an attention-seeking, mad liar. And now, wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelor. 

Honestly, he'd take all of the previous ones over all the pointing and giggling he was enduring right now waiting for Tracey and Blaise to show up.

Mercifully, it wasn't long before they did.

Tracey had a book bag slung over her shoulder, as did Blaise. Merlin, it was like staring at two Hermione's.

"Hi," Tracey greeted him as Blaise also nodded. They both took seats adjacent to him at the small round table.

Harry had chosen a table in the corner of the room, hoping that most other people wouldn't notice him. He was wrong, of course, and now the two new arrivals increased the staring by a good amount.

"Hey," he said in return. Harry eyed their book bags warily. "We'll need all that for Snape's essay?"

They both looked at each other and then at him.

"We grabbed as many books on Inferi as we could a few days ago, didn't you?" Tracey asked.

"Er," Harry said, flushing. He looked down between his feet at his own book bag. It was practically empty save for the one book he had found about the subject matter. He had assumed that one book would be enough...

The two shared another look. 

"It's a good thing we came then," Tracey said brightly.

They began to take a few books out of their bags, including a notebook each. 

"You guys use muggle school stuff?" Harry asked in surprise. Meeting Tracey and Blaise, he lost a lot of his own preconceived notions and bias' about Slytherin's and their ways, which, really, were the ways of pure-blood society in general, but he was still a bit shocked that they'd even know about something as mundane and simple as a notebook, much less use one.

Tracey and Blaise nodded enthusiastically.

"They're much better for note-taking and rough drafts than parchment," Tracey said.

Blaise signed something at her.

"He says that he even has a muggle television set at home."

Another sign.

"He watches a lot of football on it," Tracey added.

"So does Dean," Harry said. "Dean Thomas, that is, he's my dormmate."

Blaise signed something again.

"What team does he support?" Tracey translated.

Harry had to think about that for a moment.

"Er, West Ham, I think?"

Blaise made a face.

"Not a fan, I take it?"

He shook his head.

"Blaise likes Millwall," Tracey explained, "he talks about them a lot. They supposedly have a long-standing and bitter rivalry with West Ham."

Harry chuckled. "I see."

"Yes, well, silly feuds aside," Tracey pushed on, "shall I take a look at what you have so far? We can see where you're at and perhaps add stuff from ours."

"Sure," Harry said, reaching down into his bag. He was suddenly very self-conscious. He knew Tracey was smart, it followed that Blaise was too. Harry was worried he'd look like an idiot in front of them.

When he handed his paper over, his heart was beating a little faster.

Blaise moved over towards Tracey so they could read together. 

Barely a minute in and Tracey exclaimed.

"Why didn't I think of that?"

Harry couldn't help it. "What?" He asked.

"Creating a whip of fire," Tracey said, "how'd you think of that?"

"Oh," he said dumbly. "I saw Dumbledore do it when he fought Voldemort at the Ministry."

Both Blaise and Tracey flinched at the name.

"I don't actually know how he did it," Harry went on to say. "He didn't say an incantation, but I mean it's possible, right?"

"It would seem so," Tracey said. "Fiendfyre is an okay example too, but it's really dark magic and almost impossible to control, so you might want to talk about it less here."

"Alright."

But as he thought back to what happened at the Ministry in the summer, the more he realized how much they had done for him. They'd lost a friend, were no doubt ostracized for their actions too. 

"I just-" he started without thinking, they both looked up from his essay at him. "Er, I mean, I just want to say that you coming with us when we went to the Ministry means a lot to me." She had helped him carry Neville up the stairs, Blaise had fought with Death Eaters. He thought of the other teen, knocked unconscious on the floor below, a large pool of blood around his head. "H-how is it, in your common room. Your housemates aren't treating you too terribly, are they?"

Blaise looked down at his lap.

"Just a few insults here and there," Tracey said quietly. "Mostly they just ignore us, which I guess is better than the alternative." She looked at Blaise a put a reassuring arm around his shoulder. "We only really have each other now."

Blaise opened his mouth but then closed it right away. 

Harry remembered hearing him speak once when he had run into them at Hogsmeade. When Greengrass had basically interrogated him to see if he was good enough to be Tracey's friend. Blaise wanted Tracey to find another friend, he had known how much she needed it. He was looking out for her.

Harry also remembered Tracey coming off as indifferent and almost cool to him during their partnership in Transfiguration. Once he got to know her properly and got passed her front, it was almost funny to see the contrast. Tracey was anything but indifferent. She was a ball of anxiety that could never show it in front of her peers.

"You have me too," he said, smiling at them.

They smiled back.

Tracey and Blaise walked back to their common room in good spirits. They had helped Harry complete his essay, and he was even able to help them with their conclusions, as he had a knack for writing good ones.

It was just before dinner, most students were heading towards the Great Hall now. They just needed to drop off their books and then go down as well. Because of this, when Tracey and Blaise got into the common room, it was completely empty. She was relieved.

"I'll be quick," she said to Blaise, who nodded. They both went their separate ways into their dorms.

Tracey was wrong. The place wasn't empty. There was still one girl left upstairs in her dorm room when she got up there.

She was crying, and Tracey recognized her immediately.

It was Daphne.

Despite everything, instinct took over, and all Tracey saw was her best friend in pain.

"Daph?" She asked softly, cautiously making her way towards the other girl.

The crying stopped instantly, and she saw Daphne's head rise a little and turn towards her. She was sitting in her own bed, the curtains were drawn back.

"What's wrong?" Tracey said.

"Leave," Daphne said. It was a terrible attempt at trying to be harsh. It came out more like a sob.

Tracey hesitated for a moment. She owed Daphne nothing at this point, but it's not like that kind of thing ever mattered to her.

"No," she said, going to the side of the bed now. "Why are you cryi-?"

Tracey reeled back as Daphne flung the back of her hand across her cheek. It stung a lot, and it rendered Tracey unable to speak out of pure shock.

"I wouldn't... expect a little half-blood like you to... to understand." She said, taking deep breaths in between some words. 

"T-this," Tracey stuttered. "This isn't you, Daphne!"

"What would you know about me?" Daphne yelled back, getting out of her bed now.

She wanted to say so many things. There was a long list of moments they had shared, secrets they'd be taking to the grave for each other. But Tracey had never been good with confrontation. It was like she had forgotten how to speak.

"You know nothing!" Daphne continued shakily. "All these years, I was just taking pity on you! Did you really think I actually cared?"

Her words hurt far more than the slap did. They were like a thousand shards of glass digging into her skin. Tracey felt shattered. 

There was a strange look in Daphne's eyes, something she had never seen in them before. They were almost... pleading. But her words were in stark contrast to her expression.

"We were never friends, so just leave me alone!"

Daphne stormed off, leaving Tracey in their dorm.

Tears welled in her eyes as she felt a part of herself leave with Daphne.

Prison cell, screaming, the door won't open, a voice in his ear. It was the same exact dream as the night before.

Johnny swore softly as he sat up in bed. It was just past seven in the morning.

He was thirsty, this was the earliest he had ever woken up in a while. Johnny eyed the mini-fridge that was in the room for him. Wizards could just conjure water whenever they wanted, but unfortunately, he wasn't one, so Dumbledore had thought ahead and given him this. Johnny, however, had not been so forward-thinking, as he had neglected to fill it with anything even though they were two and a half months into the term.

Johnny then remembered the little elf named Dobby. Dumbledore had merely called for his name and the elf appeared. Well, the old man has snapped his fingers too, was that him using magic? He was stumped for a moment before remembering that Kreacher usually responded to calls of his name by Sirius all the time without the need of a wand or snapping.

So, feeling like an idiot, he hesitantly called out; "Dobby?"

CRACK!

"Fuck!" Johnny yelped as the elf loudly made his appearance.

"Master Blaze called for Dobby?" The elf squeaked.

He was wearing a neat-looking lavender button-up shirt complete with slacks and newly shined shoes.

"Er," he said, "yeah, do you think you could get me a glass of water? I'm a bit thirsty."

Dobby bowed. "Of course, sir."

He snapped his fingers and a glass of cold water appeared.

It was only while drinking it did Johnny realize his mistake. Nobody was supposed to know that he wasn't a wizard. Shit.

"Is that all, sir?" Dobby asked.

"Uh, yeah, yeah that's all. Thank you, Dobby. Oh, and there's no need to call me sir."

Dobby bowed again. "As you wish." He disappeared with another crack, this one thankfully quieter.

Johnny felt a little odd. Dobby did not comment on his slip up, but what was with the 'master' and 'sir' shit? He tried to think of a time Kreacher called Sirius that and came up empty. If he did, Johnny couldn't remember. Was that normal? He knew Kreacher worked for Sirius, and Dobby likely worked for Dumbledore or the school in general, but still...

He laid back down, setting the glass of water down on a nightstand, but sleep did not come.

Giving up on sleeping, his thoughts went to tomorrow's, or, tonight's meeting with Dumbledore. He could see the importance of learning about Voldemort's past. It could be vital in finding what he used as Horcrux's. Still, a part of him could shake his frustrations at doing nothing. All of the other Order members were out there doing something. Granted, for most of them it was nothing more than guard duty, but still. It was something. Truthfully though, what good could he even do? At least he could possibly take on whatever demons that were still with Voldemort. Maybe. But what of the Norse creatures that joined him? Trolls, Draugr. He doubted very much that he'd last long against those frost trolls he met on the mountains in his rescue attempt with Sirius to save Hagrid and Olympe.

At least Blackheart wasn't an issue anymore, but the thought of him just made Johnny feel incredibly guilty.

He thought of the prophecy and facing Mephisto. Johnny remembered the devil's words about Odin in Hel.

'The Raven King', Mephisto called him. He also said he could not be trusted. But coming from Mephisto, well, who in their right mind would believe him?

Time crawled by slowly, but eventually, it was almost time for breakfast. He got out of bed and went to take a shower. 

The one provided for him was extravagant. Comfy floor, amazing shampoo, conditioner and body wash. His hair had never felt so soft...

Almost a half-hour later and he felt refreshed. He changed into a Green Day shirt and the brown leather jacket given to him by Sirius for Christmas.

The usual shit occurred at breakfast, save for anything Malfoy related. He never showed.

Instead, Johnny finished his food and went to catch up with the trio as they left after eating as well.

"Morning," he greeted them.

They all returned it.

"Katie's been moved to St. Mungo's," Harry informed him, "wizarding hospital."

"Is she going to be okay?" Johnny asked, remembering all too well the tortured screams from the girl.

"We don't know," Hermione answered. "But I hope so."

Johnny nodded and kept quiet for a few moments as they walked.

"Do you guys know why Dobby would call me 'master'?" He asked suddenly. If Johnny could ask anyone, it'd be them. "I called on him to bring me water last night, 'cause I keep forgetting to fill the fridge they've given me."

All three of them shared a look.

"What?" He asked, immediately knowing he won't like the answer.

"Has nobody ever told you?" Ron asked. For some reason, it annoyed him.

"Told me what?"

"House-elves are basically slaves to those that they serve," Hermione said with no small amount of disgust. "They are treated unfairly, aren't paid, and have to obey every command given to them by their masters."

What the fuck?

"Are you serious?" He asked. "You're saying Dobby's a slave?"

"He used to be," Hermione said. "I've talked about it with Dumbledore before. All the elves here are here willingly. They are paid and are free to do as they please outside of work. They may wear whatever they want, and if they feel they aren't being treated fairly, they are encouraged to speak up about it. Dumbledore has been quite good in his treatment of them, unlike the rest of the wizarding world."

"Why'd he call me 'master', then?" 

Hermione shrugged. "Dobby's been through a lot. He served the Malfoy's before coming here, and they were very abusive to him."

Johnny felt terrible for the little elf. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt him.

"How the fuck has most of the human world moved past slavery before a civilization so advanced you can create water out of thin air and create an entire condo inside of a suitcase?"

"Thank you!" Hermione said. "It's always driven me mad! Every adult wizard I talk to about this looks at me as if I'm stupid!"

He thought of Kreacher, the miserable elf forever forced to serve Sirius. He'd have to talk to him about that. But even as Johnny was thinking about what he could say to him, he realized that Kreacher knew too much about the Order to ever be let go.

Johnny shook his head. His outlook on this world now a little marred.

"He’s definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," Dumbledore said.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing," Dumbledore said.

"You’ll be taking him away, whatever?"

"Whatever," Dumbledore repeated gravely.

She squinted at him as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently, she decided she could because she said in a sudden rush, “He scares the other children.”

"You mean he is a bully?" Dumbledore asked.

"I think he must be," Mrs. Cole said, frowning slightly, "but it’s very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents... Nasty things..."

Dumbledore did not press her, though Johnny could tell that he was interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her rosy cheeks grew rosier still.

"Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn’t think so, no," Dumbledore said quietly.

"What the fuck..." Johnny muttered, watching the memory unfold. Was it really any surprise the kid turned out to be such a murdering psychopath? Murdering animals was like an early warning, wasn't it? This memory was far more disturbing than the last one of how Voldemort's parents met.

He watched as the younger Dumbledore spoke to the woman. They stood up not too long later, heading towards where child Voldemort lived.

"Here we are," Mrs. Cole said, as they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered. "Tom? You’ve got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton - sorry, Dunderbore. He’s come to tell you - well, I’ll let him do it."

Johnny, Harry and the two Dumbledores entered the room, and Mrs. Cole closed the door on them. It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe, a wooden chair, and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top of the gray blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book. 

His mother got her dying wish, it seemed. She had hoped he would look like his father, and sure enough, the boy in front of them looked nothing like her or her family. He looked like what you imagined Tom Riddle Sr. did as a child. His eyes narrowed as he took in the younger Dumbledore's eccentric appearance - a plum velvet suit.

"How do you do, Tom?" Dumbledore said, walking forward and holding out his hand. The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Voldemort so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor. "I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" Young Voldemort asked, looking wary. "Is that like a 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?" He was pointing at the door that Mrs. Cole had just left through.

"No, no," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"I don’t believe you," Voldemort said. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds, Voldemort stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still.

"Who are you?"

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come."

Voldemort leapt from his bed and backed away. "You can't kid me! You're from the asylum! 'Professor', yes, of course - well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in an asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!"

"I am not from the asylum," memory Dumbledore responded, I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you -"

"I’d like to see them try," Young Voldemort sneered.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle’s last words, "is a school for people with special abilities -"

"I’m not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

There was silence.  had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore’s, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" He repeated in a whisper.

"That’s right," Dumbledore said.

"It’s... it’s magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Jesus. Again, was there any wonder this kid turned out the way he did?

The rest of the memory passed uneventfully until Dumbledore lit Voldemort's wardrobe on fire. The kid took out all of the things he had stolen from others at the orphanage. He promised to return them. He did not look remorseful. The young Voldemort refused Dumbledore's offer of help to show him around Diagon Alley. 

"He believed it much quicker than I did," Harry said once they were out of the memory. "I mean, when you told him he was a wizard. I didn’t believe Hagrid at first when he told me."

Johnny wouldn't have believed it either, to be fair.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, he was quite ready to believe that he was, as he put it, 'special'." 

"Did you know-?" 

"Did I know then that I had just met the most dangerous dark wizard of all time?" Dumbledore finished for Harry. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his. He was certainly far more advanced in terms of magical ability than anyone I'd ever met at that age. Not only that, but he had been using his powers consciously, showing tremendous control over his magic for someone so young."

"And he was a Parselmouth," Harry added.

"Very true, though his ability to talk to snakes did not concern me as much as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy and domination."

"He could talk to snakes?" Johnny asked, his eyes wide.

"Indeed he could," Dumbledore confirmed, "though that ability has been known to also be amongst the best of us." He was looking at Harry when he said that. And then he glanced at the clock. "Time is making fools of us once again. Before you leave, I trust you both saw Voldemort's dislike for his given name?" At Johnny and Harry's nods, he continued. "There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, notorious. He shed his name within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of ‘Lord Voldemort’ behind which he has been hidden for so long."

It was interesting, Johnny thought. How could someone that young be filled with so much hate, so much evil, inside them? What made him that way? A lack of love? Parental figure? But even then, to be so detached, almost sociopathic, was scary even to him.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one. And lastly — I hope you two are not too sleepy to pay attention to this - the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. This, and I am certain I am right, is what led him to create Horcrux's out of valuable and important objects. His family ring, his diary, even Nagini. And there are more too, I believe, of historical significance. And they all pertain to Hogwarts. One from each founder, though I don't think he ever managed to make one for Gryffindor." 

"Does that mean they could be here?" Johnny asked.

There was a pause.

"It is possible," Dumbledore conceded, "years after he graduated, he came here looking for a job. I turned him down, knowing then what I wish I had known from the start. That he had no business near other children. He could have hidden one then, though where it would be, I do not know."

Harry and Johnny looked at him in disbelief.

Dumbledore chuckled. "This castle has been around far, far longer than I have. Is it that hard to believe I've not found all of its secrets?"

"A little," Johnny said. "I mean, you're you, after all."

"You flatter me," Dumbledore responded, smiling. "But now, I really do think it's time for bed."

"Sir," Harry said.

"Yes?"

"Did Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her after Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?"

Johnny was interested now. He thought Harry was right, to be honest, but Malfoy had a solid alibi.

"She told me of your suspicions, yes," Dumbledore said.

"And do you-?"

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie’s accident, and that is all I have to say on the matter."

It was a clear dismissal, one that frustrated Johnny. A glance at Harry told him he felt the same way. There was nothing to be done about it now though, but Johnny couldn't help the feeling of resentment rise in his chest.

It wasn't just a dismissal, it felt almost like a deflection. He supposed it was none of their business but still, they could learn about Voldemort's childhood and Horcrux's but he'd stonewall them at this? 

He didn't like how it felt but left the office all the same.

Chapter Text

"It looks like he’s eating her face, doesn’t it?" Ginny said dispassionately. "But I suppose he’s got to refine his technique somehow."

- Ginny Weasley to Harry Potter, November 1996.

With Katie Bell still hospitalized at St, Mungo's, Harry needed a new chaser for the upcoming game against Slytherin. He'd tried his best to put off replacing her in the hope that she'd get better, but with the match only a few days away, it wasn't an option anymore. 

Harry did not think he could stand another full-House tryout. With a sinking feeling that had little to do with Quidditch, he cornered Dean Thomas after Transfiguration one day. Most of the class had already left, although several twittering yellow birds were still zooming around the room, all of Hermione’s creation; nobody else had succeeded in conjuring so much as a feather from thin air.

"Are you still interested in playing Chaser?" He asked him.

"Wha-? Yeah, of course!" Dean said excitedly. Over Dean's shoulder, Harry saw Seamus Finnigan slamming his books into his bag, looking sour. One of the reasons why Harry would have preferred not to have to ask Dean to play was that he knew Seamus would not like it. On the other hand, he had to do what was best for the team, and Dean had outflown Seamus at the tryouts.

"Well then, you're in," Harry said. "There's a practice tonight, seven o'clock."

"Right," Dean said. "Cheers, Harry! Blimey, I can't wait to tell Ginny!" 

He ran out of the room, leaving Harry and Seamus alone together, an uncomfortable moment made no easier when a bird dropping landed on Seamus' head as one of Hermione's canaries whizzed over them.

Unfortunately, there were a few mutterings in the common room about the fact that Harry had now chosen two of his classmates for the team. He'd endured much worse over the years, however, so this particular time it didn't bother him. Still, there was a lot of pressure on him to win against Slytherin. If they succeeded, Harry knew that the whole house would forget about their petty criticisms of him and swear down they had always known he put together a great team. If they lost... well, he had still endured worse mutterings, he thought wryly.

Harry had no reason to regret his choice once he saw Dean fly that evening; he worked well with Ginny and Demelza. The Beaters, Peakes and Coote, were getting better all the time. The only problem was Ron. Harry had known all along that Ron was an inconsistent player who suffered from nerves and a lack of confidence, and unfortunately, the looming prospect of the opening game of the season seemed to have brought out all his old insecurities. After letting in half a dozen goals, most of them scored by Ginny, his technique became wilder and wilder, until he finally punched an oncoming Demelza Robins in the mouth.

"It was an accident, I’m sorry, Demelza, really sorry!" Ron shouted after her as she zigzagged back to the ground, dripping blood everywhere. "I just -"

"Panicked," Ginny said angrily, landing next to Demelza and examining her fat lip. "You prat, Ron, look at the state of her!"

"I can fix that," Harry said, landing beside the two girls, pointing his wand at Demelza’s mouth, and saying "Episkey."

"And Ginny, don’t call Ron a prat, you’re not the Captain of this team -"

"Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should."

Harry forced himself not to laugh.

"In the air, everyone, let’s go."

Overall it was one of the worst practices they had had all term, though Harry did not feel that honesty was the best policy when they were this close to the match.

"Good work, everyone, I think we’ll flatten Slytherin," he said bracingly and the Chasers and Beaters left the changing room looking reasonably happy with themselves.

"I played like a sack of dragon dung," Ron said in a hollow voice when the door had swung shut behind Ginny.

"No, you didn’t," Harry said firmly. "You’re the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves."

He kept up a relentless flow of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time they reached the second floor, Ron was looking marginally more cheerful.

"I don't know about this, Hermione."

"Oh come on, Johnny! It'll be fun!"

They were walking towards the castle together, having spent that Sunday evening walking around the grounds and visiting Hagrid.

"Parties aren't really my thing," he said, bumping her shoulder with his. "Crash yelled at me once after I came home really late and drunk, and that was enough for me."

"Isn't the legal drinking age in America twenty-one?" Hermione asked, her eyebrow raised.

He hummed something that was neither a confirmation nor a denial.

"Whatever, this isn't that kind of party anyway, we'd only have to dress up a bit. I have this nice dress that I've been meaning to wear eventually."

"How are your training sessions with Tonks?" He asked, determinedly changing the subject and trying not to think about her in a dress.

She had a disapproving look on her face but accepted the change of topic.

"Really great, actually, I'm learning loads and improving quickly!"

"That's good to hear," he said, and he meant it. "With your knowledge and proper training, well, I wouldn't want to be fighting against you, that's for sure."

She beamed at him, and they entered the school. "I've got a long way to go before I'm at the level I need to be though."

Johnny shrugged. "Sure, but I bet you're overselling it. You'll get there much faster than anyone else your age I bet." He frowned, thinking of something. "Harry should be training too."

Hermione's expression faltered as well. "He should."

"He's good, don't get me wrong, from what I remember seeing. His reflexes are very sharp and teaching all of you last year couldn't have been easy, but still." Johnny thought about speaking to Dumbledore about it. If he couldn't help out, he might as well try to motivate the one that's supposed to kill Voldemort.

The castle was warm, a very nice contrast to the late November weather. He sighed in relief. 

"It gets really fucking cold up here, huh?" He said. Hermione frowned at his words.

"Yes, it does." She said simply. "You could have asked me to reapply your warming charm."

"All good now," he replied with a shrug. Hermione sighed at him.

They made their way to the Gryffindor common room so he could drop her off. When they turned the corner onto the hallway that was a shortcut Hermione knew about, they both stopped at the sight of an argument between three people Johnny instantly recognized.

"-yeah, it is!" he heard Ron's voice yell angrily. "D’you think I want people saying my sister’s a-"

"A what?" Ginny shouted, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"

"He doesn't mean anything Ginny," Harry's voice added, almost pleadingly.

"Oh yes, he does!" Ginny said, flaring up at Harry. "Just because he’s never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he’s ever had is from our Auntie Muriel -"

"Shut your mouth!" Ron bellowed, struggling to get past Harry, who had his arms out in an attempt to block him off.

"No, I will not!" Ginny yelled back, she was beside herself. "I've seen the way you look at Phlegm, hoping she’ll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it’s pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn’t mind so much that everyone else does it!"

She was talking about Fleur, Johnny knew that's what she and Hermione liked to call her behind her back.

And then, Ron pulled his wand out.

Immediately, Johnny started walking toward them.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms outstretched instead of Ron. "Just because I don’t do it in public -!"

Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way. "Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"

"You -!"

Johnny got there just in time to see a jet of orange light fire from Ron's wand and miss Ginny by mere inches.

He grabbed Ron by the shoulder, and with little effort, shoved pulled him towards a wall and kept his arm down.

"Don't be stupid," Johnny growled. Ron's eyes glared at him with so much hate it was almost staggering.

"Harry's snogged Cho!" Ginny said, still sounding defiant. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it’s only you who acts like it’s something disgusting, Ron, and that’s because you’ve got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

And with that, she stormed away. Johnny waited a few seconds, before letting go. Ron scoffed at him and stepped away as well, stalking off, not even sparing a look at Hermione.

"Oi, out of the way!" He barked at a first-year girl who jumped and then dropped a bottle of something Johnny didn't recognize. 

The girl scurried off the opposite way, but he hardly paid attention. Harry looked at them, and then back at Ron.

"I'll make sure he doesn't lose his temper at anyone else," he said, before going to catch up with his friend.

Johnny glanced at Hermione, who had an odd look on her face. 

He felt strange. His head was pounding. But was it in anger? Johnny very much didn't like Ron at the moment, but that didn't warrant a headache. The entire way back to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was quiet. She seemed to be thinking deeply.

And then something dawned on him. Ron seemed to lose it when Ginny brought up Hermione kissing this Viktor guy, did he like Hermione too then? And more importantly, did she like him back?

Johnny hated how his heart hammered at this train of thought. If she liked Ron, then it wasn't any of his business. She didn't owe him anything. They reached the portrait of the Fat-Lady in silence until Hermione spoke the password. "Ragnarök." 

"Thank you for walking me back," she said, turning to him with a small smile.

"Yeah," he replied, "no problem. See you tomorrow."

And then the portrait slid back into place and she was gone, leaving Johnny to feel like an idiot by himself.

"Ah, young love," the woman in the portrait said with a knowing smile, "don't worry dear, she'll come around."

He nodded, but said nothing, before turning to head to his room.

"D’you think Hermione did snog Krum?"

Harry frowned in the darkness of their dorm. Both he and Ron returned to their own beds without further incident. The honest answer to Ron's question was yes, but he didn't have the heart to tell him.

He seemed to take Harry's silence for confirmation though.

"They probably did," he continued, "at the ball, afterwards..."

Harry wanted to say something to make him feel better, but there was truly nothing.

"Johnny likes her," Ron said, "even I'm not dumb enough to miss it. He actually smiles around her."

"He smiles around Sirius," Harry pointed out, "Fred, George, me and Tonks."

"There's something different about it when it's with her," Ron said. "I know I said I had to accept it and move on, and that I've messed up too much with her... but that doesn't stop it from hurting, y'know?"

He didn't, not really. Whatever he had with Cho died out before it ever really started, and that was about as far as it got in the relationship department. He was an idiot around girls, apparently. Even with Hermione, to whom he held no romantic attraction. Tracey was the only one he hadn't made a complete fool of himself around yet.

Ron chuckled softly. "Worst thing is, I bet she likes him back, but she's overthinking it too much. Not believing she'd have a chance."

"I'm sorry..." Harry said, feeling guilty at his inability to help.

"It's- well, it's not fine, but, I've just gotta keep moving forward, I guess."

That was very mature for someone who nearly cursed his sister not ten minutes earlier. 

"I'll apologize to Ginny tomorrow." He said. "I was a right git, wasn't I?"

Harry could not deny it, but he still didn't answer.

It seemed he regretted his actions. Maybe this was good for him? Maybe it'd actually mature him. Merlin knows, he needed to. Even Harry himself too, at least in terms of understanding others' feelings better. 

Soon, the room was filled with Ron's snores, and Harry too drifted off to sleep.

To Harry’s dismay, while Ron seemed to gain a modicum of emotional maturity, the next practice a few days later was no better than the last. He seemed to replace his aggression and anger with general hopelessness. Ron almost sort of sagged on his broomstick, slouching as he floated around the goal rings. He'd lost his will to play. Ron had never been the most confident person to begin with, but this was something else.

When Harry called for the end of practice and it was just the two of them in the locker room, Ron spoke for the first time that entire day.

"I think I want to resign," he said quietly, not looking at Harry properly. "I'm pathetic."

Harry was taken aback. "You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!" He said. "You can save anything when you're on form, it's a mental problem you've got."

Now, Ron looked at him.

"You calling me mental?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, before speaking. "Yeah, maybe I am!" He thought he could make Ron mad, and therefore determined, by being aggressive, but Ron just shook his head wearily after a moment.

"I know you haven’t got any time to find another Keeper, so I’ll play tomorrow, but if we lose, and we will, I’m taking myself off the team."

Nothing Harry could say after made a difference. He tried boosting Ron’s confidence all through dinner, but Ron was too busy casting forlorn looks at Hermione as she prattled on to them about her classes and occasionally glanced up at the staff table. Harry persisted in the common room that evening, but his assertion that the whole team would be devastated if Ron left was somewhat undermined by the fact that the rest of the team was sitting in a huddle in a distant corner, clearly muttering about Ron and casting him nasty looks. Finally, Harry tried getting angry again in the hope of provoking Ron into a defiant, and hopefully, goal-saving attitude, but this strategy did not appear to work any better than encouragement; Ron went to bed as dejected and hopeless as ever. 

Harry lay awake for a very long time in the darkness. He did not want to lose the upcoming match; not only was it his first as captain, but he was determined to beat Draco Malfoy at Quidditch even if he could not yet prove his suspicions about him. Yet if Ron played as he had done in the last few practices, their chances of winning were very slim. If only there was something he could do to make Ron pull himself together, make him play at the top of his form. Something that would ensure that Ron had a really good day.

Breakfast was the usual excitable affair the next morning; the Slytherins hissed and booed loudly as every member of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall. Johnny watched on in amusement. They took Quidditch very seriously, it seemed. Not too unlike Americans and football.

He watched as Harry talked to a morose-looking Ron. He had heard from Hermione that Ron had been in a slump lately. Accidentally hurt a teammate at practice too.

"Cheer up, Ron! I know you'll be brilliant!" A girl with dirty blonde hair called loudly, before realizing just how loud she was and blushing furiously.

Johnny couldn't help but laugh and even heard Dumbledore chuckle softly from next to him.

He watched as Harry held a tiny bottle over a glass of pumpkin juice, before stowing it away right as Hermione arrived at the table.

She spoke sharply to him as normal chatter overtook the hall. Johnny didn't hear what was said. Ron paused with the drink just a mere inch away from his lips. Hermione turned to Harry, looking angry, and that's when Johnny stood up. He was almost unaware of the action.

Harry and Hermione spoke back and forth before she faced Ron again and said something. Ron downed his drink in one huge gulp before replying to Hermione.

She stormed up the table away from them.

Johnny immediately started after her. As she got out of the hall and he passed by Ron and Harry, he shot them a confused look. Neither of them gave much of a response.

"Hermione!" He called as she darted up a staircase.

Either she didn't hear him, or she wanted to be alone. Knowing her, it was likely the latter. He was pushing his luck by following her, to be sure.

Johnny climbed up the stairs after her, perfect timing too, as they shifted around when he got to the next floor.

"Hermione, wait!" He called again. Johnny just caught sight of her as she turned and entered a classroom.

He found her alone staring out the window of the classroom a few seconds later. Johnny stopped in the doorway, unsure of what to even say.

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done." She said, still facing away from him. He could tell she was on the verge of tears.

"What even happened?" He asked softly.

She sniffled a little before answering. "Harry's given Ron a luck potion before their game today."

He blinked.

"That's... that's it?"

Hermione snapped her head to look at him.

"He could be expelled for that! They both could!"

Johnny raised his hands up in surrender. "Hey, sorry, I didn't know that."

Her expression softened for a moment.

"I know I can be a nag, but I really was looking out for them..."

He walked up to where she was standing. 

"I know you were," he said. 

She looked at him sadly. The sunlight coming through the window made her brown eyes almost sparkle.

"The worst thing is, I'm a terrible hypocrite." 

"H-how?" He said, barely catching the words.

"I Confunded McClaggen at tryouts so Ron would make the team instead," She answered.

They were so close, he didn't know why he was expecting something to happen, but his heart was beating very fast all the same.

"If he was better, he had every right to be on the team, but I just couldn't watch Ron fail..." She trailed off. "It's unlike me. Rules are rules and fair is fair."

"Then why'd you do it?" He asked, hanging on her every word. He knew she did, but she seemed to not be that bothered by it at the time.

"I... I don't know." She said, before breaking their eye contact and glancing out the window once more. He could see waves of red and green supporters walking across the field. "The game's starting soon, I should get going."

"Yeah," he said, and Hermione stepped around him to leave.

Dammit.

They walked out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: Amidst all the yelling and clapping Harry could distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood’s famous lion-topped hat. Harry stepped up to Madam Hooch, the referee, who was standing ready to release the balls from the crate.

"Captains shake hands," she said, and Harry had his hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle... three... two... one..."

The whistle sounded, Harry and the others kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and they were away. Harry soared around the perimeter of the grounds, looking around for the Snitch and keeping one eye on Harper, who was zigzagging far below him.

Then a voice that was jarringly different from the usual commentator’s started up.

"Well, there they go, and I think we’re all surprised to see the team that Potter’s put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley’s patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help..."

These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Harry craned around on his broom to look toward the commentator’s podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been Lee Jordan’s; Harry recognized Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player whom he heartily disliked.

"Oh, and here comes Slytherin’s first attempt on goal, it’s Urquhart streaking down the pitch and -"

Harry’s stomach turned over.

"- Weasley saves it, well, he’s bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose..."

"That’s right, Smith, he is," muttered Harry, grinning to himself, as he dived amongst the Chasers with his eyes searching all around for some hint of the elusive Snitch.

Johnny watched in mild amusement as the players sped around the field. Quidditch was a sport he'd never understand no matter how many times Ron, Harry, Fred and George explained the rules to him. How a sport with seven hundred different kinds of fouls could even exist, he'd never know.

It was at least entertaining. Ron seemed to be in a good mood out there, saving everything Slytherin shot at him. The crowd sang a song that went 'Weasley is our king', and he pretended to conduct them. Johnny noticed the two styles clashing. Gryffindor played very physically, not to the point of fouling or anything. But a lot of them really seemed to get in there and overwhelm their opponents.

Slytherin meanwhile took every opportunity presented to them to try and cheat. Fouling players when the referee's back was turned as their main tactic. And it was when it happened to Harry that something else occurred. The boo resonating from the crowd was comically loud.

"And I think Harper of Slytherin’s seen the Snitch!" Said the annoying commentator, who had been insulting Gryffindor every chance he got called through his megaphone. "Yes, he’s certainly seen something Potter hasn’t!"

The Snitch... that was the little gold thing that ended the game right? He'd only seen it at the start, right before the game began.

God, how could anyone see that tiny fucking thing in the chaos of the game?

Either way, the guy in green that had hit Harry roughly was speeding off in the opposite direction, and Harry quickly followed suit.

He had a long way to go though, but a curious thing happened. Just as the Slytherin player had his fingertips touching the Snitch, Johnny saw Harry shout something at the other player, and he did a double-take. In that time, Harry sped up past him and grabbed the Snitch practically from right out of his hand.

The stadium went insane, the sheer noise that erupted was almost deafening. You'd think they'd just won a world series or something.

He turned his head to look at Hermione, who sat beside him. She was half smiling, half disapproving. As the winning team went to their locker room, Hermione got up to follow. He did the same.

Johnny walked behind her cautiously. He didn't want a scene to happen between the trio.

"I want a word with you, Harry." She said. He and Ron were the only two left in the changerooms when they entered.

Ron's brow furrowed but did not speak. Preferring to stare back at them.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"You didn't give it to him, did you?" She said.

Alright, now he was confused.

But the answer was given when Harry grinned.

Ron turned to look at his best friend, face in complete shock.

"No way-"

Harry nodded, going to retrieve the still full bottle from his school robes. "I faked pouring it in so you'd think you'd been given it. That way you'd trick yourself into being lucky in a way. The good weather was just... well, lucky."

"I never drank any at all, seriously?" Ron asked.

"Seriously," Harry confirmed. He then looked at Hermione. "How'd you know?"

"I was thinking about it the whole game," she admitted, "but it really did seem out of character for you to cheat so blatantly. So once I accepted that you might not have actually done it, the only other reasonable explanation was you pretended to."

That actually made sense, he supposed. Leave it to Hermione to work it out eventually.

"I only wish I'd figured it out sooner, I'm sorry for reacting the way I did."

Harry and Ron fidgeted on the spot. 

"I know you meant well, I really could have been expelled if I gave him the potion. We both would have." Harry said.

"Yeah," Ron said, "I'm sorry I was rude to you, 'Mione."

She smiled at them, and they both returned it.

"Did Dean say something about a party?" Hermione asked after a few moments, which he was grateful for. It was getting a little too wholesome for his liking.

"Is it like this after every win?" He asked over blaring music and shouted conversations. He leaned closer to Hermione to ask this, but ended up catching a whiff of her vanilla-smelling perfume and regretted his choice immediately.

Hermione smiled. "Yes," she said in response, flipping through her book as people danced and moved wildly around them. "Every time."

They sat together on the loveseat by the fireplace. He didn't know anyone here other than the trio and Neville and didn't really feel like making friends. Though he did spot a group of girls in the corner of the room staring and pointing at him from time to time.

It was annoying, honestly. Having stubble did wonders for him, apparently.

There was another loud whoop from everyone, but this was different. Now there was what sounded like a round of applause happening. Johnny turned his head to see Ron and some girl entwined on a loveseat in the back. He grimaced at their aggressive kissing.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he turned to look back at Hermione.

She was watching the exchange with a grin. "It's like I'm watching a horror movie." She said.

He practically deflated in relief, which in turn made him feel very childish. She then turned that smile on him, and god, what a sight it always was to behold it.

"Yeah," Johnny choked out, "Alien."

"At least now Ginny can't say he's not getting practice." 

They laughed, and the night carried on. Albeit, with Johnny feeling considerably lighter than he had in years.

Chapter Text

"Girl trouble, eh? I can't relate. I never cared much about proper relationships back then. Why, in my sixth year, me, Marlene McKinnon and this one Hufflepuff, Maisie Williams went back up to my dorm and- ow! Tonks, what was that for?"

"Stop giving Harry terrible ideas, you prat."

- Sirius Black, Nymphadora Tonks and Harry Potter. Christmas Break 1995.

He awoke to what felt like the hundredth time to fire and brimstone. 

Johnny was starting to get really tired of this shit now. The same dream, over and over again, slightly changing each time before ending. What did it mean? It was in his head, he knew, but they were far too vivid. He could recall them perfectly every morning after, he'd never dreamt like this before.

There were screams again, from above. Light was coming down the staircase to the left. He resolved to just sit on the floor as the dream ran its course. Someone, a voice he'd heard last time, chuckled. It sounded far closer than the screams.

The place was loud. He hadn't noticed it before. Ambient noises that sounded like wails of pain, but not nearly as loud as the screaming. Johnny could barely hear himself think with all it adding up.

In the noise, he thought he heard someone mutter "stubborn."

"Fuck you," he said back, feeling insane for talking to thin air.

And then he heard it, a giggle. But it wasn't a child, no, it sounded like a grown man. The cell door groaned, and then there was an audible click.

The air around him seemed to get tense, it became suffocating. If this place was a living thing, then it was angry. 

He stood up cautiously, not quite believing what was happening right in front of him. Johnny stepped forward, placing his hand on the bars of the cell door, finding he could now touch them.

With only a moment's hesitation, he pushed the door open with ease.

Immediately, the place began to shake. The background noise got even louder, building up to a constant wail. He covered his ears in pain but it did nothing.

Something rushed down the stairs, something Johnny couldn't see. It leapt at him with force, and then he woke up.

Johnny shot up from his bed with a shout, damn near falling out of it again. He was breathing heavily and his heart was pounding hard. The dream was so disorienting that Johnny could have sworn he saw the creature's pinhole-like eyes staring at him from the dark corner of his room.

"Jesus..." he muttered to himself, before glancing at the clock on the wall. It was still only five in the morning, not even close to breakfast.

He sighed, lying back down, but there was no way Johnny was falling back asleep.

"You need to be careful."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He and Hermione were in the library after dinner. Christmas was fast approaching, and of course, they couldn't just enjoy the last few days before break. No, in almost every class he took, there was some sort of test or essay that needed to be done.

"For the last time," Harry said, speaking in a slightly hoarse whisper after three-quarters of an hour of silence, "I am not giving back this book, I’ve learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in-"

"I’m not talking about your stupid so-called Prince," Hermione said, giving his book a nasty look as though it had been rude to her. "I’m talking about earlier. I went into the girls’ bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They’re all hoping they’re going to get you to take them to Slughorn’s party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George’s love potions, which I’m afraid to say probably work-"

"Why didn't you confiscate it then?" Harry asked. It seemed very unlikely that Hermione, someone who respected the rules to an annoying degree, would let something like that slide as a Prefect.

"They didn’t have the potions with them in the bathroom," Hermione said scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt whether even the Half-Blood Prince" - she gave the book another nasty look - "could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I’d just invite someone to go with you, that’ll stop all the others thinking they’ve still got a chance. It’s tomorrow night, they’re getting desperate."

"I can't even think of someone I'd want to invite." He mumbled, looking around forlornly at the shelves of books that would not be of any help to him in this situation.

Harry saw a pair of cerulean blue eyes staring back at him. 

Tracey was grabbing a book off a shelf nearby, and their eyes had met.

She smiled at him, a genuine smile, and waved.

Alright, maybe there was one person he could ask.

"Stupefy!" 

Hermione rolled to dodge the jet of red light and took cover by a decently sized boulder.

The great thing about the Room, it could change its terrain too. They were in an arena of sorts that was sandy and filled with large, jagged rocks. Perfect for cover, but also very easy to sneak by without being seen. Many times Tonks had fired something at Hermione, which she then deflected or blocked, only for Tonks to appear somewhere in the complete opposite direction a minute or two later with another spell firing from her wand.

It had started pretty much as soon as Hermione entered the room. Tonks had let her know beforehand with a letter that she'd be setting the room up a little early, but to come in at the usual time. Sweat poured down the sides of her face, she looked like a mess, no doubt. 

Hermione saw a flash of purple dart behind a boulder to her left. Tonks was on the move, and it was a rare occurrence that she'd actually caught sight of her. Hermione couldn't afford to waste it. Keeping an eye out for anything odd, Hermione crept from boulder to boulder so she could get a better position on where she knew Tonks roughly was.

When Hermione was finally confident she had a good angle on Tonks, Hermione pointed her wand out and whispered, "Homenum Revelio."

She watched the wave of magic smoothly make its way across the room, but it lit up only the terrain, there was no outline of Tonks anywhere.

"How...?"

Hermione felt the tip of a wand press into the back of her head.

"Aaaaaaaand you're dead."

She nearly slumped in defeat, before resigning herself to another one of Tonks' detailed explanations of why she lost. Hermione needed it, and practically craved it most times, but it did get a bit frustrating after the fiftieth lecture.

Tonks was grinning. "Nearly got me there, I have to admit, I didn't expect you to change positions so quickly."

"How'd you get passed me?" Hermione asked as the room reverted itself to normal.

"Made myself really short and skinny," Tonks said with a shrug. "Harder to see me that way."

They had some ground rules. Like no unforgivables, for one, but for this particular terrain, an added stipulation was neither of them was allowed to Disillusion themselves. 

Still, she frowned. Tonks noticed.

"Don't be like that," Tonks said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The strides you're making at your age are astounding. "I certainly couldn't duel like that at seventeen."

"It's not enough," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "Not for what's coming."

Tonks looked away, a sad expression on her face.

Really, it was an answer in itself.

"C'mon," Tonks said, "go shower and freshen up, don't you have a party to attend? And a broody American to dance with?"

Hermione found a small smile working its way on her face despite it all. Johnny eventually agreed to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her. It came with multiple assertions that he could not dance, nor was he good at being social and friendly. None of that mattered to her, of course.

Tonks smiled back. "Why don't you show me what dress you plan on wearing?"

Johnny was panicking.

It was about ten minutes off from when he was supposed to meet Hermione just outside the entrance to the Gryffindor common room when he realized that he did not have appropriate attire for a wizarding party.

Not that he knew what actually was appropriate, just that he was fairly certain a biker jacket and ripped jeans did not count.

A quick check through the closet proved to be unhelpful, all his clothes were far too plain and casual or just too rebellious. 

"Shit, man," Johnny muttered.

He looked around his room in defeat. Maybe he could ask Dumbledore? But then he thought of the old man's eccentric taste in robes and regular suits and decided against it. Snape? No, definitely not. 

"Dobby," Johnny called out.

With a loud crack, the house-elf appeared in his room.

"Mister Blaze called for Dobby?" He squeaked. Johnny resisted the urge to sigh. It was better than master or sir, he supposed.

"I did." He confirmed. "I need your help."

The elf's eyes widened, and he clutched at his chest. "Sir needs Dobby's help?"

"Yeah," Johnny said, "I need something to wear to Slughorn's Christmas party tonight, but I don't have anything to wear."

Dobby looked deep in thought for a few moments, before snapping his fingers.

"Dobby knows just the place, sir!" And he disappeared with a loud crack.

"I told you to stop calling me that." He said to thin air.

A moment later Dobby was back and holding a comfortable looking forest green robe.

Johnny blinked. "I hope you didn't steal that." He said.

Dobby blushed and shifted nervously on his feet. 

"Dobby found it in the Come-And-Go Room, sir, and cleaned it up." The elf explained. "Dobby had seen it before when Dobby was taking Winky there to sleep off Butterbeer."

He didn't know what the room was, nor did he know what a winky was, but he supposed it didn't matter now. Johnny could wear some black cargo pants, hopefully, nobody would be able to tell it wasn't dress pants.

"Thanks, Dobby," he said with a smile.

Dobby bowed deeply, before leaving with a loud crack and a sniffle.

Johnny sighed again, before taking off his jacket and putting on the robe.

It fit him nicely, actually, which was fortunate. He liked the way the green looked on him too. He couldn't help but hope that Hermione did as well.

"You look dashing, dear."

He smiled back politely at the portrait that doubled as the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

The walk there was nothing short of nerve-wracking for Johnny, which was new to him. He didn't get nervous about much these days, especially when he was still the Rider. 

Johnny fidgeted on the spot for a few more minutes before the painting moved to the side. He took a hopeful step forward but stopped when Ginny stepped out.

"Oh, it's you." 

Ginny scoffed at him. "Don't get too excited now," she said sarcastically. "Hermione'll be out soon, I think."

He had the decency to blush. "Sorry, didn't mean it like that."

She nodded. "I know."

There was an awkward silence.

"You look nice," he said and cringed. 

Thankfully, Ginny chuckled. "Don't let Ron hear you say that." She said. "Or better yet, do, maybe it'll piss him off."

"He hasn't apologized then?" Johnny asked.

"Oh, he has," Ginny said. "Doesn't mean I can't still be mad at him."

"Fair enough," he replied with a nod.

"I'll see you at the party," she said, before walking down the hall.

Before his nerves could get the better of him, the portrait opened once more.

His heart practically stopped at the sight of her. 

Hermione's hair was in its usual style, though it was noticeably less bushy. She was wearing makeup, which was something Johnny had rarely seen her do. Her skin looked almost radiant. She wore a pink dress that he supposed could be considered lowcut. He didn't know much about dresses, but even he knew that this one was special. She was special.

She coughed, and Johnny realized he had been blatantly staring.

"That good, is it?" She asked with a smile, her hands held behind her back.

"Uh," he said smartly, "yeah, you look great."

Great? Just great? Nice job, idiot.

Hermione's smile grew despite Johnny's idiocy. "You look handsome," she said, and he could have started floating right then and there. "Shall we get going?" 

He nodded, not trusting another word from his mouth.

They walked side by side to where Slughorn was holding the party. Their shoulders bumped occasionally, and Johnny could feel his palms get sweaty.

Eventually, they made it in what felt like forever but was only five minutes or so. The double doors were wide open, Johnny could hear music and laughter from inside spilling out into the relatively deserted hallway.

He paused at the doors, feeling oddly nervous about the prospect of having to speak to so many people tonight. And yeah, Hermione would probably make him talk to or at the very least endure being talked to by half of the people here, minimum.

Her hand found his own, and she gave it a squeeze. He turned to look at her.

"Your head used to burst into flames and you've fought demons and monsters from Norse mythology," she said, still smiling at him. "You can do this."

"Right," he said, feeling silly. He had done all those things, and far worse. "What's a couple of wolves in sheep's clothing?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and nudged his elbow. "They aren't all like that."

"We'll see," he said noncommittally.

"Miss Granger!" A booming voice called.

Professor Slughorn approached them, face rosy no doubt due to the wine in his hand.

"So glad that you could make it, and I see you've brought a date!" He turned to Johnny. "Mister Blaze, I'm surprised to see you here! Forgive me, but, parties don't seem to be your sort of thing."

"That's what I told her," Johnny replied, the witty response coming naturally to him, surprisingly.

Slughorn laughed. "Of course, of course. Well, I'd love to intro- Harry m'boy!"

They turned to see Harry arrive at the party, a girl Johnny recognized to be the one that went to the Department of Mysteries and walked back with them from Hogsmeade when Katie Bell was cursed was by his side. 

Slughorn wasted no time in dropping the two of them to fawn over Harry and his date.

"So glad you could make it!" He said, moving past them to greet the new arrivals. "And I see you've brought along Miss Davis with you! I must say, I was very impressed with your latest test score, I dare say you're giving Miss Granger here a run for her money!"

Hermione smiled politely, and Johnny privately wondered if anyone could even come close to getting a grade as good as her.

Tracey for her part, blushed furiously, mumbling something about that being 'nonsense'.

Harry cleaned up reasonably well, though the slicked hair didn't really suit him.

"Come, I simply must introduce you to some people... no doubt you know who Gwenog Jones is?"

Off they went, Slughorn stopping to have Harry shake the hand of whoever was in the vicinity. Johnny watched on in half pity half amusement.

"Well then," he said, glancing at Hermione with a small smile. "Looks like we've been tossed aside. What are we meant to do at these things anyway?" 

"Socialize," Hermione answered as they walked further into the room. "Make connections, I suppose. Professor Slughorn is good for those." 

"It seems like it," Johnny said, watching as a woman spoke animatedly to Harry and Tracey. "Oh, there's a punch bowl."

They approached it and Johnny poured them both a generous glass.

He took one sip and realized it was alcohol. The taste was faint, not enough to make him recoil or anything, it actually tasted good, even. When he turned to tell Hermione, he noticed she had drained her glass.

"That had alcohol in it, y'know," Johnny said, his eyes wide. "Are you that thirsty?"

"Really?" Hermione asked in surprise. "It tasted like normal fruit punch to me. And yes, I am. I haven't had anything since my training with Tonks."

He eyed her warily. "Well, just take it easy, okay?"

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I'll be fine."

Johnny was about to say something about that was like one of the worst things to say after downing what was definitely a cocktail, but she suddenly grabbed his hand.

"Oooh! That's Bathilda Bagshot! She wrote A History of Magic and Hogwarts: A History!"

"Cool," he said. Johnny knew who she was, of course, Hermione had told him on more than one occasion over the last year. 

Bathilda Bagshot was quite possibly the oldest person he had ever met. Johnny knew it was rude to say that let alone even think it, but that was the first thing that he thought when he saw her. She had to be even older than Dumbledore.

"It's an honor to meet you, Miss Bagshot," Hermione said enthusiastically. "I've read all your books several times over, you're truly a fantastic writer!"

The older woman just blinked at her without giving a response.

He marvelled at Hermione's excitement, no doubt exaggerated by the alcohol. Hermione had seemed to realize that she had just kind of run-up to a woman who did not know her and rapidly started a one-sided conversation. Her cheeks were red, either from the drink she downed or the embarrassment at how she had just babbled on without a proper greeting.

Either way, Johnny was enjoying it immensely to watch the proper and always put-together Hermione Granger act like this.

"Thank you," Bathilda said in a withered sort of voice. "Though many of my books are used in your curriculum, you're probably the first person to ever tell me they've voluntarily read it, let alone several times."

If anything, Hermione got even redder. "O-of course, your works are really informative..."

She trailed off, and perhaps Bathilda, wanting to save Hermione some embarrassment, told them to enjoy the rest of their evening, and she walked off.

They stood there in silence for a moment.

"You're really cute, you know that?" He said, not knowing where he found the courage to tell her it.

"Yeah?" Hermione asked coyly. Gone was her embarrassment, apparently, and Johnny did not know how to handle a coy Hermione. She was close to him, looking up at his face with a smirk.

Now he was the one to be embarrassed. Johnny could feel his face heating up. He supposed it was better than how that normally went.

"I need another drink," Johnny muttered, especially for this, he added in his head, having already finished his first one while Hermione and Bathilda talked. It really did taste good.

At the mention of more alcohol, Hermione's eyes lit up. Once again, Johnny found himself being dragged around by her. This time, back to the punch bowl. She poured them both a generous glass.

Johnny decided to just take some sips of his. But he watched as Hermione finished hers up within five minutes.

"I might have to cut you off soon," he remarked. Half serious.

Her cheeks were very rosy now, and she had a dumb grin on her face.

"You're no fun," she said in return. Johnny sputtered at the accusation, especially when it was coming from Hermione Granger, the most rule-abiding, uptight person he knew. Not that she wasn't nice to be around or anything, but god, the irony of her saying that was not lost on him.

The band was playing a slow song. People flooded the center of the room.

Hermione had a determined look in her eye.

"Oh no, don't you even think about it."

Again, she grabbed his hands.

"I can't dance," he said.

Hermione tugged him towards the center with the others.

"I'm totally going to step on your feet," he added.

Another tug.

Johnny sighed.

She took his hands and placed one on her waist, and kept the other in her grasp. Her free hand rested on his shoulder.

"It's quite simple," Hermione said. They were dangerously close now.

She guided him with surprising ease, and he only managed to step on her toes once. The song playing behind them was beautiful. Johnny was struck with the sudden urge to kiss her. She was stunning, and despite all his flaws, his terrible nature, and his awful past, she accepted him. Hermione cared for him unconditionally. But as soon as the idea entered his mind, he shot it down.

More than anything, Johnny was a coward. It wasn't about not being good enough for her, it was about him not feeling like he deserved this. Happiness. Johnny didn't even know why he felt this way either. It was irrational, she'd say as much if he voiced his thoughts aloud.

Then what was stopping him?

The song ended, and after a few moments, they broke apart. 

She was still just staring into his eyes. 

"I think, um - I... think I'll go get us more punch. Yeah."

With that charming statement, he beat a hasty retreat.

"Harry, I’d like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires - and, of course, his friend Sanguini."

He plastered a smile on his face as he shook Worple's hand. He was a small, stout, bespectacled man that returned it enthusiastically. The vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.

Harry gripped Tracey's hand tighter, and she gave him a squeeze in return.

"Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" Worple said, peering shortsightedly up into Harry’s face. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, 'Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?'"

"Er, were you?" Harry asked.

Slughorn and Worple laughed. "Just as modest as Horace described!" His expression then became serious, and his tone was businesslike. "But seriously, I would be delighted to write it myself. people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you - ask Sanguini here if it isn’t quite - Sanguini, stay here!" Worple said suddenly, sounding very stern. The vampire had been edging toward the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye. "Here, have a pasty," Worple said, seizing one from a passing elf holding a tray and stuffing it into Sanguini’s hand before turning his attention back to Harry. "My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea-"

"I’m definitely not interested," Harry said firmly, "and I’ve just seen a friend of mine, sorry." He tugged Tracey away. Harry wasn't lying, he had seen what looked like Hermione talking to an older woman from across the room.

"Does that happen a lot to you?" Tracey asked, and he stopped to look at her.

"It used to," Harry said, remembering what it was like in his first year, especially at Diagon Alley and in the Leaky Cauldron. "Honestly, I'd rather the entire school go back to thinking I'm mad than all of this."

Tracey suddenly looked down at the floor.

"I used to think you were mad..." she admitted, "at first anyway."

Harry found himself unable to be angry at the admission. He could blame her, it was foolish to think he'd be so petty and attention-seeking as to lie about the return of Britain's most feared Dark Lord, but he just couldn't be upset, not at her.

"S'okay," he said, smiling at her. "Reckon you've more than made up for it." Harry gave her hand a squeeze.

Tracey smiled back, it lit up her entire face.

He turned his head to look for Hermione again, but a crowd had formed in the centre of the room, and a slow song had started to play.

"Guess that means we have to dance," Harry said, "I'll try not to step on your toes."

Tracey's face was red. "W-we really don't have to, i-if you don't want to..."

"It's not a big deal," he laughed, "it's a good excuse to not have to talk to anyone else either."

She had an odd look on her face when he said that, but it was only for a second.

"Alright then..."

He still wasn't very good at dancing, admittedly. Harry didn't step on her toes or anything, but he still moved around awkwardly. They were close, and it was hard not to be distracted by her eyes. They really were incredibly blue. Harry had a bit of a jolt of realization that he was fantasizing about Tracey Davis' eyes, and he tripped up a little bit as they danced.

"Are you okay?" She asked, face full of genuine concern. It was something he always appreciated about her.

"Y-yeah," he said, not fully understanding where any of this was coming from.

Mercifully, the song ended and he broke away from Tracey.

"Er, shall we have something to drink?" He asked, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the punch bowl.

Tracey, whose face was still a little pink-tinged, nodded in agreement.

They walked over there, Harry having to politely shut down further conversations with other guests as they went along, citing the same excuse he gave to Worple.

There was only one person by the punch bowl, and mercifully it was just Johnny.

"Hey," he said with a nod as they approached.

Harry returned the greeting. "Where's Hermione?" He asked.

"Went off to talk to someone named Barnaby Nettlebed," Johnny answered with a chuckle, "apparently he's the head of the department of the regulation and control of magical creatures. Jesus that's a mouthful."

"My mum knew him," Tracey said suddenly, before blushing at her own outburst. "They were in the same house and year at Hogwarts... she always said he was a nice man."

Harry smiled at her. "Hermione's probably trying to get him to give magical creatures better rights."

Johnny made a noise of agreement, and he eyed the elves walking around holding trays of food and drinks with distaste. "I politely declined to be dragged along to that one."

He seemed a little on edge. Harry was half-tempted to describe him as nervous but he'd never seen Johnny like that before, except for back in Hogsmeade when he admitted to liking Hermione. Oh. That made sense then.

"You two danced just now, I assume?" Harry asked, a grin still on his face. 

Johnny's face was already pink, probably from prior embarrassment but it likely also had something to do with the drink in his hand.

"How many of those have you had?" Harry asked him, pointing at the full glass in his hand.

"Two and a half," Johnny replied, "I refilled this one once I got halfway through it."

"I thought you didn't drink?" Harry said.

"Well... I mean - that's-" Johnny stopped himself, and sighed. "I don't, not really, she's just been dragging me around and practically forcing me to have some."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at how much of a child Johnny was coming off as. It was a stark contrast to the normally very serious young man he was.

He turned back to look at his date. "Do you want some, Tracey?"

"O-oh, sure," she said, surprised at being asked, "thanks."

As he poured, Harry noticed Johnny eye Tracey.

"I remember you," he said to her, and she jolted a little. "From the Department of Mysteries. You saved me."

Her eyes widened. "That's why you seem so familiar! You were at King's Cross too, in the leather jacket..." she trailed off, seeming to realize something. "Your head was on fire..."

Johnny opened his mouth to say something when a tall figure swooped in beside him.

It was Professor Snape, and he sneered down at them, though Harry could tell this one had no malice behind it. He was getting good at spotting the difference now that they were on good terms.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?" Snape drawled.

"Before you got here, yeah," came Johnny's immediate response, but Snape merely smiled back sardonically at him.

"Then I'll be brief," he said. "Professor Dumbledore has wished for me to relay a message to you two," Snape nodded to Johnny and Harry. "He'll be out of the castle for some time, and your little lesson will have to be postponed until after the break when term resumes."

Harry stared back blankly at him. "Do you know where he's gone?"

Snape returned the look. "I was just about to ask you that."

Silence, except for the general party background noise.

"He hasn't told you?" Harry asked.

It was a sign of Snape's newfound tolerance of him that he did not insult Harry for such a question.

"No..." Snape said. "He's been dodging me after I last saw him."

That was surprising to Harry. He knew Dumbledore trusted Snape a great deal. Unfounded or not.

"Well, that is all I had to say," Snape concluded, before leaving with a flap of his cape.

"Weird," Johnny said when Snape was out of earshot. "I thought they told each other everything."

Harry silently agreed, but perhaps this wasn't the best place to discuss it, he took note of Tracey's confused expression.

It was perfect timing then, that another slow song started up.

He turned back to Tracey with a shy grin. "C'mon." He gave her hand a tug.

With one last glance at Johnny - who seemed to be not-so-subtly scanning the room for Hermione - they were off.

Johnny found her in the far corner looking panicked under the gaze of Cormac McLaggen.

He approached them with newfound courage and no small amount of annoyance. Johnny moved not very gently passed some partygoers, even having to make an excuse to avoid a conversation with Slughorn along the way. Honestly, a chat with a very drunk man who was loud enough when sober during a slow song would more than likely be the death of him.

"C'mon," he said once he got near them, ignoring McLaggen entirely. "We're dancing." He held out his hand.

She took it immediately, and that's when McLaggen cleared his throat.

"I was actually just asking her to do exactly that." He said in a pompous tone, but it was ruined by the fact that he was visibly annoyed at Johnny's arrival.

"Were you now?" Johnny drawled in return, doing his best to ignore the fact he sounded just like Snape. "I'm here as her date, and I've barely gotten to dance with her as it is. So if you'll excuse us..."

Johnny gave the other man no time to argue the point, and instead, he found himself tugging Hermione along to the center of the room.

"I thought you couldn't dance," she teased, latching onto his arm and grinning up at him.

"I'm not much of a dancer, no," he agreed, before eyeing her. "And you're not much of a drinker, either."

"I've only had like, three drinks," she said, managing not to slur her words. He would have been convinced, too, if she had not proudly held up four fingers.

He chuckled. "You're welcome for the save, by the way."

"I could have handled him," Hermione said, putting her arms around his neck as they swayed. "But I doubt he'll try anything from now on, he probably thinks you're my boyfriend."

Johnny nearly tripped over his own feet. Oh god, he totally came off that way. 

"You're at perfect liberty to dance with whomever you like." He said.

Hermione hummed. "Good answer."

"I try."

He felt like a fucking dumbass. She didn't need him to save her like that, nor did she probably want him to. Before he could overthink it though, he reasoned with himself that if she was actually annoyed, she would have told him. Didn't stop him from kicking himself internally though.

"I suppose it's okay," she said, "considering the only person I want to dance with tonight is you."

Lord, maybe he should have left her to fend for herself. Perhaps then his face wouldn't be heating up like a furnace, and he wouldn't have to feel so embarrassed and out of his depth.

He smirked back though, being able to at least keep some semblance of control over his facial expression. 

"Lucky me."

"Indeed."

"Who taught you how to dance?"

Tracey's eyes went wide in surprise at the question. "H-huh? Oh..."

"You're really good at it, much better than I am," Harry admitted. 

"Ah, well..." she trailed off. "My mum gave me lessons when I was a child."

Harry didn't know what to say in response. He never had that growing up. Only frying pans thrown at his head and raging fists.

"She sounds nice," He finally settled on.

There was complete silence between them for a few moments.

"She passed away when I was six," Tracey said.

"I'm sorry," Harry responded genuinely. "That's awful."

Tracey shrugged as they swayed. "At least I got a few good years with her... growing up without her, I can't even imagine... I-I don't know how you did it."

He swallowed and looked away. Harry never really talked about the Dursleys, not even to Ron or Hermione or even Sirius, really. He was sure they knew that they were awful, but he didn't know if he could ever tell them exactly how bad they truly were to him. How he lived in fear every day.

"I'm sorry," Tracey said, looking into his eyes. "I don't mean to make you think about it..."

"No," he said, meeting her gaze. "I wasn't thinking about that, I was just, er, well-" He stopped himself, not that he could have properly articulated it anyway, but something caught his eye.

Red berries attached to a small green twig with two oval leaves hung just above them.

"Mistletoe," he breathed, glancing back down at Tracey with no small amount of fear.

She too looked almost paralyzed.

The last time he was in this sort of situation, it didn't end very well for him. Thankfully, this wasn't one of Fred and George's versions of the twig, otherwise, they'd be forced to kiss.

An image of him kissing Tracey Davis appeared in his mind almost immediately.

"I-it's not charmed or anything," she said, breaking the awkward silence. "So, er, we don't have to."

"Y-yeah," he replied, his heart pounding annoyingly.

Merlin, kill him now.

"He was quite gross about it," Hermione said during their dance. "Leering at my cleavage like I'm blind or something. Acting as if I owe him a dance."

Her words only reaffirmed his decision to step in, overprotective or not. He decided not to mention that he had also taken a little glance, already ashamed of himself as it was.

"He's an asshole," Johnny said.

Hermione giggled a very un-Hermione giggle. "Yes, he is. And not nearly as handsome as he thinks."

That made him feel good, as childish as that was.

"I almost wish he tried something," he said. "I've been that bored."

She frowned at him. 

"Sorry," he said, Johnny hated that look. Felt like he was disappointing her.

"It’s just… I've been cooped up here for months. And - and yeah, I am helping. Dumbledore's meetings are important, and soon we'll be able to act but... it's... I don't even know. I'm not the Rider and I just don't know what to do with myself. Things were simpler then, as awful as that sounds. Punish the guilty and destroy the demons that had infiltrated society. And it's so stupid because things are better. I'm not as angry anymore - frustrated, sure - but to be free of that weight, that burning hatred... it's amazing..."

"But?" She prompted softly.

"But I'm useless now." He continued, voicing what he had been thinking over and over for months. "I'm of no help. Even if we find a Horcrux, I won't be able to destroy it, they'll just use the sword or something."

Johnny met her eyes, which he had been trying to avoid the whole time he spoke. The rant was out of nowhere, but for some reason, now felt like the perfect time to talk to her about it. He'd been wanting to for weeks, and just to get it out of his system and hear her opinion. She was one of the only few people whose opinion he actually valued.

To his relief, there was no pity on her face, but a very serious look.

"You're more than your curse," Hermione said, cupping his cheek. "You've been through so much... and to still be one of the most selfless, bravest people I know? That's... that's something."

Her words were too kind. Far kinder than he deserved. Even if they were slurred, it didn't matter, what she just said to him meant so much.

"Thank you," he said, almost choking up.

Hermione smiled at him, one of those smiles that lit up his world. 

In the blink of an eye, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

His brain was thrown for a loop, and Johnny's eyes closed immediately. A second later they shot wide open.

Johnny pushed her away. As fast as it had started it was over, he already missed the feeling of her lips on his. She had an unmistakable look of hurt on her face.

"You're drunk," he said, she had been slurring her words most of the night. It wasn't right to kiss her like this.

"So?" She responded, with no small amount of annoyance.

"Don't be stupid, we can't, I-I won't kiss you when you're drunk."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but just then the doors burst open. Filch, the caretaker, was dragging Draco Malfoy by his ear. The music had stopped, and everyone's attention was on the new arrivals.

"Professor Slughorn," Filch wheezed, looking very pleased with himself. "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"

Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch’s grip, looking furious. "All right, I wasn’t invited!" He said angrily. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

"No, I’m not!" Filch said, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. "You’re in trouble, you are! Didn’t the headmaster say that nighttime prowling’s out unless you’ve got permission, didn’t he, eh?"

"That’s all right, Argus, that’s all right," Slughorn said, waving a hand. "It’s Christmas, and it’s not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we’ll forget any punishment; you may stay Draco."

Filch’s expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly predictable; but why did Malfoy look equally as upset if his plan was to get into the party? And why was Snape looking at Malfoy as though both angry and... almost a little afraid?

He could barely register this though, as in the next moment Filch was shuffling away muttering angrily and Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, and Snape’s face was smoothly inscrutable again. 

"It’s nothing, nothing," Slughorn said, waving away Malfoy’s thanks. "I did know your grandfather, after all..."

"He always spoke very highly of you, sir," Malfoy said quickly. "Said you were the best potion-maker he’d ever known." The teen looked physically ill. Weak, almost. Dark circles under sunken eyes. A distinct grayish tinge to his skin even worse than the last time Johnny saw him.

"I’d like a word with you, Draco," Snape said suddenly.

"Oh, now, Severus," Slughorn said, hiccuping, "it’s Christmas, don’t be too hard -"

"I’m his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be," Snape said curtly. "Follow me, Draco." They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful.

Johnny glanced around the room for Harry but didn't see him or Tracey.

They were gone, and he had a pretty good idea of where they went.

"C'mon," he said, grabbing Hermione's hand.

She didn't say a word of protest, to his surprise, but instead hit him on the head with her wand once they were at the doors. He felt the sensation of someone cracking an egg over his head with the yoke trickling down. Johnny stopped and saw that he could barely even see his hand. Or Hermione's for that matter.

"Disillusionment charm," she whispered, "let's go or we'll lose them."

Thankfully, they weren't too far behind. The sound of music and conversations continued on from Slughorn's office. He thought of her lips on his the entire way there.

They caught up as Snape and Malfoy turned a corner into a hallway that Johnny knew was a dead end. He and Hermione crouched down nearby.

"...cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled -"

"I didn’t have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it."

"Who suspects me?" Malfoy said angrily. "For the last time, I didn’t do it, okay? That Bell girl must’ve had an enemy no one knows about - don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re doing, I’m not stupid, but it won’t work - I can stop you!"

There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, "Ah... Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

"I’m not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don’t want you butting in!"

"So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? I know what you have done to yourself," Snape snarled. "I know why you lock yourself away in the Room of Requirement for days on end. If you cannot control it, it will destroy you, Draco. You are a danger to everyone at this school."

Johnny froze. He was locking himself inside the Room of Requirement? Why? How was this sixteen-year-old who looked like he was knocking on death's door possibly a threat?

"You don't know everything," Malfoy said cryptically. "And so what if I didn't go to your bloody office? Put me in detention then! Report me to Dumbledore!"

There was another pause. Then Snape said, "You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things."

"You’d better stop telling me to come to your office then!"

"Listen to me," Snape said, his voice incredibly low now. I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco -"

"Looks like you’ll have to break it, then, because I don’t need your protection! It’s my job, he gave it to me and I’m doing it, I’ve got a plan and it’s going to work, it’s just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!"

"What is your plan?"

"It’s none of your business!"

"If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you-"

"I’ve got all the assistance I need, thanks, I’m not alone!"

"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes -"

"I would’ve had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn’t put them in detention!"

"Keep your voice down!" Snape spat, for Malfoy’s voice had risen too loud. "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres -"

"What does it matter?" Malfoy said. "Defense Against the Dark Arts - it’s all just a joke, isn’t it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts -"

"It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" Snape said. "Where do you think I would have been all these years if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle -"

"They’re not the only ones, I’ve got other people on my side, better people!"

"Then why not confide in me, and I can -"

"I know what you’re up to! You want to steal my glory!"

There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father’s capture and imprisonment has upset you, but —"

Johnny had to move out of the way suddenly, dragging Hermione with him as Malfoy turned the corner and stormed off in the opposite direction, leaving Snape alone. He emerged from the hallway eventually as well, his expression unreadable, before returning to the party.

"Harry," Johnny whispered after a few moments, Hermione squeezed his hand in panic. 

But just a mere two feet to their right, Harry and Tracey materialized out of thin air, taking Harry's cloak off.

"Johnny?" He asked. 

Hermione disillusioned them, and the four of them merely stared at each other in awe of what they had just overheard.

"What the fuck?" Johnny said.

Chapter Text

"Whatever and whoever he is, if he's watching this, I want him to know that he saved my boy's life. He's a hero."

The train ride back to London a few days later so far was uneventful. He sat in relative silence for most of the trip with Ron and Harry speaking in hushed tones.

"So Snape was offering to help him? He was definitely offering to help him?" Ron had asked for the hundredth time.

"If you ask that once more," Harry said, "I’m going to stick my wand-"

"I'm only checking!"

Hermione had kissed him at Slughorn's party, and Johnny had ruined it all by pushing her away.

She was drunk, he reasoned to himself. He still stood by his decision. 

But now she wasn't speaking to him.

"He said he’d promised Malfoy’s mother to protect him, that he’d made an Unbreakable Oath or something." Harry continued.

"An Unbreakable Vow?" Ron said, looking stunned. "Nah, he can’t have... Are you sure?"

"Yes, I’m sure," Harry said. "Why, what does it mean?"

"Well, you can’t break an Unbreakable Vow..."

"I’d worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if you break it, then?"

"You die," Ron said simply. "Fred and George tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when Dad found us. He went mental," Ron continued. "Only time I’ve ever seen Dad as angry as Mum. Fred reckons his left buttock has never been the same since."

The Scottish landscape whizzed by as Johnny further contemplated the events of the party and what followed after. 

"What could Malfoy possibly be working on, though?" Ron asked.

"Well, after giving Katie the cursed necklace, I'd imagine he'd want another crack at whoever it was actually intended for," Harry said.

"Assuming he was actually the one who did that," Ron added. Harry ignored him.

"We'd just have to figure out who he wanted to curse in the first place," Johnny said.

"You, for starters," Ron said, motioning to Harry. "Maybe Dumbledore too? If you think it's actually Malfoy, and that You-Know-Who's given a sixteen-year-old a mission like that, you two are the only people who make sense."

Harry blinked at Ron, even Johnny stared at him in muted surprise.

"What?" He asked, looking between them. "I can be smart when I want to!"

"He's looked really bad, lately, hasn't he?" Johnny asked, ignoring Ron's outburst.

"Stress, maybe," Harry said. "Voldemort's probably threatened him and his family."

Ron seemed to agree with Harry there, but Johnny thought about how odd he had felt after every encounter with the teen these past months.

Before any of them could voice any further theories, there was a knock at the compartment door.

Johnny realistically expected some of Harry's fan club to be there, and foolishly hoped it'd actually be Hermione.

Instead, Tracey Davis was blushing furiously as she waved awkwardly to Harry, Blaise Zabini at her side and grinning at them.

Harry beckoned them inside.

"Hi," Tracey said, sounding a little breathless, "we've been looking all over the train for you."

It was now Harry's turn to blush. "R-really?"

Tracey and Blaise nodded enthusiastically. "We were wondering if it would be okay if we spent the rest of the ride back with you lot. It's getting quite hard pretending to be rude and sneering to the younger years to scare them away from trying to sit with us."

"Being scary Slytherin's seems like hard work," Ron joked. 

"It is," Tracey said, sliding into the spot next to him with Blaise joining her. "Though, it doesn't work on everyone." She said, giving Harry a small smile that he returned. 

God, somebody kill him now. This was way too wholesome.

He turned his head back to the window, his thoughts returning to Hermione's lips on his.

Goddamit.

"So, what are we talking about?" Tracey asked after a few moments.

"Snape making an unbreakable vow," Harry answered. 

Tracey nodded as if expecting this. Clearly, Blaise knew too, because he didn't look surprised.

"That reminds me, actually," she said, "I saw Crabbe and Goyle with burns on their forearms a few days ago after coming back to the common room late one night with Draco."

"Burns?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Yeah, really nasty looking," Tracey answered. "They're not very good at hiding it or their discomfort."

Johnny's brows furrowed. Burns, huh. And clearly, the two of them were helping Malfoy out with something, if they were out late with him. 

They debated a little about what could have burned them so badly like that, but it was pointless, as none of them could come up with a solid sounding theory.

"I'm honestly surprised he hasn't said anything about me yet to a newspaper or something," Johnny said.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, before realizing, "oh, that."

Johnny smirked. "Yeah. His mom knows, clearly, by how she insulted me when we saw them in that robe store."

"I guess they don't really have enough merit. Nobody's going to listen to the family members of Death Eater's." Harry said.

Beside him, Johnny saw an odd expression come over Tracey's face for a moment, but it quickly passed.

"I guess," he agreed. "But still, the loyalty Dumbledore must inspire in the staff here is crazy to me, the way they bought his whole thing about me being a wizard from the States seems too easy to me."

"You mean, you're not a wizard?" Tracey asked, mouth agape. 

Johnny leaned forward a little, giving her a lopsided grin. "You ever seen a wizard's head burst into flames and turn into a skeleton?"

"Well... well no, but, you have to be the first muggle ever to have even seen Hogwarts, much less stepped inside it!"

"Yay for me," Johnny said, punching an arm into the air.

Both Tracey and Blaise were still in shock at the revelation. Ron just chuckled.

"It was weird at first for us too," he said, "when Johnny first arrived. Looking confused at every other word that came out of our mouths."

"That wasn't because of wizarding terminology," Johnny said with faked disdain. "It's because you're British."

"Oh, piss off!"

"Aaah, Remus, look at this. He's turning on the oven by hand and everything. Bless him."

Johnny spared a scathing look at Sirius for just a moment as he returned his attention to cooking.

"You're the ones who want to go out for a bit of shopping, might as well get something started now." He said in response.

Sirius ruffled his hair good-naturedly. "Just messing with you, kiddo. And the reason we're going out for a bit of shopping in the first place is that I won't be able to do it any other day. Gotta head back to Stromness soon to swap in with Karkaroff for a few days before Christmas."

"How is he doing?" Johnny asked, standing up now and fully facing the two.

"Better than expected," Sirius admitted. "Hasn't complained once."

"I think he's finally willing to really step up," Remus added, "which is all the better for us."

"How's Galloway Forest?"

Remus' face darkened and Johnny immediately regretted asking.

"Not progressing as well enough as I'd like," he said. "The other's... they dislike me because I use Wolfsbane potion. They think me weak. And to be honest, they don't think much of the Order or of Dumbledore either. I think Greyback has swayed them in Voldemort's favor."

He didn't really know what to say to that, so Johnny busied himself with cooking.

"Seriously," Sirius said with a small hint of exasperation. "Kreacher is here for a reason."

Johnny shook his head. "I think I heard him crying in his cupboard. Didn't want to bother him."

"Working would make him feel better." Sirius countered. 

Johnny gave him a look that told him to drop it, and thankfully he did. Honestly, he didn't feel like explaining why he wouldn't order Kreacher around.

"There'll be some nice baked pasta waiting for you when you come back," Johnny said.

"Brilliant, make enough for Mad-Eye too, he said he was going to come around later."

"Will do."

He got back to cooking as the other two departed with two small pops. Johnny liked cooking, it was almost peaceful, so long as he didn't mess up. Mona had taught him how to pretty quickly after she and Crash had adopted him. Johnny sang under his breath as he went, not even noticing when a woman with violet-colored hair entered the dining area.

"Wotcher," he heard someone say, and Johnny jumped a little.

"Fuck," he said, turning to see Tonks standing behind him, dressed in pyjamas. "What're you doing here?"

She raised a violet eyebrow at him. "I live here."

"I thought you had an apartment?" He asked.

"I did." She said. "But I was spending too much time here or at my parent's place anyway and sort of got evicted."

"Oh," He said smartly. "That sucks."

"Not really," Tonks replied with a shrug. "Place was a right dump anyway."

"Auror wages are shit, then?" 

"Oh yeah, shit work for shit pay at the moment. Wouldn't trade it for anything."

Johnny had missed her, he realized. Her company, her wit. She was his friend, and yet, they barely spoke or corresponded these last few months. Even Sirius sent letters while Johnny was at Hogwarts. It had bothered him back in the summer, and he realized it still really did now.

"What'cha making?" She asked as he returned to cooking.

"Pasta." He responded.

"In the oven?"

"Mhm, it's my mom's recipe."

He paused and sighed. They were going to have to talk about it.

"Tonks, why-"

"Johnny, I-"

They both stopped.

"You can go first." They said simultaneously.

Johnny held out a hand. "Can I ask you why you've been avoiding me?"

Credit to her, she didn't deny it immediately. Instead, Tonks wrung her hands together repeatedly and didn't look him in the eye. Which admittedly wasn't much better.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know if you'd actually wanted to talk to me."

"Why wouldn't I want to talk to you?" He asked incredulously. What was she talking about?

Tonks glanced around the room for a few moments, but even the warmer decor that Sirius had brought in to revamp the house was not enough of a reason to avoid answering.

"I thought you would be upset with me." She said.

"Why?"

"I was duelling Bellatrix, at the department of mysteries and..." She said. "And I fought like a fucking rookie. I let my anger override my good judgment and I ignored my training."

"She's Sirius' cousin, right?" Johnny asked. He'd never forget her for as long as he lived. She was the one who stripped him of his powers. The one who had nearly killed him. Twice.

Tonks nodded. "Yeah, which makes her my aunt. Our family was a piece of work, Johnny. Striking members from the tree and disowning them left and right as the years went on. Sirius, his uncle Alphard, Cedrella, who married a Weasley. Even my own mum."

Johnny tried to take it all in. He knew Sirius' family was crazy, the screeching portrait of his bitch of a mom proof enough. But to disown so many of their own blood? It seemed extreme.

"I've always hated her," Tonks continued. "Being associated with her, seeing the look on my mum's face whenever she or Narcissa were brought up. Sirius too before Harry helped free him in his third year. When I saw her at the battle... I just lost it... she knocked me out and nearly killed me when my head smacked off the stone steps. And- and maybe if I had just focused, she wouldn't have been able to send you through the veil, or separated you from your powers."

Johnny's first instinct was to laugh. Thankfully he didn't. 

Instead, he said. "Tonks, I don't blame you for any of it."

"You should," she muttered.

"Bullshit," came his immediate response. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

That, got her to finally look at him.

"You could have died!" Tonks almost yelled. "You had no idea what the Veil was, and you still had to be the hero and put yourself in the way and save Sirius!"

"I don't care." He said plainly. "I'd do it all over again. I'd do it for any of you, you're like a second family to me." Johnny couldn't lose them too. Wouldn't lose them. "You can't go blaming yourself for this shit. Carrying that kind of guilt... it can destroy you if you're not careful. I know."

Honestly, he hadn't even been thinking when he shoved Sirius out of the way at the battle. Johnny had just seen someone he cared about in imminent danger and acted. He didn't think himself very heroic. All the people he's killed, even if they deserved it... it took a toll. Not a great one on his conscious, if he was honest. They were all sacks of shit as far as Johnny was concerned, but still. Sometimes it scared him, how it didn't bother him as much as it probably should have. 

"You're my friend, Tonks." He said. "Nothing will change that, but it hurts that you were avoiding me."

Tonks looked down, breaking eye contact. "I'm sorry."

Johnny pulled her into a hug. "It's okay."

She snorted into his chest. "Not really. Look at you, eighteen and far more mature than me, you're so grown up."

"I had to be," he said quietly.

"I know," she replied.

They pulled apart, smiling at each other. 

"Merlin, I'm daft, aren't I?"

"Nah," Johnny said, "you're human."

Tonks smiled a bit more at that. "Alright well, enough of this happy family shite, need any help cooking?"

"If I wanted to burn down the house, yeah."

"You prat!"

They both laughed, and Tonks went to go sit on an armchair as he continued his cooking.

Harry eventually made his way downstairs as well, having just woken up. 

"Honestly, you two," Johnny said, shaking his head. "First day of break and you're both sleeping until one in the afternoon."

"You sound like Hermione," Harry grumbled, and Johnny could feel himself flush.

"Whatever," he said in return, "you're gonna have to wait a bit for lunch."

"Why not just have Kreacher do it?" Tonks asked from her seat. 

"Sirius asked the same thing," Johnny said. "I like to cook, it's a nice way to pass time."

"Weirdo," Tonks said, and he scoffed. But Johnny knew at least that Harry felt the same.

"How's your training with Hermione going, Tonks?" Harry asked, he had taken a seat at the table adjacent to her.

"Good, actually," Tonks said. "Hermione's a quick learner. I have to keep upping the difficulty and complexity after every session."

Johnny smiled to himself. Yeah, that sounded about right.

He put the pasta in the oven and turned back to the other two. Tonks was now reading a newspaper, and Johnny briefly marvelled at the moving pictures. He'd never get over that. 

Johnny looked at Harry, who seemed to be deep in thought.

"What's up?" He asked him.

Harry sighed. "I should probably start training too."

"Definitely," Johnny said after a moment. "But I'm sure soon enough Dumbledore will start teaching you some things." 

"I would say I could help, but with patrolling Hogsmeade and the school, as well as Hermione's training..." Tonks said. "I mean, you could always join us, but you'd probably want to talk to Hermione about it first to see if it's alright."

"She's in France," Harry said. "She abandoned her vacation plans last year because of what happened with Voldemort's snake and Johnny. I'll have to wait until we go back to school."

"Rotten luck that," Tonks said sympathetically. "I'm sure she'll say yes, though. I don't see why she wouldn't."

Johnny frowned, a little hurt that she never told him that she was going to France for the holidays. But then again, after what happened at Slughorn's party... he supposed it shouldn't have come as a surprise.

"Y'know," he said to Harry. "Moody is coming by later, maybe you could talk to him?"

Harry looked more hopeful at that. "Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks, mate. Let's hope that I can survive it."

Tonks snorted. "Oh, you'll live, alright, but I can't say much about what will happen to your sanity. Believe me."

Harry was beginning to think Tonks may have had a point.

They were in the basement of Grimmauld Place. Sirius had given them permission to use it when he had gotten back with Remus. Moody had shown up just before them, and after they had eaten he and Harry headed downstairs. It was a dreary place, really, the only remnant of the old house before Sirius redecorated it. Boxes of old kitchen utensils, heirlooms, and furniture spread out at random.

"Not bad, Potter." Moody's voice growled from above him as he regained consciousness. "You have good instincts and reflexes."

Pretty high praise coming from the most revered Auror perhaps of all time. Harry stood up with a small smile.

"But," Moody continued, and Harry's smile immediately left his face. "You dive around too much. Sometimes that's necessary, on the battlefield, those instincts will save your life. However, you'll tire yourself out fast, moving around like that. Everything you sent my way I was able to block or deflect, I barely broke a sweat. That's something you need to work on, and I plan on pushing that weakness until you improve."

He was right, of course. The way he was no was simply not good enough. It's why he asked Moody in the first place. Seeing Hermione take the initiative reminded him just how serious the situation truly was. Perhaps Harry was too focused on what Malfoy was up to, maybe it clouded his mind too much to realize, but he had finally smartened up. And he didn't plan on stopping with just being trained by Moody, either. Harry would speak to Sirius, Remus and Kingsley if he could spare the time. When they went back to Hogwarts, he'd talk to Hermione about joining her and Tonks as well.

"Ready to go again?" Moody asked, appraising him.

Harry merely nodded with no small amount of fear.

It'd suck, no doubt, getting his arse handed to him several times, but Harry hoped it would at least help keep him alive for what was coming.

And suck it did. When Sirius and Remus got back from their shopping trip, Harry spoke to them too. Remus ran him through a few advanced protection spells. Some had more niche uses than the standard Protego or did a few things better than it. Harry learned about different types of wards as well.

Sirius taught him some spells to shake up the entire environment of a duel. Spells that grew all the flora in the area to annoying degrees, mini earthquakes and the like.

However, after supper - steak that Johnny made - it was back to duelling. As if being thoroughly beaten by Mad-Eye's brute force wasn't enough, Harry was subjected to Sirius' wild style of duelling and Remus' stunning technical ability. Still, all three dueled in very different ways, which was incredibly helpful in moulding his own form, as well as allowing him to be able to change tactics and adapt. 

All in all, it was a very productive day.

"Have you ever heard of someone called the Half-Blood Prince?"

"The Half-Blood what?"

"Prince," Harry said, watching both Sirius' and Remus' reactions for any sign of recognition. It had been something he had meant to ask for a while now. The silly idea of it being his father not managing to go away completely, despite the fact that Harry knew it wasn't possible. They were at the Burrow for Christmas Eve. Several Order members were there save Elphias, Hestia as well as her uncle and his friends, Mad-Eye, Kingsley, Hagrid, Dedalus and Sturgis.

"There are no Wizarding princes," Remus said, now smiling as he took a sip from his eggnog. "Is this a title you’re thinking of adopting? I should have thought being ‘the Chosen One’ would be enough."

"It’s nothing to do with me!” Harry said indignantly. He quickly looked around to make sure he hadn't made a scene. Ron was playing chess with Johnny, who was actually the only one Harry had ever seen put up a decent fight against him. Ginny was upstairs somewhere, as was Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley sat nearby, sipping his own eggnog. Fleur and Bill were sitting down together on the loveseat in the corner of the room, Tonks sat at the kitchen island by herself while Karkaroff sulked in the opposite corner of Bill and Fleur, a glass of eggnog untouched on the table nearby. "The Half-Blood Prince is someone who used to go to Hogwarts," Harry continued more quietly. "I’ve got his old Potions book. He wrote spells all over it, spells he invented. One of them was Levicorpus-"

"Oh, I remember that one!" Sirius said with a little bit of excitement.

"That one had a great vogue during our time at Hogwarts," Lupin said reminiscently. "There were a few months in my fifth year when you couldn’t move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle."

"Funny, that was," Sirius said, "but bloody annoying in hindsight."

Remus nodded. "A lot of the things we did back then were annoying."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed, his smile a little pained. 

"Your dad liked that spell in particular," Remus said.

Harry's eyes went wide. "Really?" Surely Remus did not mean to say that he frequently harassed students with that? A spell that Death Eaters used at the Quidditch World cup around two years ago?

"I don't want to give you the wrong impression," Remus rushed to explain. "But, well, if your father didn't like someone... he made sure they knew, especially when it came to Professor Snape."

Harry knew that they had hated each other in school, Sirius too. But it seemed to be for more than just his dad saving Snape's life.

"Your father was a good man," Sirius said. "He matured greatly in our final two years at Hogwarts." He looked a little sad. "I was worse, believe me."

Harry knew, what he must have been referring to. Nearly getting Snape killed by luring him into the Shrieking Shack whilst Remus was going through his transformation.

"But he wasn’t the only one." Remus continued. "As I say, it was very popular... You know how these spells come and go..."

"But it sounds like it was invented while you were at school," Harry persisted.

"Not necessarily," Lupin said. "Jinxes go in and out of fashion like everything else." He looked into Harry’s face and then said quietly, "James was a pureblood, Harry, and I promise you, he never asked us to call him ‘Prince.’"

Defeated, Harry looked away. "Oh," Harry said as he stared into the fire. "I just thought - well, he’s helped me out a lot in Potions classes, the Prince has."

"You should check and see if you can figure out how old the book is," Sirius said, "that might help." 

Harry shrugged.

"What have you been up to lately?" Harry said, changing the topic and asking Remus, whose face crumpled a little. Sirius' expression was also not a pleasant one.

"Oh, I’ve been underground," Remus said. "Almost literally."

"What do you mean?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look.

"I’ve been living among my fellows, my equals," Remus said after a moment. "Werewolves," he added, at Harry’s look of incomprehension. "Nearly all of them are on Voldemort’s side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was... ready-made."

He sounded bitter, and perhaps Remus realized it, for he attempted a warm smile.

"I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I?"

Sirius shook his head. "It's still not right," he said, "Dumbledore has to know how it makes you feel."

"Yes, well, someone has to do it," Remus replied. "However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing - and sometimes killing - to eat."

"How come they like Voldemort?" Harry asked. 

"They don't," Remus answered. "Not really, anyway. Aligning with him just gets them what they want, a better life... and revenge. They know that he doesn't give a damn about them, but how else will they have a fighting chance to tear down the Ministry?"

Harry didn't know what to think of that. Did the Ministry really treat Werewolves that badly even nowadays? He knew there were violent revolution attempts before, and certainly not just by Werewolves. But then he remembered how Umbridge talked to the Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest like they were a sub-species... it left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Oppress a people enough, and eventually they'll rise up," Sirius added. "It's happened before and it'll happen again."

"But you still keep Kreacher around," Harry said. "They're oppressed too, even if they don't see it that way. They've been conditioned to."

"Too true, kiddo," Sirius said. "Truth is, I'd love to let him go, and not just because I despise him. But once I do that, there's nothing to keep him from popping by Bellatrix or Narcissa, and spilling every secret we've got."

He'd never thought about it like that, he supposed it made sense.

"And whether they trust Voldemort or not, they'll follow Greyback's decisions regardless." Remus continued.

"Who's Greyback?" Harry asked.

"You haven’t heard of him?" Remus' hands closed convulsively in his lap. "I thought Johnny might have mentioned... Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most notorious Werewolf within the last few decades. He's a direct ancestor of the first ever Werewolf. Having a huge physical threat like that on your side, well, it usually produces good results."  Remus paused and then said, "It was Greyback who bit me."

"What?" Harry said, astonished. "When - when you were a kid, you mean?"

"Yes. My father had offended him. I did not know, for a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he had had no control, knowing by then how it felt to transform." Remus shook his head, chuckling. "What a fool I was. He's out for revenge, for blood from the people that would look down upon us, those that have oppressed us for centuries... I cannot say that the Ministry wouldn't deserve it, the old guard, anyway, they are the ones that even to this day have passed laws to make ours and others' lives harder." He paused. "But, if I allow myself to think like that... where does it end?"

Nobody said anything to that, and shortly after this, Fleur decided to imitate Celestina Warbeck singing 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love,' which was taken by everyone, once they had glimpsed Mrs. Weasley’s expression, to be the cue to go to bed. Remus apparated back with Johnny and Harry went with Sirius while Tonks and Karkaroff apparated by themselves.

"Any news?"

Johnny sat at the dining table along with several other Order members as Dumbledore addressed them all.

"Plockton's been all quiet," Fred said.

"Not that there was going to be any surprises there," George tacked on. "We've popped in from time to time, usually one of us spending half a week before returning."

"Elphias has sent a letter saying more or less the same," Dumbledore said with a small smile, "He has elected to stay in Crosby for a little longer, while Sturgis has gone home to his family, as has Dedalus."

"It's the same for us, Albus," Sirius said, nudging Karkaroff. "Igor here runs a tight ship." The other man scowled at him.

"Nothing in Folkestone as well," Mad-Eye added. "Mundungus is off somewhere getting sloshed right about now, I reckon." He added under his breath.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "In this case, no news is good news. I'll see about switching to different towns, but for now, good job everyone." He cleared his throat. "Bill, Fleur, how is Gringotts?"

"Nothing too out of the ordinary," Bill answered from his seat near the middle of the table, Fleur directly to his left. "The Goblins haven't breathed a word about choosing sides, of course, but that was expected. I'm not so sure they're at all sympathetic what with how the Ministry has treated them."

"Nor should anyone expect them to," Kingsley said, to which several others nodded along.

"And Hestia," Dumbledore said, turning to her, "how goes things with the vampires?"

"My uncle and the others are making some progress," Hestia said, turning a little pink at being called on suddenly. She was alone, presumably, her uncle and his friends stayed with the other vampires."Most don't trust You-Know-Who, but they don't exactly trust us, either. A few seem to be coming around, though."

"That's all we can hope for," Dumbledore said. "I have nothing else, Severus is with Lord Voldemort as we speak, ideally we'll learn something upon his return after the break."

Everyone stood up to leave. Johnny was surprised it was over that quickly. Compared to the staff meetings... eugh, it didn't even bear thinking about. He noticed Karkaroff still had a scowl on his face. Johnny elbowed him. 

"Hey, cheer up, it's Christmas." He said a little sarcastically. Even though he still felt down about Slughorn’s party, Hermione had sent him an Alice In Chain’s vinyl, so things couldn’t have been that bad between them. Unless it was planned in advance, he supposed.

Karkaroff's scowl deepened.

"You all packed for tomorrow?" Sirius said, coming up to him as Igor stalked off to his room.

Johnny frowned at the former Headmaster's protruding back for a moment before smiling at Sirius.

"Fuck yeah," he replied. "Not looking forward to travelling by Portkey again, but at least I'll be able to see James for a day."

Johnny was thrilled when Sirius accepted a few days back to take him to New York again. Not that he thought Sirius would decline. The prospect of seeing his brother, even if only for a little bit, made him feel like a giddy kid again. They had sent a letter ahead and everything, no doubt James was surprised to see an Owl at his window.

"Seeing you smile like that is worth the headache of getting an international Portkey," Sirius said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Johnny flushed. "Shut up."

"Just don't expect anything for Christmas though, eh?"

He punched him on the arm.

"She’s got to be joking..."

Harry couldn't help but snicker. He was in Ron's room at the Burrow with the rest of the Weasleys as well as Remus and Tonks for Christmas. Karkaroff had elected to stay behind at Grimmauld Place.

"What’s that?" Harry said.

"It’s from Lavender," Ron said, sounding revolted. "She can’t honestly think I’d wear..."

Harry looked more closely and let out a shout of laughter. Dangling from the chain in large gold letters were the words: 'My Sweetheart'

"Nice," he said. "Classy. You should definitely wear it in front of Fred and George."

"If you tell them," Ron said, shoving the necklace out of sight under his pillow, "I - I - I’ll -"

"Stutter at me?" Harry said, grinning. "Come on, would I?"

“How could she think I’d like something like that, though?” Ron demanded of thin air, looking rather shocked.

“Well, think back,” said Harry. “Have you ever let it slip that you’d like to go out in public with the words 'My Sweetheart' round your neck?"

"Well... we don’t really talk much," Ron said. "It’s mainly..."

"Snogging," Harry said.

"Well, yeah," Ron said, before shrugging and delving deeper into his bulging stocking.

Harry’s presents included a sweater with a large Golden Snitch worked onto the front, hand-knitted by Mrs. Weasley, a large box of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products from the twins, a book on duelling from Mad-Eye, some treacle tart from Remus, and a pocket-multitool that Sirius swore could open any lock. Johnny had gotten him a Roberta Flack album after Harry had mentioned liking one of her songs that Johnny was playing last year. Hermione had sent him a kit for Hedwig, which included cleaning utensils, treats he'd never seen before, and a selection of different-looking feeders.

Everybody was wearing new sweaters when they all sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Fleur (on whom, it appeared, that Mrs. Weasley had not wanted to waste one) and Mrs. Weasley herself, who was sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch’s hat glittering with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace.

"Fred and George gave them to me! Aren’t they beautiful?"

"Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, now we’re washing our own socks," George said, waving an airy hand.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, but very abruptly it turned into a look of complete shock. "Arthur!" She had risen from her chair; her hand was pressed over her heart and she was staring out of the kitchen window. "Arthur - it's Percy!"

"What?”

Everybody looked quickly at the window; Ginny stood up for a better look. There, sure enough, was Percy Weasley, striding across the snowy yard, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight. He was not, however, alone.

"Arthur, he’s - he’s with the Minister!"

And sure enough, the man Harry had seen in the Daily Prophet months ago was following along in Percy’s wake, limping slightly, his mane of graying hair and his black cloak flecked with snow. Before any of them could say anything, before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could do more than exchange stunned looks, the back door opened and there stood Percy.

There was a moment’s painful silence. Then Percy said rather stiffly, "Merry Christmas, mother."

"Oh, Percy!" Mrs. Weasley said, and she threw herself into his arms. 

Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick and smiling as he observed this affecting scene. "You must forgive this intrusion," he said when Mrs. Weasley looked around at him, beaming and wiping her eyes. "Percy and I were in the vicinity - working, you know - and he couldn’t resist dropping in and seeing you all."

But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the rest of the family. He stood, poker-straight and awkward looking, and stared over everybody else’s heads. Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George were all observing him, stony-faced. 

Percy had been estranged from his family since the summer before Harry's fifth year when he insulted his father and accused Harry of being the attention-seeking, crazy teenager that the Ministry was painting him as at the time.

"Please, come in, sit down, Minister!" Mrs.Weasley said, straightening her hat. "Have a little purkey, or some tooding. . . . I mean -"

"No, no, my dear Molly," Scrimgeour said. Harry guessed that he had checked her name with Percy before they entered the house. "I don’t want to intrude, wouldn’t be here at all if Percy hadn’t wanted to see you all so badly..."

"Oh, Perce!" Mrs. Weasley said tearfully, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek.

"...We’ve only looked in for five minutes, so I’ll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don’t want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden... Ah, that young man’s finished, why doesn’t he take a stroll with me?"

The atmosphere around the table changed perceptibly. Everybody looked from Scrimgeour to Harry. Nobody seemed to find Scrimgeour s pretense that he did not know Harry’s name convincing, or find it natural that he should be chosen to accompany the Minister around the garden when Ginny, Tonks, and George also had clean plates. 

"Yeah, all right," Harry said into the silence.

He was not fooled; for all Scrimgeour’s talk that they had just been in the area, that Percy wanted to look up his family, this must be the real reason that they had come, so that Scrimgeour could speak to Harry alone.

"It's fine," he said, seeing Remus half rise out of his chair. "Fine." He added as Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to speak.

"Wonderful!" Scrimgeour said, standing back to let Harry pass through the door ahead of him. "We’ll just take a turn around the garden, and Percy and I’ll be off. Carry on, everyone!"

Harry walked across the yard toward the Weasleys’ overgrown, snow-covered garden, Scrimgeour limping slightly at his side. He had, Harry knew, been Head of the Auror office; he looked tough and battle-scarred, very different from Fudge in his bowler hat. 

"Charming," Scrimgeour said, stopping at the garden fence and looking out over the snowy lawn and the indistinguishable plants. "Charming."

Harry said nothing. He could tell that Scrimgeour was watching him.

"I’ve wanted to meet you for a very long time," Scrimgeour said after a few moments. "Ever since I gained office, did you know that?"

"No," Harry said truthfully.

"Oh yes, for a very long time. But Dumbledore has been very protective of you," Scrimgeour said. "It is understandable, I suppose. Especially when one considers what happened at the Ministry." Gone was his cheery demeanour from earlier when speaking to Mrs. Weasley, he seemed more businesslike now. He sighed. "I think I'll dispense with the niceties, hm? It will make things go much smoother if I am direct."

Harry was taken aback, but he tried his best to not let it show.

"There is a prophecy, that much is public knowledge," Scrimgeour said. "I am also certain it pertains to you and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry said nothing, he didn't even look at the Minister. Instead, he looked at the little gnome prints all around the flowerbeds, and the scuffed-up patch that marked the spot where Fred had caught the gnome now wearing the tutu at the top of the Christmas tree. He could tell that Scrimgeour was staring intently at him. 

The Minister hummed. "Are you the Chosen One?" He asked.

Again, Harry didn't speak, though he could at least appreciate Scrimgeour's directness now.

"I must tell you, it doesn't really matter to me whether you are or aren't." He said.

That got Harry to look at the Minister with a raised eyebrow.

"You're just a boy," Scrimgeour said in response to Harry's unasked question. "Even if you were the Chosen One and the Prophecy said so, I still wouldn't care much. To put all of our hopes onto the shoulders of someone not even of age yet is ridiculous." Scrimgeour looked out at the rolling hills covered in snow that surrounded the Burrow. "To you, I'm sure it matters quite a bit." He said, and Harry almost snorted at the understatement. "But to the people? Well, whether you're the Chosen One or not, it's all about perception, isn't it?"

He could see where the Minister was going with this.

"They think you're a hero, and not to be unfair, they aren't totally wrong." He said. "How many times have you faced You-Know-Who now? You are a symbol of hope now, someone who is destined to save us. You could see how that could give people a lift."

Still, Harry said nothing. A gnome was digging in the ground looking for worms.

"I think it would be beneficial for everyone involved if you made a few appearances at the Ministry every once in a while in the coming months," Scrimgeour said gruffly. "Or, that's what I'm being advised to think."

"Advised?" Harry said finally. 

"Oh, yes," Scrimgeour said, giving a hollow chuckle. "The Wizengamot does not just serve as a high court of law. There are meetings and endless discussions. I loathe them, to be quite honest. But I determined to at least listen, unlike my predecessor." Scrimgeour cleared his throat a few moments later, perhaps realizing that he was bitterly complaining about his job to a sixteen-year-old. "You might consider it your duty, almost," Scrimgeour continued. "To stand alongside the Ministry, I mean."

"And what does that mean?" Harry asked. "Standing alongside you, what would I have to do?"

"Not much," Scrimgeour said. If you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, that would give the right impression. Like I said earlier, this benefits you too. You would have ample opportunity to speak to Gawain Robards, my successor as Head of the Auror office. Dolores Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily."

A quiet rage burned within Harry. So Umbridge was still employed, was she?

"So basically," Harry said, as though he just wanted to clarify a few points, "you’d like to give the impression that I’m working for the Ministry?"

"In a sense, yes. The Wizengamot believes it would give the public a morale boost." Scrimgeour said, frowning the entire time.

"And what do you believe, Minister?" Harry asked.

This got Scrimgeour to smirk a little, barely an upward turn of the corner of his mouth.

"It certainly would help, I'm sure." He said. "But I'd rather focus my efforts on other things, not turning you into a pawn."

Harry had found his nerve now, remembering his shock and annoyance at the Ministry months earlier for jailing the nice, if a bit eccentric conductor of the Night Bus. "Like locking up Stan Shunpike?"

Scrimgeour's face hardened. "I would not expect you to understand," he said after a moment, not quite succeeding in keeping the annoyance out of his voice. "These are dangerous times, and certain measures need to be taken. You are sixteen years old-"

"Dumbledore's a lot older than sixteen, and he doesn't think Stan should be in Azkaban either," Harry said. "You’re making Stan a scapegoat, just like you want to make me a mascot."

Harry was not afraid of the Minister, but an irrational thought popped into his head for a moment that Scrimgeour would arrest him, it left as quickly as it came. What Scrimgeour did next surprised him.

The Minister smirked at him. 

"Truthfully, I expected nothing less."

Harry gaped at him. "Then why-?"

"I had to try," the Minister said. "I see that, like Dumbledore, you prefer to disassociate yourself from the Ministry."

"I don't want to be used," Harry replied.

Scrimgeour scoffed. "Some would say it's your duty to be used by the Ministry."

"Yeah, and others might say it’s your duty to check that people really are Death Eaters before you chuck them in prison," Harry said, his temper rising now. "You’re doing what Barty Crouch did. You never get it right, you people, do you? Either we’ve got Fudge, pretending everything’s lovely while people get murdered right under his nose, or we’ve got you, chucking the wrong people into jail and trying to pretend you’ve got ‘the Chosen One’ working for you!"

They were both silent for a few moments, Scrimgeour just staring impassively at him while Harry tried to rein in his temper.

The Minister shook his head. "As I said, you are just a boy. I am only here because the Wizengamot asked. And they are right, at least partially. You would be a good morale boost. But they are too ignorant to see that what they did last year to you would mean it would never work."

"You talk about how the members of the Wizengamot are ignorant and stuck in the past," Harry said. "But you still employ Dolores Umbridge and people like her." He held up his right fist which still had the scars that Dolores Umbridge had forced him to carve into his own flesh: I must not tell lies. "I don’t remember you rushing to my defence when I was trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. The Ministry wasn’t so keen to be pals last year."

Scrimgeour glanced at his hand for only a second before turning and looking back at the rolling hills. "I'm sorry." He said, and he sounded genuine. "But it is not that simple."

"It is," Harry said firmly. "Forget about the politics, and do what's right." Maybe he was being naive, but there was no way Scrimgeour couldn't do anything at all.

Scrimgeour chuckled, returning his gaze to Harry. He thought he might've seen a hint of respect in his expression. "One day, you'll see. With an attitude like that, I would be surprised if you didn't end up working at the Ministry, that is if we hadn't slandered you all of last year. I didn't do any of these things to you, Harry. I was head of the Auror office at the time, nothing more."

Perhaps he had been too harsh on him for something he had no control over. But continuing to employ Umbridge, jailing Stan Shunpike? There was no excuse now.

"You are more now, though," Harry said, staring back at him. "It's time the Ministry changed its ways."

"Perhaps you're right," Scrimgeour said quietly. A few seconds passed. "What is Dumbledore up to?" He asked. "Where does he go when he is absent from Hogwarts?"

"No idea," Harry answered truthfully. 

Scrimgeour gave him a sardonic smile. "And you wouldn't tell me if you knew, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't," Harry said.

The Minister nodded, and again, Harry sensed there was a bit of respect in it.

"He isn't keen on helping us either, as I said earlier, you're both similar in that aspect." He said.

"I suspect he doesn't much appreciate it when the Ministry meddles with his school," Harry supplied. "You seem cleverer than Fudge, he tried interfering and it didn't really work out for him."

Scrimgeour regarded him carefully for a moment. "Dumbledore's man through and through, aren't you?" The words themselves were bitter, however, his tone was anything but.

"Yeah, I am," Harry said.

The Minister cleared his throat. "Well then, have a happy Christmas, I shall be taking my leave."

Harry nodded in response, unsure of what to really make of the whole thing but feeling like he made the right decision.

Chapter Text

"I've found that the secret to a girl's heart can be discovered by simply nodding your head and agreeing with whatever she says."

- Sirius Black to Johnny Blaze, Christmas, 1996

Johnny took in the scenery of Upstate New York. As much as he despised some of the people that lived in the area, it was home. 

Snow covered most of the ground, the blistering cold was a sensation that he'd not felt for around two years. Thankfully he had elected to bring the leather jacket Sirius got him for Christmas last year, it had warming charms built into it.

God, had it really been a year already? Time flew when you were hunting the son of the devil and fighting Dark Lords, apparently.

A few yards in front of him was the house he'd spent a few years living in before going abroad as the Rider. It once housed a happy family, him, James, Crash and Mona. Now, only James lived there, occasionally having his girlfriend over. A seventeen-year-old boy was left alone. Part of that was his own fault, he supposed. Johnny had wanted to get as far away from his brother as possible after becoming the Ghost Rider. There was no good choice to make there, he knew, but it didn't make him feel better about it in the slightest.

"It hasn't really changed, eh?" Sirius said from beside him, softly placing a hand on his shoulder. "C'ept for the car in the driveway."

He wouldn't say it, but Johnny was relieved to have him here, if only for a little while. He wasn't sure if he could have done this without him, and he didn't mean just getting her in general, which surely would have been very hard indeed. He did notice the car though, an all-black nineteen eighty-seven Dodge Charger was there, covered in light snowfall. 

"Not all of us have an utterly depressing mansion that desperately needed redecorating back in the forties," Johnny replied. 

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh and clapped Johnny on the back.

"Fair enough," he said. "Now c'mon, let's not keep James waiting."

They trudged through the snow with no problem, Sirius used his wand to melt them a path. Before he knew it he was knocking on the front door. He felt nervous, for some stupid reason. James knew they were coming, he'd promised to come for Christmas months ago.

The door opened far too fast for Johnny's liking, and there was his brother, looking pretty much the same as he had in the summer.

"Hey," he said, a big grin overtaking his features.

"Hey," Johny replied, returning it.

In an instant, his brother had pulled him into a tight hug.

They separated after two minutes like that.

"Hello," James said in greeting to Sirius, offering a hand. "Nice to see you again."

Sirius took it. "You as well, mate."

"James, this is Sirius," Johnny said. "I don't think I've properly introduced the two of you."

"Understandable, given the circumstances," Sirius said.

"Agreed," James added. "Come inside, you guys."

The inside was unchanged as well since he'd been here in the summer, as well as when he actually lived in the house. All of Mona's chosen decor remained, even the wallpaper, which was starting to peel.

"No girlfriend, this time?" Johnny asked, grinning.

"Sofia's with her family," James answered, closing and locking the door behind them. "I was actually hoping we could pop by there later for dinner." He sounded nervous, as if he thought Johnny would be upset by this.

"Of course," Johnny said, "would get boring pretty quickly with just the two of us." Not true, for him at least, but he could clearly see that James wanted to go. He would never begrudge him anything for as long as he lived, especially the opportunity to further connect with his girlfriend and her family.

"You can come too if you'd like," James said, turning to Sirius.

Sirius smiled. "I appreciate the offer, mate, but I've gotta head back in a few."

"At least eat something," James insisted, "I just ate lunch not too long ago, but I have some leftovers. I'd just have to warm it up. Some pork and mashed potatoes, broccoli too."

"Well, I can't say no to that, can I?"

"Nope," James joked.

Sirius nudged Johnny. "Look at how nice he is, compared to you? Offering me a delicious-sounding dinner, when have you ever done that?"

Johnny stared back at him blankly. "I made you steak just a few days ago and pasta for lunch."

"Did you? Ow!" Sirius rubbed his shoulder after Johnny punched him.

James chuckled as he took out the leftovers and went to put them in the microwave when Sirius stopped him.

"No need for that, mate." He said with a wink. "It's time to break ancient wizarding law."

Sirius took out his wand and waved it at the food. Instantly, a little bit of steam rose from it. 

"Cool," James said, to which Sirius smirked.

"I could be sent back to jail for that, I think a year is the minimum sentence for performing magic in front of a muggle."

"Go back?" James asked. "You mean, you've been in jail before?"

"Oh yeah," Sirius replied, puffing his chest. "I was a real rebel."

He was kidding around, but Johnny knew better than most just how much his time in Azkaban had affected him. The night terrors that still remained, how skinny he was even after almost two years of Molly's cooking. The scars.

"We're all wowed at how you live life without a care for any rules," Johnny said sarcastically. "Now hurry up and eat."

"So pushy," Sirius commented idly.

James laughed as he handed Johnny a plate as well.

True to his word, Sirius did not stay long. The three of them had pleasant conversations throughout the meal, and for a little bit afterwards too. But it was about an hour after they had started eating when James checked his watch.

"Oh, we've got to leave soon." He said.

"I won't keep you then," Sirius said jovially, waving his wand again. The plates floated to the sink, and soap bottles squirted onto sponges and started washing them.

"Amazing," James breathed. "I mean, I see crazy things almost every day living here. A guy dressed like a spider swinging from building to building in Manhattan, a dude with a flying suit of armor... but the way you casually do this..."

"I aim to please," Sirius said. 

Laying it on a little thick. Johnny thought.

"They'll put themselves away when they're done," Sirius added.

"Thanks."

"I'd offer to Apparate you both there but I reckon that would go poorly," Sirius said, standing up.

"Teleportation," Johnny said in explanation at James' confused look.

Sirius grinned. He shook James' hand, and with a wink, Disapparated with a loud crack.

"Cool."

Christmas break was over before Harry had fully registered it even happened. 

Late in the afternoon, a few days after New Year's Eve, Harry and Johnny stood near the fireplace in the dining room of Grimmauld Place. The Ministry had arranged this one-off connection to the Floo Network to return students quickly and safely to Hogwarts.

Johnny was dressed in his normal black leather jacket and jeans combination, with a brown t-shirt underneath. He looked tired.

"Don't mind him," Sirius said, clapping Johnny hard on the back. "He's still a bit hungover from his New Year's party with his brother and his girlfriend's family."

Harry smiled. "Have fun at least, then?" He asked.

Johnny merely groaned in response.

"Here you go," another voice said, entering the room. It was Remus holding a potion vial which held a dark blue liquid. "Hangover cure," he said, handing it to Johnny. "Needed plenty of these when we were your ages, don't drink it too fast."

Tonks was already at Hogwarts, and Harry was sure that Karkaroff did not care enough in the slightest to come downstairs and see them off. It suited him just fine either way.

Sirius pulled him into a tight hug.

"You'll be alright." He said. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than Harry.

"Yeah."

"And you'll stay out of trouble, won't you?" Sirius said as he pulled back to look at him. "Oh, who am I kidding?"

"You know me," Harry said jokingly. "I like the quiet life."

Sirius chuckled and went to hug Johnny too. Harry hugged Remus as well.

"Be good," he said, "tell Hermione we said hi, and..."

"Give Snape hell." Sirius cut in.

"Do not," Remus added firmly. "They tolerate each other quite well now, Sirius."

"The world must be ending."

Remus rolled his eyes and handed them each Floo Powder, he then instructed Johnny on how to use it.

Johnny eyed the powder like it was going to explode any second now.

"I fucking hate magic."

"Evening, Potter. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet."

"No, Professor."

Harry straightened his glasses and flattened his hair as Johnny came tumbling out of the fireplace after him cursing into Professor McGonagall's office.

When he finally righted himself, his jacket was covered in ash and his eyes were panicked.

"I'm never fucking doing that again for as long as I live."

He stopped abruptly once he saw the disapproving glare from Professor McGonagall.

"Sorry," he muttered.

They left her office and Johnny offered to walk him to Gryffindor tower. Something told Harry that he just wanted to see Hermione though.

"I think I fucked up," Johnny said suddenly, startling Harry out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"With Hermione," Johnny said. "At the party, we, er, kissed."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. "But that's good, isn't it?" He was genuinely happy for his friends.

Johnny shook his head. "She was drunk, it didn't feel right - I mean, it felt fucking fantastic in the moment, but I pushed her away. I didn't want to take advantage of her even though she kissed me first."

He didn't really know what to say. Harry wasn't exactly very good with girls either.

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times to try and say something to comfort his friend but nothing came to him for quite some time.

"Sorry," Johnny said. "I don't mean to just dump this on you, she's your best friend. I just didn't want to talk about it over the break but now that I'm going to see her again, I think I might spontaneously combust."

"It's... it's okay, mate. I guess I'm just surprised you're talking about it with me." Harry said. "You're both my friends, I want you both to be happy..." he trailed off. "I think Hermione gets your reasoning. She'd never do anything to intentionally make you uncomfortable. I suppose... you just have to talk to her."

"Easier said than done... but thank you," Johnny said. "It means a lot."

Harry punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You've faced down far scarier things than Hermione."

Johnny raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, that wasn't very convincing, was it? She's by far the scariest person you and I know."

"Damn right."

They had finally reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Ginny had seemingly just gotten there too.

"Baubles," Ron said confidently when they reached the Fat Lady, who was looking rather paler than usual and winced at his loud voice.

"No," she said.

"What d’you mean, ‘no’?"

"There is a new password," she said. "And please don’t shout."

"But we’ve been away, how’re we supposed to - ?"

"Harry! Ginny! Ron!"

Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced and wearing a cloak, hat, and gloves.

"I got back a couple of hours ago, I’ve just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck - I mean Witherwings," she said breathlessly. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

They all nodded.

Harry noticed Hermione was looking at all of them except for Johnny.

"I have something for you, Harry." She said. "Oh hang on - Abstinence." Hermione gave the new password to the portrait.

"Precisely," the Fat Lady said in a feeble voice and swung forward to reveal the portrait hole.

"What’s up with her?" Harry asked.

"Overindulged over Christmas, apparently," Hermione said, rolling her eyes as she led the way into the packed common room. She and her friend Violet drank their way through all the wine in that picture of drunk monks down by the Charms corridor."

"I'll catch you later," Johnny said, remaining behind. "Pretty sure there's a staff meeting soon or something."

They all waved bye except for Hermione, who looked as if she did not even hear him.

Instead, Hermione rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then pulled out a scroll of parchment with Dumbledore’s writing on it.

"Great," Harry said, unrolling it at once to discover that his next lesson with Dumbledore was scheduled for the following night. "I’ve got loads to tell him - and we should talk. Let’s sit down -"

But at that moment there was a loud squeal of "WonWon!" and Lavender Brown came hurtling out of nowhere and flung herself into Ron’s arms. 

Several onlookers sniggered, and both Ginny and Hermione chuckled good-naturedly.

"There’s a table over here... Coming, Ginny?"

"No, thanks, I said I’d meet Dean," Ginny said, though Harry could not help noticing that she did not sound very enthusiastic. Leaving Ron and Lavender locked in a kind of vertical wrestling match, Harry led Hermione over to the spare table.

"So how was your Christmas?"

"Oh, fine," she shrugged. "Nothing special. How was it with Sirius?"

"Nice," Harry answered. "Really nice."

He told her about his multiple training sessions with Moody, Sirius, Remus, and occasionally Kingsley and Tonks.

"You must have learnt so much!" Hermione said with excitement. "I didn't have any time to practice really, or a suitable place. I'm so jealous." 

Harry grinned. 

"Now," she said, "what did you want to talk about?"

"Well," he started, "I know we spoke briefly about what we overheard between Malfoy and Snape, but I thought I'd really like to dig deeper into it. I..." He stopped himself.

Hermione tilted her head at him in confusion. "Yes?"

"I know something's happened between you and Johnny." He said grimly, lowering his voice. "It's none of my business, I get that. It's why we barely even stuck around to talk about what we'd heard." Better to not mention he knew they had kissed, Harry thought to himself.

Hermione's expression was carefully neutral.

"He thinks you hate him, Hermione."

She looked away.

"I don't." She said eventually.

"Then you need to tell him that."

Hermione glared at him. "I will sort through my own feelings at my own pace, thank you very much." She said, looking far too angry to discuss the topic any further.

Harry merely nodded. "Alright."

Slowly, awkwardly, he recounted what they, along with Johnny and Tracey had overheard the night of Slughorn's party.

Hermione sat in thought for a moment, still looking vaguely annoyed, and then said, "Don't you think-?"

"- he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing?"

She blinked at him. "Well, yes." 

"Ron's dad and Remus think so," he said grudgingly. "But this definitely means he's up to something, you can't deny that."

Hermione raised her hands. "I can't, and I won't. I've actually been giving it a fair bit of thought ever since Katie Bell was cursed. When you'd said you recognized the necklace from Borgin and Burkes, and that Malfoy had definitely seen it before too, well, it was far too coincidental. Not damming though, at least, not until we overheard him and Professor Snape."

"Oh," Harry said, nonplussed.

"Oh," she mocked lightly. "You don't have to prepare yourself for an argument every time you bring it up."

Harry shrugged. "You've been quite annoyed with me, because of the Prince's book."

Hermione frowned. "I have, haven't I?" There was a long pause. "I just don't like that you're cheating, I suppose. It's not your own work that you're being praised for and that bothers me." She sighed. "But... I think Ron was right when he said that I was jealous that someone else was doing better than me for once."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry that I've upset you." He said genuinely.

Hermione smiled. "It's okay, I suppose. You and I don't see it the same way. You're not hurting anyone, so there's no foul."

He returned the smile. "Anyway," he said after a few moments. "I think this also clearly means that Malfoy's been acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said."

"But neither of them actually mentioned Voldemort's name, remember?" She said.

It briefly stumped him. "Well... well, no, but Snape definitely said 'your master', and who else could that be?"

Hermione hummed in contemplation. "You're right." She stared across the room, apparently lost in thought. "How's Remus?"

"Not great," Harry said, and he told her all about Lupin’s mission among the werewolves and the difficulties he was facing. "Have you heard of this Fenrir Greyback?"

"Yes, I have!" Hermione said, sounding startled. "And so have you, Harry!"

"When, History of Magic? You know full well I never listened-"

"No, no, not History of Magic - Malfoy threatened Borgin with him!" Hermione said. "Back in Knockturn Alley, don’t you remember? He told Borgin that Greyback was an old family friend and that he’d be checking up on Borgin’s progress!"

Harry gaped at her. "I forgot! But this proves Malfoy’s a Death Eater, how else could he be in contact with Greyback and telling him what to do?"

"It is pretty suspicious," Hermione breathed. "There is always the possibility it was an empty threat, it wouldn't surprise me coming from Malfoy, but still, it's far too coincidental... and there is the fact that he was... he was at the battle at the Ministry."

Harry could have hit himself. Of course, Greyback was the one that gave Hermione the scars across her face! How could he have been so stupid to forget!? 

They both sat there for a while, each of them lost in thought. Harry noticed Lavendar tickling Ron from their position on the loveseat by the fireplace. Two third years were playing chess, white was losing spectacularly. A second year was reading the Quibbler, a picture of Rufus Scrimgeour was on the front cover. 

"Oh yeah," he said suddenly. "The Minister visited me over the break."

"What?" Hermione said, snapping out of her thoughts.

And the rest of the evening passed amicably with both of them abusing the Ministry, for Hermione, like Ron, thought that after all they had put him through the previous year, they had a great deal of nerve asking him for help now. Though Harry did make sure to put Scrimgeour in a slightly better light. He didn't particularly like the man, especially for locking up Stan Shunpike, but he held odd respect for his honesty.

The new term started the next morning with a pleasant surprise for the sixth years: a large sign had been pinned to the common room notice boards overnight. 

APPARITION LESSONS
If you are seventeen years of age or will turn
seventeen on or before the 31st August next, you
are eligible for a twelve-week course of
Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic
Apparition instructor. Please sign below if you
would like to participate. Cost: 12 Galleons.

Harry and Ron joined the crowd that was jostling around the notice and taking turns to write their names at the bottom. Ron was just taking out his quill to sign after Hermione when Lavender crept up behind him, slipped her hands over his eyes, and trilled, "Guess who, Won-Won?"

Not particularly wanting to stick around, Harry quickly signed his own name and beat a hasty retreat with Hermione. But to his surprise, Ron caught up with them only a little way beyond the portrait hole, his ears bright red and his expression disgruntled.

"So - Apparition," Ron said, his tone making it perfectly plain that Harry was not to mention what had just happened. "Should be a laugh, eh?"

"I dunno," Harry said. "Maybe it’s better when you do it yourself, I didn’t enjoy it much when Dumbledore took me along for the ride."

"I forgot you've already done it," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I wonder if doing it side-along helps with doing it on your own."

"I’d better pass my test first time," Ron said, looking anxious. "Fred and George did."

"Charlie failed, though, didn’t he?"

"Yeah, but Charlie’s bigger than me" - Ron held his arms out from his body as though he was a gorilla - "so Fred and George didn’t go on about it much... not to his face anyway."

"When can we take the actual test?"

"Soon as we’re seventeen. That’s only March for me!"

"Yeah, but you wouldn’t be able to Apparate in here, not in the castle..."

Hermione flashed him a bright smile. One which he returned.

"See? I listen to you... sometimes."

She rolled her eyes.

"At least everyone would know I could Apparate if I wanted to though," Ron mumbled.

Harry saw Johnny walking around the corner. He briefly locked eyes with him, and then Harry watched as Johnny met eyes with Hermione and kept on walking.

"What's up with him?" Ron asked. "How come he didn't say hi?"

But neither Harry nor Hermione answered.

Ron was not the only one to be excited at the prospect of Apparition. All that day there was much talk about the forthcoming lessons; a great deal of store was set by being able to vanish and reappear at will.

"How cool will it be when we can just -" Seamus clicked his fingers to indicate disappearance. "Me cousin Fergus does it just to annoy me, you wait till I can do it back... He’ll never have another peaceful moment..."

Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his wand a little too enthusiastically, so that instead of producing the fountain of pure water that was the object of today’s Charms lesson, he let out a hoselike jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Flitwick flat on his face.

"Harry’s already Apparated," Ron told a slightly abashed Seamus after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines: 'I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick.' "Dum - er - someone took him. Side-Along Apparition, you know."

"Whoa!" Seamus whispered, and Dean and Neville put their heads a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like. For the rest of the day, Harry was besieged with requests from the other sixth years to describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them seemed awed, rather than put off when he told them how uncomfortable it was. He was still answering detailed questions at ten to eight that evening when he was forced to lie and say that he needed to return a book to the library, so as to escape in time for his lesson with Dumbledore. 

The lamps in Dumbledore’s office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once more. Dumbledore’s hands lay on either side of it.

"Good evening, Harry." The headmaster greeted. "Johnny has yet to arrive."

Not ideal for what Harry wanted to ask. He'd rather do it with Johnny here to back him up. But before he could get in anything more than returning Dumbledore's greeting, the headmaster spoke again. "I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over
Christmas?"

"Yes," Harry said. "He wasn't very happy with me. At least, not at first."

"No," Dumbledore sighed. "He is not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on."

Harry grinned.

"He wanted me to tell the Wizarding community that the Ministry’s doing a wonderful job."

Dumbledore smiled. "It was Fudge’s idea originally, you know. During his last days in office, when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting with you, hoping that you would give him your support -"

"After everything Fudge did last year?" Harry said angrily. "After Umbridge?"

"I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour’s appointment, we met and he demanded that I arrange a meeting with you-"

"So that’s why you argued!" Harry blurted out. "It was in the Daily Prophet."

"The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally," Dumbledore said, "if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way to corner you at last."

Harry shrugged. "He wanted to know where you were going when you weren't here. I told him I wouldn't say even if I knew. I think he respected that. He said I was 'Dumbledore's' man, through and through.'"

"How very rude of him."

"I told him I was."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry’s intense embarrassment, he suddenly realized that Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and stared hastily at his own knees. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite steady.

"I am very touched, Harry."

Thankfully, he was saved from any further embarrassment when there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Dumbledore called, and Johnny came in and took the seat next to Harry.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, which Dumbledore waved off.

"Not a problem, m'boy. And now, if we are ready to begin..."

"Sorry professor," Harry said. "There was actually something I wanted to tell you about. It's to do with Malfoy and Snape." Johnny perked up in his seat from beside him.

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, sir. I overheard them during Professor Slughorn’s party, well, I followed them, actually, and Johnny did too..."

Dumbledore listened to Harry’s story with an impassive face. When Harry had finished he did not speak for a few moments, then said, "Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I suggest that you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance."

"Not of great importance?” Harry repeated incredulously. "Professor, did you understand-?"

"Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I understood everything you told me," Dumbledore said, a little sharply. "I think you might even consider the possibility that I understood more than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided in me, but let me reassure you that you have not told me anything that causes me disquiet."

"You can't be serious," Johnny said. Harry was not as brave to say this to the headmaster. "You're being deliberately ignorant if you let Malfoy continue on like this."

"Impudence," the portrait of Phineas Black said.

Dumbledore raised a hand, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed as if he was trying to remain calm and patient. The gesture worked in silencing Johnny and the portrait.

Both boys sat in seething silence.

"Ah, how often this happens, even between the best of friends! Each of us believes that what he has to say is much more important than anything the other might have to contribute!"

"I don't believe what you have to say is unimportant, professor," Harry said stiffly. Johnny nodded in agreement.

"Well, you are quite right, because it is not," Dumbledore said briskly. "I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty, and the second of them is, I think, the most important I have collected."

Harry did not say anything to this; he still felt angry at the reception his confidences had received, but could not see what was to be gained by arguing further.

Dumbledore told them of a Tom Riddle that was instantly sorted into Slytherin, a boy that charmed every teacher in the school except for Dumbledore himself, whom Riddle stayed very guarded around. How he had made friends, the forerunners of the Death Eaters. But also that he held no actual affection for any of them. They watched as Riddle, now truly in his Lord Voldemort persona, broke into the old Gaunt family home. In search for Marvolo, the only name he could go on to find more family, he instead met Morfin, his uncle. But after a short conversation about how Riddle's father lived up the hill in a big house, the memory had been plunged into darkness.

When they had left the Pensieve, Harry spoke.

"Is that all?" Harry said at once. "Why did it go dark, what happened?"

"Because Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward," Dumbledore said, gesturing Harry and Johnny back into their seats. "When he awoke the next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo’s ring had gone. Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was running along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and father. The Muggle authorities were perplexed. As far as I am aware, they do not know to this day how the Riddles died, for the Avada Kedavra curse does not usually leave any sign of damage... The exceptions sit before me," he gestured to the two of them. Johnny shifted awkwardly in his seat.

Harry had never thought about that. He was no longer the only person in the world to survive the killing curse... it felt strange, almost. Like he and Johnny were part of some sad, exclusive club now.

"The Ministry, on the other hand," Dumbledore continued. "Knew at once that this was a wizard’s murder. They also knew that a convicted Mugglehater lived across the valley from the Riddle house, a Muggle-hater who had already been imprisoned once for attacking one of the murdered people. So the Ministry called upon Morfin. They did not need to question him, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency. He admitted to the murder on the spot, giving details only the murderer could know. He was proud, he said, to have killed the Muggles, had been awaiting his chance all these years. He handed over his wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the Riddles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight. All that disturbed him was the fact that his father’s ring had disappeared. ‘He’ll kill me for losing it,’ he told his captors over and over again. ‘He’ll kill me for losing his ring.’ And that, apparently, was all he ever said again. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marvolo’s last heirloom, and is buried beside the prison, alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its walls."

"So Voldemort used his wand or something, then?" Johnny asked. 

"Very good," Dumbledore said with a small smile.

"And he must have modified Morfin's memory," Harry added, and Dumbledore's smile grew.

"Indeed. I have no proof of this, of course, but it is not hard to infer..." Dumbledore said. "It took a great deal of Legillimency to obtain this memory, and when I did manage to I attempted to use it to get Morfin released from Azkaban. However, before the Ministry could come to a decision, he died."

"But Voldemort was underage," Harry said. "How could they not tell that he did magic to knock out Morfin? I thought they could detect it!"

"You are quite right - they can detect magic, but not the perpetrator: You will remember that you were blamed by the Ministry for the Hover Charm that was, in fact, cast by -"

"Dobby," Harry growled; this injustice still rankled. "So if you’re underage and you do magic inside an adult witch or wizard’s house, the Ministry won’t know?"

"They will certainly be unable to tell who performed the magic," Dumbledore said, smiling slightly at the look of great indignation on Harry’s face. "They rely on witch and wizard parents to enforce their offspring’s obedience while within their walls."

"Well, that’s rubbish," Harry snapped. "Look what happened here, look what happened to Morfin!"

"I agree," Dumbledore said. "Whatever Morfin was, he did not deserve to die as he did, blamed for murders he had not committed. But it is getting late, and I want you both to see this other memory before we part..."

They watched an even younger Lord Voldemort speak to Horace Slughorn just before curfew in his office with a number of his friends present. Harry could spot a young Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood and Evan Rosier among them.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" Slughorn said. "You’d better get going, boys, or we’ll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it’s detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

Slughorn pulled himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk as the boys filed out. Voldemort, however, stayed behind. Harry could tell he had dawdled deliberately, wanting to be last in the room with Slughorn.

"Look sharp, Tom," Slughorn said, turning around and finding him still present. "You don’t want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect..."

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m’boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?"

And something strange happened: a dense fog filled the room so that Harry could not see Slughorn or Voldemort at all; only Dumbledore, smiling serenely beside him. Then Slughorn’s voice boomed out again, just as it had done before.

"I don’t know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn’t tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don’t let me catch you mentioning them again!"

"That's all there is?" Harry asked once they had all left the memory. Dumbledore had made it seem as though this memory was especially important, but Harry already knew about Horcrux's. He could not see what was so significant about it. Admittedly the fog, and the fact that nobody seemed to have noticed it, was odd, but other than that nothing seemed to have happened except that Voldemort had asked a question and failed to get an answer. 

"It was weird," Johnny said. "That's not a normal memory."

"Indeed," Dumbledore responded. "As you might have noticed, that memory was tampered with. Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections."

"But why?" Harry asked.

"Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," Dumbledore said. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see. It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the alterations."

"So he was the one that told Voldemort about Horcrux's?" Johnny asked.

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore replied. "I believe he already knew about them, but couldn't quite figure something out. I've already made it clear since our first meeting that I strongly believe that Voldemort made six of them, not including his own soul. Obtaining the unmodified memory from Slughorn would cinch it, I'm certain of it."

"So... so you want us to try and get it from him?" Harry asked incredulously. "But why not use Legillemency or Vertiteserum?" 

"Professor Slughorn is an extremely able wizard who will be expecting both," Dumbledore said. "He is much more accomplished at Occlumency than poor Morfin Gaunt, and I would be astonished if he has not carried an antidote to Veritaserum with him ever since I coerced him into giving me this travesty of a recollection. No. It would be foolish to attempt to wrest the truth from Professor Slughorn by force, and might do much more harm than good; I do not wish him to leave Hogwarts." He looked solely at Harry. "And I do not need both of you on this, just you, Harry. Horace has his weaknesses like any of us, and I believe that you are the one person who might be able to penetrate his defences. I might soon have a promising lead on where another Horcrux is hidden, and when I know for sure, the two of you will accompany me to destroy it."

"Even me?" Johnny asked. "I can't even destroy them anymore, not without my powers." He looked downcast.

"I know," Dumbledore said kindly. "But if what I've heard about your newfound strength is true, I know we'll need you on this too... It is most important that we secure the true memory... how important, we will only know when we have seen the real thing. So, good luck... and good night."

A little surprised by the abrupt dismissal the two boys got to their feet quickly and bid Dumbledore goodnight.

As he closed the study door behind him, he distinctly heard Phineas Nigellus say, "I can’t see why they should be able to do it better than you, Dumbledore."

"I wouldn’t expect you to, Phineas," Dumbledore replied, and Fawkes gave another low, musical cry. 

Chapter Text

"He will have no respite, no semblance of peace. I will make Johnny Blaze suffer for all eternity." 

- Mephisto

The next day Harry confided in both Ron and Hermione about the task that Dumbledore had set him. 

"He loves you, doesn't he?" Ron said over breakfast, waving an airy forkful of fried egg. "Won't refuse you anything, not his little Potions Prince. Just hang back after class this afternoon and ask him."

"He must be determined to hide what really happened if Dumbledore couldn’t get it out of him," Hermione said, taking a decidedly gloomier view of it.

"I just don't get why he's having you go through all this if he already knows about them," Ron said. "I mean, he's almost certain he knows You-Know-Who made six of them, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "But that's just it, he's almost certain, he wants to know for sure. Theoretically, Voldemort could have made way more than six, who knows how many times you can actually split your soul?"

The thought of a dozen Horcrux's put a damper on the morning. "I hope I can pull it off," Harry said. "Dumbledore's not even letting Johnny help me."

"What does he have him doing then?" Hermione asked nonchalantly while poking her food. It wasn't very convincing but he answered her anyway.

"Nothing, as far as I know," Harry replied. "He says he'll need him when we go to destroy the next Horcrux, whenever that is, but Dumbledore didn't say anything else."

Hermione dropped the facade a little bit and frowned sympathetically. "He probably hates that."

Harry had thought the same. "He seemed alright when Dumbledore told him."

She shook her head again. "I think he's tired of being angry about it, so all his frustration changes into sadness."

"He does look a little down," Ron commented, and they both followed his gaze to the staff table. 

Johnny sat between Professor Snape and McGonagall, who weren't particularly talkative at the best of times. He was picking at his food half-heartedly.

Harry turned back to Hermione and saw the unmistakable look of guilt on her face.

But no matter how guilty Hermione must have felt, Harry did not hear or see her try and speak to Johnny that day. He didn’t particularly like that but he knew it wasn’t his place to say anything.

"Settle down, settle down, please!" Professor Slughorn called over the chattering as class began for the day. "Quickly, now, lots of work to get through this afternoon! Golpalott’s Third Law... who can tell me -? But Miss Granger can, of course!"

Hermione recited at top speed: "Golpalott’s-Third-Law-states-that-the-antidote-for-a-blended-poison-will-beequal-to-more-thanthe-sum-of-the-antidotes-for-each-of-the-separate-components."

"Precisely!" Slughorn beamed.

"Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, if we accept Golpalott’s Third Law as true..."

Harry was going to have to take Slughorn’s word for it that Golpalott’s Third Law was true because he had not understood any of it.

Nobody apart from Hermione seemed to be following what Slughorn said next either. "... which means, of course, that assuming we have achieved correct identification of the potion’s ingredients by Scarpin’s Revelaspell, our primary aim is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes to those ingredients in and of themselves, but to find that added component that will, by an almost alchemical process, transform these disparate elements -" 

Harry looked to his left and saw Ron with his mouth half-open doodling absently in his textbook.

"...and so," Slughorn finished, "I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don’t forget your protective gloves!"

Hermione had left her stool and was halfway toward Slughorn’s desk before the rest of the class had realized it was time to move, and by the time Harry, Ron, and Ernie returned to the table, she had already tipped the contents of her phial into her cauldron and was kindling a fire underneath it. "It’s a shame that the Prince won’t be able to help you much with this, Harry," she said brightly as she straightened up. The words were without any malice, and Harry knew that she was more joking than trying to get a rise out of him now that they had made up after Christmas.

It still didn't stop him from being annoyed at the goal of the class itself though. And his ire only grew the longer it went on. There were no notes scribbled into the margin of the section on antidotes in the Prince's book. It seemed, like Hermione, the Prince had no trouble at all understanding Golpalott’s Third Law. 

Harry had realized in the five minutes however that his reputation as the best potion-maker in the class was crashing around his ears. Slughorn had peered hopefully into his cauldron on his first circuit of the dungeon, preparing to exclaim in delight as he usually did, and instead had withdrawn his head hastily, coughing, as the smell of bad eggs overwhelmed him. 

He couldn't exactly try to copy Hermione either, as she had gotten so good at nonverbal spells now that she didn't need to utter a single incantation.

Hermione’s expression could not have been any smugger; she had loathed being outperformed in every Potions class. And while he knew that she did not mean to rile him up, it happened anyway. More to avoid watching this irritating sight than anything else, Harry bent over the Half-Blood Prince’s book and turned a few pages with unnecessary force. And there it was, scrawled right across a long list of antidotes:
                                                                                                                                                   

Just shove a bezoar down their throats. 

Harry stared at these words for a moment. Hadn’t he once, long ago, heard of bezoars? Hadn’t Snape mentioned them in their first-ever Potions lesson? "A stone taken from the stomach of a goat, which will protect from most poisons.” It was not an answer to the Golpalott problem, and had Snape still been their teacher, Harry would not have dared do it, but this was a moment for desperate measures. He hastened toward the store cupboard and rummaged within it, pushing aside unicorn horns and tangles of dried herbs until he found, at the very back, a small cardboard box on which had been scribbled the word bezoars. 

He opened the box just as Slughorn called, "Two minutes left, everyone!" Inside were half a dozen shriveled brown objects, looking more like dried-up kidneys than real stones. Harry seized one, put the box back in the cupboard, and hurried back to his cauldron.

"Time is... up!" Slughorn called genially. "Well, let’s see how you’ve done! Blaise... what have you got for me?"

Slowly, Slughorn moved around the room, examining the various antidotes. Harry grimaced at Tracey and Blaise in sympathy. Nobody had finished the task, although Hermione was trying to cram a few more ingredients into her bottle before Slughorn reached her. Ron had given up completely and was merely trying to avoid breathing in the putrid fumes issuing from his cauldron. Harry stood there waiting, the bezoar clutched in a slightly sweaty hand.

Slughorn reached their table last. He sniffed Ernie’s potion and passed on to Ron’s with a grimace. He did not linger over Ron’s cauldron, but backed away swiftly, retching slightly.

"And you, Harry," he said. "What have you got to show me?" Harry held out his hand, the bezoar sitting on his palm. Slughorn looked down at it for a full ten seconds. Harry wondered, for a moment, whether he was going to shout at him. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. "You’ve got nerve, boy!" He boomed, taking the bezoar and holding it up so that the class could see it. "Oh, you’re like your mother... Well, I can’t fault you, a bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these potions!" 

Harry grinned from ear to ear, but when he left the classroom ten or so minutes later it had been wiped off his face. 

Hermione and Ron were waiting outside for him, and when they saw him Hermione looked at him hopefully.

He shook his head in defeat. Harry had tried staying behind after class to ask about the memory, but it did not go well.

"We heard shouting," Hermione said, "was it really that bad?"

"Yeah," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I acted too much like how Voldemort did back then. I wasn't thinking at all, it was tactless."

He didn't know what to do really. But instead of rushing into it again, he let the matter sit for a few days. Better to let Slughorn think he'd forgotten all about it. And it did in fact work. By the end of the week, Slughorn was treating Harry as he normally did once again. But despite that Harry had still gotten nowhere.

Harry awaited an invitation to one of his little evening parties, determined to accept this time, even if he had to reschedule Quidditch practice. Unfortunately, however, no such invitation arrived. He even asked Hermione and Ginny, but both girls said that they had not received an invitation either. Perhaps Slughorn was not as forgetful or forgiving as he seemed to appear, and he was determined to not give Harry another chance to question him about the memory. Harry found himself incredibly frustrated with the whole thing. 

The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-gray clouds hung low over the castle and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy. The upshot of this was that the sixth years’ first Apparition lesson, which was scheduled for a Saturday morning so that no normal lessons would be missed, took place in the Great Hall instead of on the grounds. 

When Harry and Hermione arrived in the Hall (Ron had come down with Lavender), they found that the tables had disappeared. Rain lashed against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly above them as they assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout - the Heads of Houses - and a small wizard whom Harry took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry. He was oddly colourless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. Harry wondered whether constant disappearances and reappearances had somehow diminished his substance, or whether this frail build was ideal for anyone wishing to vanish. 

"Good morning," the Ministry wizard said when all the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses had called for quiet. "My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time -"

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" Professor McGonagall barked.

Everybody looked around. Malfoy had flushed a dull pink; he looked furious as he stepped away from Crabbe, with whom he appeared to have been having a whispered argument. Harry glanced quickly at Snape, who also looked annoyed, though Harry strongly suspected that this was less because of Malfoy’s rudeness than the fact that McGonagall had reprimanded one of his House.

Harry eyed Malfoy suspiciously. He wondered what they were arguing about.

The instructor continued on as if there had been no interruption but Harry was only half listening. 

"As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall and that you would be unwise to try." He sounded almost bored. Though Harry reasoned that he'd likely been doing this for years. "I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you."

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of Houses moved among the students, marshalling them into position and breaking up arguments.

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione demanded. But Harry did not answer; he was moving quickly through the crowd, past the place where Professor Flitwick was making squeaky attempts to position a few Ravenclaws, all of whom wanted to be near the front, past Professor Sprout, who was chivying the Hufflepuffs into line, until, by dodging around Ernie Macmillan, he managed to position himself right at the back of the crowd, directly behind Malfoy, who was taking advantage of the general upheaval to continue his argument with Crabbe, standing five feet away and looking mutinous.

"I don’t know how much longer, all right?" Malfoy shot at him, oblivious to Harry standing right behind him. “It’s taking longer than I thought it would.”

Crabbe opened his mouth, but Malfoy appeared to second-guess what he was going to say. "Look, it’s none of your business what I’m doing, Crabbe, you and Goyle just do as you’re told and keep a lookout!"

"I tell my friends what I’m up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me," Harry said, just loud enough for Malfoy to hear him. 

Malfoy spun around looking murderous but instead of his hand reaching for his wand like Harry had expected him to, he just stood there glaring at him. Either way, all Heads of House called for quiet once again and Malfoy turned back around.

Harry grinned at the back of Malfoy's head.

Johnny patrolled the halls not long after eating a light dinner. He hadn't had much to be fair. The last few days since returning to Hogwarts had been rough, to say the least.

There was nothing for him to really take it out on either, not that doing so was a healthy way to deal with it. Or anything, for that matter.

He started his patrol from the first floor and did two loops around. That was pretty much how Johnny patrolled every floor of the castle. It was simple and it worked, but god was it incredibly boring. Mind numbingly so. However this time it didn't stay that way for long. On the fourth floor, he ran into a blonde haired girl. Johnny was fairly certain she had gone to the Department of Mysteries in the summer with Harry and his friends. That wasn't what stopped him though, it was the fact that she wasn't wearing any shoes.

Lord, this fucking place.

"Are you alright?" Johnny called out to her. She had been speaking to one of the paintings.

She turned to look at him, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Oh, yes, Johnny Blaze. I'm quite alright."

He blinked. "Um, where are your shoes?"

She looked down at her feet in surprise, as if she hadn't even noticed.

"Oh, look at that. I suspect the Nargles have taken them again."

It was a testament to how long he'd been involved in the wizarding world now that he didn't bother asking what Nargles were.

"Gotcha," Johnny replied. He really didn't.

"They take my homework and essays sometimes too," the girl added, "Sometimes people do too."

His expression immediately hardened.

"Miss..." Johnny started.

"Luna," the girl supplied.

"Luna," he said, "who's been taking your things?"

The dreamy facade cracked just a little bit.

"I don't know," Luna admitted in a small voice. "But they're always returned to me... eventually."

This school preached about house unity, but Johnny could not think of anyone else besides Luna's own housemates that could have stolen from her. They would have the easiest access. 

Now this, this was something he could actually help with.

"Do you want your things back, Luna?" He asked.

She fidgeted a little apprehensively. "Well - well, yes, but-"

"Then I think you'd better take me to your common room." He cut her off. Johnny hardly knew this girl, but she had helped Harry. They were friends at the very least. She was being bullied. That was enough of a reason for him.

Luna seemed to know not to argue because she began to walk without another word. Eventually they arrived at a door with no handle up a spiral staircase on the fifth floor. Luna reached out to the bronze door knocker in the shape of an eagle and used it.

Johnny almost flinched in surprise when the eagle spoke.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" It asked.

"You have to answer," Luna prodded after a moment. "It won't open otherwise."

"So if someone doesn't know the answer, they have to wait and hope another person comes along and does?" Johnny asked, annoyed.

"Yes," Luna said simply.

"Well, I have no fucking idea." He said.

"Accurate," the knocker interjected, and the door swung open.

Luna smiled serenely at Johnny. He just shook his head.

"Whatever."

They entered the common room, and the first thing he noted was just how damn different the place looked compared to the Gryffindor one. Obviously, it would be, but Johnny found it fascinating.

The main color scheme was blue and bronze, with several shades of it all over the place and a starry theme. It was calming, almost. There was a big library at the back as well, with large rectangular horizontal windows on each wall. It was fairly small, however, but it was a tower so that made sense.

Some students sat around, all buried in books.

"Which ones usually take them?" Johnny said quietly to Luna.

"I don't know," she answered. "They just randomly reappear in my trunk or on my bed."

Well, that wasn't of any help.

By now, half of the Ravenclaws in the common room had noticed his arrival.

"Listen up," he shouted. "Whoever's been stealing Luna's things, will give them back by the end of the day, personally. They will also apologize profusely and never do it again."

They just stared back at him in mute surprise.

"Detention or lost points will be the least of your worries if I find out she hasn't gotten her shit back." He continued, giving each one of them the most murderous look he could muster. "I'll come back in here and break every damn thing in this tower." For added effect, he walked over to a circular table where five students were sitting around, and slammed his fist down, causing the wooden table to crack and crumble apart into four separate pieces. "Remember," he said walking to the entrance. "You have until the end of the day."

Johnny smiled politely at Luna. "Let me know if it doesn't happen."

He left the tower feeling pretty satisfied with himself. Johnny couldn't stand bullying. The fact that he just threatened students not really bothering him. At worse, he'd be reprimanded, and either way, Luna got her stuff back. Win-win.

It was later that night that Hermione was making her way to the Room of Requirement for her session with Tonks.

She was pretty happy with herself for finishing all of the essays that were assigned. Granted, they weren't due for another week and a half, and she would still have to check them over, but they were done.

Burying herself into her work was fairly common, but Hermione knew that she was doing it even more lately. The reason wasn't exactly hard to figure out, either.

Johnny.

She would speak to him soon, Hermione thought to herself firmly. This whole silent treatment had gone on long enough on her part. It was irrational, really, and Hermione hated acting that way, especially when she was normally not prone to it. And honestly, he deserved better. She tried to ignore how nervous the idea of speaking to him about it made her. Hermione had gotten drunk! And kissed him! When had she ever acted so rashly before? Merlin, what was it about him that turned her into a complete twit?

Still internally cursing herself, Hermione almost didn't notice an outwardly cursing Tonks. 

"Stupid bloody room," the Auror said, kicking the wall where they both knew the Room of Requirement was.

"Tonks?" Hermione said. "What's going on?"

"The door won't appear!" Tonks answered, hardly sparing Hermione a second look. "I got here early to set up, and some little first year girl standing here. I sent her on her way because it's well beyond bloody curfew, and the Room wouldn't open for me!"

"Perhaps someone is already using it?" Hermione said. Anyone from the DA could have been, she supposed. 

"You think so?" Tonks asked, having calmed down considerably.

"Must be," Hermione answered, "I don't see why else it wouldn't work otherwise." She could be wrong, of course, but Hermione didn't think she was in this case.

Tonks pressed an ear to the wall. "Can't hear anything."

"You likely wouldn't be able to anyway." Hermione pointed out.

"Well, that's shit then, isn't it?" Tonks said throwing her hands up. "Don't suppose you know another place?"

She thought for a bit. The Shrieking Shack was an option, but Hermione didn't like the idea of leaving the grounds. Being out after curfew was one thing, she was a Prefect, and leaving the school at night was something else. Besides, Mr. Filch patrolled any secret entrances he knew or was suspicious about. She didn't have Harry's map, it was simply too risky.

"No," Hermione said finally. "Sorry, I don't. Maybe come back again tomorrow?" The only reason Tonks was here on a weekday was that Dawlish had taken her patrol after she had covered for him the week prior.

"I'll see if I can but I doubt it," she said.

Hermione nodded knowingly. That's what she figured.

Still feeling discouraged after his failed attempt to speak to Slughorn about the memory the other day, it was a dejected Harry that plopped down in a seat in between Hermione and Ron for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Both of his friends had given him sympathetic looks but said nothing.

He looked around unconsciously for sandy blonde hair and cerulean eyes and was pleased when he saw Tracey wave and smile at him from across the room. He returned the gesture with a smile of his own.

"Silence," Snape said over the light chatter. "You will split into groups of my choosing and turn to page two-hundred and seventy-seven of your textbook."

There were a few more murmurs at this as Snape called out groups and their members. Ron was put with Blaise, Padma Patil, and a Hufflepuff boy that Harry had never even spoken to before, Wayne Hopkins.

Hermione got grouped together with Ernie MacMillan, Su Li, and Michael Corner.

Finally, he heard his own name. 

"Potter, Nott, Parkinson, and Bones."

Inwardly, Harry had to sigh. Put together with two Slytherins? What was Snape playing at?

He shook his head slightly. At least Susan would be in his group, she was nice.

"Get with your groups!" Snape barked when nobody moved, they, as well as Harry, clearly weren't happy with this new arrangement.

Brugrudgingly, the class started moving around. Harry shrugged, realizing there was nothing to be done about it and found Susan Bones already sitting down beside Pansy Parkinson. He plopped down in the seat next to the Hufflepuff.

"Hi Harry," she greeted politely, which he returned in kind.

"What do you make of all this?" He asked her.

"Well," Susan started hesitantly, sparing a sideways glance at Parkinson, who pointedly ignored the both of them. "I suspect this is some sort of test. Putting us together with people we'd rather avoid at all costs - for the most part." She clarified.

Knowing Snape, that was probably true. Harry was willing to bet that inwardly, Snape was getting a kick out of all of this, but his expression was its usual cool mask.

Theodore Nott plopped down into the seat on the other side of him. Harry couldn't recall a time he'd ever spoken to the Slytherin, for obvious reasons. And it looked like he'd have to wait a little bit longer too, as once the room had settled down, Snape spoke again.

"I have been saying since the start of term that this would happen," he reminded them all. "I've had you split into groups on occasion for larger projects, but they were only temporary. These ones are for the rest of the year."

They all knew better by now to know not to make any noises of protest. Snape would pounce on the opportunity to criticize them all.

"You will learn to work together, succeed and fail together." He continued. "I want every group to be ready to perform the defenses we've covered against all of the dark creatures from the previous chapter by the end of the week. Inferi, Dementors, Trolls, Acromantula's... and I want it all done... nonverbally."

Harry saw as half of the room tensed up, including everyone in his group except for himself, of course.

"But, sir," Hermione spoke up. "What if some of us can't even create a Patronus verbally? It's a very hard spell, and not very fair."

"A non-corporeal Patronus is adequate enough, Miss Granger," Snape replied, for the first time ever not commenting on her lack of a raised hand. "Even a small mist is acceptable, I am merely trying to see an effort being put into this. Now confer between your groups."

The classroom was noisy once again as students began talking amongst themselves.

"I really need to do good on this," Susan said worriedly. "Thank Merlin I got put into a group with you, Harry."

"I'm sure you'll do alright," Harry said consolingly.

"I hope so," Susan responded. "Defence is my worst class."

Harry suddenly had an awful feeling. He turned to look at Nott and the feeling worsened as he grimaced. 

"Same here," he said in a soft voice. This wasn’t good.

Harry then looked at Pansy, who was still trying her best to ignore him.

He just kept staring.

Finally, it seemed she could no longer take it.

"What?" She snapped harshly, giving him the most hateful look he'd ever received. Her black curls bounced slightly as she moved her head to look at him.

"You're absolutely dreadful at Defence too, aren't you?"

"No!" She denied it fiercely.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow at her.

Pansy's shoulders sagged. "Yes," she said, in a more defeated sort of voice.

He put his face in his hands and sighed inwardly.

Harry decided to take his sweet time when class ended so he could speak to Snape privately.

At first, he waited patiently as Snape seemed to be marking tests at his desk, but then the man spoke.

"Are you going to stare at me while I grade these abysmal essays, or will you say whatever you've been working up the courage to say."

"Did you purposefully put me in a group with people that would hate me?" Harry asked. He was careful not to demand. Snape's newfound tolerance of him would only go so far, he was sure. "As well as them having some of the worst marks in the class?"

"Unless I am mistaken, Bones does not hate you," Snape replied, still not looking up from his essays.

"Funny," Harry said sarcastically.

"Yes, I thought so," Snape agreed.

Harry waited. The only sound that filled the room was the scratching of Snape's quill as he marked.

"Loitering is an awful habit, Potter." The professor commented idly.

"Are you seriously not going to answer me?" Harry asked.

"One would think you'd have gotten the hint by now."

"Fine," Harry said bitterly. "But when this backfires on the both of us, it'll be your fault." 

He left the classroom without waiting for a response. Harry thought for sure that Snape would stop him and take away a thousand points and put him in detention for the rest of the term, but nothing happened.

What was Snape's agenda here? Torture him? Highly likely, but Harry thought they were past that sort of thing now. He'd even been giving Harry points for answering questions correctly in class! So maybe that wasn't it, but then what else? Harry to Gryffindor tower only mildly upset. Was it a test? It had to be. But what was Snape testing him on, his patience? Harry could do everything he asked of right then and there with no issues.

It hit him then, that yes, he could, but his partners probably couldn't. Perhaps the test was to try and bring their grades up.

Feeling a little less scorned but still vaguely annoyed, Harry marched up the stairs to the boy's dormitory after entering the common room and slumped onto his bed.

It was a dejected Johnny that returned to his own room that night as well. He'd half-heartedly picked at his food at dinner before excusing himself. He only felt a little bit guilty for skipping out on his patrol. 

Johnny so desperately wanted to mend his and Hermione's friendship, but he had no idea how to. Even if he did, Hermione didn't seem to want to. 

He still stood by his decision that night. What was ironic now was that she did like him, apparently, but he'd ruined it all by being responsible. Or not, who knows? Johnny certainly didn't, he wasn't very good with this sort of thing.

Johnny shed his jacket and changed into a looser shirt and some sweatpants before crawling into bed. He tossed and turned for a bit before sleep claimed him...

He awoke in the middle of the night for no particular reason. It was one of those things where you'd just turn over and fall right back asleep. Only as he was trying to do that, he heard something. 

Johnny focused and tried to listen, but it was a little difficult when you were still half asleep. 

A scratching noise. Like someone was repeatedly and quickly moving their fingernail across wood. 

He froze. None of the scenarios that played out in his mind were good ones. It was pitch black in the room, so he couldn't see anything, even though he was facing the source of the noise. It was on the other side of the room, judging by the sound. He was still freaking out and trying to come up with a plan when the noise suddenly stopped. All that Johnny could hear now was his own breathing.

Someone whispered harshly from right beside him. 

Johnny yelped and kicked a foot out but it met only air. He grabbed at the lantern on the nightstand and quickly turned it on. 

The room was empty.

He got out of bed, his heart pounding incredibly fast. There was nobody here. He checked the closet and the bathroom, both were empty.

The amulet that Dumbledore gave him in the summer felt like it almost restricted his breathing now, he hadn't really taken it off since he'd gotten it. Without his powers, who knew when he'd need help? He mostly kept it tucked under his shirt.

Johnny was almost able to write this all off and get back into bed (albeit, with the lantern staying on), when someone started knocking obnoxiously loud on his door. He glanced up at the clock. Who was banging on his door at four in the morning?

He stomped over to the door, now feeling very annoyed, and yanked it open. 

Nobody was there.

If this was some elaborate prank, he was very much tired of it. In fact, depending on who was doing it, it might end in Johnny being kicked out of the school for assaulting a student.

This is what he kept telling himself. That someone was playing a joke on him. Because he could play up his anger all he wanted, when the banging started, he jumped.

"Who's there?" He called loudly. As creeped out as he might have been, there was no way he was going to let it show. The yelp was embarrassing enough. 

No answer. 

His ire continued to grow, along with his fear. What a strange feeling after two years of its absence.

Deciding to not follow every horror movie trope ever, Johnny shut his door and locked it. Thank god Dumbledore had the foresight to add amenities from the human world to Johnny's room. Just as he turned his back to return to bed, the banging resumed.

"Someone's getting their chest caved in..." he muttered with real intent, as he once again yanked his door open and stepped into the hallway.

Only his feet met cold and cracked stone steps that were so steep that Johnny lost his balance and tumbled down them. He rolled and rolled, mercifully avoiding any hits to the head. When it stopped, he ended up in a stone trench of sorts. 

He took in his surroundings quickly. He'd not fallen into a trench, it was a pit, and one Johnny had been in before. All around him was the familiar sight of what once must have been an amphitheater or courtroom. Stone benches ran all around the room and he could see the door he came through around six yards up the steps.

The quiet whispering is what confirmed it.

Johnny turned to see an archway with a black curtain draped over it up on top of the dais that was raised over the pit. 

His brain seemed unable to function. How was this possible? He was back in the Department of Mysteries, right under the thing that teleported him to Hel.

He watched the curtain of the veil flutter slightly as if it had just been touched in an almost detached sort of way. 

This wasn't happening. He was dreaming, he had to be. Soon, Johnny would wake up back in his bed, marvel at how creative his brain was, and then go back to sleep.

This false hope was shattered when someone politely cleared their throat from behind him. 

Johnny spun around, his heart thundering in his chest to see a tall, thin blonde man smiling at him in an innocuous way. But there was something else in it. Something almost... mocking.

The man wore strange clothing, but Johnny recognized the kind. Red and purple colored tunic with a long, flowing black cape. The shoes gave it away but Johnny recognized the man almost immediately anyway.

"Johnny Blaze," the man said in a silky voice. "We meet at last."

He stared into the man's eyes and saw men being led astray, people being tricked into doing unspeakable things, deals turned back on, and the world in disarray.

The smile shifted into a maniacal grin.

"I know you," Johnny said, taking a step back.

The man bowed deeply. "I see my reputation proceeds me."

This was the person that was responsible for the death of Baldur. The father of Fenrir and the world serpent Jörmungandr. The man who would lead an army of Giants against Odin at Ragnarök.

Johnny stared into the eyes of Loki, and he saw nothing but chaos.

Chapter Text

"What happens the day someone decides you deserve it?"

"I'll tell you what, they better not miss."

Johnny should really be used to these things by now. He'd met Odin, fought Draugr, been to Hel, killed Garmr, and- oh.

Perhaps he needed to be warier. 

Loki grinned. "I see it's clicked in that little head of yours."

"She started it," Johnny said, knowing it was a lame excuse.

"Oh, of that, I have no doubt." Loki agreed. "Do not worry yourself, Johnny. I have other children."

How could he have forgotten that Hel was Loki's daughter? His unease was not assuaged. No matter what Loki said, Johnny couldn't trust him. He was the God of Mischief after all. 

"You mean to say that's not why I'm here then?" Johnny asked.

"But of course not," Loki said with a smile. "No, I do not wish to incur the wrath of Odin just yet. He's taken a liking to you. And besides, if I wanted to kill you, it'd be with an audience of all your loved ones."

Johnny's fists clenched. The whisperings from the Veil of Death got louder, more frantic.

"Oh stop that," Loki admonished lightly. "You wouldn't get close enough to land a hit, boy."

"Wanna bet?"

Loki laughed, it was a mixture of mocking and surprise. "You've got nerve! I like that. Though very quick to anger. I thought that part of you had left?"

"How'd you - ?" 

"I know a lot more than you'd think," Loki said simply. "You should be thanking me, by the way. I spared you from another nightmare. He's not going to be very happy about that. Not when he wants so badly to see you again in the flesh."

"Who are you talking about?" Johnny asked angrily.

Loki just snickered to himself. He took great joy in being vague. "Won't tell just yet. Can't ruin the surprise. Though it is interesting you haven't at least spoken to him before."

"Just tell me why you've brought me here," Johnny demanded, it was obvious Loki would not tell him what he was talking about. "I'm done playing games. And I'm not going back through that veil."

"I should think not," Loki agreed. "After you killed my daughter and Garmr, you set things off balance. The realm was only left unguarded for a few days before the All-Father noticed, but by then, Draugr had appeared in Asgard, something that was previously impossible."

Killing Hel and Garm had done that?

"All around the nine realms, the vilest creatures from Hel have been wreaking havoc," Loki said. "The All-Father has appointed his idiot grandsons to watch over it in the meantime, but the damage has been done. By killing Garmr, you have defied prophecy. It is his howl that calls Surtr to gather his army to fight the Aesir."

"With you leading them," Johnny pointed out. He hadn't thought about that before, but he remembered the other key parts of the Ragnarök prophecy.

Loki grinned again. "Smart boy."

"So I've potentially messed up your plans to defeat the Aesir, killed your only daughter, unknowingly wreaked havoc on the realms, and yet I'm supposed to believe you didn't bring me here to kill me."

Loki rubbed his chin and shrugged. "When you put it like that... this does look bad, doesn't it? Let me put your mind at ease." He retrieved a mirror from one of his pouches and showed it to him. The glass shimmered until an image of a village on fire showed clearly. 

Johnny could hear screams and people shouting. And then he saw it. The Three Broomsticks set ablaze. This was Hogsmeade. 

Johnny lunged forward, smacking the mirror out of Loki's hand and grabbing him by the collar of his tunic.

Finally, that shit-eating grin slipped off the God's face.

"What did you do?" Johnny demanded with a snarl.

"I haven't done a thing," Loki said, raising his hands. "My part in this is over."

It clicked then.

"You brought me here to keep me out of the way." Johnny realized, his eyes wide. "Why?" He asked, shaking Loki. "Why Hogsmeade?"

"Not just Hogsmeade," Loki said. His form shifted and changed until he didn't look like Loki at all. He looked like... like... Garett De Jong. The vampire Hestia Jones and her uncle had brought to an Order meeting months ago in the summer. "Every little town your Order protects will fall tonight." He shifted back into himself.

Johnny couldn't believe it. How had he known to infiltrate them in the first place? What was his game? 

Loki's eyes glinted with mischief. "Lord Voldemort sends his regards."

His entire body shimmered with odd green and yellow light, before simply disappearing entirely.

Johnny stood there, in the Department of Mysteries, his heart pounding.

"Fuck."

Sirius Black was enjoying a surprisingly dreamless sleep for the first time without the aid of potions in several years. Despite being much healthier both physically and mentally, it didn't stop the nightmares from plaguing him almost every time he tried to sleep. He'd become a bit of an insomniac whilst locked up in Azkaban, and certainly the first year and a half following his escape. That sort of thing became a necessity at the time. But after, it was just a hindrance, and it also meant having to take potions for quite a while in order to fix it.

Though he'd never complain about an end to the nightmares and the ability to sleep for longer than an hour or two, it still hurt his pride that he couldn't do it on his own. 

The blow to his ego would be much worse if Sirius didn't have Remus and Nymphadora there to constantly reassure him that it was normal, and nothing to be ashamed of. It didn't stop those feelings entirely of course, but, nothing probably could.

It was in this peaceful and fully natural slumber that he had been suddenly awoken by someone he despised even when fully awake.

"Get up Black," came the voice of Severus Snape. A curse was on Sirius' lips, the vilest one he was able to conjure up at the time when Snape continued. "Hogsmeade is in flames."

Now, he was there, and 'in flames' was an understatement. Ablaze felt more accurate, though he knew they were pretty much the same thing.

He was on his back, having been rocked by an explosion. Sirius should have been with Karkaroff in their designated town. He'd been told that's where the others were. But Sirius would be dammed if he was going to be somewhere else when danger was so close by to Harry.

"Merlin," he muttered. People screamed and manic laughter could be heard farther out. The howls of werewolves echoed all around and the raspy breathing of Draugr got closer and closer by the second. There were shouts of people dueling. He had to get up.

And that's when Sirius saw him. His godson, fighting his cousin, Bellatrix.

"No," he groaned, forcing himself to get up. "Harry!" Sirius shouted. "STOP!" But there was no point. Everything was much too loud, the village was in chaos. It felt like the end of the world. 

He shambled forward to try and reach them, but their duel moved behind some buildings and out of his line of sight. A low growl came from behind him.

Sirius stopped. He turned around. A werewolf was advancing on him slowly. He gripped his wand tightly.

"Fuck."

"Goddamnit!" Johnny yelled, kicking at the door that exited from the room. It wouldn't budge. He didn't remember that being the case before. Loki must have used his magic to keep it shut. He panted both from exertion and anger. 

How ironic was it that he'd been feeling down about not being able to help the Order better all year, and now he literally couldn't do anything because he was locked in a room.

He swore a thousand different tortures upon the god of mischief. 

"Motherfucking son of a bitch!" 

Johnny's mind raced. There had to be something he could do. Surely there was. For fucks sake, moments ago, he was in a castle filled with wizards! But he wasn't one, that was the key part. There was no way he could leave here, not on his own. Maybe in the morning, someone who actually worked here would find him when they came in for the day, but by then Hogsmeade would be burnt to ashes.

There was no doubt Dumbledore and the others knew already. Nothing escaped the old man. But Johnny worried for their safety. He'd always heard that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard alive, the only person Voldemort ever truly feared, but what could he do against a god? Loki was working with the death eaters the entire time, who knew what else he had up his sleeve?

He needed to alert them somehow, send Dumbledore a message. But how...

The amethyst locket around his neck suddenly felt cold against his bare chest. Of course, Dumbledore had given it to him in the summer! Just in case he needed help while staying with the Grangers. He kept wearing it as a precaution, but mostly because he rather liked it. 

"Fuck, what was the code word?" He muttered. Something random, he knew. Dumbledore was weird like that. God, it could be anything! 

"My powers are gone, how could I possibly protect them if the Death Eaters come knocking?"

Dumbledore just smiled that infuriating smile, before tossing him a locket. 

"Say the word 'Goodstock', and help will arrive immediately."

Time to hold the old man to his word.

He grabbed hold of the amethyst and said "Goodstock" loudly.

Nothing happened.

A moment, and then another. The air around him seemed to vibrate and perceptively shift in place. It was almost blurry in some parts. It was deathly quiet, even the whispering from the Veil went silent. 

And then Johnny was sent flying back into the stone steps as something exploded in front of him. It sounded like a cannon going off right in his ear. The whispering was back, it sounded frantic now. He stood back up and rubbed his now sore back from where it hit the stone. 

Standing in front of him was Dumbledore, his expression the most serious he'd ever seen it be.

"It is good that I've found you," he said. "We may discuss why you are here in the first place at a later time, you must come with me now. Hogsmeade is under attack."

"I know," Johnny said in a rush. The old man needed to hear what he had to say. "Loki took me here, he's working with Voldemort. He showed me Hogsmeade in flames."

To Dumbledore's credit, he didn't stop to ask a thousand questions. "It's worse than I initially feared then. The god of mischief has not shown you the whole truth, Johnathan. It's not just Hogsmeade, but every outpost I had Order members guarding are under attack."

"He disguised himself as one of the vampires that Hestia and her uncle brought."

Dumbledore looked away, thinking furiously to himself. "Of course, how simple, yet effective. He managed to fool us all. That would explain a few things... but no matter, I will take you back to Hogwarts immediately."

"I'm going to help," He said, it was almost a demand.

The headmaster met his determined gaze and gave a small nod. "I expected nothing less. I will be joining you. Now grab my arm."

Johnny did so, and with a twist, they were back inside his room at Hogwarts. "I thought wizards couldn't do that." He said. "Teleporting in and out of Hogwarts." 

Dumbledore gave him a small smile. "Being me has its privileges. I lifted the Anti-Apparition jinx just for a short window to allow some Order members to get here. Otherwise, yes, the wards around the school make it impossible to do so. Speaking of which, the Ministry will not be happy with me for shattering theirs."

So that's what that force was that threw him back.

"Wait for me outside," Johnny told him. He was already sliding on a shirt. 

With a nod, Dumbledore left. 

Johnny put on his black leather jacket, socks, jeans, and black boots. 

He stepped outside into the hallway. Dumbledore was there waiting for him, he once again took the old man's arm. 

A moment later Johnny was staring at the burning village of Hogsmeade.

He heard the screams, the manic laughter, the howls. 

"How could we have let this happen?" He asked.

Johnny turned to Dumbledore, a single tear was rolling down the old man's right cheek.

He gave no answer.

It wasn't a full moon, and yet Sirius was staring at a completely transformed werewolf. 

He took a few slow steps back. This wasn't going to be easy. It could pounce on as fast as he could apparate away from this distance. It'd either rip his throat out or he'd splinch himself and die anyway. 

"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered. "Bombarda!"

The exploding charm hit the werewolf square in the chest, but all it seemed to do was make it angry. It growled even louder at him. A mix of saliva and blood dripped from its maw.

Sirius gripped his wand tightly. He was always the confident one in a duel. Even when he was half out of his mind chasing down Wormtail, even battling Bellatrix. With all the adrenaline running through him, he never had the proper awareness really to worry about himself. But this... he couldn't see his life after this.

The killing curse was out. He didn't have any strong intentions other than running away, to be honest. And Sirius was too afraid to put proper meaning into the spell.

Just as the werewolf looked ready to pounce, something tackled it across the stone courtyard. 

Someone.

Johnny.

He fought ferociously, raining down blows on the werewolf's head. It fought back, of course, scratching up Johnny's back quite badly in the process. But it could not seem to get the young man off of it.

It went limp after the twentieth or so hit. Its head was mutilated and almost split like a watermelon.

For a brief moment, Sirius felt more terror at the sight of Johnny than the werewolf. He understood then why he was so feared in America. His head may not have been on fire, but Sirius knew he was standing in front of the Ghost Rider.

"You shouldn't be here," Johnny said.

Despite being two decades older than him, Sirius felt like he was being scolded. Like he'd let him down.

"Karkaroff can handle our town," Sirius responded finally. "Harry's here, fighting Lestrange. I'm not leaving until I know he's safe."

Credit to Johnny, he didn't argue with him. He just nodded. 

"Let's just hope you're right."

Sirius grunted. They started down the main street. "Where's Dumbledore?" He asked.

"Went on ahead." Was the answer.  "Look out!"

He grabbed Sirius by the back of his cloak and yanked him back to the ground just as one of the taller buildings tumbled down.

It crashed down onto Dervish and Bangs. There was a blood-curdling scream from inside.

Johnny rushed to the miraculously undamaged front door before Sirius could blink.

"Hold on!" Sirius shouted after him. But it was too late. Johnny had already disappeared inside the shop.

Sirius rushed after the boy. Inside was chaos. The left part of the store was caved in and destroyed. Sirius hoped that nobody had been caught in the fall. 

"Fucking hell," Sirius muttered. Harry was in Hogsmeade somewhere, fighting Bellatrix. Merlin, he could already be- no, he couldn't afford to think like that. He'd help Johnny here, and then he'd look for Harry.

He could see Johnny well enough now. He was lifting a large wooden beam off of a woman's leg. Smoke was in the air, choking and unforgiving. Sirius cast a spell to get rid of it. 

"Can you walk?" He heard Johnny shout to the woman. Her face was covered in dirt, her clothes were ripped. She shook her head.

Sirius came forward and lifted her up. She slung an arm over his shoulder. He heard Johnny let the beam fall back down with a loud thud.

"My daughter!" The woman wailed. Shaking her head violently. "My daughter - she's still upstairs! Please! Y-you must save her!"

Sirius cursed inwardly. Of course, plenty of shop owners had a flat on the second floor. He looked back at Johnny. They shared a grim look.

Johnny nodded and turned back towards the blaze. More of the roof had come down. The entire store buckled as the tower that fell on it sank further into it.

He got the woman out. She was still sobbing. 

"It's alright," he said soothingly. "Your daughter will be okay..." though he did not believe it. 

"Sirius!" A squeaky voice called. He turned his head to see Minerva and Fillius jogging toward them. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he assured his former professors. "Johnny's just gone inside to retrieve-"

An explosion rocked the street as Dervish and Bangs collapsed in on itself. 

"No!" Sirius cried, nearly letting go of the woman. "No no no..."

Planks of wood that were still burning were pushed up and aside. Johnny grunted as he stood, covered in ash and bleeding from a nasty looking scratch on his neck that crawled up to the side of his head.

The look on his face was desolate. Sirius belatedly realized that there was no child with him. The sob that came a moment later was gut wrenching.

It was swiftly followed by manic laughter.

He could not see his cousin, but she was close. He let go of the woman gently, before running towards the sound.

Bodies were strewn everywhere. Some were Death Eaters, some were villagers. He saw at least one werewolf as well. Sirius finally found Bellatrix in the courtyard which had a clear view of the Shrieking Shack. 

"Hello, cousin," she greeted him in an exaggeratedly sweet tone. "I see you've come back for round two, hm?"

He could see Harry lying unconscious before her, blood pooling around his head.

"Don't worry, he's not dead," Bellatrix said with a grin that wasn't all there, noticing where Sirius was looking. "The Dark Lord wants the boy for himself." She prodded Harry's head with her foot. "He put up quite the fight, you ought to be proud."

"I'll kill you," he promised. 

She laughed. "Everyone always says that to me, and yet..." Her gaze hardened, and she wordlessly shot a green spell his way. "That filthy muggle isn't here to save you this time, cousin. You die tonight."

Johnny huffed as he rushed down the street after Sirius. He moved fast despite being in his late thirties, Sirius had sprinted off like a man possessed. Maybe that sort of thing was different for wizards. Either way, Johnny had a hard time keeping up. 

Not that it mattered in the end. He had to duck and roll to avoid a sword cutting his head off. 

He turned around to see a Draugr coming out from behind a store.

And then another, and another...

In seconds, Johnny was surrounded. And it wasn't just Draugr either. Hel-Walkers and Mara's - thin female-looking creatures with long arms and sharp claws and teeth. Loki wasn't playing around, he'd brought some of the most depraved creatures here from Hel. 

"C'mon," he muttered, bracing himself, fists raised. "C'mon you fucks." If he was going to die, Johnny was determined to put up one hell of a fight.

Just as they started to advance on him, they stopped. Johnny watched as a few of them winced or flinched. When he turned around, he understood why.

Honestly, he should've realized earlier. Its presence was palpable.

Standing where the street split off into multiple different directions, was the Ghost Rider.

He saw the power he once held in all its glory. There was no leather jacket like his own, instead, it wore wizards' robes. 

The monsters behind him were backing away, even if they were on the same side, they were smart enough to not get in its way.

Really, he stood no chance. So it made plenty of sense that Johnny started advancing towards it. He almost couldn't explain it. Johnny felt like something was calling for him. Like he had to face the Rider.

The closer he got, the weaker he felt. Johnny tried not to look the Rider in the eyes. He knew all too well what that would bring. The chaos faded into the background. It was nothing to him now. Any yells from duels he couldn't see were inaudible to him, fires all around them crackling and spreading hardly phased him.

Johnny came within a foot of the Rider before stopping. The entire time it hadn't done anything. He spoke, acting much braver and stronger than he actually felt; "Who are you?"

It tilted its head at him, and for a moment, Johnny thought it wouldn't respond, but that notion was quickly dismissed.

"I'm sorry." It said, all garbled and forced. Completely unlike how Johnny sounded when he would speak as the Rider. 

That moment of confusion proved costly, as a second after saying those two words, Johnny was sent flying back up the street from an uppercut to the jaw. He felt the searing pain of it breaking, as well as from his back slamming against the pavement. 

"What the fuck!" He tried to cry out, but it sounded more like 'wvba th fugh!"

Johnny had no time to recuperate, as a bony hand grabbed him by the hem of his shirt and lifted him clean off the ground. His hands slammed down against the Rider's arm, but it would not budge. Another hand grabbed him by the side of his stomach, and before he knew it Johnny was hoisted into the air and tossed into the brick wall of a shop, his head smacking first off of the store and then the ground once more.

His vision was blurry and faded, he couldn't tell which way was up or down. Something hit him in the side of the head as soon as he raised it up off the ground. A knee or a boot maybe, he could hardly tell.

He now understood the saying 'seeing stars', unfortunately. Another boot to the head, before he was grabbed by the collar of his jacket and once again lifted high off the ground.

Johnny found the strength to grin, his mouth filled with his own blood. "That all you got?" He managed to say clearly. His vision was so damn blurry he almost missed the Rider tilting its head at him. He suddenly hit the ground and fell over. 

He could just make out the Rider walking away from him, deeper into Hogsmeade. Johnny grunted as he got to his knees, and then to his feet. His jaw throbbed, he could feel every bone shard from his shattered ribs poking at his organs. Looking at the fire made his head hurt. Still, he said; "Nuh done wih you yet..."

Johnny ran after it, and just before the Rider turned around to look back at him he tackled it to the ground. He started raining down fists on the back of its skull. A dumb decision, considering his fists seared from every hit, but he didn't care. Maybe he imagined it, but it seemed cracks were appearing in its skull. Though just as quickly as he'd see it, the cracks would heal. Still, he kept punching, until a bony hand wrapped around his lower leg and squeezed.

When he was the Rider, he could throw cars with ease, Johnny had even stopped an apartment building from falling over after a nasty fight with the Wrecking Crew right before he left the country. All that strength honed in on his leg meant the bone snapped almost instantly.

The scream of pain he let out ripped at his vocal cords. He blinked and suddenly he was on his back, though he didn't remember falling onto it. Perhaps he had passed out briefly. He couldn't breathe, but he soon found out why. The Rider was kneeling beside him, one hand around his throat. 

It hesitated. 

His throat could be crushed far easier than his leg. It'd take a second, maybe even less for the Rider to choke the life out of him.

But it hesitated. 

There was nothing behind those empty sockets. It just stared at him. The suspense was nearly worse than the pain. He didn't even care about dying anymore, he'd accepted it.

Suddenly, it looked up from him and towards something that Johnny couldn't see.

A white spell hit it square in the face and sent the Rider flying back. 

There was an inhuman scream that Johnny would never forget for as long as he lived. He could not even begin to describe it. 

Shouts came from behind him, but he didn't move to try and get a look. His vision was fading fast.

The growls of werewolves and groans of Draugr filled the streets as spellfire whizzed by.

Someone knelt before him now. His vision was so dark he could not make them out. He vaguely heard someone say his name, followed by other words he could not hear.

Darkness took him.

Sirius stood over the knocked-out body of his godson. Bellatrix had managed to escape, her manic laughter still echoing in his ears. 

Villagers lay dead around him. Some from his cousin, some ravaged by werewolves. A few were hacked to pieces by those skeletal warriors Sirius had seen in the summer. 

Merlin, even the children...

He shook his head and focused on performing healing spells to close Harry's wound. The boy had cracked his head open nastily. The smell of copper filled the air. 

Another scream broke the silence.

"Johnny..." he breathed but knew he couldn't just leave Harry like this. Tears streamed down his face.

"...supposed to... protect us..."

Dumbledore held a dying Rosmerta in his arms.

"I know, my dear, I know. I'm sorry." He said soothingly. She had been badly burned by the fire set to the Three Broomsticks and was quickly swarmed by Mara's after she had narrowly escaped the wreckage. Their claws had reduced her legs and abdomen to bloody shreds. There was no magic in the world that could save her now.

He heard a scream coming from down the street. Dumbledore eyed a few werewolves that wisely kept their distance from him. When he looked back down, Rosmerta's eyes were glossed over and unseeing. He sighed sorrowfully.

Dumbledore put her down gently and closed her eyes. He looked back and saw a crowd of students making their way down the many hills that lead from the castle to Hogsmeade. He saw Fillius and McGonagall approach looking battle worn. 

"Keep the students back!" He shouted. "Do not let them into the town!"

Dumbledore did not wait for them to nod, he merely started off down the street toward the scream. 

No one else would die tonight if he could help it.

He came to a fork in the road and saw a cloaked figure with its head on fire kneeling over the prone body of Johnathan. 

Dumbledore fired off a white spell at it as the creature looked up at him. He realized it was the Ghost Rider. He collected himself quickly, there was no time to ponder how this was possible. Dumbledore rushed to Johnny's side, keeping an eye on the Rider. It had been sent flying back and let out an incomprehensible roar before sizing him up. He heard more footsteps from behind and quickly checked to see Order members come to his aid and attempt to put out the fires that adorned every building.

With one last glance down at Johnny, the Ghost Rider disappeared in a plume of flames that fizzled out and left nothing behind.

Nymphadora instantly rushed to the boy's side and knelt down beside Johnathan. Frantically pleading with him to stay with her. 

Dumbledore looked around the once quaint wizarding village that was now destroyed. Bodies were strewn everywhere, from both sides. He didn't even want to think about what was happening in the other Order protected towns. A tear slid down his cheek.

"Professor!" Nymphadora cried, getting his attention and snapping him out of his thoughts. She was crying too. "We have to get him to the hospital wing!" They couldn't take him to St Mungo's. The infirmary in Hogwarts would have to do.

He levitated Johnathan's body, as well as cast some spells to try and stop the bleeding. He hurried back to the castle. Apparating Johnathan in this state would only serve to harm the boy further, and he really needed to reapply the anti-apparition charm soon.

"How did we let this happen?" He heard Nymphadora say from somewhere behind him. "Is this our fault?"

"No, Tonks, it isn't." He heard Minerva reply softly. "How could we have known?"

But Dumbledore wasn't convinced.

Chapter Text

"Oh, you've got it bad for her, don't you?"

"Tonks. I will get out of this bed and strangle the life out of you without a second thought."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Tonks!" 

- Nymphadora Tonks visiting Johnny Blaze in the Hospital Wing, sometime in the Winter of 1997

His consciousness came and went in a blur. Sometimes when he awoke he could hear hushed conversations, sometimes he'd be able to see someone leaning over him. Johnny felt feverish and his left hand was warm, but he couldn't get himself to move.

On the rare occasion that he stayed awake longer than a minute, his vision would clear and he could see the white ceiling of the room he was in. Hospital Wing, most likely. Johnny still couldn't move his head, so he had no choice but to fall back asleep.

Then finally, after countless moments like these, Johnny awoke fully. 

He could move his head and body, though it hurt a lot to do so. He tried to speak but his throat was so dry his voice cracked and came out as nothing more than a short, painful whine. The warm sensation on his left hand disappeared for a moment, before a glass of water was pressed to his lips and his head was lifted up off the pillow that he had never even realized was there. 

People were moving around him, still out of his vision, which hadn't cleared, unlike the last few times. Just a blurry mass of brown in front of him.

"....he's........up.....Pomfrey........quick!"

And suddenly, everything came into startling clarity. There were a few people around him, but his eyes sought hers first like they always did.

Hermione, for lack of a better word, looked awful. Her hair was a mess, bushier than he'd ever seen it. There were dark circles under her eyes.

A small crowd of mostly Order members surrounded his bed. Dumbledore, who had a weary expression. Tonks, who looked almost as bad as Hermione did. Snape, whose expression was unreadable. And a woman Johnny remembered to be the nurse here, though he had forgotten her name.

Another glass - potion - was pressed into his hands.

"Drink up," the nurse ordered briskly. "You'll feel better."

And just as she said that the pain hit Johnny all at once. It was damn near everywhere. Memories of the night before flooded back to him. His leg had been snapped, his jaw shattered, and he had to have several concussions. 

He downed the potion and grimaced as soon as the liquid entered his mouth. Lord. Couldn't Magic make medicine taste any better? At least it acted faster, as almost immediately the pain subsided into a dull throbbing in the affected areas. 

"Thanks," he said, handing the nurse the potion back.

Johnny glanced at Hermione briefly. She had grasped his left hand in her own. Guess he knew what that warm feeling had been. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. He tried to give her a warm smile. Johnny figured he had about a second or two before he was engulfed in a hug.

Sure enough, arms did their best to wrap around him tightly. Bushy hair threatened to get in his mouth, and the distinct smell of vanilla filled his nostrils. Above all that though, Johnny just felt warm. A feeling of home. If that even made sense.

"I know," he murmured into her ear. Her face was buried in his chest. "I'm an ass-"

"A bloody prat!" Hermione practically shouted, leaping off him with a start, her cheeks red. "I'd hit you to make a point if you weren't knocking on death's door already!"

Johnny grinned at her, knowing he was really pushing his luck now. "Don't worry, death hasn't earned me yet." She was not amused. Neither was Snape, to the surprise of no one. 

"Great, the boy is alive." He drawled, sounding like his survival had been the worst news he'd ever received. "If you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I have other things to attend to."

Dumbledore merely chuckled. As Johnny heard Tonks mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'prick' under her breath.

"It is certainly good to see you awake, m'boy," the old man said, pretending he did not hear her. "It was touch and go for a while there."

"How long was I out for?" Johnny asked. He didn't like the way the look they all shared with each other. "What?" He said.

"It's nearly the end of February," Hermione told him gently. "You've been in a coma for a month."

"We'll have much to discuss when you're on your feet again," Dumbledore told him solemnly. 

"You can tell me now," Johnny said, perhaps a little too forcefully. "I'm fine."

Credit to Dumbledore, the old man acquiesced immediately. "Most of the villages that were under our watch were burnt down. All but one, really."

"Karkaroff gave those bastards hell," Tonks added, a note of begrudging respect in her voice. "Held them off all on his own until reinforcements arrived."

"And how many did we lose?" He asked, pleased that the grumpy Russian finally stepped up. 

Another look was shared. 

"Hestia Jones is dead, along with her uncle and any other vampires they were able to bring to our side. Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, and Sturgis Podmore are also dead."

Johnny frowned. He hadn't really talked to them much, but their deaths were still a blow. 

"Both Fred and George sustained relatively minor injuries," He continued. "Remus is fine, as are Sirius and the other guards. Karkaroff has quite the concussion but is otherwise healthy." Dumbledore paused, looking down for a moment. "We lost a lot of people."

"What about Harry?" He asked. 

"He's fine," Tonks assured him. "The worst concussion Madame Pomfrey's ever seen, apparently, but he's alright. He'll be released tomorrow."

Johnny let his head fall back on the pillow, not even realizing he had jolted up. At least there was that.

The days went on. The nurse - Pomfrey - insisted he was to have at least a week or two of strict bed rest. The plethora of potions she gave him throughout the day helped the healing process along, which meant for the most part he felt fine but was still forbidden to leave his bed except to use the washroom. Meals were brought to him from the Great Hall and his little secluded area had a revolving door of visitors. The most frequent being Hermione, Tonks, Sirius, and Harry. The latter two had not been there when he had woken up due to Sirius being by Harry's bedside.

"Scary, it was." He'd said. "Seeing him like that. Felt like I was losing James and Lily all over again." His expression had been haunted. 

Hermione stayed with him most nights before curfew. Only ever leaving to grab food or for her Prefect patrols. 

"You don't have to stay," Johnny said on the third night. "You'd probably get more work done in the library."

"Nonsense," came her quick and expected reply. This wasn't the first time he had tried to talk her into leaving. Having someone look after and care for him like this was uncomfortable. "It's plenty quiet in here since you always insist on just laying there and staring at me."

He blushed, but thankfully she was still reading her book and didn't notice. 

"It's not as if I have anything better to do." Johnny pointed out. He was bad with conversations for the most part. He usually didn't have much trouble with Hermione, but his mind kept returning to their kiss at Slughorn's party. But it wasn't just that. When he had fought the Ghost Rider that night and lost. When it was about to choke the life out of him. He remembered not even caring that he was going to die. Johnny hadn't thought about what he was leaving behind. Dying had not scared him since becoming the Rider, and perhaps even before that, when Mona died and when Crash got cancer. 

But the more he thought about it, the guiltier Johnny felt. If the Rider had not hesitated, he would never have been able to see any of his friends again, his family. No more Harry, Sirius, Tonks, or Dumbledore. 

He would have never seen James again, his own brother.

No more Hermione. 

The thought of that filled him with unfamiliar emotions. Johnny pushed down tears. He had accepted dying without a second thought. 

There had always been something not quite right after losing Mona. The few therapy sessions he attended with Crash and James didn't help much, and so they stopped going. He supposed he never had time to process anything after Crash's death and being cursed. Those days were fuzzy to him now. Mornings spent scrounging for food in some rundown motel wherever he had woken up from a night of slaughtering criminals. Even when he'd gotten more control over it and traveled the world in search of Mephisto's demons, he had been single-minded. Not allowing himself any time for anything other than the mission.

The thought of not being around her anymore scared Johnny more than he'd like to admit. Her faux annoyance, how loose curls of her hair fell out of whatever messily put-together bun she had while studying.

"What?" She asked him suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts. Hermione was looking up from her book at him. 

"Nothing," he muttered. "Just thinking."

Perhaps too much.

Winter died out and turned into Spring. It's after dinner on the first of March, a day or two off from when he's supposed to be released. The most exciting thing to occur during his entire stay so far happens when Ron Weasley is levitated into the Hospital Wing with Dumbledore, Slughorn, Snape, and Harry following closely after.

Hermione, who again had been nose deep in a textbook by his bed, jolted as the doors burst open.

"What happened?" Hermione cried at the same time as Madame Pomfrey demanded. 

"He's been poisoned," Dumbledore answered calmly, despite the situation. "Mr. Potter has given him a bezoar, but I fear that some damage has already been done."

Pomfrey got right to work, waving her wand and casting a plethora of spells in short order. 

"You don't mean he'll die, do you?" Hermione asked in horror, already moving over to Ron's bedside.

"No, I don't believe he will," Dumbledore answered. "But what effects this will have on him when he wakes up - whenever that may be - I do not know."

"Do we know who poisoned him?" Johnny asked. He noticed Slughorn flinch.

"It was an accident," Dumbledore said. "A poisoned bottle of mead meant for me as a gift from the late Madame Rosmerta a few weeks ago, that had been given to Professor Slughorn who in turn was meant to give it to me. My working theory was that she was under the Imperius curse at the time."

"Ron ate some chocolates thinking they were a birthday present," Harry added. "But I had tossed them out of my trunk while I was looking for something and I guess they landed on his bed. They were from Romilda Vane and they had love potions in them."

"That foolish girl should be expelled," Snape said with barely hidden venom. It was a testament to his and Harry's better relationship. 

"Love potions aren't a controlled substance, as you well know Severus." Dumbledore reminded him with a small smile. "Besides, I daresay these three should have been expelled several times over already."

Harry and Hermione both had the decency to look sheepish. Ron snored lightly.

"I will speak to Minerva tomorrow about a suitable punishment." He continued softly. "For now, let's give them some space. Poppy, please notify me immediately if there are any negative changes in his health." 

The nurse nodded. "He should be fine, I expect him to wake up sometime tomorrow."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, before exiting the room with Snape and Slughorn on his heels.

Pomfrey went back to her little office in the corner of the Hospital Wing.

All the while Johnny thought furiously about who could have been behind it all. Rosmerta was dead, so questioning her was out, and he doubted it'd be helpful anyway. His gut instinct was to accuse Malfoy, but like every other time, he had no proof. 

He glanced at Harry, who sat by Ron's side and seemed to be deep in thought. No doubt they shared the same idea.

Eventually, Hermione reclaimed her seat by Johnny, and Harry walked over as well.

"How are you feeling, mate?" He asked.

"Fine," Johnny replied with a shrug. "Wish she'd let me leave already. It's so fucking boring here."

"Thanks," Hermione interjected sarcastically. "And language."

"Sorry," he said, flushing. "I adore our conversations."

"Good save."

"I try."

"Oh, I can tell."

"Can you?"

Harry snorted and shook his head. "Merlin, just kiss already. This is sickening to watch."

"Oh, bugger off," Hermione said, but the effect was ruined by the blush on her cheeks that Johnny's no doubt mirrored.

Harry just chuckled as they settled into a short, but comfortable silence. 

"I think this was Malfoy," Harry said eventually. "But I can't prove it."

Johnny nodded. "I was thinking the same."

"Malfoy wasn't at Hogsmeade when Katie was cursed by the necklace," Hermione said. "But if he put Rosmerta under the Imperius, she could have easily given it to Katie. Maybe when she went to the bathroom."

Johnny and Harry regarded her in surprise.

"What?" She asked. "Maybe I believe you now about Malfoy. I'm not allowed to change my mind?"

"No," Johnny answered. 

"Never," Harry added.

She rolled her eyes and sighed at them. "I'm off to bed then. Tomorrow, I'll try and ask Leanne - Katie's friend - if she saw her go into the bathroom that day in the Three Broomsticks." And with that, she gathered things, swooped down and kissed his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth, and left.

He sat there in a pleased, hazy reverie for a moment, before snapping back to reality.

The spot where she kissed him still burned, as did his entire face. 

"Girls are so fucking confusing." He said, and Harry laughed.

"You're telling me, mate."

March brought less snow but exchanged it for rainy weather. Apparently, it was very common in Scotland. Ron was still recovering in the Hospital Wing, Johnny went with Harry and Hermione whenever they wanted to visit their friend.

"It's not so bad," the redhead shrugged, munching on candy one afternoon. "No class, no homework. Only annoying part is needing to be helped to the loo. At least I have this candy that Johnny got though." 

Immediately, an unpleasant expression washed over his face, as if he had let something slip.

"Candy that I got?" Johnny asked, confused.

"You're very popular, mate," Harry answered with a grin. "You had a lot of visitors, it drove Madame Pomfrey mad."

He felt incredibly embarrassed. Johnny was almost too scared to look at Hermione. But to his surprise, she was merely digging through Ron's -or his, he supposed - bag of candy for a sugar quill. 

Harry shot him a knowing look. 

"It's silly," Hermione said lightly. Johnny agreed.

Now he knew how Harry felt though, and it wasn't nearly as bad as he had it. They milled around and talked some more with Ron, who was all too happy to avoid any schoolwork, but eventually, the nurse ushered them out so he could get some rest. They had to leave anyway. There's a Quidditch match today—Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. 

Harry had been grumbling about having to use Cormac McLaggen as keeper due to Ron's poisoning. Johnny felt inclined to join in on Harry's cursing of the older Gryffindor boy, and so he did. Hermione shook her head in exasperation almost the entire trip back to the common room.

"See you out there." He said, giving them a wave goodbye. Johnny began his trek up the multiple flights of stairs to get to his room. He needed to get that jacket Sirius got him with the built-in warming charms.

The game should be entertaining at least. Johnny liked seeing Harry have fun for once as well. He paused as a head of platinum blonde hair swept down another hallway. 

Malfoy hadn't noticed him, it seemed, as Johnny was far from the hallway intersection. 

He crept after him, careful not to make any noise. The hallway was empty save for the two of them. Most of the school was heading down to the Quidditch pitch. 

They were on the third floor, and Johnny's room was on the first, but his curiosity got the better of him as he followed Malfoy up multiple flights of stairs to the seventh floor.

A few paintings regarded them both with bemused expressions but otherwise did not alert Malfoy to Johnny's presence. Maybe none of them had been Slytherins? The thought almost made him chuckle. 

He peered around a corner and saw that Malfoy had stopped walking, and was now pacing along the wall. Johnny watched on in confusion. What was the point of stopping in some random hallway? Malfoy seemed to be muttering to himself, but Johnny couldn't hear him.

Suddenly, a door materialized in the wall, and Johnny wanted to hit himself. This must have been where Harry ran his secret defense group. Before he could formulate a plan, Malfoy walked inside and shut the door behind him, which then dematerialized and the wall returned to normal. 

After this, a young girl dressed in Hufflepuff robes walked by and stopped right in front of where the door had been in the wall. She must have been a first-year. The action was casual enough, but the timing was too coincidental. She held something Johnny didn't recognize but looked to be made of glass. 

Something was off, of that he was sure, but what to do about it? Wherever Malfoy went, Johnny wasn't confident he'd be able to follow. It was definitely worth investigating, but if the young girl was a lookout like Johnny was starting to think she was, he didn't want it getting back to Malfoy that he was onto him. 

Johnny backed off sullenly. It was something, at least. He'd definitely be letting the trio know about this as soon as possible. Hermione first though, as Harry was likely already getting ready for the Quidditch match.

Rain fell down lightly all around the grounds as Johnny and Hermione trudged down to the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione was speaking very quickly after Johnny informed her of where he'd seen Malfoy go.

"It makes total sense! I can't believe I never thought of it before! Harry had mentioned that Malfoy sometimes disappeared completely off the Marauder's map. We thought it was possible that he had been sneaking out through a secret passage, but there was no way to know for sure." She said the last part quietly as a group of Hufflepuff girls walked by talking about the upcoming game.

"Glad to be of service," Johnny replied, grinning. "But I don't know how we could get in there while he already is."

"We can't," Hermione answered with a frown. "Not unless we knew exactly what it was he needed the room for. And even then, his needs could change at any time. Maybe he's using the room for multiple different things? That would certainly make it harder to catch him."

So his success was really a small one in the end, but it was something. It answered questions, but even more, took their places. 

The stands were fairly packed. Most people are obviously from either Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, the bright yellow and red flags and clothing were a dead giveaway. But there is a small section of Slytherin's in the corner, jeering at both sides. Johnny wasn't sure what the standings were, but he assumed the Slytherins would be out here anyway, insulting others for the fun of it. There are almost no Ravenclaw's.

They found a seat high enough to have a good view and in the middle of the stands.

Once Harry and the team walk out from the changing rooms the crowd roars to life. It's an even split of cheers and boos. There's a little bit of wind, and every now and then the sun peeked out from the clouds and shone brightly at them. Tricky conditions maybe, but Johnny still didn't get how the sport worked.

He watched as Harry shook hands with the Hufflepuff captain, and then mounted his broom with the rest of the team. A whistle sounded from the referee, Madam Hooch, Johnny vaguely remembered Harry telling him her name, and everyone kicked off and rose into the air.

Faster than he would have liked, he lost track of Harry. He's the Seeker on the team, and so his objective was to find the Golden Snitch and end the game. 

"And that’s Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle," a dreamy voice said. Johnny grinned. "He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him, I think probably on purpose, it looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets that now he’s playing them - oh, look, he’s lost the Quaffle, Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she’s very nice."

After the match, Johnny decided he'd personally go and thank whoever made the decision to have Luna call the match. She's amazing. His attempt to scare her house-mates has seemed to work, as in the weeks following the incident, she hasn't come to him about any further problems. She could be lying, he supposed, but didn't think she was the kind of person to.

"This is fantastic," Johnny said, nudging Hermione with his elbow. 

She had a small smile on her face too as she ate some popcorn. This is one of the moments where the sun has decided to show itself, and the light hit her in just the right way that made her brown eyes shine.

Johnny turned back to the game quickly, inwardly berating himself for staring.

"And Harry Potter’s now having an argument with his Keeper," Luna chimed in serenely. Sure enough, Johnny can see Harry and McClaggen arguing with each other by the goal hoops. Slytherin's and Hufflepuff's jeer at them. "I don’t think that’ll help him find the Snitch, but maybe it’s a clever ruse."

It's 10-0 for Hufflepuff, Johnny must have missed the goal. But Ginny and a girl he doesn't know the name of score a goal apiece to give Gryffindor the lead. He cheered along with the rest of the supporters dressed in red and gold. 

Johnny winced a little as Hufflepuff then proceeded to score six in a row, with Gryffindor only managing another two. Luna rambled on the entire time about things completely unrelated to the game in front of her.

"Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!" Professor McGonagall barked. She must have been in the commentator's box with Luna the entire time.

"Is it, already?" Luna said vaguely. "Oh, look! The Gryffindor Keeper’s got hold of one of the Beater’s bats."

Hermione's hand clasps onto his own tightly. If he wasn't enhanced, Johnny was sure it would have hurt.

Harry seemed to be yelling at McLaggen for taking the bat, just as the new keeper swung and mishit the tiny black ball. 

Straight at Harry's head.

There was a blinding, sickening pain... a flash of light... distant screams... and the sensation of falling down a long tunnel.

And the next thing Harry knew, he was lying in a remarkably warm and comfortable bed and looking up at a lamp that was throwing a circle of golden light onto a shadowy ceiling. He raised his head awkwardly. There on his left was a familiar-looking, freckly, red-haired person.

"Nice of you to drop in," Ron said, grinning.

Harry blinked and looked around. Of course: He was in the hospital wing. The sky outside was indigo streaked with crimson. The match must have finished hours ago. To his right, Johnny is snoring lightly in the visitor's chair next to Harry's bed. His head is propped up on his fist, which in turn is resting on the arm of the chair.

"What happened?" Harry asked, turning back to Ron. But it was Madam Pomfrey who answered.

"Cracked skull," she said, bustling up and pushing him back against his pillows. "Nothing to worry about, I mended it at once, but I'm keeping you in overnight. You shouldn't overexert yourself for a few hours."

"I don't want to stay here overnight," Harry said angrily, feeling some strength return. "I want to find McLaggen and kill him."

"I'm afraid that would come under the heading of 'overexertion'", Pomfrey said dryly, pushing him firmly back onto the bed and raising her wand in a threatening manner.

"Besides, you'll have to get in line." A tired voice said from his right. Johnny was awake and smiling at him. "Hermione's pretty pissed."

Harry let a brief smile come over his face. 

"You will stay here until I discharge you, Potter, or I shall call the headmaster." Pomfrey continued. She then turned to look at Johnny. "And you, hurry up and say to him what you felt couldn't wait until tomorrow to say. I've let you stay long past visiting hours." She bustled back into her office, muttering about young people and their lack of patience.

"How much did we lose by?" Harry asked Ron.

"Three hundred and twenty to sixty." Ron said apologetically.

"Brilliant," Harry grit out. "Really brilliant! When I get hold of McLaggen-"

"You don't want to get hold of him, he's the size of a troll." Ron said reasonably. "Personally, I think there's a lot to be said for hexing him with that toenail thing of the Prince's."

"I could take him." Johnny added quietly.

The three of them sat there for a moment. Each boy imagining their own version of justice enacted on McLaggen. Harry remembered then that Pomfrey said Johnny had something he needed to tell him.

"What did you want to tell me?" Harry asked him.

Johnny smiled again and folded his arms. 

"I know where Malfoy's been going."

Chapter Text

"I'm sorry Albus, I should have listened to you all those years ago..."

"It is not your fault, Armando, you, like I did, wanted to see the best in him."

- Albus Dumbledore to the portrait of former Headmaster Armando Dippet, March, 1997

The following day Harry awoke to quite a few more visitors than last night.

Johnny was there again, but this time joined by Hermione, Blaise, and Tracey. The latter was sitting on the edge of his bed, gripping his left hand tightly in her own. He offered her a brief smile.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Fine, Pomfrey fixed me right up." He said. "I'll be out of here around lunch."

"She's had a few words with McLaggen," Johnny said, pointing at Hermione. "You should have seen it."

"Wish I did." 

Hermione had the good grace to blush. "Well.... well he deserved it! The absolute prat! Waving around that bat trying to show Peakes how to use it as if he doesn't already know."

Blaise, Johnny, and Ron all snickered, but Harry's attention wasn't on them. Tracey's cerulean eyes remained on him, swimming with worry. 

"We were terrified," She admitted softly. 

"I've had worse," Harry said, careful not to make it seem like no big deal, that wasn't really the point she was making.

Tracey didn't say anything else about it.

"Dumbledore wants to see us later this week," Johnny mentioned,

They all chat amicably, but eventually, Blaise, Johnny, and Hermione have class. Tracey had a free period, so she decided to hang back with him.

Lavender Brown, also apparently had a spare, as a few minutes after the others leave she burst into the hospital wing to dote and fuss over Ron. Harry tried his best to stifle his laughter.

Tracey took a seat next to him and they spoke about nothing of importance for about an hour or so. It was nice. Sometimes it felt like when they talked it was always interrupted or about something serious like Malfoy's plans or studying. 

And of course, Harry tried his best not to think about how much he blushed at Slughorn’s party.

After another fifteen minutes, she had to leave, but with a promise to study together for an upcoming test in Defence.

"What do you think he'll say when he realizes Harry hasn't gotten the memory?"

Hermione pondered this question for a few moments as they walked. Johnny couldn't see the old man getting angry. Disappointed, sure, but not angry with him. Then again, maybe that was worse.

"I doubt that's the sole reason Professor Dumbledore has asked to see the two of you, considering getting Slughorn's memory was Harry's mission." She finally said. "He'll be disappointed, I suppose, but I don't think he'll be too upset."

They turned a corner, and Hermione gave a friendly wave to Nearly Headless Nick as they went. 

"Wish he'd tell me what my mission was," Johnny grumbled. "It's not as if I can destroy them anymore. I don't want to be pitied."

"Maybe he wants you around for extra protection," she joked, squeezing his bicep. Johnny gave her an unimpressed look. She grinned. "Seriously, you saved him when you destroyed the ring, right? Maybe he needs someone like you around to keep him in check. Someone he knows won't just blindly follow. Someone who will ask questions."

"Harry asks questions," Johnny said, but he couldn't deny that she had a point. 

"He can value two different perspectives at once," Hermione said with a shrug. "Besides, it'd be rude to cut you out of it all now after you destroyed one already."

That still sounded a bit like pity to him, but Johnny decided it was better not to go around in circles about this. If Dumbledore truly thought he was helping, then that was enough for now.

They walked some more in silence. He had the urge to check out the Room of Requirement, but there was still no way of knowing what kind of room Draco was using, and simply telling it that he needed to see what Malfoy was up to didn't sound like it would work. Harry had mentioned that Malfoy and Crabbe were arguing about something during a lesson on Apparation. Malfoy said something about Crabbe and Goyle being lookouts. Back at Slughorn's Christmas party Snape said that Malfoy needed better help than the likes of those two boys as well. But he's never seen either of them standing guard in that hallway. Of course, that didn't mean it wasn't happening. They could have been invisible, or maybe just there when Johnny wasn't. Or they could have been disguised...

As little girls.

"Hermione," he said suddenly, they both stopped walking. "D'you think it's possible that those girls I saw standing along the wall that the room was at were actually Crabbe and Goyle in disguise?"

"I think I might've overheard Harry mention something like that to Ron the other night." She said, her eyes wide with realization just like his. Harry had been released from the Hospital Wing a few days ago. "You said the first time they had dropped something made of glass and it shattered right? That happened to me too! Merlin, why didn't I think of this? They must be using Polyjuice potion!"

His mind was racing. Another puzzle piece was put into position, but what did this mean on a larger scale? They were still screwed when it came to figuring out what Malfoy was actually doing in there. But maybe now they'd know when he was actually using the Room. One of the trio could always watch the room under Harry's invisibility cloak, but that probably wasn't too realistic. There'd have to be constant watches, as Malfoy was skipping quite a few classes now. He told her as much.

"We'll catch them," She said determinedly. "Somehow."

They began walking again, and all too soon, reached Dumbledore's office. 

"I'll tell Harry after the meeting," Johnny promised.

"And I'll tell Ron," Hermione assured him. "Wait," she called as he turned to give the gargoyle the password. 

"Yeah?" he replied, confused.

Johnny has never seen Hermione like this. She was clearly nervous, her head was down and she was wringing her hands together.

"What's wrong?"

"I wasn't exactly fair to you after Slughorn's Christmas party." She said, and the memory of her lips on his flashed by unbidden in his mind. "You did the right thing, and I treated you poorly after. I was upset, but it was silly and wrong to treat you that way."

It's been two months since then and Johnny had almost forgotten how frosty she was towards him after the party.

"I'm sorry too," he mumbled. Another memory flashed by, this time, it wasn't as nice.

"Apologize dammit!" 

A man with maroon-colored hair raises a belt towards Johnny as he cowers in the corner of his bedroom.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"You were supposed to help me win her back!"

Back in the present, Hermione is shaking her head at him. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Johnny. I was the one who messed up."

He nodded, not quite sure what to say in return other than a muttered 'thanks'. 

She pulled him into a hug. "Let me know how it goes." Johnny nodded again.

They didn't speak about the kiss or its implications, for the gargoyle coughed awkwardly from behind him, letting Johnny know that Harry and Dumbledore were waiting. 

Johnny shook his head as he climbed the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office. He hadn't thought about Robert Morgan in years, those memories were best left alone. Johnny supposed he was so used to apologizing when he didn't have to.

When he arrived in the office, the two of them were tense. Johnny raised an eyebrow in question, but Dumbledore merely smiled at him and Harry would not meet his gaze.

"Welcome Johnny, welcome," Dumbledore greeted. "I trust you remember where we left off?"

He nodded as he took his seat next to Harry. "Sure. Voldemort killed his muggle family and framed Morfin. And then he went back to Hogwarts to ask Slughorn about Horcrux's." The look of shame that passed over Harry's face did not go unnoticed.

"Very good," Dumbledore said. "Today, we will leave Lord Voldemort's school years and explore his time as a young adult. With this, comes far less information that I previously had on his life, as at Hogwarts I was able to keep an eye on him." He retrieved two vials with memories inside them from his robes. "I have two memories to show you both today. They are ten years apart, the first one takes place around a year or two after Voldemort had graduated from Hogwarts. This memory is from a house-elf named Hokey. But first, I find it important to tell you how Voldemort left Hogwarts.”

Fawke’s the Phoenix, trilled softly from his perch, and Dumbledore reached up to scratch his chin with his finger.

“He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken.” Dumbledore continued. “All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes."

"At Borgin and Burkes?" Harry repeated, stunned.

"At Borgin and Burkes," Dumbledore confirmed.

He recognized the name. The trio had told him later when they had followed Malfoy to the store in the summer while they were shopping in Diagon Alley.

"I think you will see what attractions the place held for him when we have entered Hokey’s memory. But this was not Voldemort’s first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time - I was one of the few in whom the then headmaster confided - but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher."

Johnny shared a mortified look with Harry.

"A teacher? Why would he have wanted to stay?" Harry said incredulously.

"I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet," Dumbledore said. "Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home. Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through the place, but he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap."

Johnny could see how that would appeal to the madman. Voldemort struck him as the type to leave no stone unturned.

"And thirdly," Dumbledore continued. "As a teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on best terms, who had best demonstrated how influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a useful recruiting ground and a place where he might begin to build himself an army."

"He succeeded, at least a little bit, didn't he? Lucius Malfoy and Snape, to name some." Harry said. 

"Professor Snape, Harry." Dumbledore corrected lightly. "But yes, he did succeed, and just a little bit. Most of his followers that fought in the first war were from Hogwarts, I'm sad to say. Dolohov, the Carrows, Bellatrix, the Lestrange brothers, Regulus Black, Barty Crouch Jr, Rookwood, Rosier, and plenty more. Some are dead, as you well know. I shudder to think about how many more he could have brought over to his side had he been allowed to influence young minds as a professor here."

"But he didn't get the job," Johnny said.

"No, he did not." Dumbledore confirmed. "My predecessor, Armando Dippet, told him that he was too young at eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a few years if he still wished to teach."

"And how did you feel about that, sir?" Harry asked.

"Deeply uneasy," Dumbledore said. "I had advised Armando against the appointment - I did not give the reasons I have given you, for Professor Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty. But I did not want Lord Voldemort back at this school, and especially not in a position of power."

"Which job did he want, sir? What subject did he want to teach?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, as I'm sure you could have guessed," Dumbledore said with a wry grin. "It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years. So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specializes, as you know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this."

"I’ll bet he was," Harry muttered darkly. Johnny had to agree.

"Well, quite," Dumbledore said with a faint smile. "And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith."

They watched as a young and indeed, handsome-looking Tom Riddle met with an older woman at her home. She showed off her trinkets with unrestrained pride. A golden cup with a badger on it and a locket with a snake-like S that supposedly belonged to two of the founders of Hogwarts. Both times, Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously red, but the woman only caught the second time, when she showed him the locket. But young Voldemort was charming and unassuming and was able to play it off well enough to assuage her. 

"Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene," Dumbledore said after the house-elf, Hokey, had taken the treasures and returned them to their secure locations. They exited the memory and Dumbledore took his seat and indicated that they should do the same. "Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress’s evening cocoa by accident."

"No way!" Harry and Johnny said in unison.

"I see we are of one mind," Dumbledore said. "Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and that of the Riddles. In both cases, somebody else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death -"

"Hokey confessed?" Harry asked, shocked.

"She remembered putting something in her mistress’s cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison," Dumbledore said. "It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused -"

"Then Voldemort must have modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin," Johnny said.

"Yes, that is my conclusion too," Dumbledore said. "And, just as with Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey -"

" -because she was a house-elf," Harry finished for him.

"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "She was old, she admitted to having tampered with the drink, and nobody at the Ministry bothered to inquire further. As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over - but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the cup and the locket."

"But why go through all that trouble of murdering her and covering it up for a locket and cup?" Johnny asked. "I assume he made them into Horcrux's, but why those objects specifically?"

"A fair question," Dumbledore said with a nod. "Well, Slytherin's locket is an easy one. He felt - and still does, no doubt - that he is its rightful owner, being a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself. As for Hufflepuff's cup? I think he still felt a great pull toward the school and that he could not resist an object so steeped in Hogwart's history." 

"But that's still mad," Harry said.

"Mad to you, perhaps, but not to Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah’s family had realized that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time."

Dumbledore retrieved another vial with a memory inside from within his robe. "And now for the very last recollection I have to show you, at least until you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn’s memory for us. Ten years separates Hokey’s memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing..."

They got to their feet once more as Dumbledore emptied the memory into the Pensieve.

"Whose memory is it?" Harry asked.

"Mine," Dumbledore answered.

They dived in after Dumbledore and Johnny involuntarily shuddered. Did everything magical have to be so damn unpleasant?

The Dumbledore of the past didn't look all that younger than the one he knew now. Wizards aged slower, sure, but to see just how little Dumbledore had changed in what had to be around forty years was astounding. His face had maybe a few less lines than it did now, and that was it.

"When were you born?" Johnny asked the present-day Dumbledore.

The old man smiled at him. "Eighteen-eighty-one, why do you ask?"

"Christ."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed."

They watched as a decidedly ugly-looking man entered the office. Gone were Tom Riddle's previously handsome features. It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of his eyes now had a permanently bloody look. He was wearing a long black cloak, and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders.

The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently, this visit had been made by appointment.

Johnny watched as they spoke. Voldemort had returned to teach at the school. Dumbledore had refused to use his new name, and in doing so, did not allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting. His respect for Dumbledore rose even higher.

“I have returned,” he said, after a little while, “later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected... but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard.”

Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.

“Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us,” he said quietly. “Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them.”

Voldemort’s expression remained impassive as he said, “Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore.” 

“You call it ‘greatness,’ what you have been doing, do you?” Dumbledore asked delicately.

“Certainly,” said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red. “I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed -”

“Of some kinds of magic,” Dumbledore corrected him quietly. “Of some. Of others, you remain... forgive me... woefully ignorant.”

For the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage.

“The old argument,” he said softly. “But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore.”

“Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places,” suggested Dumbledore.

“Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?” said Voldemort. “Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command.” 

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves - or so rumor has it - the Death Eaters?”

It was obvious to Johnny that Voldemort had not expected Dumbledore to know that name. He saw Voldemort's eyes flash red again and his nostrils flare.

“My friends,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “will carry on without me, I am sure.”

“I am glad to hear that you consider them friends,” Dumbledore said. “I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants.”

“You are mistaken,” Voldemort said.

“Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I would not find a group of them - Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov - awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post.”

Dumbledore's knowledge of who had come with Voldemort was even less welcome than knowing what the Death Eaters were.

“Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight,  surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know  you do not want?”

Voldemort looked coldly surprised. “A job I do not want?  On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much.”

“Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were  eighteen. What is it you’re after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?”

Voldemort sneered. “If you do not want to give me  a job -”

“Of course I don’t,” Dumbledore said. “And I don’t think  for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came  here, you asked, you must have had a purpose.”

Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage. “This is your final word?”

“It  is,” Dumbledore said, also standing.

“Then we have nothing more to say to each other.”

“No, nothing,” Dumbledore said, and a great sadness filled his face. “The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom... I wish I could.. .” 

"Why?" Harry asked once they were out of the memory and back in the present day. "Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?"

"Not for certain," Dumbledore said, smiling. "However, knowing what we know now, it is not too hard to guess."

"Horcrux's?" Johnny asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed, I believe he has hidden one here. Though where specifically, I do not know. If I had to guess, which, in this case, I have no other choice but to, I would say that it was to hide one"

"Something to do with the founders, maybe?" Harry said.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Dumbledore said. "And this is why you must obtain that memory. We have to narrow it down." The Headmaster walked towards the door and held it open for them. "I hope to see you both soon."

But Harry didn't move right away. "Was he after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He didn’t say."

"Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," Dumbledore said. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort."

Chapter Text

"I can't believe you're going to Aragog's funeral! I mean, he tried to eat us, Harry!"

- Ron Weasley to Harry Potter, April 21st, 1997

Stupefy! Hermione thought, sending a jet of red light straight into Tonks' back. 

"Yes!" Hermione shouted. She moved past straw dummies and makeshift cover to where Tonks lay motionless. Rennervate she thought, pointing her wand at the fallen auror. 

Tonks awoke with a groan, turning onto her back and sitting up. She had smashed her nose into the ground and was bleeding profusely from it. 

"Sorry!" Hermione said with a wince, casting the necessary spells to fix the broken nose and clean the blood from her face and clothes.

"Don't be," Tonks said with a grin, despite it all. Her hair turned back from its normal mousey brown to a bright yellow. "You did brilliant!"

"Oh, do you really think so?" She said, helping Tonks to her feet. 

"I do," the auror said, nodding. "It's no official auror training I've given you, but I'm pretty confident you can hold your own and then some. You're a quick thinker and you have a knack for strategy."

Hermione couldn't help but beam at the praise. With the world what it was now, and looking forward to what was surely coming, this was a top priority for her. She would be a huge target, no doubt. Not only because of her blood status, either. Harry Potter was her best friend, a fact known by the entirety of wizarding Britain. Anyone he was close to would be in grave danger once open warfare began. That's why this was so important, so crucial.

"I think I can convince Kingsley or Mad-Eye to come by and train you too like they've done for Harry. You're of age now as well so maybe I can visit on Easter break." 

"That would be wonderful," Hermione said, beaming. The prospect of being trained by an experienced wizard-like Kingsley was exciting on its own, but to be trained by what many people believed to be the greatest Auror ever? Whatever they taught her, Hermione was sure it'd be invaluable. Incredibly physically and mentally taxing as well, no doubt. But invaluable. "I'll have to ask my parents but I'm sure they wouldn't mind," Hermione added. They'd understand. They had to.

"Great," Tonks said with a grin. "Let's clean up then shall we?"

He was on fire.

That was the only thought he had for a few moments. He was on fire. 

It wasn’t a dream, at least, it wasn’t like any he’d ever had before.

And he wasn't himself.

He was the Rider. Or something similar to it. His skeletal hands were blood red and sky-blue fire poured out from his wrists. Johnny was moving, the landscape suddenly became very clear. He was in Mephisto's realm. No fear or panic struck him, instead, he felt determined. In fact, he didn't feel like himself at all. The name Johnny did not sound familiar to him and yet he knew it was his name. 

No, not his. Not yet. 

Battle cries sounded from behind him and he turned his head to look. An army of skeletal warriors with their heads ablaze followed behind him, their weapons raised in defiance. His army. 

This power wasn't anything he'd ever experienced before. 

A castle made of brimstone stood tall in the distance. Black smoke billowed out of it. 

This is who I was. A voice said inside his head. And it was his voice, but it also wasn't. Before he turned me into his prisoner and bound us together. 

'Who?' Johnny wanted to say, but couldn't. He couldn't speak. His mind was slipping. Space felt insane and he felt his mouth closing up as if he'd never had one. Before he ceased to exist altogether, the voice spoke inside his head once again.

Come back. Find me.

It was a vaguely annoyed Harry that sat with Ron and Hermione in a sunny corner of the courtyard after lunch.

Patches of bright blue sky were beginning to appear over the castle turrets. Summer was approaching, but it did nothing to improve his mood. 

Johnny had told him that Crabbe and Goyle were indeed standing guard for Malfoy as polyjucied first-year girls. Despite this, it changed almost nothing. They still couldn't find the correct room, or get into it while Malfoy was inside. Which seemed to be more and more common, as Harry could scarcely recall the last time he'd seen Malfoy in any of the classes they shared together.

"I think for now you should focus on Slughorn," Hermione said.

She and Ron were both clutching a Ministry of Magic leaflet - Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them - for they were taking their tests that very afternoon, but by and large the leaflets had not proved soothing to the nerves.

Ron gave a start and tried to hide behind Hermione as a girl came around the corner.

"It isn’t Lavender," Hermione said.

"Oh, good," Ron said, relaxing.

"Harry Potter?" the girl said. "I was asked to give you this."

"Thanks..."

Harry’s heart sank as he took the small scroll of parchment. Once the girl was out of earshot he said, "Dumbledore said we wouldn’t be having any more lessons until I got the memory!"

"Maybe he wants to check on how you’re doing?" Hermione said as Harry unrolled the parchment; but rather than finding Dumbledore’s long, narrow, slanted writing, he saw an untidy sprawl, very difficult to read due to the presence of large blotches on the parchment where the ink had run.

Dear Harry, Ron, and Hermione,

Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him,
and you know how special he was. Hermione, I
know you’d have liked him. It would mean a lot to
me if you’d nip down for the burial later this
evening. I’m planning on doing it round dusk, that
was his favorite time of day. I know you’re not
supposed to be out that late, but you can use the
cloak. Wouldn’t ask, but I can’t face it alone.

Hagrid

"Look at this," Harry said, handing the note to Hermione.

"Oh, for heaven’s sake," she said, scanning it quickly and passing it to Ron, who read it through looking increasingly incredulous.

"He’s mental!" He said furiously. "That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!"

"It’s not just that," Hermione said. "He’s asking us to leave the castle at night and he knows security’s a million times tighter and how much trouble we’d be in if we were caught.”

"We’ve been down to see him by night before," Harry said.

"Yes, but for something like this?" Hermione said. "We’ve risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all - Aragog’s dead. If it were a question of saving him -"

"- I’d want to go even less," Ron said firmly. "You didn’t meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot."

Harry took the note back and stared down at all the inky blotches all over it. Tears had clearly fallen thick and fast upon the parchment...

"Harry, you can’t be thinking of going," Hermione said. "It’s such a pointless thing to get detention for."

Harry nodded almost mechanically. All he could think about was how Hagrid was unfairly expelled because of Voldemort. About how Hagrid was his first true friend in the world.

"Potions will be almost empty this afternoon, with us all off doing our tests." Hermione continued, clearly having seen the look on his face. "Try and soften Slughorn up a bit then!"

Harry snorted. "Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?" He said bitterly.

Ron snapped his fingers suddenly. "Mate, that's it! Get lucky!"

"What d'you mean?"

"Use your lucky potion!"

"Ron, that’s - that’s it!" Hermione said, sounding stunned. "Of course! Why didn’t I think of it?"

Harry stared at them both. "Felix Felicis?" He said. "I dunno, I was sort of saving it..."

"What for?" Ron demanded incredulously.

"What on earth is more important than this memory, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry did not answer right away. The thought of that little golden bottle had hovered on the edges of his imagination for some time, usually in dreams that contained flashes of dirty blonde hair and cerulean eyes. 

"If I can’t get Slughorn to talk this afternoon," he said finally. "I’ll take some Felix and have another go this evening."

"Then it's decided," Hermione said briskly, getting to her feet and performing a graceful pirouette. "Destination... determination... deliberation..." she murmured. 

"Oh, stop that," Ron begged her, "I feel sick enough as it is - quick, hide me!"

"It isn’t Lavender!" Hermione said impatiently, but her expression brightened slightly at the newcomer.

Johnny approached them with an easy smile on his face. "Oh, good," he said. "I was hoping I'd catch you guys before the period ended."

"Blimey," Ron said, peering over Hermione's shoulder. "They don't look too happy, do they?" 

Two girls had entered the courtyard after Johnny. 

"They’re the Montgomery sisters and of course, they don’t look happy, didn’t you hear what happened to their little brother?" Hermione said.

"I’m losing track of what’s happening to everyone’s relatives, to be honest," Ron said. 

"Well, their brother was attacked by a werewolf. The rumor is that their mother refused to help the Death Eaters. Anyway, the boy was only five and he died in St. Mungo’s, they couldn’t save him."

"He died?" Harry repeated, shocked. "But surely werewolves don’t kill, they just turn you into one of them?"

"They sometimes kill," Ron said, looking unusually grave. "I’ve heard of it happening when the werewolf gets carried away."

"What was the werewolf’s name?" Harry asked quickly.

"Well, the rumor is that it was that Fenrir Greyback," Hermione said.

"I knew it - the maniac who likes attacking kids, the one Lupin told me about!" Harry said angrily. 

"The one I fought with at the Ministry," Johnny said, his eyes looking at Hermione's face. Harry knew he was thinking about her scars.

Hermione looked at them both bleakly. "Harry, you've got to get that memory." She said. "It’s all about stopping Voldemort, isn’t it? These dreadful things that are happening are all down to him..."

The bell rang overhead in the castle and both Hermione and Ron jumped to their feet, looking terrified.

"You'll do amazing," Johnny assured them, pulling Hermione into a tight hug. "Both of you." 

Harry nodded with him. "Good luck, though I know neither of you will need any." 

"You too," Hermione said with a significant look as Harry headed off towards the dungeons and Johnny walked with Ron and Hermione to the gates.

There were only three of them in Potions that afternoon: Harry, Ernie, and Draco Malfoy.

"All too young to Apparate just yet?" Slughorn asked genially. "Not turned seventeen yet?"

They shook their heads.

"Ah well," Slughorn said cheerily, "as we’re so few, we’ll do something fun. I want you all to brew me up something amusing!"

"That sounds good, sir," Ernie said sycophantically, rubbing his hands together. Malfoy, on the other hand, did not crack a smile.

"What do you mean, ‘something amusing’?" He said irritably.

"Oh, surprise me," Slughorn said airily.

Malfoy opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making with a sulky expression. It could not have been plainer that he thought this lesson was a waste of time. Undoubtedly, Harry thought, watching him over the top of his own book, Malfoy was begrudging the time he could otherwise be spending in the Room of Requirement.

Was it his imagination, or did Malfoy look to be doing better?

No, it wasn't. Malfoy, despite everything Harry had seen the last few months, looked the healthiest he'd been all school year. Perhaps he used potions? But why start caring about his appearance now? 

He was still missing his usual swagger and air of self-importance, but the bags under his eyes that seemed to be ever-present throughout the year were absent. Malfoy looked less tired and more like he was just grumpy at being forced to come into class today. Undoubtedly, Harry thought, watching him over the top of his own book, Malfoy was begrudging the time he could otherwise be spending in the Room of Requirement. 

His mission, whatever it was, had seemed to be going poorly for most of the year. Was it possible that now there was a change? Or did Malfoy realize that looking like death itself did not do good to keep him under the radar?

Harry skimmed through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making and found a heavily corrected Half-Blood Prince’s version of 'An Elixir to Induce Euphoria,' which seemed not only to meet Slughorn’s instructions but which might put Slughorn into such a good mood that he would be prepared to hand over that memory if Harry could persuade him to taste some...

But the moment did not come. Slughorn praised his concoction and its ingenuity (Harry had pushed the Prince's book further into his bag with his foot), but as soon as he realized it was just the two of them left, the Professor had beat a hasty retreat. Disappointed, Harry emptied the cauldron, packed up his things, left the dungeon, and walked slowly back upstairs to the common room.

Ron and Hermione returned in the late afternoon.

"Harry!" Hermione cried as she climbed through the portrait hole. "Harry, I passed!"

"Well done!" He said. "And Ron?"

"He - he just failed," Hermione whispered, as Ron came slouching into the room looking most morose. "It was really unlucky, a tiny thing, the examiner just spotted that he’d left half an eyebrow behind... How did it go with Slughorn?"

"No joy," Harry said, as Ron joined them. "Bad luck, mate, but you’ll pass next time — we can take it together."

"Yeah, I s’pose," Ron said grumpily. "But half an eyebrow! Like that matters!"

"I know," Hermione said soothingly, "it does seem really harsh..."

They spent most of their dinner roundly abusing the Apparition examiner, and Ron looked fractionally more cheerful as time went on. 

Harry flashed Johnny a smile as the young man approached their table.

"Well?" He asked.

Hermione beamed up at him. "I passed!" 

Harry assumed that Johnny was far too taken with her smile to notice the bit of sauce on her cheek, or perhaps he just didn't care. Either way, Harry found it amusing. 

"Knew you would," Johnny said, placing a hand on her shoulder before looking across the table at Ron. "And you?"

Ron's face darkened and he shook his head. "Just barely failed. I left an eyebrow behind."

"Harsh," Johnny said sympathetically.

"That's what I said," Hermione added.

Dinner ended soon enough, and the topic changed back to obtaining Slughorn's memory as they returned to the common room.

"So, Harry - you going to use the Felix Felicis or what?" Ron demanded

"Yeah, I s’pose I’d better," Harry said. "I don’t reckon I’ll need all of it, not twelve hours’ worth, it can’t take all night... I’ll just take a mouthful. Two or three hours should do it."

"It’s a great feeling when you take it," Ron said reminiscently. "Like you can’t do anything wrong."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said, laughing.

"You’ve never taken any!"

"Yeah, but I thought I had, didn’t I?" Ron, as though explaining the obvious. "Same difference really..."

Johnny chuckled. "Kind've like a placebo effect, in a way."

Harry did not know what this meant, and neither did Ron, judging by his friend's bewildered expression.

"A place-what?" Ron asked.

"The placebo effect is a phenomenon where people report real improvement after taking a fake or nonexistent treatment, called a placebo. Because the placebo can’t actually cure any condition, any beneficial effects reported are due to a person’s belief or expectation that their condition is being treated." Hermione said at top speed. "You thought you took Felix Felicis, and so because you believed you had magically enhanced luck, it gave you the confidence you needed to play well."

"Oh..." Ron said sheepishly. "I don't get it."

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Your brain tricked itself into believing you were actually lucky."

That, at least, seemed to make sense to Ron, who dutifully nodded his head and began helping Harry with his strategy.

As they had only just seen Slughorn enter the Great Hall and knew that he liked to take time over meals, they lingered for a while in the common room, the plan being that Harry should go to Slughorn’s office once the teacher had had time to get back there. So Johnny returned to his room after bidding them goodnight and good luck. When the sun had sunk to the level of the treetops in the Forbidden Forest, they decided the moment had come, and after checking carefully that Neville, Dean, and Seamus were all in the common room, sneaked up to the boys’ dormitory. 

Harry took out the rolled-up socks at the bottom of his trunk and extracted the tiny, gleaming bottle.

"Well, here goes," Harry said, and he raised the little bottle and took a carefully measured gulp.

"What does it feel like?" Hermione whispered.

Harry did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through him; he felt as though he could have done anything, anything at all... and getting the memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only possible but positively easy. He got to his feet, smiling, brimming with confidence.

"Excellent," he said. "Really excellent. Right... I’m going down to Hagrid’s."

"What?" Ron said and Hermione together, looking aghast.

"No, Harry - you’ve got to go and see Slughorn, remember?" Hermione said. 

"No," Harry said confidently. "I’m going to Hagrid’s, I’ve got a good feeling about going to Hagrid’s."

"You’ve got a good feeling about burying a giant spider?" Ron asked, looking stunned.

"Yeah," Harry said, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag.

"I feel like it’s the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?"

"No," Ron and Hermione said together, both looking positively alarmed now.

"This is Felix Felicis, I suppose?" Hermione said anxiously, holding up the bottle to the light. “You haven’t got another little bottle full of- I don’t know -"

"Essence of Insanity?" Ron suggested as Harry swung his cloak over his shoulders.

Harry laughed, and Ron and Hermione looked even more alarmed.

"Trust me," he said. "I know what I’m doing... or at least" - he strolled confidently to the door - "Felix does."

He pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head and set off down the stairs, Ron and Hermione hurrying along behind him. At the foot of the stairs, Harry slid through the open door.

"What were you doing up there with her?" Lavender Brown shrieked, staring right through Harry at Ron and Hermione emerging together from the boys’ dormitories.

Harry heard Ron spluttering behind him as he darted across the room away from them. 

Getting through the portrait hole was simple; as he approached it, Ginny and Dean came through it, and Harry was able to slip between them. He was mercifully able to not brush either of them.

His feeling of elation increasing, Harry strode off through the castle. He did not have to creep along, for he met nobody on his way that would have stopped or reported him.

But that didn't mean he met no one at all.

"Bloody hell!" Tracey Davis cried as she turned a corner and walked straight into him. 

"Sorry!" Harry said, grinning, before realizing she couldn't see him. He removed his invisibility cloak and helped his friend to her feet.

"Harry?" She said in a confused voice. "What are you doing out of your common room at this time?" Tracey rubbed her back with a wince.

"I could ask you the same thing," Harry said cheekily.

"I'm a Prefect now," Tracey said, giving him a flat look. "Daphne's been ignoring her duties so Snape had to give the role to someone else."

"Ah, sorry," Harry said. "I'm just off to Hagrid's." 

Tracey frowned thoughtfully. "It's well past curfew, I have half a mind to tell a professor."

Harry laughed, feeling incredibly brave (or lucky). "Then by all means come along! I have a good feeling about this."

She let out a tiny yelp in surprise as Harry bustled on down the hallway. 

"I wouldn't have actually told a professor, you know." She said, catching up to him.

"I know," Harry replied, still grinning. "You like me too much." He noticed the way her cheeks reddened at his words but thought nothing of it.

They walked for a little while longer in silence before Tracey spoke again. 

"Why are you visiting Hagrid this late anyway?"

"A close friend of his passed away," Harry said somberly as they descended a staircase. "A pet, rather, I guess. An Acromantula that he's known since he was a boy."

Tracey's eyes widened. "Hagrid knows an Acromantula?"

"Yep," Harry said with a nod. "He tried to eat me and Ron during our second year."

"What?!" 

Harry laughed as he regaled Tracey with his and Ron's trip into the Forbidden Forest to follow the spiders. He remembered that night well enough. One didn't simply forget nearly being eaten by a nest of Acromantula's. Hagrid had been taken to Azkaban already, Dumbledore was being replaced, and students were still being petrified. How silly was it that he and Ron took it upon themselves to stop it? Well, Harry more or less dragged Ron along after the spiders due to the other boy's fear of them: two twelve-year-old boys and Hagrid's ginormous black dog, Fang, alone in the Forbidden Forest.

"Your life's too stupid to live," Tracey said once he was done.

Harry laughed again. "Too right."

He was rather glad he ran into Tracey. In the year since he'd met her properly, she had become one of his closest friends along with Blaise.

Their moment under the mistletoe at Slughorn's Christmas party notwithstanding, their friendship seemed to only grow stronger as time went on.

Running into her would prove helpful, Harry knew. Why he knew was a whole other matter. Just as why he knew that going to Hagrid’s was the right thing to do, he had no idea. It was as though the potion was illuminating a few steps of the path at a time: He could not see the final destination, he could not see where Slughorn came in, but he knew that he was going the right way to get that memory.

When he reached the entrance hall he saw that Filch had forgotten to lock the front door. Beaming at Tracey, Harry threw it open and breathed in the smell of clean air and grass for a moment before walking down the steps into the dusk. 

It was when he reached the bottom step that it occurred to him how very pleasant it would be to pass the vegetable patch on his walk to Hagrid’s.

"Why are we going this way?" Tracey asked, rightly confused. It wasn't strictly on the way.

"I like walking by here," Harry said easily with a shrug. In actuality, it seemed clear to Harry that this was a whim on which he should act, so he directed his feet immediately toward the vegetable patch, where he was pleased, but not altogether surprised, to find Professor Slughorn in conversation with Professor Sprout.

Harry tugged Tracey by the hand behind a low stone wall, feeling at peace with the world and listening to their conversation. The vanilla smell he could detect on Tracey was only a minor distraction.

"I do thank you for taking the time, Pomona," Slughorn was saying courteously, "most authorities agree that they are at their most efficacious if picked at twilight."

"Oh, I quite agree," Professor Sprout said warmly. "That enough for you?"

"Plenty, plenty," Slughorn said, who, Harry saw, was carrying an armful of leafy plants. "This should allow for a few leaves for each of my third years, and some to spare if anybody over-stews them... Well, good evening to you, and many thanks again!"

Professor Sprout headed off into the gathering darkness in the direction of her greenhouses, and Slughorn walked off in Harry and Tracey's direction.

Seized with an immediate desire to reveal himself, Harry stepped out from behind the stone wall with a smile. Tracey squeaked in surprise, having been dragged along due to the fact that she was still holding onto his hand.

"Good evening, Professor."

"Merlin’s beard, Harry, you made me jump," Slughorn said, stopping dead in his tracks and looking wary. "And Ms. Davis too... how did you both get out of the castle?"

"I think Filch must’ve forgotten to lock the doors," Harry said cheerfully, he was delighted to see Slughorn scowl.

"I’ll be reporting that man, he’s more concerned about litter than proper security if you ask me... But why are you both out here?"

"Well, sir, it’s Hagrid," Harry said, who knew that the right thing to do just now was to tell the truth. "He’s pretty upset... But you won’t tell anyone, Professor? I don’t want trouble for him..."

Slughorn’s curiosity was evidently aroused. "Well, I can’t promise that," he said gruffly. "But I know that Dumbledore trusts Hagrid to the hilt, so I’m sure he can’t be up to anything very dreadful..."

"Well, it’s this giant spider, he’s had it for years... It lived in the forest... It could talk and everything-"

"I heard rumors there were acromantulas in the forest," Slughorn said softly, looking over at the mass of black trees. "It's true, then?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But this one, Aragog, the first one Hagrid ever got, it died last night. He’s devastated. He wants company while he buries it and I said I’d go. Tracey was kind enough to join me."

Tracey nodded her head solemnly, perfectly playing her part. Perhaps it was due to her growing up in Slytherin.

"Touching, touching," Slughorn said absentmindedly, his large droopy eyes fixed upon the distant lights of Hagrid’s cabin. "But acromantula venom is very valuable... If the beast only just died it might not yet have dried out... Of course, I wouldn’t want to do anything insensitive if Hagrid is upset... but if there was any way to procure some... I mean, it’s almost impossible to get venom from an acromantula while it’s alive..." Slughorn seemed to be talking more to himself than Harry now.

"It would be an awful waste not to collect it," Tracey said knowingly. "My dad tried to get his hands on some a few months ago, and they were going for about a hundred galleons a pint."

Harry could have kissed her! 

"To be frank, my salary is not large..." Slughorn said.

And now Harry saw clearly what was to be done. "Well," he said, with a most convincing hesitancy, "well, if you wanted to come, Professor, Hagrid would probably be really pleased... Give Aragog a better send-off, you know..."

"Yes, of course," Slughorn said, his eyes now gleaming with enthusiasm. "I tell you what, I’ll meet you down there with a bottle or two... We’ll drink the poor beast’s - well - not health - but we’ll send it off in style, anyway, once it’s buried. And I’ll change my tie, this one is a little exuberant for the occasion..."

He bustled back into the castle, and Harry walked off towards Hagrid's hut with Tracey.

"You were brilliant," he said, grinning broadly at her. 

"You learn to think on the go early on in Slytherin," Tracey said with a sheepish smile. Her cheeks tinged pink. Her blue eyes sparkled in the light of the setting sun and Harry was briefly caught off guard.

He mentally shook himself. "I've never heard you mention your dad before."

"Ah," Tracey said. The smile quickly slipped off of her face. "He used to be a well-renowned potion master before he fell ill."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. It felt terribly inadequate.

Tracey shook her head. "After my mum passed away when I was six, he had to be moved into St. Mungo's permanently. I wasn't lying about the price of the venom, but it was several years ago when he wanted some. He passed away in our third year." 

A flock of birds flew overhead. Tracey's frown deepened. 

"At least I knew them, though." She said finally. "It's sad, but, I have so many good memories with them." Tracey looked at him. Harry realized the frown she had on her face wasn't for her own pain. "I used to think... that it would have been easier if... if I never knew them... but it isn't, is it?"

The frown was for him.

"No," Harry said. He thought of the life he would never have, the childhood that he was robbed of. The voice of his mother that he had to strain to remember. The people he'd never meet. For the first time since taking Felix Felicis, Harry felt his mood falter. "It isn't."

All things considered, it didn't take much convincing for Harry to get Hagrid to trust Tracey, despite the house she was in.

"Where are we burying him?" Harry asked. "The forest?"

"Blimey, no," Hagrid said, wiping his streaming eyes on the bottom of his shirt. "The other spiders won’ let me anywhere near their webs now Aragog’s gone. Turns out it was on’y on his orders they didn’ eat me! Can yeh believe that, Harry?"

Yes, I can. Harry thought but wisely did not say it out loud. He could recall with painful ease the scene when he and Ron had come face-to-face with the acromantulas: They had been quite clear that Aragog was the only thing that stopped them from eating Hagrid.

"Never bin an area o’ the forest I couldn’ go before!" Hagrid said, shaking his head. "It wasn’ easy, gettin’ Aragog’s body out o’ there, I can tell yeh - they usually eat their dead, see... But I wanted ter give ’im a nice burial... a proper send-off..."

"That's very kind of you, Professor," Tracey said kindly.

"Thank yeh," Hagrid said with a sob. Harry patted his elbow consolingly (it was the only place he could easily reach). "Awfully nice o' yeh to not get Harry in trouble on my account."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Tracey said, her hands fiddled with a piece of rock cake that Hagrid had laid out for them. "He's a good friend."

"Tha' he is," Hagrid said, sniffling. "Tha' he is." 

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. 

"Yer one of the only sixth-year's takin' me class." He continued, looking at Tracey again. "Yeh an' Justin Finch-Fletchley."

Tracey blushed. "Well... well I enjoy the class so... it's just unfortunate nobody else wanted to take it." 

Harry again avoided Hagrid's eyes, so he decided to change the subject. "Professor Slughorn met me coming down here, Hagrid."

"Not in trouble, are yeh?" Hagrid said, looking up, alarmed. "Yeh shouldn’ be outta the castle in the evenin’, I know it, it’s my fault -"

"No, no, when he heard what I was doing he said he’d like to come and pay his last respects to Aragog too," Harry said. "He’s gone to change into something more suitable, I think... and he said he’d bring some bottles so we can drink to Aragog’s memory..."

"Did he?" Hagrid said, looking both astonished and touched. "Tha’s - tha’s righ’ nice of him, that is, an’ not turnin’ yeh in either. I’ve never really had a lot ter do with Horace Slughorn before... Comin’ ter see old Aragog off, though, eh? Well... he’d’ve liked that, Aragog would..."

What Aragog actually would have liked was to eat Slughorn, but Harry wisely kept that thought to himself. He moved to the rear window of Hagrid’s hut, where he saw the rather horrible sight of the enormous dead spider lying on its back outside, its legs curled and tangled. He felt Tracey come up behind him to take a look as well.

"Merlin..." She muttered.

"Are we going to bury him here, Hagrid, in your garden?"

"Jus’ beyond the pumpkin patch, I thought," Hagrid said in a choked voice. "I’ve already dug the - yeh know - grave. Jus’ thought we’d say a few nice things over him - happy memories, yeh know."

His voice quivered and broke. There was a knock on the door, and he turned to answer it, blowing his nose on his great spotted handkerchief as he did so. Slughorn hurried over the threshold, several bottles in his arms, and wearing a somber black cravat.

"Hagrid," he said, in a deep, grave voice. "So very sorry to hear of your loss."

"Tha’s very nice of yeh," Hagrid said. "Thanks a lot. An’ thanks fer not givin’ Harry detention neither..."

"Wouldn’t have dreamed of it," Slughorn said. "It's a sad night, sad night... Where is the poor creature?"

"Out here," Hagrid said in a shaking voice. "Shall we - shall we do it, then?"

Thirty minutes (and quite a few mugs of mead) later and Hagrid and Slughorn were sitting side by side, arms around each other, singing a slow sad song about a dying wizard called Odo.

"Aaargh, the good die young," Hagrid muttered, slumping low onto the table, a little cross-eyed, while Slughorn continued to warble the refrain. "Me dad was no age ter go... nor were yer mum an’ dad, Harry..." Great fat tears oozed out of the corners of Hagrid’s crinkled eyes again; he grasped Harry’s arm and shook it. "Bes’ wiz and witchard o’ their age I never knew... terrible thing... terrible thing..."

"And Odo the hero, they bore him back home To the place that he’d known as a lad," Slughorn sang plaintively. "They laid him to rest with his hat inside out And his wand snapped in two, which was sad."

"...terrible," Hagrid grunted, and his great shaggy head rolled sideways onto his arms and he fell asleep, snoring deeply. 

"Sorry," Slughorn said with a hiccup. "Can’t carry a tune to save my life."

"Hagrid wasn’t talking about your singing," Harry said quietly. "He was talking about my mum and dad dying."

Tracey's hand gripped his own tightly under the table.

"Oh," Slughorn said. "Oh, dear. Yes, that was - was quite terrible indeed. Terrible... terrible..."

He looked quite at a loss for what to say and resorted to refilling their mugs.

"I don’t - don’t suppose you remember it, Harry?" He asked awkwardly.

"No - well, I was only one when they died," Harry said, his eyes on the flame of the candle flickering in Hagrid’s heavy snores. "But I’ve found out pretty much what happened since. My dad died first. Did you know that?"

"I - I didn’t," Slughorn said in a hushed voice. He gave a great shudder, but he did not seem able to tear his horrified gaze away from Harry’s face.

"Yeah - and he gave my mum the chance to step aside." Harry continued remorselessly. "He told me she needn’t have died. He only wanted me. She could have run."

Harry didn't know it was possible for someone to squeeze their hand so hard, but here Tracey was, cutting off the circulation in his right hand.

"Oh dear," Slughorn breathed. "She could have... she needn’t... That’s awful..."

"It is, isn’t it?" Harry said, in a voice barely more than a whisper. "But she didn’t move. Dad was already dead, but she didn’t want me to go too. She tried to plead with Voldemort... but he just laughed..."

"That's enough!" Slughorn said suddenly, raising a shaking hand. "Really, my dear boy, enough... I'm an old man... I don't need to hear... I don't want to hear..."

"I forgot," Harry lied, Felix Felicis leading him on. "You liked her, didn't you?"

"Liked her?" Slughorn said, his eyes brimming with tears. "I don't imagine anyone who met her wouldn’t have liked her... Very brave... Very funny... It was the most horrible thing."

"But you won’t help her son," Harry said. "She gave me her life, but you won’t give me a memory."

Hagrid’s rumbling snores filled the cabin. Harry looked steadily into Slughorn’s tear-filled eyes. The Potions master seemed unable to look away.

Harry could feel Tracey's eyes staring a hole through the side of his head, but he did not dare look away from Slughorn.

"Don't say that," The Professor whispered. "It isn’t a question... If it were to help you, of course... but no purpose can be served..."

"It can," Harry said clearly. "Dumbledore needs information. I need information."

He knew he was safe: Felix was telling him that Slughorn would remember nothing of this in the morning. Looking Slughorn straight in the eye, Harry leaned forward a little. 

"I am the chosen one. I have to kill him. I need that memory."

Harry finally allowed himself to glance at Tracey. Her eyes, like Slughorn's, were brimming with tears. He wanted desperately to wipe them as they trailed down her cheeks. Instead, he looked back at Slughorn, who was paler than ever; his shiny forehead gleamed with sweat. 

"You are the Chosen One?"

"Of course I am," Harry said calmly.

"But then... my dear boy... you’re asking a great deal... you’re asking me, in fact, to aid you in your attempt to destroy -"

"You don’t want to get rid of the wizard who killed Lily Evans?"

"Harry, Harry, of course, I do, but -"

"You’re scared he’ll find out you helped me?"

Slughorn said nothing; he looked terrified.

"Be brave like my mother, Professor..."

Slughorn raised a hand and pressed his shaking fingers to his mouth. 

"I am not proud..." he whispered through his fingers. "I am ashamed of what - of what that memory shows... I think I may have done great damage that day..."

"You’d cancel out anything you did by giving me the memory," Harry said. "It would be a very brave and noble thing to do."

Hagrid twitched in his sleep and snored on. Slughorn and Harry stared at each other over the guttering candle. Tracey's grip on his right hand remained tight. There was a long, long silence, but Felix Felicis told Harry not to break it, to wait. 

Then, very slowly, Slughorn put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand. He put his other hand inside his cloak and took out a small, empty bottle. Still looking into Harry’s eyes, Slughorn touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came away too, clinging to the wand tip. Longer and longer the memory stretched until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Slughorn lowered it into the bottle where it coiled, then spread, swirling like gas. He corked the bottle with a trembling hand and then passed it across the table to Harry.

"Thank you very much, Professor."

"You’re a good boy," Professor Slughorn said, tears trickling down his cheeks into his walrus mustache. "And you’ve got her eyes... Just don’t think too badly of me once you’ve seen it..."

And he too put his head on his arms, gave a deep sigh, and fell asleep. 

"Did you mean all that?" Tracey said finally. 

Harry looked at her and knew he couldn't lie. He nodded.

She leaped out of her chair and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug.

They sat there for what felt like hours but was actually just a few minutes. 

"You said it," Harry murmured into her ear. "My life's too stupid to live."

Chapter Text

"You can't ever give up, Johnny. No matter how bad things get, no matter how much you might want to. Sooner than you'd like, there'll be people counting on you, and you won't be given the luxury of failure without consequences."

- Crash Simpson to Johnny Blaze, one night in November of 1992

Harry walked Tracey back to the dungeons without any more words spoken between them. He could feel the Felix Felicis wearing off. The front door had remained unlocked, but on the third floor they met Peeves and only narrowly avoided detection by diving sideways through one of Harry's shortcuts.

By the time he got up to the portrait of the Fat Lady, he was not surprised to find her in a most unhelpful mood. 

"What sort of time do you call this?"

"I’m really sorry - I had to go out for something important-"

"Well, the password changed at midnight, so you’ll just have to sleep in the corridor, won’t you?"

"You’re joking!" Harry said. "Why did it have to change at midnight?"

"That’s the way it is," the Fat Lady said. "If you’re angry, go and take it up with the headmaster, he’s the one who’s tightened security."

"Fantastic," Harry said bitterly, looking around at the hard floor. "Really brilliant. Yeah, I would go and take it up with Dumbledore if he was here because he’s the one who wanted me to -"

"He is here," a voice behind Harry said. "Professor Dumbledore returned to the school an hour ago." Nearly Headless Nick was gliding toward Harry, his head wobbling as usual upon his ruff. "I had it from the Bloody Baron, who saw him arrive," Nick said. "He appeared, according to the Baron, to be in good spirits, though a little tired, of course."

"Where is he?” Harry said, his heart leaping.

"Oh, groaning and clanking up on the Astronomy Tower, it’s a favorite pastime of his -"

"Not the Bloody Baron - Dumbledore!"

"Oh - in his office," Nick said. "I believe, from what the Baron said, that he had business to attend to before turning in-"

"Yeah, he has," Harry said, excitement blazing in his chest at the prospect of telling Dumbledore he had secured the memory. He wheeled about and sprinted off again, ignoring the Fat Lady calling after him.

"Come back! All right, I lied! I was annoyed you woke me up! The password’s still ‘Aesir’!" 

But Harry wasn't listening anymore, he was already hurtling back down the corridors. Halfway to Dumbledore's office, Harry realized he should also find Johnny. He took out the Marauder's Map, thankful he brought it with him when he went to Hagrid's. Johnny was easy enough to find, he was just in his room, probably sleeping.

It didn't take very long to get to his room. Harry knocked and kept a lookout for any prefects or ghosts.

He could hear Johnny stomping to the door, Harry hoped his friend wouldn't be too annoyed at the late visit.

"What?" Johnny said in an annoyed voice as he opened the door. His eyes quickly widened when he took in who it was that knocked. "Harry?" He asked, confused. "What are you doing here so late?" 

"I've got the memory."

All signs of tiredness seemingly evaporated from the other man.

"Seriously?" Johnny asked. "I know the potion made you lucky, but I wasn't sure if it'd work..."

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore's just got back from who knows where, I'm going to bring it to him." His heart thumped at a rapid pace at the thought of it.

"Give me a sec," Johnny said. "I'll get changed." 

Harry hadn't even noticed that he was dressed only in forest-green boxers and a white undershirt. Harry nodded and hid under his invisibility cloak while Johnny closed the door and changed. It was unnecessary, as nobody walked down the hall in the five minutes it took for Johnny to get dressed.

He had on his ever-present black leather jacket and ripped jeans. He wore black boots and a sea-blue T-shirt. 

Johnny locked the door behind him and they walked down the hallway to one of Hogwart's many staircases.

"What did you say for Slughorn to give it to you?" He asked Harry as they went.

"I got him drunk with Hagrid," Harry said simply, a grin on his face. "I also sort of guilt-tripped him."

Johnny snorted. "Heartless, but effective. Nice job."

Harry shrugged. Perhaps he was a bit harsh, but he also felt that Slughorn needed to hear it, even if he wouldn't remember it in the morning.

It took a bit longer at their pace, but Harry wasn't worried about getting in trouble anymore. Johnny, after all, was sort of like a prefect. 

Eventually, they arrived to face the gargoyle that allowed entry into Dumbledore's office.

"Toffee éclairs," Harry said, and the gargoyle leaped aside to allow them onto the spiral staircase.

As they got closer to the office door, Harry could hear heated voices arguing in hushed tones.

"If you don't mind - ....." Harry heard, but couldn't make out parts of it. "...- do it?" The voice was angry, and it sounded familiar.

"- soul is not yet damaged," another voice said, Harry knew immediately that it was Dumbledore's. "I would not -- ripped apart on my account."

They were just outside the door now, Johnny could hear them too, and kept quiet.

"And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?" Snape's voice.

"You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation," Dumbledore said. "I ask this one great favour of you, Severus. You are of much greater use to our cause alive and trusted by Lord Voldemort." 

"You refuse to tell me everything, yet you expect that small service of me!" Snape snarled. "You take a great deal for granted Dumbledore! Perhaps I have changed my mind! The Dark Lord fears you the most above all, what use could I have that is greater than that?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "You and I both know that you have not - nor will you, change your mind. And Lord Voldemort does not fear me as much as he fears death. Remember that." There was a long silence. "I am old, Severus, still powerful and with much to give, yes, but I will not see anyone else die for me."

"I just wish you were not so cavalier about your own life," Snape said in a much calmer voice after a moment.

"Believe me when I tell you this, Severus, I am anything but," Dumbledore said. "I have lived a long life, one filled with many regrets, but also one filled with joy. If I can do this, to protect you and the boy, then I would do so happily. All of that does not change the fact that... that I suppose I... I am afraid." The headmaster's voice cracked on the last word.

Another long silence.

"It appears we are no longer alone," Dumbledore said. "Enter."

Harry pushed open the door. There was Dumbledore’s office, looking the same as ever, but with black, star-strewn skies beyond the windows.

"Good gracious, boys," Dumbledore said in surprise. "To what do I owe this very late pleasure?"

Snape looked annoyed at the intrusion but did not fling any insults their way.

"Sir - I’ve got it. I’ve got -" Harry’s eyes flicked over to Snape. "- what you wanted me to get."

"Truly?" Dumbledore asked. 

Harry nodded.

Perhaps Snape saw the dismissal coming because he stood up from his seat. "This discussion is far from over, Dumbledore."

"I would expect nothing less, Severus." The headmaster said.

Once he was gone, Dumbledore waved his wand and duplicated the chair in front of them. He beckoned them to sit down.

"This is spectacular news!" Dumbledore said, beaming. "Very well done indeed! I knew you could do it!"

Harry pulled out the tiny glass bottle that contained Slughorn's memory and held it out.

All thought of the lateness of the hour apparently forgotten, Dumbledore hurried around his desk, took the bottle, and strode over to the cabinet where he kept the Pensieve.

"And now," Dumbledore said, placing the stone basin upon his desk and emptying the contents of the bottle into it. "Now, at last, we shall see, come boys, quickly..."

When Harry and Johnny landed back on the office floor out from the Pensieve, Dumbledore was already sitting down behind his desk. They both sat too and waited for Dumbledore to speak. 

"It is one thing to be almost certain in your belief that something is true," Dumbledore said. "But to know, unequivocally, that you are right? That is an entirely different thing and feeling altogether." He steepled his hands on his desk. "What you have done tonight was confirm to me that Lord Voldemort has indeed split his soul several times and created Horcruxes to store them."

"We've destroyed three of them," Johnny said, reiterating their conversation from earlier in the term. "The ring, the diary, and the snake."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "That leaves three remaining Horcruxes, can you guess what they might be?"

"Hufflepuff's cup," Harry answered. "The one he stole from Hepzibah Smith."

Dumbledore nodded. "I strongly agree with that theory."

"And Slytherin's locket," Johnny added. "He took both from her."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "That leaves us with the last Horcrux, and this is where we come to an abrupt stop. We know that Voldemort has, thus far, turned objects of great importance to him into Horcruxes. Nagini, his familiar-"

"The diary because it was proof he was the heir of Slytherin," Harry said, before realizing he had interrupted Dumbledore. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "That is sound logic and almost verbatim what I was about to say." 

Harry flushed and looked away for a moment.

"He made the ring into one for similar reasons," Dumbledore continued. "The Gaunt family was once very powerful and highly influential, and they were also believed to be direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself. The last two are easy to see the reasoning behind. They were objects from the founders of Hogwarts itself, and Hogwarts was the only true place Voldemort could ever call home."

It made Harry distinctly uncomfortable to be able to relate to Tom Riddle in that regard. Though that was in the past now, as he had Grimmauld Place and Sirius to look forward to when he wasn't at school. 

"So you think the last one could belong to one of the other two founders?" Johnny said, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered. "And as Gryffindor's only known relic sits on a mantle behind me, I think an item that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw is what Voldemort went after." 

Indeed, behind Dumbledore was the sword of Godric Gryffindor, the blade glinted in the candlelight.

Harry suddenly noticed that every single one of the old headmasters and headmistresses in the portraits around the walls was awake and listening in on their conversation. A corpulent, rednosed wizard had actually taken out an ear trumpet.

"Nearly two years ago," Dumbledore continued. "You told me that on the night that Voldemort returned to his body, he made a most illuminating and alarming statement to his Death Eaters. 'I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality.' That was what you told me he said. ‘Further than anybody,’ And I thought I knew what that meant, though the Death Eaters did not. He was referring to his Horcruxes. Plural. Which I do not believe any other wizard has ever had. And yet, it fitted: Lord Voldemort has seemed to grow less human with the passing years, and the transformation he has undergone seemed to me to be only explicable if his soul was mutilated beyond the realms of what we might call 'usual evil'..." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Well, all this to say, I rather strongly believe that there's three more to destroy."

"There's no real proof he did make more, only assumptions," Johnny said.

"Strong theories, is what I would call them, but yes," Dumbledore replied.

"Sir?" Harry asked, confused.

"We think the locket and the cup are Horcruxs, right?" Johnny said, turning to him. "But we know for certain, which means if we track them down and we're wrong, we're fucked."

A few portraits muttered darkly at Johnny's language, but Dumbledore voiced no issue with his colourful choice of words.

"They could be anything..." Harry realized.

"Ah, but, you are thinking of Portkey's, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Which must be ordinary objects, easy to overlook. But would Lord Voldemort use tin cans or old potion bottles to guard his own precious soul? You are forgetting what I have shown you. Lord Voldemort liked to collect trophies, and he preferred objects with a powerful magical history. His pride, his belief in his own superiority, and his determination to carve for himself a startling place in magical history; these things suggest to me that Voldemort would have chosen his Horcruxes with some care, favouring objects worthy of the honour. The three of us mere moments earlier laid out why each Horcrux was special to him, as well as the two suspected Horcruxes."

That was true, Harry supposed. However, no matter how sound Dumbledore's logic was, it didn't stop the overwhelming tidal wave of dread that threatened to wash over him.

"So if it was Ravenclaw's... do you think that's why he really wanted to come back to Hogwarts to teach?" Harry said after a few silent moments. "To try and find something that belonged to her?"

"My thoughts precisely," Dumbledore said. "But unfortunately, that does not advance us much further, for he was turned away, or so I believe, without the chance to search the school. I am forced to conclude that he never fulfilled his ambition of collecting four founders’ objects. He definitely had two - he may have found three - that is the best we can do for now."

"And it fits your theory of him only making six," Johnny said. "The seventh piece of soul still being inside him."

"Indeed."

"So... so is that where you've been going then, sir?" Harry asked. "When you're not in the castle?"

"Correct," Dumbledore. "I have been looking for a very long time. I do believe I may be close to finding another one. There are hopeful signs."

"And if you do," Harry said quickly, "can I come with you and help get rid of it?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry very intently for a moment before saying, "Yes, I think so." His gaze shifted to Johnny. "And you too."

But Johnny shook his head and stared resolutely at Dumbledore's desk. "I can't destroy them anymore, I'd just hold you back." 

"It is true you do not possess the terrible power that allowed you to destroy the ring and Nagini," Dumbledore said. "But you have the right to be there and see it through with us."

His words were firm and honest, but Johnny did not seem to care. He shook his head again and did not speak.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly but did not try to argue with Johnny. 

Fawkes trilled and the light whir of a few of Dumbledore's trinkets were the only sounds in the office. Johnny looked so defeated all of a sudden.

"Does Voldemort know when a Horcrux is destroyed, sir? Can he feel it?" Harry asked eventually.

"A very interesting question, Harry," Dumbledore answered, looking back at him. "I believe not. I believe that Voldemort is now so immersed in evil, and these crucial parts of himself have been detached for so long, he does not feel as we do. Perhaps, at the point of death, he might be aware of his loss... but he was not aware, for instance, that the diary had been destroyed until he forced the truth out of Lucius Malfoy. When Voldemort discovered that the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, I am told that his anger was terrible to behold."

"Had he not meant for Malfoy to smuggle in into Hogwarts, sir?"

"Yes, he did," Dumbledore answered. "Years ago, when he was sure he would be able to create more Horcruxes, but still Lucius was supposed to wait for Voldemort’s say-so, and he never received it, for Voldemort vanished shortly after giving him the diary. Had Lucius known he held a portion of his master’s soul in his hands, he would undoubtedly have treated it with more reverence - but instead, he went ahead and carried out the old plan for his own ends."

Harry sat in thought for a moment, then asked, "So if all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort could be killed?"

"Yes, I think so," Dumbledore said. "Without his Horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his Horcruxes."

"But I haven’t got uncommon skill and power," Harry said, before he could stop himself.

"Yes, you have," Dumbledore said firmly. "You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can -"

"I know!" Harry said impatiently. "I can love!"

"Yes, Harry, you can love, which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are, Harry."

"So, when the prophecy says that I’ll have ‘power the Dark Lord knows not,’ it just means love?" Harry asked, feeling let down.

"Yes - just love," Dumbledore said. "But Harry, never forget that what the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it so. I told you this at the end of last year. Voldemort singled you out as the person who would be most dangerous to him - and in doing so, he made you the person who would be most dangerous to him! If Voldemort had never heard of the prophecy, would it have been fulfilled? Would it have meant anything? Of course not! Do you think every prophecy in the Hall of Prophecy has been fulfilled?"

The question was rhetorical, it seemed, as Dumbledore gave Harry no time to properly answer. 

"If Voldemort had never murdered your father, would he have imparted in you a furious desire for revenge? Of course not! If he had not forced your mother to die for you, would he have given you a magical protection he could not penetrate? Of course not,
Harry! Don’t you see? Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back! Voldemort is no different! Always he was on the lookout for the one who would challenge him. He heard the prophecy and he leapt into action, with the result that he not only handpicked the man most likely to finish him, he handed him uniquely deadly weapons!"

Harry was stunned into silence as Dumbledore began pacing behind his desk. He turned his head to look at Johnny, who must have had the same expression Harry did. He had never seen Dumbledore so agitated.

"By attempting to kill you, Voldemort himself singled out the remarkable person who sits here in front of me, and gave him the tools for the job! It is Voldemort’s fault that you were able to see into his thoughts, his ambitions, that you even understand the snakelike language in which he gives orders, and yet, Harry, despite your privileged insight into Voldemort’s world - which, incidentally, is a gift any Death Eater would kill to have - you have never been seduced by the Dark Arts, never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort’s followers!"

"Of course, I haven't!" Harry said indignantly, finally finding his voice. "He killed my mum and dad!"

"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!" Dumbledore said loudly. "The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort’s! In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart. Do you not see how few witches and wizards would have seen what you did in the mirror of Erised? It was not immortality or riches-"

"It was my parents," Harry said, and a feeling of realization washed over him.

"He cannot understand you," Dumbledore said, his voice softening. "Because he has never experienced the very emotion you wear so proudly on your sleeve. You have never met your parents properly, and yet I am certain of the love you hold for them. He does not know why when he possessed you at the ministry last summer, he felt an unrivaled mortal agony, but then, he was in such a hurry to mutilate his own soul, he never paused to understand the incomparable power of a soul that is untarnished and whole."

Dumbledore paused for a moment to let his words sink in before continuing. "The prophecy does not mean you have to do anything. But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark you as his equal. In other words, you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you... which makes it certain, really, that -"

"That one of us is going to end up killing the other," Harry said. "Yes."

He thought of his parents, of Cedric. He thought of all the terrible deeds he knew Lord Voldemort had done. A flame seemed to leap inside his chest, searing his throat. Even if he had never heard the prophecy, Harry knew he'd want Voldemort finished, and he knew that he'd want to be the one to do it. He understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high.

Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew - and so do I, Harry thought, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents - that there was all the difference in the world.

Johnny never cared much for Easter as a holiday. His biological father, though raised Catholic, never had time to keep up the charade of the Easter Bunny, and so they usually ate a quiet dinner together as they did every night wherever it was they were touring. Although, when they were with the circus, several of the performers got together to celebrate. 

He could fondly recall Juan Castillo, a trapeze artist who toured with them for several years, teaching Johnny the importance of Easter while they all ate dinner together.

It was nice, and that was about the extent of his opinion on it. This was something shared by the majority of the wizarding population, it seemed. At least in Grimmauld Place, nobody treated it with much importance besides just a nice break from school. 

Although, he did recall Ron telling him about some strange folklore and traditions, like All Souls Day, which apparently was a festival for ghosts. 

He was taken out of his musings by the very reason he was even awake right now. 

Crookshanks purred as Johnny idly scratched his head. The cat had jumped onto his chest while Johnny was asleep. It was only three days into the break but Crookshanks had taken to sleeping with him every night.

Accepting that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, Johnny moved Hermione's cat off of him and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

The half-kneazle meowed sadly at the change in seating but followed Johnny as he walked towards the door.

He wasn't the only one waking up. Hermione stood in her own room's doorway, stretching with a big yawn. She sent a glare his way, though there was no real meaning behind it. 

"Traitor," she muttered to Crookshanks, who nuzzled her right leg.

"Morning," he said, smiling at her messy appearance.

She smiled softly back, and his heart soared. 

"Did you sleep well?" Hermione asked.

Johnny nodded. "For once, yeah." Dreamless and fulfilling were not normally the words he'd use to describe his time spent sleeping, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

They walked downstairs to the kitchen, where music was playing and Johnny could hear Sirius singing along.

"Do you have the time to listen to me whine..."

Johnny grinned as they entered the kitchen. 

Sirius was making what seemed to be scrambled eggs while dancing along to the music. He turned around to grab something and saw them enter. 

"Good morning," Sirius said cheerfully, lowering the music with a flick of his wand. "I'll be done soon. Tea is in the kettle if you're interested."

Hermione immediately walked over to the kettle to pour herself a cup. 

Johnny wasn't a tea guy or even a coffee guy either. Juice or water in the morning was fine by him. 

She took the seat next to him and let her tea cool the natural way. Their arms rubbed together from how close she was to him and he felt his skin heat up at the contact.

Get a fucking grip, man.

He had long accepted his feelings for Hermione, but had it gotten really so bad that the slightest touch made him feel like he was on fire? Johnny much prefered the usual way he burst into flames...

"Are you even listening?" 

Johnny nearly jumped as Hermione got his attention. Had he been staring off into space?

"No," he said. "Sorry, I zoned out."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was an unmistakable affection in it.

"I asked you if you wanted to go out sometime this week after I've finished all my schoolwork."

"Yeah, of course," Johnny said, mercifully not making a fool out of himself. He actually did want to get out eventually. It'd been a while since he last rode his bike. "Anyplace in mind?"

"I wanted to check out the Islington Museum, actually." She answered. "I know that might be a bit boring for you, though, so I was thinking we could go to the record store you and Tonks went to last year." 

Something for both of them to enjoy, then. Johnny nudged her with his elbow. "I won't be bored."

Hermione had a look on her face that made Johnny think she didn't really believe him, but she smiled nonetheless. 

"After breakfast then?" She asked.

He nodded.

They sat there smiling at each other like idiots, but the moment was quickly ruined.

"It's a date," Sirius said from across the table, Johnny hadn't noticed him sit down. His hands mockingly cupped his cheek as he grinned at them.

The drive to the museum was a short one, and to avoid any unnecessary questions, Johnny begrudgingly agreed to wear a helmet while he drove. 

It was a sunny day for once, a shining light at the end of a month that had been plagued by seemingly endless torrents of rain.

He'd only been to a museum once before back in New York. Mona had taken James and him to the Cloisters. It was nice, but it wasn't his thing.

And the same could be said about the Islington Museum. There were a lot of WW2 artifacts that Johnny found interesting, but other than that, nothing caught his eye. The real fun was in listening to Hermione talk about every little thing that caught her eye. 

Maybe some people would find it annoying, but Johnny just found it endearing. Her passion for knowledge in general was almost inspiring.

"- they'd airdrop these leaflets over Germany at the start of the war," Hermione said, looking at a small leaflet behind a pane of glass. "Stupid, really, I suspect all it really did was provide the German people with ample toilet paper."

Johnny snickered, and it only got worse when he noticed an old lady glare at them disapprovingly from across the room.

"I think we've worn out our welcome," Hermione muttered. "Shall we go?"

He nodded and she led him to the stairs, her arm hooked around his.

"The record store, then?" She asked once they were outside and by his bike.

Kids whooped and yelled from the small park nearby, and the hum of dozens of conversations buzzed all around them.

"Sounds good to me," Johnny said. "I hope they've got new stuff. Their selection was decent last time I was there, but I wasn't into too many of the artists."

"I wonder if they'll have anything from The Beatles," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"They did last time," Johnny told her. "I didn't know you were a fan."

Hermione shrugged as she put on her helmet. "My parents would play them all the time in the house. Elvis, Fleetwood Mac, and various classical music artists. I'm not too big on music in general but I suppose they would be the exception."

"It's nostalgic, right?" Johnny said knowingly as he too put on his helmet. "I get that. Mona used to play a lot of Nina Simone and Roberta Flack at home. Crash liked Marvin Gaye and The Beatles as well."

They both got on his motorcycle. He could feel Hermione nod as he started the engine. 

"Exactly, yeah. Though I do quite like Jeff Buckley, have you heard of him?" 

"Nope," he answered. "You'll have to show me some of his stuff sometime."

"I'd like that," she said in his ear. Johnny repressed the urge to shiver.

"I lost myself on a cool, damp night. I gave myself in that misty light. Was hypnotized by a strange delight... under a lilac tree..."

"This is a Nina Simone song!" 

They had arrived back at Grimmauld Place a little bit before supper. Nobody else was home besides the two of them and Kreacher, who was sulking somewhere upstairs. Johnny prepared them dinner while they went through all the vinyls they had gotten.

Johnny got himself quite the haul. Dirt by Alice In Chains, Illmatic by Nas, and Siamese Dream by The Smashing Pumpkins.

Hermione only got one record, and it was Grace by Jeff Buckley, who, Johnny had to admit, had a very nice voice.

She grinned at his excitement over the song.

"I made wine from the lilac tree. Put my heart in its recipe. Makes me see what I want to see... and be what I want to be..."

They dug into the ribs Johnny had made for them with enthusiasm. He watched with a small smile as Hermione tried to get as little sauce on her fingers as possible. 

There were also some mashed potatoes and beans. All in all, Johnny was quite proud of himself. The food had turned out good.

"When do you want to go to the Burrow?" He asked after swallowing a bite. "You can use magic outside of school now, can't you?" Johnny paused. "Wait. You can apparate now, so why didn't we just do that when we went out?"

Hermione blushed, which only served to confuse Johnny further. 

"There are too many muggles around that area, I didn't want to accidentally be seen." She answered. Her voice was carefully calm. "Plus, it wasn't that far of a drive."

Both of these things were perfectly true and good reasons for not apparating. But then why did Hermione look so embarrassed?

"When I think more than I wanna think. I do things I never should do. I drink much more that I oughta drink... because it brings me back you..."

"Why is your face so red then?" He asked pointedly.

Hermione sputtered. "That's- well..." She tried to find the words. 

Johnny's heart jumped. He'd known since Christmas that she liked him. She had to know he did too. They'd been dancing around it for months because of the cold shoulder treatment he received for a bit. But she apologized for that pretty quickly... so why were they still doing it?

"Lilac wine is sweet and heady, like my love. Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, like my love. Listen to me, I cannot see clearly. Isn't that she coming to me? Nearly here..."

Without realizing it they had abandoned dinner. Johnny was out of his chair and slightly leaning towards her over the table. Hermione was doing the same.

"How long are we going to keep dancing around this?" He said. Johnny had no clue where he found the courage. His heart hammered so hard and loud in his chest that he was convinced she could hear it. His face felt like it was on fire.

"We can stop right now," Hermione said, and her voice sounded almost husky. He had to fight to resist a shudder. "I wanted to hold you while you drove. That's why I didn't apparate us."

"I know," was all he said.

This was it. Everything he'd wanted for the last several months. Something he'd dreamed about doing properly after she had kissed him at Slughorn's party. Hermione Granger invaded his dreams and every thought of his waking life and Johnny was sick of it only being in his head.

They were so close now that Johnny could count each individual eyelash. She closed her eyes and he followed suit.

And suddenly he could hear a noise. A sort of whooshing that got closer by the second.

Johnny opened his eyes and saw that the milky white form of a dog had run on thin air towards them and was now looking at the two of them. It was a Patronus, Sirius', to be specific.

"The Burrow is under attack." It said in Sirius' voice. "Need backup, Death Eaters are here."

Johnny was mostly able to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling of apparation once they arrived at the Burrow. 

Or, more accurately, the property line of the Burrow. 

"Anti-Apparation wards," Hermione murmured from beside him. "The Death Eaters must have put them up."

They were in a thicket of tall reeds and pond water, but Johnny could just make out the top two floors of the Weasley's home.

It was on fire.

"C'mon," he urged her, and they began to run towards the house. 

For a few scary minutes as they ran, it was deathly silent other than the sounds of crickets and the sloshing of the pond as they ran through it. Eventually, they broke through the reeds and got on proper grassland. Johnny almost wished they hadn't.

The Burrow was indeed on fire, but it was so much worse than Johnny initially thought. It wasn't just the top two floors, it was the whole damn house.

Black formless smoke shot through and around the Burrow, and he could see spellfire being exchanged all over the Weasley's enormous front lawn.

Johnny could only hope that nobody was hurt.

Once they got to a certain distance from the house, it was like someone had unmuted the television. He was hit with a barrage of sounds all at once. Shouting and yelling and spells whizzing by. But by far the loudest noise of them all was the roar of the flames that threatened to incinerate the Burrow.

They ran and ran until Johnny's chest burned and his stomach ached with a cramp. 

Finally, they reached the front of the house, and Johnny noticed a familiar shaggy-haired person leaning on a fence.

"Sirius!" Johnny yelled. 

His friend turned to him, and Johnny saw that half his face was covered in blood. 

"I'm alright!" He said, putting his hands up to try and placate him. "Bella's learned some new tricks is all. It's good you got here so fast, we need all the help we can get."

"How did this happen?" Hermione asked, looking towards the battle being waged in the reeds a hundred yards out in the complete opposite direction they came in from. 

"Bloody just happened." Sirius spat darkly, though not at Hermione. "One second we were all having supper, and the next the whole bloody house was on fire."

A shrieking cackle interrupted their conversation and all three of their heads snapped towards the direction it came from.

"I'm going back in there," Sirius said with a grunt, but as soon as he stood up he fell over. Or, at least, he would have if Johnny hadn't caught him.

"Not an option," Johnny said, helping him back to his feet. "You're in no condition." 

"Harry's in there!" Sirius shouted. "So is Tonks!" He was glaring at him, but his eyes didn't quite meet Johnny's own. He seemed disoriented. 

"Then we'll go," Hermione said, trying to calm him down. "But you should really stay back and catch your breath."

"I'm fine," Sirius said, trying once again to move, but Johnny held him still.

"You can barely stand," Johnny said firmly. It was scary to see him like this.

"Let me go, Johnny," Sirius said pleadingly. "Please let me go." 

The battle raged on somewhere deep in the reeds. Every second they spent trying to convince Sirius to stay put could be costing their friends. 

Another cackle sounded from a woman that had to be Bellatrix, and Sirius lurched forward. But all he managed to do was fall onto the grass.

Hermione gave Johnny a sad look, and he shook his head. 

"I'm sorry," she said to Sirius, who was struggling to get to his knees.

With a wave of her wand, a jet of red light struck the older man in the shoulder, and he slumped over unconscious. 

"I'll carry him over into this dip in the ground," Johnny said, pointing towards a tiny hill that was to the side of the house and out of the way of the fire. "Try and put the flames out."

Hermione nodded as he grabbed Sirius and hoisted him over his shoulder. Johnny placed him down carefully against the hill before walking back to the fence. From this angle, he couldn't even see Sirius. It'd have to do for now.

"Johnny!" Hermione called, sounding panicked. He dashed over to the front of the house and let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. She was fine.

"What is it?" He asked. 

"Nothing's working," she said, looking at him with fear in her eyes. "It must be Fiendfyre, or something just as dark."

"Then the house is lost," Johnny determined. "We should go help the others."

Hermione looked saddened by it, but she nodded. "You're right."

They started to run again, back into the reeds where the fighting was. 

Right at the edge of the grassland, he saw someone in the reeds stumble out. 

Johnny nearly lunged for the person, but thankfully quickly recognized as Arthur Weasley.

"Johnny, Hermione!" He said. "Thank Merlin you're here. Where's Sirius and Molly?" 

"Sirius is back near the house," Hermione answered. "We had to stun him, he was trying to rejoin the fight but wasn't in any condition to do so."

Arthur nodded. He looked around for a moment as if expecting an attack, before returning his gaze to them.

"And Molly?"

Johnny shared a look with Hermione. "We didn't see her." He said. 

Arthur paled visibly. Quite suddenly, he sprinted off back towards the flaming house.

"I'll go after him," Johnny said. He was more durable than them anyway. If anyone had to back into the Burrow, it should be him. "You should go and join the fight." And please be safe.

"Okay," She said, breathing heavily from all the running. "But - Oh, Johnny, please be careful."

"Always am." He remarked.

She did not crack a smile, just gave him one last worried look before turning and running off into the reeds.

When he got back to the Burrow, Johnny stopped short at the sight of Arthur knocked out and bloodied on the steps that lead up to the porch.

Upon closer inspection, he saw that the Weasley patriarch had claw marks on his chest, but was still breathing. The marks didn’t look to be that deep either, and it seemed deliberate. Almost like whoever did this wanted Johnny to see it. 

He quickly glanced to where he knew Sirius was unconscious. Johnny had a pretty good idea of who did this. If they had gotten to Sirius too, he'd know.

Johnny walked up the steps and through the front door. The heat was intense before, but now it felt as if Johnny were melting. He wasn't, thankfully, but he needed to find Molly fast.

The inside was a mess. It looked like a bomb had gone off. Furniture was burnt to a crisp and in pieces. Sections of the ceiling and walls were falling apart, and the clock that had all of the Weasleys on it and their status' was nearly ash.

"Molly!" He yelled as loud as he could. "Molly where are you!" Johnny sent a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening that she wasn't upstairs somewhere. The smoke was already bad on the first floor, Johnny didn't think he could survive it on a higher one.

A loud groan caught his attention and Johnny spun to look in the direction of the noise. 

Pinned underneath a few wooden beams that were mercifully not on fire, was Molly Weasley.

Johnny ran to her and hefted the logs off with ease. She looked up at him in confusion. Definitely concussed. 

"I'm going to get you out of here Molly." He promised.

"I think you've got bigger problems, muggle." A rough voice said from behind him.

Without warning, a gnarled hand latched onto Johnny's head and yanked him off Molly. Another hand grabbed him by the side and hefted him up into the air. Johnny was tossed into the wall on the complete other side of the room with frightening ease. His head smacked off the wood painfully and he saw stars for a brief moment.

When his vision cleared, he saw a tall and rather grotesque-looking man staring down at him.

"Greyback," Johnny grunted. "Fancy seeing you here."

"It's good to see you still have a sense of humor, I was afraid it got beaten out of you."

"It'll take more than you've got," Johnny told him, standing up and squaring his shoulders. He hoped he looked much tougher than he felt. 

Greyback chuckled, tho it sounded more like a growl. "We'll see."

Without any hesitation, Greyback charged him. 

Johnny had no kind of fighting experience at all. He was used to being impervious as the Rider, and it proved costly here.

Greyback tackled him into the wall and began raining down clubbing blows. All Johnny could do was raise his arms feebly in defense.

Johnny tried to last until he could find an opening, but it never came. Greyback merely grabbed him by the throat with both hands and lifted him into the air. But this was a mistake. Not caring much about being fair considering Greyback ambushed him, Johnny lashed out with a boot and nailed Greyback where no man ever wants to be hit.

He was immediately dropped to the floor as Greyback took a few steps back and howled in pain and rage. 

"You fucker!" Greyback bellowed. "I'll have your head for that!"

"Get in line, asshole."

With a yell, the werewolf charged again, but this time Johnny was ready.

He ducked Greyback's hook easily and delivered savage blows to the other man's stomach and face. With each hit, Greyback was forced to take a step back. Johnny was pleased to hear something crack as he delivered one last punch to his opponent's face.

A flaming beam fell from the ceiling and nearly crushed him. He needed to get out of there, but Greyback was currently between him and Molly, who was cowering behind a tipped-over table. Johnny had no idea where her wand was.

Johnny dodged out of the way just in time as Greyback brandished his wand and shot a jet of green light at him. As more followed Johnny rolled closer to the werewolf and shot up to grab the man's wand arm. The spell that came out splashed harmlessly against the ceiling.

He forced the werewolf back into a wall with his strength. Johnny would have died early on if not for his enhanced abilities, or for that cheap shot.

Greyback glared at him as they had a test of strength over the wand. But Johnny could feel himself slowly losing, so he did the only thing he could think of. Quickly, Johnny moved his hand from Greyback's arm and grabbed his wand. With a strong squeeze, he snapped the wand in half with ease.

"No!" Greyback shouted, and with one final push, the Death Eater was able to get Johnny off him. Greyback then swung his fist out and caught Johnny right in the mouth. He was forced to take a few steps back. Thankfully he didn't lose any teeth, but he could feel his mouth filling with blood.

They both stood there for a moment. Greyback was looking at his snapped wand with fury in his expression, while Johnny spat out some of the blood.

"I'm gonna kill you," Greyback said quietly, trying to keep his rage in check.

Johnny grinned, the taste of his own blood in his mouth made him feel alive.

"Take your shot." 

They rushed at each other once more. Greyback caught him with a savage right hook, but when he went in for another, Johnny sidestepped and grabbed his arm putting all his strength into bending it in a way an arm was not meant to be bent.

He was rewarded with the sound of a harsh crunch as Greyback's arm was broken. The man screamed in pain but Johnny did not let up. He stuck his foot behind Greyback's and knocked him to the floor with a hard shove. Johnny mounted him as the roaring from the fire and Greyback's wails of pain threatened to deafen him.

Johnny punched him once, and then twice, then a third time. He didn't stop. Blow after blow rained down on Greyback's face and even when his fists were soaked in blood and the thunk of hitting Greyback turned into a wet squelching noise he did not stop hitting him.

He could hear someone shouting at him, but still, Johnny kept hitting Greyback. This was the man who hurt Hermione last year. He hurt Arthur and Molly just now. His vision was blurred with rage. 

Someone grabbed his left arm and yelled in his ear.

"Johnny!" 

He snapped his head to look at them, it was Remus, who regarded him in fear. 

"The house is about to come down!" Remus shouted. "We need to leave!"

Indeed, Johnny could see up into the second floor. Molly was being helped outside by Tonks and Remus was still tugging on his arm insistently. 

Johnny let himself be dragged out, but he never took his eyes off the prone form of Greyback.

He couldn't tell if the man was dead. But his face looked like mush. Remus looked as if he was about to use magic to bring him along with them. 

"No," Johnny said, and Remus stopped to look at him. "Let him burn."

"I want him dead more than you," Remus said. "He ruined my life. But dying like this is too kind for him. I want to see him rot in a cell for the rest of his miserable life. And so would a few dozen others."

At once, Johnny felt ashamed and looked down at the ground. 

Remus waved his wand and the unconscious body of Greyback floated behind them as they left the Burrow just in time. For as soon as they walked down the steps, the Weasleys home collapsed in on itself.

"It's natural to want him to suffer," Remus said as if reading Johnny's mind. "Nobody can blame you for wanting to leave him. But sometimes, we must afford our enemies mercies that they would not pay back in kind. Otherwise, we may lose ourselves along the way."

They walked towards the other Order members who were regrouping. Remus had given him a lot to think about.

"We've got to stop meeting like this."

Johnny was happy to see Hermione smile at his dumb joke as she lay in bed at Grimmauld Place.

One of the unused bedrooms had been turned into a makeshift infirmary for the injured Order members after the attack on the Burrow. It was also the only spare room after all of the Weasleys moved in at Sirius' insistence.

"It's becoming a bit of a pattern, isn't it?" Hermione quipped back. "Though this time it seems the roles have been reversed."

"I'm not sure I'm a big fan of that," he admitted, leaning forward in the chair he was sitting in. 

"Now you know how I feel." She said with a shrug.

He hummed his displeasure but otherwise said nothing.

She was the only one in the infirmary. Molly and Arthur had to be taken to a wizarding hospital, and every other Order member suffered minor injuries. Sirius had a nasty concussion but that was about it. Hermione had gotten her arm broken from a particularly powerful curse from Dolohov. Johnny resolved to pay the man back one day.

All in all, they were lucky nobody died. Or that the new Ghost Rider hadn't appeared. God, that was a weird thing to think.

"We got interrupted before, didn't we?" Hermione said after a few moments of silence. 

"Did we?" Johnny asked, feigning confusion. "Was something happening before we got called to the Burrow? I don't remember..."

"You prat!" Hermione said with a laugh, reaching out to smack his arm.

He laughed with her, and this time, Johnny wasn't nervous. Because she was here, and so was he. Maybe it was all they had but it was still something. They were still alive. Johnny knew he couldn't spend another moment being uncertain about it. Last night showed him that one would never know when their time was up.

So he leaned in and closed the distance between them.

Johnny Blaze felt he didn't deserve much in life. He had a propensity to blame the tragedies in his life on himself. There was such sadness and anger in his heart. But when he kissed Hermione Granger, it felt almost as if he could breathe better, and hate things less. Let go.

When he was with her, everything around them seemed more beautiful.

It wasn't too long ago that Johnny thought he was going to die, to lose his soul. Perhaps even after learning that wasn't going to be the case, he carried on as if it were.

He kissed Hermione Granger like he'd never get another chance. Johnny didn't want it to end. That this was the purpose of all his suffering. To find someone who accepted him, flaws and all. No matter his past. Despite his grumpiness.

Hermione saw his walls and leaped over them with kind words and soft touches.

With her, he has learned to live.

Chapter Text

"I didn't know what to call it, what was happening between us, but I liked it. It felt silly and fragile and good."

- Ransom Riggs, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children.

Easter holiday came and went in a bit of a blur for Johnny. He noticed that very little actually changed in his dynamic with Hermione.

They acted more or less the same around each other. But now, as a couple, Johnny felt like these little moments were made all the more enjoyable. She'd sit down on the chair in his room, legs stretched out over his own as he lay down on his bed. Sometimes Crookshanks would lay with him and snuggle up. He'd be listening to music while toying around with Sirius' bike and she'd be there to hand him things and ask questions about what he was doing. 

It was hardly romantic. They'd barely kiss during these times, but every once in a while, he'd look at her and feel the stupidest grin overtake his face. Hermione would meet his gaze and the same dumb grin plastered on his face would form on her own.

This wasn't to say they weren't physical.

There was the time in the Black family library. Johnny had coaxed Hermione away from the various books she had spread on a table. His lips had found her neck and her fingers ran through his hair.

They hadn't heard Sirius calling them down for dinner. The laughter that made them jump away from each other soon became almost hysterical as Sirius fought to stay upright in the doorway. 

It could have been worse. Johnny would have died of embarrassment if it had been Moody who found them. Now that he thought about it, maybe he'd already seen them. What with that magical eye and all...

Nobody was really surprised to see them together. Nobody really commented on it. 

"Really mate," Sirius had said while everyone was leaving after dinner. "It was bloody obvious you two had the hots for each other."

Johnny's cries of indignation over having "the hots" for Hermione fell on deaf ears.

The time goes by peacefully. There are several lazy afternoons spent with Hermione snuggled into his side as she reads a book. 

Sirius is not the only one who knows. Harry gives him funny looks when they pass each other in the halls and at meals together. Hermione has mentioned to him that Ginny has been doing the same to her.

It is the happiest he's ever been.

They're both stubborn.

Hermione has a hard time admitting when she's wrong, sometimes preferring to say it in a roundabout way, like walking him through her thought process. And he, well, Johnny isn't that much better. He tends to get too emotionally invested and annoyed during an argument. Even if it's just a debate of some sort, he loses his patience quickly and often for no reason at all. 

It isn't the first time they've argued, it certainly won't be the last.

The argument was so stupid that he couldn't even properly remember what started it. All Johnny knows now is that she is sitting on one end of the library and he's seated at the other.  

It's been two hours.

Johnny let out a sigh and got up. He made his way over to her with purpose, but his resolve began to crumble the closer he got.

If there's one thing he's learned over the course of their friendship and now relationship, it's that Hermione Granger is fucking scary. For several valid reasons. 

He's faced down gods and demons and all kinds of monsters. Johnny's fought Frank Castle for fucks sake. Yet here he was, scared of a teenage girl.

She was much more than that, though. She was the most important person in his life, someone who knew him better than he knew himself. Someone who could bring him to his knees with a look.

Johnny is not sure when he's started to think of her as a force of nature on occasion, but it feels like an apt description.

"Hermione," he said softly. 

She let out a hum of acknowledgment.

"I'm sorry," he continued. "I don't like it when we fight. You were right and I should have listened."

Hermione closed her book and turned in her seat to smile up at him.

"It's okay, I'm sorry too."

It's not the first time they've fought, it won't be the last, either, but it always ends up the same way. Like this. 

He leaned down and captured her lips in his, and he could feel her smile into it. 

This wasn't too bad, no sir.

Hermione has grown to resent the stereotypes she has fallen into over the years. Not that she doesn't have anyone but herself to blame.

Bossy, a stickler for the rules, uptight, bookworm, a know-it-all. 

These things are all true, to various degrees. 

She's broken the rules before when it mattered the most. But it always made her feel guilty.

As of late, however, things have changed. 

Hermione has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with dark brown hair and a rough demeanor. 

She never thought she'd be the risqué type, but Hermione practically accosted him one night in the library after dinner. Their arms and legs had been brushed up against each other the entire meal, and whatever cologne he was wearing had driven her mad.

"Jesus Christ, Hermione." He practically moaned into her mouth. She has started to take great pride in getting that sound out of him. 

He's gruff and unyielding but she manages to unravel him every time. He has no problem letting her take charge.

And he's strong, so strong it's almost scary sometimes. When he finally got tired of her teasing he grabbed her wrists in one hand and pinned them against the bookcase she shoved him into at the start.

Now it's his turn to draw a few sounds out of her.

They never get caught again after the first time with Sirius, but they come close.

Molly's the main one to look out for. She knows about them, everyone does by now, and maybe it's some motherly instinct but when they've disappeared for too long she usually comes looking. 

Nearly being caught is perhaps one of the most exciting things she's ever experienced. Hermione has ridden on the back of a Hippogriff, fought Death Eaters, and came face to face with a werewolf. Yet none of those things compare to what she's doing right now. Her lips are swollen from the kissing, his hand is pressed against her breast and he's kissing her where he knows she likes it.

Johnny is all about taking risks, it seemed. He's the son of a stuntman, twice over. His head used to burst into flames and he fought hardened criminals for a year. 

But in this, they're opposites. 

Every time she does this to him, he acts as if she's gone mad. 

Maybe she has.

He has no one to blame but himself.

Soon enough, the term is set to resume. Molly and Arthur come home from the hospital a couple of days beforehand, and so the usual Weasley chaos before the return to Hogwarts is in full swing.

Johnny has never been one to put off packing, he's been ready for two days now. Hermione was prepared even earlier.

He can hear Molly's raised voice from downstairs, but Johnny's preoccupied with Hermione's wandering hands as they trail teasingly up his stomach. She was doing a very lovely thing to his ear with her mouth when he realized that Molly's voice had gotten significantly closer and louder.

Johnny pushed Hermione off of him just as Molly opened the door. He was thankful for the pillow right to the side of his right leg, and he tried to casually cover up the tent he was pitching.

"Have you both packed, dearies?" 

Johnny gives a polite nod and a smile. "For a little while now."

"Same here," Hermione added.

"Thank Merlin," Molly said, turning on her heel and leaving the room. She was kind enough to shut the door behind her.

Johnny laid back on the bed with a groan, letting the pillow slide off of him.

It seemed Hermione had finally noticed the situation down south because she burst out laughing at his predicament.

"You're hilarious." He grumbled.

They walk into the magical side of the train station together. 

Back to school means less alone time. It also meant they had to find new hiding spots.

"We have to be more careful," Hermione said to him as they put their luggage away. "We really can't get caught. You're technically a staff member, it wouldn't look good if everyone knew you were romancing a student."

"Who's romancing who here?" Is his reply. Johnny is aware of this, of course. It's not really wrong, they're only a year apart in age, but it's definitely frowned upon.

All he gets in response is a coquettish little smile.

"It'll be a bit trickier to find a place," She said. 

"What about the room of requirement?" He asked.

Students rush all around them. Far less than he remembered seeing at the start of term. All the deaths and attacks lately have taken their toll.

"Well we can always check, but with Draco using it a lot lately, it might not always be open.”

Johnny remembered her complaining about the number of canceled training sessions with Tonks.

"Well, good thing someone's a Prefect, right?"

She gave him a downright mischievous grin. He began to wonder when exactly she went from uptight to an evil mastermind hellbent on driving him crazy.

"Yes, a very good thing."

Chapter Text

"Taking a life... it changes you. No matter how you try to justify it, a person is dead because of you."

- Johnny Blaze to Harry Potter, the night of May 8th, 1997

The train ride to Hogwarts was a calm one.

Harry found a compartment quite easily, though Hermione and Ron had to leave almost immediately for their Prefect duties. Ginny went off to meet with Dean, meaning it was just him and Johnny sitting together.

Not that Harry minded. In fact, it presented a fun opportunity.

"So," he said. Johnny had been looking out the window at the passing scenery, but at Harry's voice, he turned his head to look at him.

"Hm?" 

"You and Hermione, eh?" Harry said teasingly. 

At once, Johnny reddened.

"Fuck off."

Harry burst out laughing and soon, Johnny joined him.

Once their laughter died down, Harry spoke again.

"Seriously though, I'm really happy for you." He said. "For both of you." And he was. Harry had never seen Johnny happier than he'd been over the course of the break. Hermione too, now that he thought about it. They practically glowed when they were around each other.

"Thanks," Johnny said, shifting in his seat. "Means a lot."

They grinned at each other dumbly for a few moments before Johnny coughed.

"What about you and Tracey?"

Now it was Harry's turn to blush.

"Piss off."

They laughed again, but it was quickly cut off as there was a knock on their door.

Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini were outside, the former sporting a nervous smile aimed at Harry while the latter smirked.

Harry opened the compartment door to let them in. 

"Hey," he said. 

"Hey," Tracey replied, she sounded breathless.

Johnny shared a knowing look with Blaise, and now he smirked too.

"How were your holidays?" Harry asked after Tracey sat beside him and Blaise took the spot next to Johnny.

Tracey shifted nervously. "Not great." She and Blaise shared a look. "My parents stayed out of the first war with You-Know-Who, but my uncles are... well, they're Death Eaters."

Harry did not know this and didn't quite know how to react.

"Obviously, I don't particularly like them." Tracey went on to say. "When I was younger, my parents mostly kept them away from me and my brother. And now that they're free, well, they paid my aunt a visit."

"Did something happen?" Harry asked.

She shook her head, her sandy brown curls swinging.

"Not really," Tracey said. "I think they just wanted money. Something about needing to make pledges to the Dark Lord."

Harry pondered this bit of information for a moment. "I suppose that makes sense. Voldemort's never had money, he grew up in an orphanage."

Blaise and Tracey shared a look of surprise. "I never knew that." She said.

"Not exactly public knowledge," Johnny said. "I doubt it's something he wants people to know."

"True," she said. "But anyway, they just asked her for money, which she gave them." Tracey shook her head. "I get it, but I still don't like it. I hope they don't come back around."

"Me too," Harry said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you and your aunt should stay somewhere else?"

Tracey shrugged but seemed to appreciate the gesture. 

He was worried about her. Harry had no idea her relatives were Death Eaters. He didn't like that they were going around her place either.

All four of them lapsed into thoughtful silence. Each one's mind preoccupied. Soon, the snack trolley came around, and much nicer conversation started up.

The rest of the train ride passed pleasantly. 

Tracey eventually had to leave to find Theodore Nott for their Prefect duties, and while she was gone, Hermione and Ron returned from their own. 

Harry smiled as Ron asked Blaise questions about football - the Slytherin boy tried his best to answer in his own way - and Hermione and Johnny chatted about music while their hands were intertwined.

Eventually, they arrived at Hogwarts. Johnny went off to his own room and Blaise went to the Slytherin common room. 

What he saw when they arrived at their common room surprised him.

There was a small group of seventh-years clustered together, and Hermione cried out.

"Katie! You're back! Are you okay?"

Harry stared: It was indeed Katie Bell, looking completely healthy and surrounded by her jubilant friends. 

"I’m really well!" She said happily. "They let me out of St. Mungo’s on Monday, I had a couple of days at home with Mum and Dad and then came back here this morning. Leanne was just telling me about McLaggen and the last match, Harry..."

"Yeah," Harry said, "well, now you’re back and Ron’s fit, we’ll have a decent chance of thrashing Ravenclaw, which means we could still be in the running for the Cup. Listen, Katie..."

He dropped his voice as Katie’s friends started gathering up their things; apparently, they were late for Transfiguration. 

"...that necklace... can you remember who gave it to you now?"

"No," Katie said, shaking her head ruefully. "Everyone’s been asking me, but I haven’t got a clue. The last thing I remember was walking into the ladies’ in the Three Broomsticks."

"You definitely went into the bathroom, then?" Hermione said.

"Well, I know I pushed open the door," Katie said, "so I suppose whoever Imperiused me was standing just behind it. After that, my memory’s a blank until about two weeks ago in St. Mungo’s. Listen, I’d better go, I wouldn’t put it past McGonagall to give me
lines even if it is my first day back..."

She caught up her bag and books and hurried after her friends, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to sit down at a window table and ponder what she had told them.

"So it must have been a girl or a woman who gave Katie the necklace," Hermione said, "to be in the ladies’ bathroom."

"Or someone who looked like a girl or a woman," Harry. "Don’t forget, there was a cauldron full of Polyjuice Potion at Hogwarts. We know some of it got stolen..."

In his mind’s eye, he watched a parade of Crabbes and Goyles prance past, all transformed into girls. 

"I think I’m going to take another swig of Felix," Harry said, "and have a go at the Room of Requirement again."

"That would be a complete waste of potion," Hermione said flatly, putting down the copy of Spellman’s Syllabary she had just taken out of her bag. "Luck can only get you so far, Harry. The situation with Slughorn was different; you always had the ability to persuade him, you just needed to tweak the circumstances a bit. Luck isn’t enough to get you through a powerful enchantment, though. Don’t go wasting the rest of that potion! You’ll need all the luck you can get if Dumbledore takes you along with him..." She dropped her voice to a whisper.

Stumped, as a look in the Prince's book showed that the potion was incredibly complicated and took six months to make, it seemed that for the time being, Harry was out of options.

Harry was about to put his book away again when he noticed the corner of a page folded down; turning to it, he saw the Sectumsempra spell, captioned 'For Enemies,' that he had marked a few weeks previously. He had still not found out what it did, mainly because he did not want to test it around Hermione, but he was considering trying it out on McLaggen next time he came up behind him unawares.

The following fortnight saw the best Quidditch practices Harry had known as Captain. His team was so pleased to be rid of McLaggen, so glad to have Katie back at last, that they were flying extremely well. 

The only person who was not particularly pleased to see Katie Bell back at school was Dean Thomas, because he would no longer be required to fill her place as Chaser. He took the blow stoically enough when Harry told him, merely grunting and shrugging, but Harry had the distinct feeling as he walked away that Dean and Seamus were muttering mutinously behind his back.

Balmy days slid gently through May, and the final Quidditch match of the season was rapidly approaching. Interest in the Gryffindor v Ravenclaw game was running extremely high throughout the school, for the match would decide the Championship, which was still wide open. If Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw by a margin of three hundred points (a tall order, and yet Harry had never known his team to fly better) then they would win the Championship. If they won by less than three hundred points, they would come second to Ravenclaw; if they lost by a hundred points they would be third behind Hufflepuff and if they lost by more than a hundred, they would be in fourth place and nobody, Harry thought, would ever, ever let him forget that it had been he who had captained Gryffindor to their first bottom-of-the table defeat in two centuries. 

The run-up to this crucial match had all the usual features: members of rival Houses attempting to intimidate opposing teams in the corridors; unpleasant chants about individual players being rehearsed loudly as they passed; the team members themselves either swaggering around enjoying all the attention or else dashing into bathrooms between classes to throw up.

"You'll forgive me if I'm not exactly pulling for you." Tracey had said one night while they were studying together in the library. It had become a common occurrence for the two of them. Blaise often joined them, as well as Hermione, and, even Johnny made the odd appearance, if only just to distract his girlfriend.

That certainly took some getting used to.

Harry had called it ages ago and was happy for his friends. Ron seemed to be taking it well, having long accepted his shortcomings and Hermione's clear affinity for their gruff, leather-clad friend.

That night, however, it was just the two of them.

"I'm hurt," he said, looking up from his parchment. "Truly heartbroken, how will I ever recover?"

She rolled her eyes at him in a way that reminded Harry of how she was when they first met. A cold front put up out of necessity to hide the ball of anxiety that Tracey truly was.

Harry thought of Daphne Greengrass, and how she had gone out of her way to let Harry know Tracey considered him a friend, and demanded to know what his intentions were with her best friend. He knew she had to be missing her dearly now.

He thought of taking that swig of Felix, of blue eyes and freckles and-

"What?" She asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" He said smartly.

"You're staring," she said, looking at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Is there something on my face?"

Harry was saved from having to answer by Madam Pince coming around the corner of a bookshelf.

"Shhhh!"

Thank Merlin for small mercies.

In the midst of all his preoccupations, Harry had not forgotten his other ambition: finding out what Malfoy was up to in the Room of Requirement. He was still checking the Marauder’s Map, and as he was unable to locate Malfoy on it, deduced that Malfoy was still spending plenty of time within the room. Although Harry was losing hope that he would ever succeed in getting inside the Room of Requirement, he attempted it whenever he was in the vicinity, but no matter how he reworded his request, the wall
remained firmly doorless.

A few days before the match against Ravenclaw, Harry found himself walking down to dinner alone from the common room, Ron having rushed off into a nearby bathroom to throw up yet again, and Hermione having dashed off to see Professor Vector about a mistake she thought she might have made in her last Arithmancy essay.

More out of habit than anything, Harry made his usual detour along the seventh-floor corridor, checking the Marauder’s Map as he went. For a moment he could not find Malfoy anywhere and assumed he must indeed be inside the Room of Requirement again, but then he saw Malfoy’s tiny, labeled dot standing in a boys’ bathroom on the floor below, accompanied, not by Crabbe or Goyle, but by Moaning Myrtle.

Harry only stopped staring at this unlikely coupling when he walked right into a suit of armor. The loud crash brought him out of his reverie; hurrying from the scene lest Filch turn up, he dashed down the marble staircase and along the passageway below. Outside the bathroom, he pressed his ear against the door. He could not hear anything. He very quietly pushed the door open. 

Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink, his white-blond head bowed.

"Don’t," Moaning Myrtle crooned from one of the cubicles. "Don’t... tell me what’s wrong... I can help you..."

"No one can help me," Malfoy said. His whole body was shaking. "I can’t do it... I can’t... It won’t work... and unless I do it soon... he says he’ll kill me..."

And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying - actually crying - tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder. 

Faster than Harry thought possible, Malfoy wheeled around and drew his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own. Malfoy’s hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, thought Levicorpus! and flicked his wand, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another-

"No! No! Stop it!" Moaning Myrtle squealed, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. "Stop! STOP!"

There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded; Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Malfoy’s ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly; water poured everywhere and Harry slipped as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, "Cruci-"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Harry bellowed from the floor, waving his wand wildly.

Blood spurted from Malfoy’s face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand. 

"No-" Harry gasped, utterly horrified at his actions. "No - I didn’t-"

Quite suddenly he was being shoved hard into the wall of the washroom, an arm across his throat and a hand pinning the wrist that he was holding his wand with as well.

Harry stared into the furious eyes of Johnny Blaze and immediately understood why he was so feared, why criminals whispered his name and ran at the sight of him.

He saw the eyes of a man who'd killed and didn't regret it.

"What the fuck did you do?" His friend shouted.

A glance at Malfoy showed his face was now shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest. 

Harry felt bile rise in his throat but he forced it back down. 

The door slammed open and Snape burst into the room, his face livid.

He paid no attention to the two of them, instead, he knelt over Malfoy, drew his wand, and traced it over the deep wounds Harry’s curse had made, muttering an incantation that sounded almost like a song. The flow of blood seemed to ease; Snape wiped the residue from Malfoy’s face and repeated his spell. Now the wounds seemed to be knitting.

Harry was still watching, unable to move due to Johnny and horrified by what he had done, barely aware that he too was soaked in blood and water. Moaning Myrtle was still sobbing and wailing overhead. When Snape had performed his countercurse for the third time, he half-lifted Malfoy into a standing position. 

"Will he make it?" Johnny asked, not even looking at Harry but his hold was still firm.

Snape ignored him. "You need the hospital wing." He seemed to say to Malfoy. "There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that... come-"

But before Snape could move him, Malfoy's skin started to bubble. 

All three men (and one ghost) watched in utter shock as Malfoy's hair began to change colours and lengthen. 

He seemed to get shorter, and that's when Harry realized what was happening.

"Polyjuice..." He whispered, unable to believe it. For good reason. "But the map said..." How could it have been wrong? The map was never wrong! Remus had said it himself.

The map never lies!

But maybe it had been fooled, yes. It was exceptional magic, done by exceptional wizards, but magic could be overcome just like anything else.

So Harry watched as the form of Draco Malfoy shifted and reverted to its natural one.

It was one that Harry had seen before, one that he knew. Harry looked at the person he nearly killed and it was yet another huge shock.

He was staring at the body of Daphne Greengrass.

An hour later and Harry was still in some sort of stupor over it. 

He stood near Daphne Greengrass' bed in the Hospital Wing as a few teachers argued in heated whispers close by.

"Where could the boy be then, Albus?"

"Why disguise the Greengrass girl?"

Harry heard them say. He wasn't worried about the why of it all right now, these sort of things revealed themselves eventually, what Harry was concerned with was how close he came to taking someone's life. Someone who wasn't even the person he thought he was fighting, not that he would have preferred to have killed Draco Malfoy. He would have preferred to not kill anyone, which Harry was lucky enough to succeed in.

Lucky. It was pure luck that Snape was so close by that he could hear Myrtle's screaming. 

And Johnny... he could barely meet his friend's eyes. He was also included in the circle of teachers, and Harry heard him speak.

"None of these questions are gonna be answered now, what we need to do is wait for her to wake up. Maybe then we'll learn more, assuming she's more afraid of us than she is of Voldemort, which isn't too likely."

"That's hardly helpful," Professor Flitwick said.

"Nothing anyone can do right now will be helpful." Johnny retorted. "Certainly not just standing around worrying." With that, he turned around and walked towards Harry. "Come with me." He said. It did not occur to Harry to even question it. Dumbledore and the rest of them watched as Johnny grabbed Harry by the arm and guided him out of the hospital wing.

Right outside the room, they turned a corner into an empty corridor and then stopped.

Dark brown eyes searched his own for a moment and then Johnny spoke again.

"You said the map was wrong, is that possible?"

Harry shifted awkwardly. "Well... well no, it's not supposed to be possible but..."

"But it's wrong anyway," Johnny concluded with a terse nod. "Shit. You should talk to Sirius about that, soon." 

"Yeah," Harry said, unsure if he should speak more. He felt like he was being scolded by a teacher right now, it was a very alien thing to experience from Johnny.

"We're gonna have to talk about it," Johnny said, chewing the inside of his cheek. "God, I am the worst person to be telling you this, but you really fucked up."

"I know," Harry said.

"You could have killed her."

"I know."

"Did you want to kill him?"

"No," Harry said without hesitating. "As soon as it happened I was horrified. I didn't know what that spell did."

Johnny nodded as if he expected that. "I figured, just needed to ask." He sighed deeply. 

It seemed like he was trying to say something, but every time he began to speak his mouth snapped shut. This happened three times before Harry heard him swear sharply under his breath.

"Taking a life changes you..." He said finally. Harry had not been expecting this. "No matter how you try to justify it, a person is dead because of you."

Harry just stared at him in silence, letting him speak.

"The first time I killed someone I was fifteen." He said. "It wasn't my fault, I wasn't in control of my actions, I had just been cursed with being the Ghost Rider. But it doesn't change the fact that it happened."

Johnny had been fifteen. A year younger than Harry, who had been fighting Death Eaters at that age.

"For that first year, a lot of the things I did as the Rider were out of my control. But it wasn't always like that." Johnny swore quietly again. "I began to gain more and more control over my transformations. I realized that it seemed to target criminals specifically. So I figured that if I did my own research, track down my own criminals, I'd at least gain autonomy. And it worked. It didn't make me feel better but it was something, some semblance of control. I just... I don't know what I'm even saying anymore, I just don't want to see you go through what I did."

Harry nodded, feeling a surge of affection for his friend. Relieved he wasn't mad at him.

"I have to kill Voldemort," Harry said, the realization truly hitting him now in a new light. "It's me or him, in the end. It has to be."

It doesn't have to be, a voice in his head reminded him that sounded far too much like Dumbledore. But it will be. You are who you are, and Voldemort is who he is. Johnny understood this too, because he nodded sadly.

"Yeah."

"How do you deal with it?"

"I think about all the people I've saved by doing it."

"And that helps?"

Johnny shook his head sadly. "Not really. It's shit. It's all shit but... he won't stop, so he has to die, and you'll have to learn to live with it."

Have you? Harry wanted to ask but didn't.

Johnny checked his watch. "Bad luck man," he said. "You've got detention with Snape in ten minutes. He told me to let you know. I don't think he could say to you what he wanted to with all those teachers around."

Harry nodded shakily. It was understandable. He could only hope their newfound respect for each other granted him some leeway.

"I think it'll be a detention every Saturday until the end of term, what say you, Potter?"

Apparently, their newfound respect for each other did not offer any leeway.

He had waited for Snape outside his office, and the professor only spoke once they were both seated inside.

"I... I don't disagree, sir." Harry said though he knew it meant missing out on the Quidditch cup final.

Snape stared at him for a moment. "Good." He said finally, though it lacked any venom.

They sat there in silence for another minute before Snape opened his mouth. He then quite suddenly closed it.

"Sir?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Where did you learn that spell from, Potter?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Immediately, the image of his potions textbook floated to his mind, though he could not detect the Professor's presence. 

"I - I read it in a book somewhere." 

"Really?" Snape said. "I find that rather hard to believe. Who would have thought you knew such dark magic. Where did you find such a book?"

"It was a library book." Harry invented wildly. "I can't remember what it was call-"

"Do not insult me by lying, Potter, you are terrible at it." Snape interrupted. "Furthermore, do not destroy any recently built-up goodwill we have created."

Harry looked down to the floor in shame.

"I-" He started to say. "I didn't mean for it to happen." Harry said in a quiet voice. "I didn't know what the spell did."

Snape sighed. "Anyone could tell that from one look at you, Potter." He said in a softer tone. "What book did you learn that spell from?"

He felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage; what had the Prince been thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what would happen when Snape saw it? Would he tell Slughorn - Harry’s stomach churned - how Harry had been achieving such good results in Potions all year? 

Harry did not want to lie to Snape, especially considering how more than fair he was being, but he could not let this happen.

So, taking a deep breath and then letting it go, he looked back up at Snape.

"I found it in a potions textbook that I used back on the first day of term." He began to weave his lie, and it was one sprinkled here and there with the truth. "I hadn't known that I could take Potions with an Exceeds Expectations, so I never bought a textbook. So when Professor McGonagall told me I could still take the class, I showed up with no book. There were some spares that Professor Slughorn said I could use until I ordered a new one. In the book I picked out, there were some notes here and there on the potions, as well as some spells the previous owner had scribbled in."

Snape was watching him with an unreadable expression, but still, Harry felt no intrusion into his mind.

"That spell was written there, with 'for enemies' under it. Once my new textbook came in, I put the old one back. I had been thinking about using it for awhile, and when Malfoy attacked me it just... popped into my head. I'm sorry."

Professor Snape did not speak for a few moments, and Harry thought he was done for.

"Thank you for telling me the truth, Potter." Snape said finally, and Harry could have cheered. "That spell, as you saw for yourself, is incredibly dark and deadly. You would do well to never use it again unless you are in extreme danger. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded quickly.

"You could have killed Miss Greengrass tonight, do you understand? It is incredibly lucky I was so close by."

Again, Harry nodded.

"Good." Snape said. "As previously stated, you will serve detention with me for the rest of the school year." He then smirked. "Poor Gryffindor... fourth place this year, I fear."

Johnny watched as Harry left. He saw too much of himself in his friend sometimes. 

He re-entered the Hospital Wing to find that all the staff had left except for Dumbledore.

"I was wondering when you'd come back." He said knowingly. "You have a theory, yes?"

Johnny blinked at him dumbly. "How did - I didn't even really know I had a theory until like five minutes ago."

Dumbledore grinned. "Because I believe I share the same one." He gestured with his hand in a 'go on' manner.

"Loki." That was all Johnny said.

Dumbledore nodded, expecting this. "Agreed."

"We know from the attack on Hogsmeade that he's been working with or for Voldemort," Johnny continued. "He's a God, one that's well versed in magic you probably couldn't even dream of, so it wouldn't be too crazy to think that his magic is more powerful than the maps."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "Very sharp, I agree. This still leaves one question, where is Draco Malfoy?"

Johnny glanced at Daphne, still sleeping in her bed. "No clue, probably at his manor. I bet I know one person who can tell us for sure."

"This is most worrying," Dumbledore said. "Not even Severus knew of this polyjuice trickery. He had only been informed of the Malfoy boy's mission to kill me. Maybe that was actually for Miss Greengrass here."

Johnny's heart skipped a beat. 

"To kill you?" Johnny said, startled. "What do you mean?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I had hoped to keep this a secret but it seems that there is no reason to now, not from you. Yes, Lord Voldemort has assigned a mission to take my life. The poisoned mead that got to poor Mister Weasley, the cursed necklace that hospitalized Miss Bell, all meant for me."

"Why..." He started to say. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly at him.

"Because I intended for him to succeed."

Chapter Text

"Hide her. Hide them all. I beg you."

There were Slytherin taunts to be endured next day, not to mention much anger from fellow Gryffindors, who were most unhappy that their Captain had got himself banned from the final match of the season. It was almost unbearable to turn away from the mass of students streaming out into the sunshine on Saturday morning, all of them wearing rosettes and hats and brandishing banners and scarves, to descend the stone steps into the dungeons and walk until the distant sounds of the crowd were quite obliterated, knowing that he would not be able to hear a word of commentary or a cheer or groan.

"Ah, Potter," Snape said, when Harry had knocked on his door and entered the unpleasantly familiar office that Snape, despite teaching floors above now, had not vacated; it was as dimly lit as ever and the same slimy dead objects were suspended in colored potions all around the walls. Ominously, there were many cobwebbed boxes piled on a table where Harry was clearly supposed to sit; they had an aura of tedious, hard, and pointless work about them. "Mr. Filch has been looking for someone to clear out these old files," Snape said softly. "They are the records of other Hogwarts wrongdoers and their punishments. Where the ink has grown faint, or the cards have suffered damage from mice, we would like you to copy out the crimes and punishments afresh and, making sure that they are in alphabetical order, replace them in the boxes. You will not use magic."

Harry sighed but made no protest. It was what he deserved, after all. He probably deserved worse, if he was being honest with himself. "Right, Professor."

He sat down in front of the boxes and pulled one toward him. It was, as Harry had anticipated, useless, boring work. He was not all that surprised to find his father's name in here several times, as well as Sirius' and the occasional mention of Remus and Wormtail. One year ago, Harry would have been furious with Snape, and wouldn't have put it past him to have planned this to get a reaction out of him. Now, however, Harry rather thought that denying Gryffindor the house cup was enough fun for Snape.

While he copied out all their various offenses and punishments (some of them petty, some of them quite funny), he wondered what was going on outside, where the match would have just started... Ginny playing Seeker against Cho...Harry glanced again and again at the large clock ticking on the wall. It seemed to be moving half as fast as a regular clock; perhaps Snape had bewitched it to go extra slowly? He could not have been here for only half an hour... an hour... an hour and a half...

Harry’s stomach started rumbling when the clock showed half past twelve. Snape, who had not spoken at all since setting Harry his task, finally looked up at ten past one. "I think that will do," he said calmly. "Mark the place you have reached. You will continue at ten o’clock next Saturday."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He stuffed a bent card into the box at random and hurried towards the door before Snape changed his mind.

"Potter," Snape called out.

Harry turned, fearing the worst.

The older man seemed to struggle with his words for a moment, and he would not meet Harry's eyes.

"For what it's worth... I know you did not mean for any of it to happen."

Harry was stunned. For a moment, he did not know what to say. And then slowly he began to smile.

"It's worth a lot, sir." And then he left, completely missing the small smile on the bat-like Professor's face.

Harry raced back up the stone steps, straining his ears to hear a sound from the pitch, but all was quiet... it was over, then... he hesitated outside the crowded Great Hall, then ran up the marble staircase; whether Gryffindor had won or lost, the team usually celebrated or commiserated in their common room.

"Quid agis?" He said tentatively to the Fat Lady, wondering what he would find inside.

Her expression was unreadable as she replied, "You’ll see." And she swung forward.

A roar of celebration erupted from the hole behind her. Harry gaped as people began to scream at the sight of him; several hands pulled him into the room.

"We won!" Ron yelled, bounding into sight and brandishing the silver Cup at Harry. "We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!"

Several of his teammates hugged him tightly, as a matter of fact, pretty much the entire house did. Hermione beamed at him.

"They were brilliant!" She said.

Johnny stood next to her, grinning. "Absolutely destroyed them."

Harry was filled with joy, and this feeling only increased as he thought of the reaction of his study partner once they met up again.

He didn't have the time to think about why she was on his mind in this moment, as Harry was dragged away to indulge in Butterbeer and a play-by-play of the match. 

Time passed pleasantly and quickly. Very little could actually dampen Harry's spirits these days, not even Snape's detentions - which weren't even that bad. He was doing well in Defence too, having raised the grades of his group members significantly after weeks of working together. Although it barely made a difference in Pansy Parkinson's attitude toward him.

He still performed amazingly in potions, to Hermione's continued chagrin, though at least now she wasn't harping at him for it. She did however mention a woman named Eileen Prince that went to Hogwarts many years ago.

"I've been scouring loads of old copies of the Prophet." She had said to him on Sunday night. "I think I'll check old records for Potions awards next."

Harry didn't think much would come of it and wisely kept that to himself.

Tracey was actually quite thrilled for him and Gryffindor's victory in the Quidditch Cup, having given him a big hug at their study session on Monday night. Harry's face burned but she didn't seem to notice. 

"Do you still have detention with Professor Snape this Saturday?" She had asked quietly after a bit of studying. 

"Yeah, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that," Harry sighed. "And he’s hinting now that if I don’t get all the boxes done by the end of term, we’ll carry on next year." 

While these detentions were irksome, they could have been far worse.

He couldn't think about it anymore as they were suddenly joined by Jimmy Peakes who appeared at Harry's side holding out a scroll of parchment.

"Thanks, Jimmy... Hey, it’s from Dumbledore!" Harry said excitedly, unrolling the parchment and scanning it. "He wants me to go to his office as quick as I can!" They stared at each other. 

Tracey knew he was the chosen one, but she did not know about the Horcrux's. He had been thinking about telling her but didn't still hadn't decided. Harry had told her about his lessons with Dumbledore, so this wasn't a surprise to her.

His heart beat quickly. Had the headmaster found one...?

"You better go!" She told him. "I'll bring your stuff to one of your housemates!"

"Thanks, Tracey!" He called as he jogged off, ignoring the scandalized shout that Madame Pince let out. He went a bit faster once out of the library. It was close to curfew, so barely any students were walking around. Harry passed nobody but Peeves, who swooped past in the opposite direction, throwing bits of chalk at Harry in a routine sort of way and cackling loudly as he dodged Harry’s defensive jinx. 

Once Peeves was gone it was quiet except for Harry's footsteps on the stone floor.

And then Harry heard a scream and a crash. He stopped in his tracks, listening.

"How - dare - you - aaaaargh!" 

The noise was coming from a corridor nearby; Harry sprinted toward it, his wand at the ready, hurtled around another corner, and saw Professor Trelawney sprawled upon the floor, her head covered in one of her many shawls, several sherry bottles lying beside her, one broken.

Johnny frowned at the headmaster as they sat across from each other in Dumbledore's office.

"She still hasn't said anything?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "No. It seems the young Ms. Greengrass is in shock. Madam Pomfrey can't get a word out of her. She can barely get the poor girl to eat or drink."

"Why in the world would she pose as Malfoy?" Johnny asked aloud, though he didn't expect an answer. "Why isn't he here? If you say Voldemort has given him a mission to kill you, then where is he?"

"In this instance, your guess is as good as mine," Dumbledore said. "Even Severus does not know. This was a well-kept secret, perhaps Voldemort told nobody but the two teenagers he entrusted the mission to."

"And Loki," Johnny reminded him.

"And Loki," The old man conceded. "Even more troubling, that. What does the God of mischief, trickery, and deception want? Surely his aiding of Voldemort is a means to an end, but what exactly is that end? The amount of questions we have now far outnumber any answers we may obtain or come up with ourselves."

"At least you've found a Horcrux," Johnny said. "There's that."

"There is that," Dumbledore agreed. "Destroying it must now be our top priority, though there is something else I must discuss with you..." He trailed off.

For the first time, Johnny thought that Dumbledore looked ashamed.

"It was naive of me to assure you that you could come along, Johnny. And for that, I am sorry."

Johnny nodded, he expected this. "I know. It was naive of me to hope I could."

"There is, however, one thing you could help with." Dumbledore continued.

"Like what?" Johnny asked, sitting up more in his chair.

"Keep Hogwarts safe," Dumbledore said. "Work with the rest of the Order to guard it. Nothing must happen while I am gone."

"So you suspect an attack," Johnny said. "This whole year you knew Draco was up to something, and you did nothing to stop it."

Dumbledore's face hardened marginally. "I will not have that young man die if I can help it."

"So the solution is your murder?!" Johnny almost shouted. "Can't you see how - how stupid that is?"

Johnny thought this would make the old man angry, and his eyes did briefly light up with fury. But just as soon as it came, it left Dumbledore, and his face crumpled. 

"Do not mistake my decision on the matter as a lack of wisdom." He said, and Johnny was surprised to hear a shakiness in his voice. "It's what must be done if I want to save Draco's life, and I do, but that doesn't mean that I'm not - that I..." Dumbledore struggled to find the words. "I'm afraid." He said, and his voice cracked.

Johnny sat there in disbelief. Every painting was looking at the headmaster with some kind of shock on their faces. Dumbledore was human, but to see him so vulnerable... 

Whatever train of thought he was getting on was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Enter," Dumbledore called, his voice carefully level.

Harry entered quickly and with purpose, almost like he flung himself in.

"Well, Harry, I promised you could come with me," Dumbledore said, standing up to grab a black traveling cloak from a stand behind him and to his left.

"Come... with you?" Harry said in confusion.

"Only if you wish it, of course."

"If I..."

Johnny was confused now too, didn't Dumbledore tell Harry what he'd found?

"You've found one?" Harry asked. It was like a light switch had been flipped in his brain. Suddenly he understood. "You've found a Horcrux?"

"I believe so."

There seemed to be a battle going on inside Harry's mind. His face twisted into different minute expressions. 

"It is natural to be afraid," Dumbledore said. 

Johnny frowned.

"I'm not scared!" Harry said. "Which Horcrux is it? Where is it?"

There was a one-sided tension in the room. Harry obviously had something on his mind other than the Horcrux. If Dumbledore picked up on this too, he didn't show it.

"I am not sure which it is - though I think we can rule out the snake - but I believe it to be hidden in a cave on the coast many miles from here, a cave I have been trying to locate for a very long time: the cave in which Tom Riddle once terrorized two children from his orphanage on their annual trip; you remember?"

"Yes," Harry said. "How is it protected?"

Johnny nodded too, still observing Harry.

"I do not know; I have suspicions that may be entirely wrong." Dumbledore hesitated, then said, "Harry, I promised you that you could come with me, and I stand by that promise, but it would be very wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous."

"I'm coming," Harry said, almost before Dumbledore had finished speaking.

Now, Johnny could see what was wrong. And it seemed Dumbledore could too, as he moved away from where he'd turned to look out the window and looked more closely at Harry, a slight crease between his silver eyebrows.

Harry was angry.

"What has happened to you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Nothing," Harry said, but Johnny wasn't fooled, and neither was Dumbledore.

"What has upset you?"

"I'm not upset."

"Harry, you were never a good Occlumens-"

It seemed like that word finally set Harry off.

"Snape!" He said, very loudly, and Fawkes gave a soft squawk behind them. "Snape’s what’s happened! He told Voldemort about the prophecy, it was him, he listened outside the door, Trelawney told me!"

Johnny stared at Harry in shock. Snape had been the one to tell Voldemort? He was the entire reason that madman went after Harry in the first place...

"When did you find out about this?" Dumbledore finally asked after a long stretch of silence.

"Just now!" Harry said, and it was clear to Johnny that he was trying his hardest not to yell. And then all of a sudden that resolve crumbled away. "AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!"

Harry was breathing so hard now, and Johnny was briefly worried he'd have to step in and restrain him. Harry turned away from Dumbledore and began pacing back and forth while rubbing his knuckles in his hands. It seemed to take a very considerable effort for him not to rage and scream some more at the old man.

"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "Please listen to me."

He obeyed at once, biting his lip and looking at Dumbledore.

"Professor Snape made a terrible -"

"Don’t tell me it was a mistake, sir, he was listening at the door!"

"Please let me finish." Dumbledore waited until Harry had nodded curtly, then went on. "Professor Snape made a terrible mistake. He was still in Lord Voldemort’s employ on the night he heard the first half of Professor Trelawney’s prophecy. Naturally, he hastened to tell his master what he had heard, for it concerned his master most deeply. But he did not know - he had no possible way of knowing - which boy Voldemort would hunt from then onward, or that the parents he would destroy in his murderous quest were people that Professor Snape knew, that they were your mother and father —"

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "He hated my dad like he hated Sirius! Haven’t you noticed, Professor, how the people Snape hates tend to end up dead?"

"You have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realized how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry. I believe it to be the greatest regret of his life and the reason that he returned -"

"But he’s a very good Occlumens, isn’t he, sir?" Harry said, whose voice was shaking with the effort of keeping it steady. "And isn’t Voldemort convinced that Snape’s on his side, even now? Professor... how can you be sure Snape’s on our side?"

Dumbledore did not speak for a moment; he looked as though he was trying to make up his mind about something. At last, he said, "I am sure. I trust Severus Snape completely."

"Well, I don’t!" He said, as loudly as before. His voice cracked, and it occurred to Johnny for the first time that Harry was sad. Now that his relationship with Snape was different, almost nice, this was a huge betrayal. "He’s up to something with Draco Malfoy right now, right under your nose, and you still -"

"We have discussed this, Harry," Dumbledore said, and now he sounded stern again. "I have told you my views."

"You’re leaving the school tonight, and I’ll bet you haven’t even considered that Snape and Malfoy might decide to -"

"To what?" Dumbledore asked, his eyebrows raised. "What is it that you suspect them of doing, precisely?"

Johnny wanted to speak up so badly. Dumbledore knew Malfoy was up to something, they had just been talking about it before Harry showed up. He locked eyes with the old man briefly, and in them, he saw a pleading look. So Johnny grit his teeth and kept his mouth firmly shut.

"I... they’re up to something!" Harry said, and his hands curled into fists as he said it. "Professor Trelawney was just in the Room of Requirement, trying to hide her sherry bottles, and she heard Malfoy whooping, celebrating! He’s trying to mend something dangerous in there and if you ask me, he’s fixed it at last and you’re about to just walk out of school without -"

"Enough," Dumbledore said.  It was said calmly enough but immediately Johnny could tell some sort of invisible line had finally been crossed. Harry stopped talking instantly. "Do you think that I have once left the school unprotected during my absences this year? I have not. Tonight, when I leave, there will again be additional protection in place. Please do not suggest that I do not take the safety of my students seriously, Harry." 

"I didn’t -" Harry mumbled, looking at Johnny for help, but Johnny looked away, feeling ashamed.

"I do not wish to discuss the matter any further," Dumbledore said. There was a long silence before he spoke again. "Do you wish to come with me tonight?"

"Yes," Harry answered at once.

"Very well, then: Listen." Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height. "I take you with me on one condition: that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question."

"Of course."

"Be sure to understand me, Harry. I mean that you must follow even such orders as ‘run,’ ‘hide,’ or ‘go back.’ Do I have your word?"

"I - yes, of course."

"If I tell you to hide, you will do so?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to flee, you will obey?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to leave me and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?"

"I -"

"Harry?"

They looked at each other for a moment. 

Johnny's eyes flicked back and forth between them like ping-pong balls.

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Then I wish you to go and fetch your Invisibility Cloak and meet me in the entrance hall in five minutes time."

Dumbledore turned back to look out of the fiery window; the sun was now a ruby red glare along the horizon. Harry walked quickly from the office and down the spiral staircase. 

Once Harry was gone and the door had shut, he spoke.

"Harry is right," Dumbledore said softly. "We all know something is going to happen."

"Then why lie to him about it?" Johnny asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Because it must be allowed to happen."

"Bullshit." 

Dumbledore turned back to look at him.

"You've been a good friend to me, Johnny." He said, and Johnny found himself blushing. "But more than that, you are a good man."

Johnny looked down at the ground and bit his tongue. 

He wasn't anything remotely close to 'good'.

"Please, look at me, Johnny." The headmaster asked gently, and he did.

Dumbledore's eyes brimmed with tears.

"You cannot stop what is coming, and nor would I want you to."

"But you can't die!" Johnny said desperately. He felt like a child.

The old man smiled. "Everyone dies, Johnny, it's the way of things. Those who try to avoid or cheat death will suffer the most, and I believe I've suffered enough." He took a deep breath. "But death is not the end. Names live on, not just for famous people like myself, but in the minds and hearts of their loved ones. In the stories, they may tell future generations."

Johnny fought back tears, Dumbledore had long since come to terms with his death.

"Après la vie - mort; après la mort - la vie de nouveau." Dumbeldore said. "Do you know what that means?"

Johnny shook his head shakily. He'd spent some time in France hunting demons, but not enough to be fluent in the language like he was in Russian or even Spanish to a lesser degree. 

"After life - death; after death - life again." Dumbledore translated. "I have been thinking about that saying a lot lately. It's a good line." There was a moment of silence between them. "We do not always get what we want in life, Johnny, but know this, it has been a privilege to know you, and an honor to call you my friend."

Finally, Johnny could not help it, a few tears trailed down his cheeks from his eyes. 

An old weathered hand was placed softly on his shoulder, he looked up and saw tears down Dumbledore's cheeks too.

"I must go now to meet Harry." He said. "No doubt he has told his friends to keep an eye on things here in our absence. Please do the same." Dumbledore inhaled sharply, trying to keep his emotions in check. "Keep my.... my children safe."

And then he was gone. 

Fawkes trilled sadly from his cage, and Johnny sat there for what felt like hours. 

He couldn't shake the feeling that he had just seen his mentor and friend for the last time.

Chapter Text

"They won't know what hit them..."

- Alecto Carrow to her brother, Amycus, June 30th, 1997

Dumbledore was waiting beside the oaken front doors. He turned as Harry came skidding out onto the topmost stone step, panting hard, a searing stitch in his side. He had sprinted back and forth to get his things and give Hermione and Ron the Marauder's Map and what bit of Felix Felicis he had left. Harry hadn't had the time to see Tracey...

"I would like you to wear your cloak, please," Dumbledore said, and he waited until Harry had thrown it on before saying, "Very good. Shall we go?"

Dumbledore set off at once down the stone steps, his own traveling cloak barely stirring in the still summer air. Harry hurried alongside him under the Invisibility Cloak, still panting and sweating rather a lot.

"But what will people think when they see you leaving, Professor?" Harry asked.

"That I am off into Hogsmeade for a drink," Dumbledore said lightly. "I used to offer Rosmerta my custom before... before she... well, you know... I sometimes visit the Hog's Head, or I appear to. It is as good a way as any of disguising one’s true destination."

They made their way down the drive in the gathering twilight. The air was full of the smells of warm grass, lake water, and wood smoke from Hagrid’s cabin. It was difficult to believe that they were heading for anything dangerous or frightening. 

"Professor, Harry said quietly, as the gates at the bottom of the drive came into view, "will we be Apparating?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "You can Apparate now, I believe?"

"Yes," Harry said, "but I haven’t got a license." He felt it best to be honest; what if he spoiled everything by turning up a hundred miles from where he was supposed to go?

"No matter," Dumbledore said, "I can assist you again."

They turned out of the gates into the twilit, deserted lane to Hogsmeade. Darkness descended fast as they walked, and by the time they reached the High Street night was falling in earnest. A minute later they turned the corner into the side street where the Hog’s Head’s sign creaked a little, though there was no breeze. The pub appeared to be completely empty.

"It will not be necessary for us to enter," Dumbledore muttered, glancing around. "As long as nobody sees us go... now place your hand upon my arm, Harry. There is no need to grip too hard, I am merely guiding you. On the count of three... One... two... three..."

Harry turned. At once, there was that horrible sensation that he was being squeezed through a thick rubber tube; he could not draw breath, every part of him was being compressed almost past endurance, and then, just when he thought he must suffocate, the invisible bands seemed to burst open, and he was standing in the cool darkness, breathing in lungfuls of fresh, salty air.

The walk back to his room was a long one. Johnny's mind replayed those last moments with Dumbledore over and over again. He hoped that they'd make it back in one piece.

He planned on checking in with Ron and Hermione, no doubt Harry told them about where he was off to. Johnny was sure he also told them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Considering Dumbledore all but confirmed an attack in his absence, Johnny had his work cut out for him.

Luckily, he wouldn't have to do it alone.

Hermione was waiting for him by his door when he got back. This wonderful woman who thought of everything, Johnny was so grateful for her.

"Johnny!" She cried out once she saw him. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Harry handed over the Map and the rest of his Felix Felicis to us! He thinks whatever Malfoy and Greengrass have been up to, they'll act on it tonight!"

Her words served only to hurt Johnny further. Dumbledore had been right in assuming Harry would tell them, he thought bitterly.

"He's probably right," Johnny said. "Dumbledore thinks so too."

Hermione just stared at him, eyes wide and bottom lip trembling. He could see just how afraid she was.

Johnny told her everything Dumbledore had said to him. 

Arms enveloped him in a hug. Johnny very rarely felt safe in someone's arms, but Hermione never failed to bring that feeling out in him.

"Oh, Johnny..." she muttered in his ear. "What are we going to do?"

He pulled back a little to look her in the eyes.

"We're going to fight." He said, forcing out a determination he did not truly feel. "This is our school, our family. If someone wants to attack it, we'll make them fucking pay."

"Go wake up everyone from Dumbledore's Army," he told her. "Have them patrol the halls, especially the one with the Room on it."

"What will you do?" She asked. 

"I'll try and contact the Order, see if any of them will listen to me."

Hermione nodded and turned to go, but quickly walked back to him and kissed him fiercely.

"For luck," she muttered, before running off back to her dorm.

Johnny watched her go, a terrible feeling settling in his gut. He was useless without the Rider; if the Death Eaters did invade and brought his 'replacement', none of them stood a chance.

In a few hours, they might all be dead.

Harry could smell salt and hear rushing waves; a light, chilly breeze ruffled his hair as he looked out at the moonlit sea and star-strewn sky. He was standing upon a high outcrop of dark rock, water foaming and churning below him. He glanced over his shoulder. A towering cliff stood behind them, a sheer drop, black and faceless. A few large chunks of rock, such as the one upon which Harry and Dumbledore were standing, looked as though they had broken away from the cliff face at some point in the past. It was a bleak, harsh view, the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or sweep of grass or sand.

"What do you think?" Dumbledore asked. He might have been asking Harry’s opinion on whether it was a good site
for a picnic.

"They brought the kids from the orphanage here?" Harry asked, he could not imagine a less cozy spot for a day trip.

"Not here, precisely," Dumbledore said. "There is a village of sorts about halfway along the cliffs behind us. I believe the orphans were taken there for a little sea air and a view of the waves. No, I think it was only ever Tom Riddle and his youthful victims who visited this spot. No Muggle could reach this rock unless they were uncommonly good mountaineers, and boats cannot approach the cliffs, the waters around them are too dangerous. I imagine that Riddle climbed down; magic would have served better than ropes. And he brought two small children with him, probably for the pleasure of terrorizing them. I think the journey alone would have done it, don’t you?"

Harry looked at the cliff face and shuddered, though it had little to do with the breeze. 

"But his final destination - and ours - lies a little farther on. Come."

They walked to the very edge of the rock where a series of jagged niches made footholds leading down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff.

It looked perilous to try and descend, but Dumbledore made it look easy, even at his, er, advanced age. The lower they went, the more the rocks were slippery from the seawater. Cold spray hit his face more and more.

When Dumbledore reached the boulder closest to the cliff face, his wand shot out a thousand flecks of golden light that went up but then slowly lowered enough so that they sparkled upon the dark surface of the water a few feet below where he crouched; the black wall of rock beside him was illuminated too. 

"You see?" Dumbledore said quietly. 

Harry did. There was a fissure in the cliff into which dark water was swirling. 

"How do you feel about getting a little wet?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm indifferent towards it, sir." 

"Very good, Harry."

And with the sudden agility of a much younger man, Dumbledore slid from the boulder, landed in the sea, and began to swim, with a perfect breaststroke, toward the dark slit in the rock face, his lit wand held in his teeth.

Harry almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of how good of a swimmer Dumbledore was. Instead, he followed suit.

The water was icy; Harry’s waterlogged clothes billowed around him and weighed him down. Taking deep breaths that filled his nostrils with the tang of salt and seaweed, he struck out for the shimmering, shrinking light now moving deeper into the cliff.

Something terrible and huge and scaly brushed his right foot under the water and Harry nearly had a heart attack. He almost didn't dare look down but when he did Harry realized that it was simply too dark out to make anything out in the water. He swam a little bit faster from then on. Another brush with the same scaly thing but Harry ignored it. It was almost like he was being prodded now by whatever was under him. He hoped that he didn't look like food.

The fissure soon opened into a dark tunnel that Harry could tell would be filled with water at high tide.

Mercifully he knew there was no way that whatever was brushing against him could fit in there. 

Once he was inside, Harry noticed that the walls were barely three feet apart. They glimmered in Dumbledore's light, it looked almost like tar. A little way in, the passageway curved to the left, and Harry saw that it extended far into the cliff. He continued to swim in Dumbledore’s wake.

It was so cold that he no longer had any feeling in the tips of his fingers, even as he saw them brush against the rough, wet rock.

Then he saw Dumbledore rising out of the water ahead, his silver hair and dark robes gleaming. When Harry reached the spot he found steps that led into a large cave. He clambered up them, water streaming from his soaking clothes, and emerged, shivering uncontrollably, into the still and freezing air.

"Did you feel it too?" Dumbledore asked, not looking at Harry but instead around at the antechamber they found themselves in.

Harry nodded shakily. "Yeah," he said, "It felt huge... I couldn't see it though."

"Then you are luckier than I," Dumbledore said with a wiry grin, though he looked incredibly pale. "It was a sea serpent of some kind, though what specifically, I do not know."

"Johnny might," Harry said without thinking. "If it was a mythological creature."

Dumbledore, still smiling, turned to look at Harry now.

"There is nothing mythological about that creature."

Harry chuckled despite the shivering and the fear he felt whilst swimming here. "I suppose not, sir. Is this the place?"

"Yes, this is the place."

"How can you tell?" Harry asked.

"It has known magic," Dumbledore said simply. 

Harry did not quite understand, but he didn't voice that aloud. Maybe Hermione would have known what he meant. Harry wished she was here. He wished all his friends were here, so he didn't have to face this just the two of them. This place was really starting to creep him out.

The walls, even with Dumbledore's light were pitch black. Harry didn't know how that was possible. It was unnatural...

He watched as Dumbledore continued to revolve on the spot, evidently concentrating on things Harry could not see. 

"This is merely the antechamber, the entrance hall," Dumbledore said after a moment or two. "We need to penetrate the inner place... Now it is Lord Voldemort’s obstacles that stand in our way, rather than those nature made..."

Dumbledore approached the wall of the cave and caressed it with his blackened fingertips, murmuring words in a strange tongue that Harry did not understand. Twice Dumbledore walked right around the cave, touching as much of the rough rock as he could, occasionally pausing, running his fingers backward and forward over a particular spot, until finally he stopped, his hand pressed flat against the wall.

"Here," he said. "We go on through here. The entrance is concealed."

Harry did not ask how Dumbledore knew. He was grateful to be leaving the antechamber soon. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but Harry could swear there was a low roar echoing from somewhere deeper where Dumbledore's light did not reach. He had never seen a wizard work things out like this, simply by looking and touching; but Harry had long since learned that bangs and smoke were more often the marks of ineptitude than expertise.

Dumbledore stepped back from the cave wall and pointed his wand at the rock. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack. 

The low roar grew louder, though if Dumbledore heard it, he paid it no mind. 

A sudden, ridiculous but no less terrifying thought occurred to Harry. What if the cave was alive? He didn't even know what he meant by that, and instead tried to focus on Dumbledores actions, though Harry could not shake the feeling that they were being watched.

Just as soon as the light appeared, it went out. 

"W-what h-happened?" Harry asked through chattering teeth.

Dumbledore looked around. "Harry, I’m so sorry, I forgot," he said; he now pointed his wand at Harry and at once, Harry’s clothes were as warm and dry as if they had been hanging in front of a blazing fire. 

"Thanks," he said gratefully, but Dumbledore's attention was already back on the rock. He did not try any more magic, but simply stood there staring at it intently, as though something extremely interesting was written on it.

Harry did not notice when it had happened, but now the cave was deadly quiet. This only served to unnerve him more. It was almost as if the cave was holding its breath, waiting for Dumbledore to do something. Harry stayed quite still; he did not want to break Dumbledore’s concentration.

Then, after two solid minutes, Dumbledore said quietly, "Oh, surely not. So crude."

"What is it, Professor?"

"I rather think," Dumbledore said, putting his uninjured hand inside his robes and drawing out a short silver knife of the kind Harry used to chop potion ingredients, "that we are required to make payment to pass."

Harry opened his mouth to question him further but then he closed it right away. He understood now, as Dumbledore held the knife to his palm. Blood. The payment was blood.

"The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered, is that your enemy must weaken themself to enter. Once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury." Dumbledore sounded disdainful, and even possibly disappointed, as if he expected better from Voldemort.

"But if you can avoid it..." Harry said, thinking of all the pain he'd endured thus far in his life, not keen for anymore.

"Sometimes pain is unavoidable," Dumbledore said. "Emotional or physical..." He started to shake back the sleeve of his robes and exposed his left arm,

"Professor!" Harry said, stepping forward as Dumbledore raised his knife. "I'll do it! I'm -" but he did not know what to say. That he was younger? Fitter?

But Dumbledore merely smiled. There was a flash of silver, and a spurt of scarlet; the rock face was peppered with dark, glistening drops.

"You are very kind, Harry," Dumbledore said, now passing the tip of his wand over the deep cut he had made in his own arm, so that it healed instantly, just as Snape had healed Daphne Greengrass' wounds. "But your blood is worth more than mine. Ah, that seems to have done the trick, doesn’t it?"

The blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in the wall once more, and this time it did not fade away: The blood-spattered rock within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total darkness. The low roaring resumed.

"After me, I think," Dumbledore said, and he walked through the archway with Harry on his heels, lighting his own wand hastily as he went.

Johnny sat in the comfy armchair near the fireplace in his private room. He rubbed his temples gently, feeling the start of a headache coming on. He had just called on the Order by asking Dobby to alert Sirius about the attack. Dobby, being a house elf, could override any wards at Grimmauld Place and apparate directly inside the house. It was only a matter of time before the Order would be here. It brought little comfort.

What could they do against Death Eaters? This was a school of magical people, yes, but he was willing to bet that ninety-five percent of them wouldn't last five seconds against one of Voldemort's crazed soldiers. Even with the Order, could they hold off an attack like this?

He stared into the fire and watched the flames dance. Johnny thought of what they faced. The Death Eaters, the Ghost Rider. He wasn't stupid, he had a pretty good idea of who took his curse.

But what could he do about it? The last time they fought, Johnny nearly died. He didn't think this time around it'd be any better.

"Do you miss it?"

This time, Johnny was not surprised. He did not turn his head towards the voice behind him, the one he knew so well, the one that haunted him for the last two years.

"I don't know," Johnny answered truthfully. It surprised him how quickly it came to him.

"That's curious, isn't it?"

"I guess." He shrugged noncommittally. "I mean, who misses a curse?"

The flames shimmered and he swore he could see the man's grin in them.

"Maybe you miss the power?" 

"Maybe," Johnny conceded. "I think I miss being useful more."

He stood up and turned to face Mephisto, who looked... frankly terrible. 

His charcoal suit was in tatters and dirty, his hair was a complete mess. 

"Trouble in paradise?" Johnny asked, tilting his head at him.

The devil chuckled but there was no humor in it. "I've always admired your sense of humor, Johnathan. Very droll."

"I try my best."

Mephisto's grin grew wider. "Oh, that, I know very well."

"What do you want?"

"I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I told you I missed these conversations?" Mephisto said, adjusting his tie and trying to pat out some of the dirt on his suit.

Johnny didn't even bother dignifying that with a response.

Mephisto gave up trying to clean himself and shrugged. "I thought not."

"I won't ask again." He warned him.

"Need I remind you that you cannot harm me, Johnathan," Mephisto said, wagging his finger playfully at him.

"But I can ignore you," Johnny said. "For someone like you, I think that might be worse than a punch to the face."

This caused the first crack in the facade. 

"Perceptive as always," The devil said with a sneer. 

There was something about Mephisto, something different other than his tattered appearance. He had a nervous little twitch that Johnny hadn't noticed until right now. His eyes darted around the room on several occasions. 

Johnny knew that look well.

"You're afraid." He said, a little in awe. "You're afraid of what he might do with all that power."

Mephisto's skin turned red for a brief moment before returning to normal. He scowled. "I have reasonable concerns, boy. That force that gave you your powers, did you never question what it was? How it worked?"

Now it was Johnny's turn to scowl. "Of course I did, but answers weren't exactly forthcoming."

"It's a living thing, Johnathan. A spirit. Its name is Zarathos, and I've been fighting it for centuries."

Anger nearly overrode his common sense. This was another trick, surely. That was all Mephisto did! Lie and manipulate and ruin people's lives. Ruin his life. Sure, he'd never seen him afraid like this, but Mephisto was nothing if not an amazing actor. It was all he could do not to lash out. Johnny's fingers clenched and unclenched repeatedly as he worked to control his temper.

"It's an ancient and powerful demon, a spirit of vengeance." Mephisto continued. "It had defeated me several times, and it took much to bring it down." He paused, clearly thinking over his next words. "On the day I came to collect your soul, I bonded it with you. I put a seal on Zarathos, limited its power, and left it mute. I figured that was punishment enough. The love of your brother was so strong that I could not get your soul for myself, so I decided to muddy it with another's."

Johnny stared at him in shock. James... had saved him? Tears sprung to his eyes unbidden. 

"I will not stand here and lie to your face and say that I am sorry," Mephisto said quietly. "But I can offer you something that can kill Zarathos for good. Something that, may I remind you, benefits you too."

"No," Johnny growled. 

"All of your friends will die, Johnathan Blaze," Mephisto said callously. "Everyone you've met here and have come to care for will die. With Blackheart dead, you have no way to stop what is coming. None of your Order members have the gall to use the killing curse. Zarathos is awakened now, and it will not be long until it takes full control of its new host."

Johnny shook with rage and grief. He shook his head but did not speak.

"Harry Potter will die," Mephisto said and began listing off more names. Each one felt like a stab to Johnny's gut. "Remus Lupin will die, Sirius Black will die, Ronald Weasley will die, Nymphadora Tonks will die, Herm-"

"Don't," Johnny let out in a thick voice. "Don't.

Mephisto looked him in the eye with no trace of malice or humor. "Hermione Granger will die. Unless you kill it." He reached into the breast pocket of his tattered suit and retrieved a glowing white blade with a swirling design that was actively moving, its shape was like one you'd see in some sort of dark ritual.

The weapon looked ethereal and unlike anything Johnny had ever seen before. 

"Forged in Heaven itself," Mephisto said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Or, your understanding of it anyway. It is fatal to our kind."

Johnny couldn't believe what he was hearing. Mephisto had tricked and manipulated him on several occasions, how could he expect Johnny to trust him now? But his mind flashed images of his friends and his family, and he knew that there was little choice. If Mephisto was lying, well, he was dead anyway. 

A mixture of emotions roared from within him, but the strongest one was hatred. He hated Mephisto, hated Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he hated this Zarathos already, his own curse, but above all, Johnny hated himself the most. He hated himself for ever believing Mephisto, for fighting recklessly against Bellatrix last year, for getting Mona killed, for leaving James behind, and for not fighting harder to convince Crash to retire.

Perhaps Mephisto could see that burning hatred in his eyes, as the lord of lies had a brief moment of hesitation before handing over the holy blade. Maybe he realized that he too, had little choice. 

But then he thought of something.

"I do this," Johnny started. "And you leave me alone forever?"

Mephisto nodded, "Forever, my boy."

Johnny stepped very close to him, even though he knew he could not harm Mephisto.

"What about the prophecy? The one that says I kill you?"

The lighting in the room darkened a noticeable amount. The fire was not roaring as it once was a few minutes prior.

"Without being the Rider, well, I don't see how you could," Mephisto said, but he twitched almost imperceptively. Almost.

Liar.

It took every ounce of self-control Johnny possessed to not let this revelation show on his face. 

"You better be telling the truth," he growled for effect. "'Cause if I see you again... only one of us walks away."

A ghost of a grin flittered across Mephisto's face, not his usual smirk, it was like he was holding back as well. 

"I would expect nothing less."

A knock on the door interrupted them, the lights went back to normal and when Johnny turned back around, Mephisto was gone.

"Better the devil you know," he muttered to no one.

Johnny tucked the knife away inside the breast pocket of his jacket and walked to his door and opened it. Hope mixed with the shock of what just occurred.

"Sirius," he breathed in relief.

The older man pulled him into a fierce hug, and Johnny fought not to break down right then and there.

"We came as quick as we could," Sirius said, stepping back from him. "They're patrolling the halls now."

"Good." He said. "We'll need all the help we can get. Make sure there's at least two people watching the Room of Requirement."

Sirius, god bless him, didn't question Johnny. "I'll see who I can get over there, but Johnny, you're going to have to explain it all to us sometime soon. We all trust you, but-"

"Johnny!" A voice cried from outside.

His heart jumped when he recognized the voice to be Hermione's. One quick look showed she was fine, though she seemed out of breath and panicked.

"What's wrong?" He asked, stepping past Sirius.

Her eyes were wide and she clutched the Marauder's Map tightly.

"Ron was keeping an eye on the map like Harry asked us to," she panted. "When he saw that Daphne Greengrass wasn't in the hospital wing anymore! We knew she hadn't been discharged, and Ron caught her on her way to the Room. We have her tied up right now! But she won't speak to any of us - she - well, she keeps demanding to speak to you."

He and Sirius shared a surprised look before one of grim determination set over his face.

"Take me to her."

There was no sound other than the silken rustle of the boat’s prow cleaving the water; it moved without their help, as though an invisible rope was pulling it onward toward the light in the center. Soon they could no longer see the walls of the cavern; they
might have been at sea except that there were no waves.

Harry looked down and saw the reflected gold of his wandlight sparkling and glittering on the black water as they passed. The boat was carving deep ripples upon the glassy surface, grooves in the dark mirror....

And then Harry saw it, marble white, floating inches below the surface.

"Professor!" He said, his startled voice echoed loudly over the silent water.

"Harry?"

"I think I saw a hand in the water - a human hand!"

"Yes, I am sure you did," Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry stared down into the water, looking for the vanished hand, and a sick feeling rose in his throat. 

The wandlight had slid over a fresh patch of water and showed him, this time, a dead man lying faceup inches beneath the surface, his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair, and his robes swirling around him like smoke.

Harry had to look away, the feeling of bile in his throat and revulsion threatened to overtake him.

"Yes," Dumbledore said sadly, noticing Harry's expression. "But we do not need to worry about them at the moment."

"At the moment?" Harry repeated in a high voice.

"Not while they are merely drifting peacefully below us," Dumbledore said. "There is nothing to be feared from a body, Harry, any more than there is anything to be feared from the darkness. Lord Voldemort, who of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once again he reveals his own lack of wisdom. It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."

Harry said nothing; not wanting to argue, though he found the idea that there were bodies floating around and beneath them horrible. And unlike Dumbledore, he didn't think they weren't dangerous.

"But one of them jumped," he said, trying to make his voice as level and calm as Dumbledore’s. "When I tried to Summon the Horcrux, a body leapt out of the lake."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I am sure that once we take the Horcrux, we shall find them less peaceable. However, like many creatures that dwell in cold and darkness, they fear light and warmth, which we shall therefore call to our aid should the need arise."

Fire, he meant, Harry realized. The bodies in the water were Inferi. 

He could not pretend now that he was not scared. The great black lake, teeming with the dead... It seemed hours and hours ago that he had met Professor Trelawney, that he had given Ron and Hermione Felix Felicis. He suddenly wished he had said a better goodbye to them.

Soon enough, they arrived. The boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into something that Harry could not see at first, but when he raised his illuminated wand he saw that they had reached a small island of smooth rock in the center of the lake. 

The cave was still eerily silent as they stepped off. Harry was careful not to touch the water. The island was no larger than Dumbledore’s office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much brighter now that they were up close. Harry squinted at it; at first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin rather like a Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal. 

Dumbledore approached the basin and Harry followed. Side by side, they looked down into it. The basin was full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly.

"I am not sure," Dumbledore said. "Something more worrisome than blood and bodies, however."

Dumbledore pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his blackened hand and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers toward the surface of the potion.

"Sir, no, don’t touch - !"

"I cannot touch," Dumbledore said, smiling faintly. "See? I cannot approach any nearer than this. You try."

Staring, Harry put his hand into the basin and attempted to touch the potion. He met an invisible barrier that prevented him from coming within an inch of it. No matter how hard he pushed, his fingers encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and impenetrable air.

"Out of the way, please, Harry," Dumbledore said. He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion, murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened, except perhaps that the potion glowed a little brighter.

Harry remained silent while Dumbledore worked, but after a while, Dumbledore withdrew his wand, and Harry felt it was safe to talk again. "You think the Horcrux is in there, sir?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore peered more closely into the basin. Harry saw his face reflected, upside down, in the smooth surface of the green potion. "But how to reach it? This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature." Almost absentmindedly, Dumbledore raised his wand again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere. "I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk."

And in the silent cave, the two men shared a look. One that spoke volumes despite there being no words.

Daphne Greengrass, despite weeks of recuperating in the hospital wing, did not look any better than the day Johnny had seen her in Myrtle's bathroom.

True to Hermione's word, the Slytherin girl was bound with ropes and sat down against the wall just a few yards down from the Room of Requirement. Her once beautiful face was sunken and there were nearly pitch-black dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was matted and stuck to her face with sweat. Her eyes were wide and wild as if she were on drugs. But he knew that look, the same way he recognized it on Mephisto's face, albeit, his was to a lesser extent.

Fear. But her expression was one more akin to utter terror.

When he approached she looked up at him. Her breathing quickened.

Johnny nodded at Ron, who stood to her left with his wand out. Sirius and Hermione had come with Johnny as well and they stayed behind him.

"You wanted to see me?" He asked, looking into her light blue eyes.

Greengrass nodded her head frantically, and her breathing became erratic, but she did not speak.

He crouched down to her level. "Tell me what you want to say to me." 

She was rocking back and forth now, he put a hand lightly against her shoulder so she wouldn't fall over. The contact seemed to finally bring her to her senses enough to speak.

"He's c-coming..." Greengrass said, her voice was breathy and she sounded insane. "Didn't want to... they - they made me do it... he made me..."

"Who's coming," he asked her calmly, though Johnny felt anything but. "Who?"

"Sorry..." She babbled. "So sorry..." A sob shook her, and then another. 

"It's okay," Johnny assured her. He looked back at Sirius and Hermione and only saw fear in their expressions. "You're gonna be okay, just tell me who's coming."

"Fire and brimstone and screaming and pain and death and destruction and-" she let out a terrible gasp as if pained. Greengrass was no longer looking at him but behind him, past Hermione and Sirius.

Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini stood at the end of the hallway, Remus Lupin with them. Their eyes were as wide as Greengrass'

"I'M SORRY!" Greengrass shrieked, her sobs continuing. "I'M SO SORRY TRACEY!"

"Get them back in their dorms!" Johnny yelled at Remus. He turned back to Greengrass. "Tell me who's coming! Please, if you can help us save as many lives as possible, you have to tell me who's coming!"

It took several seconds for her sobs to stop long enough for her to speak coherently again, and when they did, she looked up at him with the most clarity he'd seen in her expression since finding her here.

"The Ghost Rider."

And then the doors to the Room of Requirement exploded open with such force that Johnny, along with everyone else still standing, were sent flying back down the hall towards Tracey, Blaise, and Remus. 

Maybe it was the shock, maybe everyone else was disoriented. Maybe that's why they didn't immediately start firing off spells. 

His eyes sought Hermione, and he found her slowly raising her head off the floor, a nasty cut across her forehead leaking dark red. The map was splayed out between them, Johnny could make out the names of everyone suddenly materializing from the wall in the hallway ahead of them. 

Lestrange, Dolohov, Rowle, Carrow. More and more names appeared out of thin air. Rookwood, Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Greyback. 

When he looked up at the small army in front of them, he saw another figure walk out of the blasted open doors. 

His head was on fire.

He had felt this presence before, had tasted his own fear at being across from everything he had hated about himself for the last two years. This monster, this demon. 

Johnny looked back down at the map, though he already knew the answer before he read the name.

Draco Malfoy had taken his curse.

Chapter Text

"I looked into its eyes and saw nothing but empty sockets, that thing doesn't have a soul, it collects them."

"You remember," Dumbledore said, "the condition on which I brought you with me?"

Harry hesitated, looking into the blue eyes that had turned green in the reflected light of the basin. 

"But what if - ?"

"You swore, did you not, to follow any command I gave you?"

"Yes, but -"

“I warned you, did I not, that there might be danger?”

“Yes," Harry said, "but -"

"Well, then," Dumbledore said, shaking back his sleeves once more and raising the empty goblet, "you have my orders."

"Why can’t I drink the potion instead?" Harry asked desperately.

"Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable," Dumbledore said. "Once and for all, Harry, do I have your word that you will do all in your power to make me keep drinking?"

Harry did not want to say yes, it felt so terribly wrong to do so, but he knew that Dumbledore wouldn't budge. So, hating himself, he nodded.

"I need to hear you say it, Harry."

"I swear."

Dumbledore regarded him sadly for a moment and then lowered the crystal goblet into the potion. For a split second, Harry hoped that he would not be able to touch the potion with the goblet, but the crystal sank into the surface as nothing else had; when the glass was full to the brim, Dumbledore lifted it to his mouth.

"Your good health, Harry."

And he drained the goblet. Harry watched, terrified, his hands gripping the rim of the basin so hard that his fingertips were numb. 

"Sir?" Harry asked, afraid, though this time it was not for himself, but for his friend. "How do you feel?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes closed. Harry wondered whether he was in pain. Dumbledore plunged the glass blindly back into the basin, refilled it, and drank once more.

In silence, Dumbledore drank three gobletsful of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, he staggered and fell forward against the basin. His eyes were still closed, his breathing heavy.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry said, his voice strained. "Can you hear me?"

Dumbledore did not answer. His face was twitching as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. His grip on the goblet was slackening; the potion was about to spill from it. Harry reached forward and grasped the crystal cup, holding it steady.

The headmaster swayed on his feet as if drunk, and then quite suddenly, he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

"RUN!" Johnny screamed, snatching up the Map and yanking Hermione to her feet.

The silence that had settled was over in an instant, cackles and screams and cries filled the air like a terrible symphony.

One look back showed him Sirius, Remus, and Ron dueling furiously with the assembled Death Eaters. It was futile, there were at least a dozen of them.

"WE HAVE TO GO!" Johnny reiterated, shoving Hermione forward just as a jet of green light whizzed by and missed her by an inch.

Stone chunks flew around him as spells collided with the castle walls, Tracey and Blaise were frozen in fear down the hall from him. 

"Can you walk?" He said to Hermione.

"Yes." She said tersely, her forehead was still bleeding but it didn't look deep. She ran off ahead of him.

"C'mon!" Johnny shouted at the two Slytherins. "We need to move!"

"Daphne..." Tracey choked out. 

"They'll leave her be," Johnny reasoned. "She's with them." He really didn't want to have to drag her.

Tracey flinched at his words but otherwise nodded absently, before turning on her heel and running off down the corridor, Blaise right behind her.

Johnny took another look back and saw just in time as Sirius retrieved a pouch from his pocket and threw it to the ground ahead of him.

Instantly, a thick black smoke enveloped the area. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see his friends anymore. Spells still made it through but most splashed harmlessly against the walls.

"Sirius?" He called, half-scared. Thankfully, as soon as he said it, the man appeared along with Ron and Remus.

"If we make it out of this," Sirius panted, looking at Ron. "I'll be making a hefty donation to Weasley Wizarding Wheezes."

Ron grinned as blood dripped from a thin cut on his cheek.

"We've got to get out of here and alert the others," Johnny said again.

"Too right we do," Sirius agreed. "That won't confuse them for much longer."

With a mutter, a big shaggy dog leaped out of Sirius' wand. It was ethereally white. 

"Death Eaters are in the castle," Sirius said to it. "Everyone meet in the Great Hall, send any students you find to their dorms."

At once, the dog ran off and disappeared through a wall.

An unearthly scream penetrated the black smoke, one that he recognized all too well. 

The Rider was angry.

"I don’t want... Don’t make me..."

Harry stared into the whitened face he knew so well, at the crooked nose and half-moon spectacles, and did not know what to do.

"...don’t like . . . want to stop..." Dumbledore moaned.

"You... you can’t stop, Professor," Harry said. "You’ve got to keep drinking, remember? You told me you had to keep drinking. Here..."

Hating himself, repulsed by what he was doing, Harry forced the goblet back toward Dumbledore’s mouth and tipped it, so that Dumbledore drank the remainder of the potion inside. 

For a few scary moments, Harry could not wake Dumbledore up when he fell, but when he did, he refused to drink anymore. Tears sprung to Dumbledore's eyes just as they did in Harry's.

"No..." he groaned, as Harry lowered the goblet back into the basin and refilled it for him. "I don’t want to... I don’t want to... Let me go..."

"It’s all right, Professor," Harry said, his hand shaking. "It’s all right, I’m here -"

"Make it stop, make it stop," Dumbledore moaned.

"Yes... yes, this’ll make it stop," Harry lied. He tipped the contents of the goblet into Dumbledore’s open mouth.

Dumbledore screamed; the noise echoed all around the vast chamber, across the dead black water.

"No, no, no, no, I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me, I don’t want to..."

That eerie low roar started up again, growing in intensity far quicker than it did before.

"It’s all right, Professor, it’s all right!" Harry said loudly, his hands shaking so badly he could hardly scoop up the sixth gobletful of potion; the basin was now half empty. "Nothing’s happening to you, you’re safe, it isn’t real, I swear it isn’t real - take this, now, take this..."

And obediently, Dumbledore drank, as though it was an antidote Harry offered him, but upon draining the goblet, he sank to his knees, shaking uncontrollably. 

"It’s all my fault, all my fault," he sobbed. "Please make it stop, I know I did wrong, oh please make it stop, and I’ll never, never again..."

"This will make it stop, Professor," Harry said, his voice cracking as he tipped the seventh glass of potion into Dumbledore’s mouth. 

Again and again, Harry forced the potion down his friend's throat, all the while Dumbledore screamed and wailed and begged for Harry to kill him, though Harry did not know if he even recognized him.

He banged his fist against the rock repeatedly after the ninth, he shook from head to toe and seemed to be fighting off invisible torturers. Dumbledore yelled as though his insides were on fire.

"No more, please, no more..."

Harry was crying openly now, he hated what he was doing to his dear friend and mentor. Hated it more than he'd hated anything ever before.

Harry scooped up a tenth gobletful of potion and felt the crystal scrape the bottom of the basin. 

"We're almost done, Professor. Drink this, drink it..."

He supported Dumbledore’s shoulders and again, Dumbledore drained the glass; then Harry was on his feet once more, refilling the goblet as Dumbledore began to scream in more anguish than ever, "I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!"

"This is the last one," Harry choked the lie out, swiping furiously at his eyes with his free hand. "Drink it, Professor..."

Dumbledore drank, and no sooner had he finished than he yelled, "KILL ME!"

"This - this one will!" Harry gasped. "Just drink this... It’ll be over... all over!"

Dumbledore gulped at the goblet, drained every last drop, and then, with a great, rattling gasp, rolled over onto his face. 

"No!"

When Johnny and the others arrived, the Great Hall was filled with the rest of the Order. 

"What's happened?!" Tonks all but shouted at him. 

"They're here," Remus answered. "Almost all of the inner circle, including the new Ghost Rider."

"It's Malfoy," Johnny said. "He's the Rider now."

A low murmuring broke out amongst the group.

"That's a pretty serious assumption to make!" Arthur Weasley.

"It's not an assumption!" Johnny snapped. "I saw it on the Map."

"The Map lied before, Johnny," Tonks said, though not unkindly.

"It was tricked," Sirius clarified. "But it hasn't been tricked this time, there'd be no point."

Fire crackled in the torches along the walls, and a storm seemed to brew in the ceiling, though Johnny knew it was just magic.

His temper rose as they wasted time bickering, every second wasted here gave the Death Eaters time to get the jump on them, or worse, attack some students.

"Enough!" Johnny bellowed, cutting off Tonks and Sirius' discussion. "They're here, on the seventh floor, who knows what they want other than just to wipe us all out. We have to act now, we have to fight!"

"He's right," Mad-Eye Moody grunted, banging his staff against the ground. "There's no more time to waste. I'll take Tonks, Ron, Bill, Remus, Fleur, and Karkaroff, and attack them head on, the rest of you, sneak around back and flank them."

Off to his left, Karkaroff was white as a sheet, but he looked determined.

It was as good a plan as any.

From behind Moody, the Weasley twins grinned mischievously. "We have a few fun tricks we can throw at them, don't we George?" Fred said.

"Oh yes, Fred," his brother replied. "I think they'll get a real kick out of them."

"Excellent," Moody said, "where are they now, Johnny?"

He checked the Map once more and frowned.

"They've split off," Johnny said. "Dolohov, Rowle, Jugson, Rookwood, and the Lestrange brothers are headed this way. Bellatrix is running up and down random hallways and Greyback is with Malfoy, they're headed to the Astronomy tower."

His heart skipped a beat. More names were coming out of the Room of Requirement.

"We saw way more than just them," Sirius said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, and the Carrows stayed behind..." Johnny said. "They were waiting for even more. Gibbon, Macnair, Travers, Greengrass, Mulciber, Nott, Selwyn.." He grimaced and shot a look at Tracey. "The Davis brothers too..."

She blanched and looked away, Blaise put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Then the plan has to change slightly," Mad-Eye said, unbothered by this new development. "I'll still take my team to get the ones loitering around the Room, Kingsley, you take the twins, Filius, and Charlie to flank them." Moody was in his element here, a general with his army. "Minerva, you'll stay here with Arthur, Johnny, Sirius, Dung, and these two -" Moody motioned at Tracey and Blaise. "Granger can stay too."

At the mention of her name, Hermione let out a pained whimper. Johnny's head snapped to his right. She was leaning on him heavily and he hadn't noticed, still bleeding from the cut across her forehead.

"Hermione!" He cried as McGonagall stepped up and closed the wound with a wave of her wand. 

"Better, dear?" She asked softly, something he'd never seen her do before. 

Moody sent a small, dark red potion floating over and McGonagall snatched it out of the air.

"Thank you, Alastor," she said. "Drink up, Ms. Granger, it's a blood replenisher." 

Hermione did and noticeably regained some color in her face.

"I'll stay," Ron said, stepping closer to them. "I won't go anywhere without her."

"Fine!" Moody growled. "We don't have time to argue anyway, let's go people!"

With that, everyone else left, Johnny watched them go carefully.

"You can't," Sirius said to him quietly, as McGonagall led Hermione and Ron to a seat at the Ravenclaw table.

"Can't what," Johnny said, not meeting his eyes.

"You can't go after Malfoy," Sirius said. "You'll die."

"I have a plan," Johnny said. "I have to try."

"No, you don't." And now Sirius gripped Johnny's arm tightly, though the other man knew he could break it easily. "I won't let you." Sirius pointed his wand at him.

A dozen different emotions swirled within him. Love for Sirius, fear of dying, anger at himself... it was all he could do to keep himself together. 

Maybe he'd die, but he knew that nobody else in the Order could hope to defeat the Rider... it was all on him. Even if any of them could cast a killing curse besides Moody or Sirius, could they get in close enough to try? Johnny didn't want them to risk it. 

"We need you here for what's coming," Sirius said, regaining Johnny's attention.

He looked around and grimaced again. Mundungus looked ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble, Hermione still seemed a little sickly, Arthur was visibly sweating, and Tracey and Blaise were clearly terrified.

"You've been like a father to me," Johnny told Sirius, mustering up all the courage he could. "You don't know how much that's meant to me."

Tears brimmed in both of their eyes, but Johnny had to do this.

"I love you," he told Sirius. "McGonagall can fix your nose, I'm sorry."

Before the look of confusion could even fully form on Sirius' face, Johnny delivered a savage punch, sending him sprawling down to the ground as he felt the sickening crunch of Sirius' nose breaking.

Arthur cried out in shock but Johnny was already sprinting wildly out of the Great Hall, ignoring the other's calls for him to come back.

Checking the map as he ran, Johnny was able to dodge the incoming Death Eaters. He sent a silent prayer to whatever Gods were listening that his friends and loved ones could hold them off.

Malfoy and Greyback were still headed towards the Astronomy tower, and Bellatrix had joined up with them. His job just got a lot harder, but he ran up the moving staircases anyway, certain that he would meet his end.

"No," Harry, shaking Dumbledore, "no, you’re not dead, you said it wasn’t poison, wake up, wake up - Rennervate!" he cried, his wand pointing at Dumbledore’s chest; there was a flash of red light but nothing happened. "Rennervate - sir - please -"

Dumbledore’s eyelids flickered; Harry’s heart leapt.

"Sir, are you -?"

"Water," Dumbledore croaked.

"Water," Harry panted. "Yes -"

He leapt to his feet and seized the goblet he had dropped in the basin; he barely registered the golden locket lying curled beneath it. "Aguamenti!" he shouted, jabbing the goblet with his wand.

The goblet filled with clear water; Harry dropped to his knees beside Dumbledore, raised his head, and brought the glass to his lips - but it was empty. Dumbledore groaned and began to pant

In his panic and urgency, Harry did not stop to consider what had happened, instead, he tried once more to put water in the goblet. It worked, but again, when he brought it to Dumbledore's lips, it was empty.

"Sir, I’m trying, I’m trying!" Harry said desperately, but he did not think that Dumbledore could hear him; he had rolled onto his side and was drawing great, rattling breaths that sounded agonizing.

Three more times he tried to no avail. And finally, instinctively, he knew why it was not working. That the only way to get water was the way Voldemort planned it so...

He flung himself over to the edge of the rock and plunged the goblet into the lake, bringing it up full to the brim of icy water that did not vanish. 

"Sir - here!" Harry yelled, and lunging forward, he tipped the water clumsily over Dumbledore’s face as he was yanked back by something firm.

It was not the lingering chill from the water that left an icy feeling on his arm that was not holding the goblet. A slimy white hand had gripped his wrist, and the creature to whom it belonged was pulling him, slowly, backward across the rock. The surface of the lake was no longer mirror smooth; it was churning, and everywhere Harry looked, white heads and hands were emerging from the dark water, men and women and children with sunken, sightless eyes were moving toward the rock: an army of the dead rising from the black water. 

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry yelled, struggling to cling to the smooth, soaked surface of the island as he pointed his wand at the Inferius that had his arm: It released him, falling backward into the water with a splash; he scrambled to his feet, but many more Inferi were already climbing onto the rock, their bony hands clawing at its slippery surface, their blank, frosted eyes upon him, trailing waterlogged rags, sunken faces leering.

He remembered Snape's Defence lessons, Inferi were weak to one thing...

"Fire," he breathed.

Incendio! Harry thought, and a fast moving burst of flame shot out of his want and struck the Inferius closest to him. It screamed in a way that was guttural and cracked, lungs decayed and rough from not being used for however many years.

He did not marvel at the fact he cast it nonverbally, instead, Harry shot out several more beams of fire at the undead army. But for every corpse he burnt to a crisp, more and more kept taking their place. The Inferi just clambered over the fallen ones and kept advancing.

"Incendio Maxima!" Harry cried, not even knowing if it would work, but it did. A huge wall of flame erupted from his want like a flame thrower and cut down ten, fifteen, twenty Inferi!

The small moment of elation was quickly extinguished when he realized how small of a dent that was in their number.

They walked on, unfeeling, their shrunken hands outstretched toward him, and as he backed away still farther, he felt arms enclose him from behind, thin, fleshless arms cold as death, and his feet left the ground as they lifted him and began to carry him, slowly and surely, back to the water, and he knew there would be no release, that he would be drowned, and become one more dead guardian of a fragment of Voldemort’s shattered soul...

But then, through the darkness, fire erupted: crimson and gold, a ring of fire that surrounded the rock so that the Inferi holding Harry so tightly stumbled and faltered; they did not dare pass through the flames to get to the water. They dropped Harry; he hit the ground, slipped on the rock, and fell, grazing his arms, but scrambled back up, raising his wand and staring around.

Dumbledore was on his feet again, pale as any of the surrounding Inferi, but taller than any too, the fire dancing in his eyes; his wand was raised like a torch and from its tip emanated the flames, like a vast lasso, encircling them all with warmth.

The Inferi bumped into each other, attempting, blindly, to escape the fire in which they were enclosed.

Dumbledore scooped the locket from the bottom of the stone basin and stowed it inside his robes. Wordlessly, he gestured to Harry to come to his side.

A monstrous roar, one that had been building since they'd arrived at this cave, emanated from deep beneath the water.

It was much closer and terrible than it had ever been before, and the water rippled from the sound.

The Inferi seemed to be oblivious that their quarry had taken the locket, or to the giant green scaly head emerging from the dark water.

The roaring stopped as the creature seemed to grow taller - no, not taller - it was merely standing up now.

A beast that was green and covered in scales towered over them, its body from the waist down was still submerged in water. It was very terrible to look upon. Red glowing eyes glared at them while a forked tongue jutted out briefly. Its chest heaved and it let out a deafening roar that forced both Harry and Dumbledore to cover their ears, though it helped very little.

And then it started to speak.

It made guttural noises and hisses that Harry could not understand, and it seemed that neither could Dumbledore, who stared at the great monster in awe.

Then, faster than Harry thought possible for a creature of its size, its hand shot towards them - a claw was a more accurate word, for its nails were long and sharp - and broke through the shield charm that Dumbledore produced like it was glass.

"No!" Harry cried as one of the creature's nails stabbed into Dumbledore's abdomen, who let out a terrible wail of pain. 

He did not know how the old man found the strength to do so but with his wand pointed at the creature, a bolt of lightning shot out and hit the monster straight in the eye.

The monster stumbled back and let out a bloodcurdling scream, its nail pulling out of Dumbledore's stomach, and it held its hands to its face.

Dumbledore would have crumpled to the ground for the third time that night if Harry had not caught him and helped him onto the boat. 

Once he had clambered on himself, Dumbledore shot a gust of wind out of his wand, pushing them away from the tiny island and back towards the bank.

The bewildered Inferi slipped gratefully back into their dark waters while the monster still struggled with the pain from Dumbledore's lightning bolt.

The moment that Dumbledore reached the bank he let his wand hand fall; the ring of fire vanished, but the Inferi did not emerge again from the water. The little boat sank into the water once more; clanking and tinkling, its chain slithered back into the lake
too. Dumbledore gave a great sigh and leaned against the cavern wall. 

"I am weak..." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. Crimson leaked from his abdomen and turned that area of his light blue robes almost back.

"Don’t worry, sir," Harry said at once, anxious about Dumbledore’s extreme pallor and his wound. "Don’t worry, I’ll get us back... Lean on me, sir..."

He pulled one of Dumbledore’s arms around his shoulders and guided his headmaster back around the lake, bearing most of his weight.

"The protection was... after all... well-designed," Dumbledore said faintly. "One alone could not have done it... you did well, very well, Harry..."

"Don’t talk now," Harry said, fearing how slurred Dumbledore’s voice had become, how much his feet dragged. "Save your energy, sir... we’ll soon be out of here..."

"That creature..." Dumbledore whispered. "Grendel..." But Harry did not understand. "The archway will have sealed again... my knife..."

"There’s no need, I got cut on the rock," Harry said firmly. "Just tell me where..."

"Here..."

Harry wiped his grazed forearm upon the stone: Having received its tribute of blood, the archway reopened instantly.

They crossed the outer cave, and Harry helped Dumbledore back into the icy seawater that filled the crevice in the cliff.

"It’s going to be all right, sir," Harry said over and over again, more worried by Dumbledore’s silence than he had been by his weakened voice. "We’re nearly there... I can Apparate us both back... don’t worry..."

"I am not worried, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. "I am with you."

One had plenty of time to think when one was running up several flights of stairs to the top floor of a giant magical castle.

Each flight brought back a different memory. 

The death of his biological father, living with Mr. Morgan, being adopted by the Simpsons, getting his first bike, Mona's death, Crash's cancer, and the deal with Mephisto. They said your life would flash before your eyes in your final moments, but Johnny wasn't on his deathbed just yet. He intended to make his final moments count.

It wasn't just those moments back in New York that flashed in his mind, but memories of the last two years in Britain. The new family he'd found, people he loved dearly. Would they be mad at him for this? For this sacrifice, he knew he had to make? God knew that he'd be mad if the roles were reversed. Johnny could only hope they'd be able to forgive him one day.

Sirius, Harry, Tonks... Hermione... he didn't think anyone would love him again like they've loved him...

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, finally reaching the top floor of the castle. The Astronomy tower was just around the corner.

A shrill cackle pierced the silence. Bellatrix...

He burst into the hallway, which had the staircase entrance to the Astronomy Tower. Bellatrix spun around to stare him down, a wicked grin splitting her features.

"Ahhhhh, Dumbledore's favorite muggle!" She cackled. "How nice of you to finally show up... I was beginning to worry I wouldn't have a chance to finish what I started..."

Johnny smirked back. "Well I couldn't disappoint you now, could I?"

"Never..." She drawled, and then, deadly quick, flicked her wrist and shot a jet of green light straight at his chest.

He dodged it easily, merely having to sidestep to avoid the killing curse.

Two more were sent his way and Johnny had to roll to dodge them.

"I think I'm getting some mixed signals here," He quipped. 

"Then allow me to clear things up for you," Bellatrix said. A purple spell shot out of her wand, then split in two as it hit either side of the hallway's walls. The bricks flew out at him at frightening speeds, and Johnny had to raise his arms to his head to avoid getting hit there. Still, a good number hit his ribs which caused him to cry out in pain.

This would have been his end, as another sickly green spell was sent his way, but suddenly, one of the bricks froze in front of him and then exploded from the killing curse hitting it.

Suddenly, the barrage stopped, and the bricks fell to the ground. 

"Is that really the best you can do, dear cousin?"

No, no, no...

"Sirius..." Bellatrix spat out like a curse. "Nobody likes a third wheel, shoo."

The shaggy haired man that appeared from seemingly nowhere behind Bellatrix let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, come on Bella, he's no challenge for you. Where's the fun in fighting someone with no wand? Why don't we continue where we left off instead?"

Bellatrix pretended to consider this for a moment, placing a hand at her chin in thought.

"You do make a compelling argument..." She said. "But who will keep our friend here company? Wait!" She snapped her fingers. "I know just the man for the job!"

A growl came from behind him, one that he knew. 

Greyback stood there, his face almost unrecognizable. Johnny took a small amount of pride in that.

"Ready for round three?" The werewolf asked, though his voice was garbled from his injuries.

"Where's Draco?" Johnny asked, ignoring Greyback's question. 

"He's completing his mission," Bellatrix said cheerfully. "Soon the old man will be dead, and then nothing can stand in our Lord's way."

"You've got bigger things to worry about anyway," Greyback said, getting his attention once more.

The werewolf lunged at him, and faster than Johnny was ready, their arms were locked up as each man fought for dominance.

He could hear the sound of spellfire behind him, but he paid it no mind. Although he was worried for Sirius, Greyback was right, he had to worry about the bigger threat at hand.

"I'll be rewarded greatly for this," Greyback growled.

"Hope the reward is a less ugly face," Johnny grunted out, was it just him, or had Greyback gotten stronger since their last fight?

"It's close to a full moon, muggle," he said as if reading Johnny's mind. "This time, I'll kill you!" And then he swung his arms down, Johnny's hands lost their grip around Greyback's neck, and a savage punch caught him square in the face. He felt his nose break with a sickening crunch and hot blood started to flow freely.

Johnny shot back up with an uppercut and was happy to hear a crunch from Greyback, though it was short lived. The werewolf grabbed his fingers and bent them at a terrible angle, breaking all save for his thumb in a single move. 

He saw white for a terrifying moment before another punch cracked a rib and rough hands grabbed him by the collar of his jacket.

The last thing he saw before getting dragged away was Sirius being pushed further and further down the hallway in the opposite direction from him... his movement growing more frantic with each spell cast.

He knew it had worked before he opened his eyes: the smell of salt, and the sea breeze had gone. He and Dumbledore were shivering and dripping in the middle of the dark high street in Hogsmeade. For one horrible moment, Harry’s imagination showed him more Inferi creeping toward him around the sides of shops, but he blinked and saw that nothing was stirring; all was still, the darkness complete but for a few streetlamps and lit upper windows.

There was no time to marvel at his successful Apparition, he suddenly realized that he had a searing stitch in his chest. Dumbledore staggered against him. For a moment, Harry thought that his inexpert Apparition had thrown Dumbledore off balance; then he saw his face, paler and damper than ever in the distant light of a street lamp. 

To his horror, Dumbledore sank to the ground. He looked around desperately for help, but there was nobody to be seen and all he could think was that he must somehow get Dumbledore quickly to the hospital wing. 

"We need to get you up to the school, sir... Madam Pomfrey..."

"No," Dumbledore said. "It is... Professor Snape whom I need... But I do not think... I can walk very far just yet..."

"Right - sir, listen - I’m going to knock on a door, find a place you can stay - then I can run and get Snape, but I’m going to have to leave you for a moment so I can -"

"The Hog's Head," Dumbledore shuddered out. "We must go to the Hog's Head, Harry..."

He wanted to argue, but Harry knew there was no time to. From Dumbledore's stomach and down, his robes which were once light blue, were almost completely darkened with the headmaster's blood.

Mercifully, the run down tavern was close by, so he hefted Dumbledore to his feet and practically dragged the old man toward the establishment.

Once there, Harry banged on the door loudly for several moments before grumbling could be heard on the other side.

The door to the pub swung open violently, and in the doorframe stood the very tall and angry looking barkeep that owned the place.

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL D'YOU THI-" He bellowed but then stopped. His eyes were wide and he panted as he looked down at Dumbledore in shock. "Alby?" He said quietly, such a stark contrast from his previous yelling that Harry almost didn't hear it.

"Hello... dear brother..." Dumbledore wheezed weakly. "It seems... I am in need of two of your brooms..."

Brother? Harry thought in shock but had no time to properly think about it as the old barkeep spoke again.

"You're in need of St. Mungos, more like it." He said. "Come inside you old fool."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to argue but the other man was already stomping back inside the pub.

Seeing no other option, he helped Dumbledore inside and onto a stool that the barkeep indicated. The man waved his wand and two small dark red potions flew over to the counter.

"Drink those," he said curtly to Dumbledore.

Credit to him, the headmaster did not hesitate. Though once he was done he spoke again.

"Thank you, Aberforth... but we really must... be going..."

"Stop talking and open your robe, you stubborn goat." 

Dumbledore acquiesced.

Harry inhaled sharply as Aberforth swore darkly.

The wound was much worse than Harry initially thought, while it was thin, it appeared to be very deep. He stared at Dumbledore in awe. It was a miracle the man was still alive.

Aberforth was quick to work, casting a myriad of spells that Harry did not recognize. Slowly but surely the wound sealed up, though Dumbledore's pallor barely changed.

The longer he looked at Aberforth, the more he could see the resemblance between the two brothers. The same long beard, the same brilliant blue eyes. But while Dumbledore had many laugh lines, his brother was the complete opposite. 

"You're not out of the woods yet," Aberforth grunted. "But you'll make it back to your blasted school alive."

"I saw him... Aberforth..." Dumbledore said. "Grendel..."

Aberforth's eyes widened a touch, but he shook his head and looked down. 

"You and your stories," he muttered. 

Dumbledore chuckled weakly. "I seem to remember... you liking them well enough..."

"When we were kids," Aberforth sighed tiredly. "When Ariana-" He shot up suddenly, looking at Dumbledore angrily.

Harry's hand instinctively went to his wand, but he stopped himself from taking it out. The hatred in Aberforth's eyes...

"I helped you, now leave." He spat, rage barely kept out of his voice.

"Abe, I-"

"OUT!" Aberforth bellowed. "Take my bloody brooms and piss off!"

Tears welled in Dumbledore's eyes, but he nodded all the same. With a wave of his wand, two Comet 260s burst from the pub's closet behind the bar.

With one last look at Aberforth, who wore a stony expression, they left the Hog's Head and mounted the brooms. 

"Oh, no..." Dumbledore said, looking up at the sky, which was lit up a sickly green colour.

There, right above Hogwarts in the distance, was the Dark Mark. The blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a building... wherever they had murdered...

"It might be that nobody within Hogwarts has yet realized anything is wrong. The Ministry must be alerted." He waved his wand and a beautiful silver phoenix burst from it. Dumbledore muttered a warning and sent it off. "Harry, put on your Invisibility Cloak."

He did so and then the both of them kicked off from the ground and rose up into the air. As they sped toward the castle, Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, ready to grab him should he fall, but the sight of the Dark Mark seemed to have acted upon Dumbledore like a stimulant: He was bent low over his broom, his eyes fixed upon the Mark, his long silver hair and beard flying behind him on the night air. And Harry too looked ahead at the skull, and fear swelled inside him like a venomous bubble, compressing his lungs, driving all other discomfort from his mind.

As they flew over the dark, twisting lane down which they had walked earlier, Harry heard, over the whistling of the night air in his ears, Dumbledore muttering in some strange language again. He thought he understood why as he felt his broom shudder when they flew over the boundary wall into the grounds: Dumbledore was undoing the enchantments he himself had set around the castle so they could enter at speed. The Dark Mark was glittering directly above the astronomy tower, the highest of the castle. Did that mean the death had occurred there? 

He thought of his friends. Were they okay? Was it one of them who had caused the Mark to be set over the school? He was the one who had told them to patrol the corridors, he had asked them to leave the safety of their beds... Would he be responsible, again, for the death of a friend?

They landed inside the top of the tower through the ramparts. The tower was deserted. The door to the spiral staircase that led back into the castle was closed. There was no sign of a struggle, of a fight to the death, of a body. 

The area was dimly bathed in green light. It was eerily quiet...

"What does it mean?" Harry asked Dumbledore, looking up at the green skull with its serpent’s tongue glinting evilly above them. "Is it the real Mark? Has someone definitely been - Professor?"

In the dim green glow from the Mark, Harry saw Dumbledore clutching at his chest with his hand.

"Go and wake Severus," Dumbledore said faintly but clearly. "Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else, and do not remove your cloak. I shall wait here."

"But -"

"You swore to obey me, Harry - go!"

Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, but his hand had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when he heard running footsteps on the other side. He looked around at Dumbledore, who gestured him to retreat. Harry backed away, drawing his wand as he did so.

The door burst open and somebody erupted through it and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Harry’s body became instantly rigid and immobile, and he felt himself fall back against the tower wall, propped like an unsteady statue, unable to move or speak. He could not understand how it had happened - Expelliarmus was not a Freezing Charm -

Then, by the light of the Mark, he saw Dumbledore’s wand flying in an arc over the edge of the ramparts and understood. Dumbledore had wordlessly immobilized Harry, and the second he had taken to perform the spell had cost him the chance to defend himself.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, "Good evening, Draco."

Malfoy stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that he and Dumbledore were alone. He looked more terrible than he'd looked the entire year. He knew Daphne Greengrass had taken his place eventually, but not right away. Harry could still remember Malfoy's sunken skin at the beginning of the year. But it was even worse now. His skin was impossibly pale and even from Harry's position, he could see Malfoy's veins stand out against it, as well as his bloodshot eyes.

His eyes fell upon the second broom. "Who else is here?" Malfoy said in a scratchy and raw voice like he had screamed himself hoarse. He sounded tired too, as if every word expensed energy.

"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?" Harry saw Malfoy’s pale eyes shift back to Dumbledore in the greenish glare of the Mark.

"No," he said. "I’ve got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."

"Well, well," Dumbledore said, as though Malfoy was showing him an ambitious homework project. "Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?"

"Daphne did," he said, and he was panting a little. "She did it right under your nose."

"Ah, right, I had almost forgotten about Ms. Greengrass' performance as you, something well acted, I must say. Though she had some help, didn't she?"

Malfoy shifted nervously, his eyes darted around the tower once more. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Dumbledore smiled. "Oh, come now, Draco. We both know that the God of mischief is involved with Lord Voldemort. He is the reason that Ms. Greengrass' deception was not discovered."

"It doesn't matter," Malfoy said curtly. "I've been given a job to do."

He sounded almost... afraid.

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," Dumbledore said softly.

There was silence. Harry stood imprisoned within his own invisible, paralyzed body, staring at the two of them, his ears straining to hear the sounds of the Death Eaters’ distant fight, and in front of him, Draco Malfoy did nothing but stare at Albus Dumbledore, who continued to smile.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"You don't know a damn thing about me." Malfoy snapped coldly. "The things I've done... what I've had to do..."

Dumbledore looked sad now. "I know a great deal, my boy, a great deal... I wish you had never been put in this position."

Somewhere in the depths of the castle below Harry heard a muffled yell. Malfoy stiffened and glanced over his shoulder. 

"Somebody is putting up a good fight," Dumbledore said conversationally. "But you were saying... yes, Ms. Greengrass managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible... How did she do it?"

But Malfoy said nothing: He was still listening to whatever was happening below and seemed almost as paralyzed as Harry was. 

"Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone," Dumbledore suggested. "What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too. And after all, you don’t really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself."

Malfoy merely stared at him.

"I see," Dumbledore said kindly when Malfoy neither moved nor spoke. "You are afraid to act until they join you."

"I’m not afraid!" Malfoy snarled, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. "It’s you who should be scared!"

And then Malfoy let out a terrible scream as if he were in great pain. He clutched his head with both hands and fell to one knee.

"Draco?" Dumbledore said worriedly, taking a step forward.

As soon as it happened, it was over, and Malfoy stood back up and kept his wand pointed at Dumbledore. Though Harry swore he could see literal fire flicker in his eyes. Just like he'd seen it once before in-

"I don't know how much longer..." Malfoy said through gritted teeth. "I can hold back..."

"Hold back what, Draco?"

"You want to know how Daphne got them in here?" Malfoy said, ignoring the question. "She had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year."

"Aaaah." Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. "That was clever... There is a pair, I take it?"

"In Borgin and Burkes," Malfoy said, "and they make a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the cabinet was traveling between them, but he couldn’t make anyone hear him... In the end, he managed to Apparate out, even though he’d never passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realized what it meant - even Borgin didn’t know - I was the one who realized there could be a way into Hogwarts through the cabinets if I fixed the broken one."

"Very good," Dumbledore murmured. "So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you... A clever plan, a very clever plan..."

Malfoy clutched his head again in pain. "I would have done it myself... but I had to leave..."

"Why?"

Malfoy seemed to fight a fierce internal battle before speaking next. "Your muggle friend... his... spirit... found me. Made a deal with me...the Dark Lord was going to kill my mum..." Malfoy said, his voice now thick with emotion. "I made the deal... the spirit made me powerful... but I couldn't control it... still can't fully... it was too dangerous to stay..."

"So you left," Dumbledore said, apparently understanding what Malfoy was talking about whereas Harry was completely lost. "To not accidentally kill any students?"

Malfoy nodded his cheeks stained with tears.

"Daphne was sloppy," he said. "But it had to be done... her father insisted... she put Rosmerta under the Imperius at first... after she died, Daphne put Filch under instead."

"That's how you knew I wasn't in the castle," Dumbledore said.

Malfoy nodded again.

There was a bang and shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where Dumbledore, Malfoy, and Harry stood, and Harry’s heart thundered unheard in his invisible chest.

"There is little time, one way or another," Dumbledore said. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"My options!" Malfoy said loudly. "I’m standing here with a wand - I’m about to kill you -"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."

"You don't understand!" Malfoy shouted, but his voice sounded different. "I don't have a choice!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position-" Dumbledore started, but was cut off.

"NO!" Malfoy screamed in pain. "I can't... control... it..."

Finally, Harry understood. As Malfoy's head burst into flames and his skin melted away, Harry knew what he meant by taking Johnny's spirit.

He'd taken his curse.

Malfoy was wailing in terrible pain, but it soon stopped. Once it did, he stood back up a terrifying monster.

"Draco?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"No." The Ghost Rider said, his voice low and hollow.

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, and a second later the monster was buffeted out of the way as four figures in black robes entered the tower, dragging along someone that Harry could not make out. Still paralyzed, his eyes staring unblinkingly, Harry gazed in terror upon five strangers: It seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below. 

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle.

"Dumbledore cornered!" He said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

"Good evening, Amycus," Dumbledore said calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. "And you’ve brought Alecto too... Charming..."

The woman gave an angry little titter. "Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?" She jeered.

"Jokes? No, no, these are manners," Dumbledore replied.

"Do it," the stranger standing nearest to Harry said, a big, rangy man with matted gray hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater’s robes looked uncomfortably tight. He had a garbled, rough voice and his face was severely injured.

"Is that you, Fenrir?" Dumbledore asked.

"That's right," he rasped. "Pleased to see me?"

"No, I cannot say that I am, though I hardly recognized you."

"You have him to thank for that." Greyback spat, dragging the fifth man, the one Harry could not see, into a better position. 

His heart hammered the hardest it had all night when he recognized Johnny's bloody face. His nose was clearly broken, and he had a gash on his forehead that was bleeding profusely. Greyback was holding him up with one arm, otherwise Johnny would have been on the ground.

"You ask me..." Johnny wheezed. "It's an improvement..."

"Shut up!" Greyback roared, punching Johnny hard in the gut. "I wouldn’t want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," Greyback said in a more level tone. "Not when there are throats to be ripped out... Delicious, delicious..." And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at Dumbledore. "I could do you for afters, Dumbledore."

"No," the fourth Death Eater said sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-looking face. "We’ve got orders. Draco’s got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly."

The Rider took a step forward but then suddenly stopped as if paralyzed like Harry was.

"What is it?" Alecto demanded. "Do it!"

"He... fights me..." It said almost in a grunt. The Rider took another forceful step forward but stopped again. "Insolent child..."

"He’s not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!" the lopsided man said nervously. He, along with the rest of the Death Eater's, obviously did not know what to make of what was happening. "Look at him - what’s happened to you, then, Dumby?"

"Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus," Dumbledore said. "Old age, in short... One day, perhaps, it will happen to you... if you are lucky..."

"What’s that mean, then, what’s that mean?" the Death Eater yelled, suddenly violent. "Always the same, weren’t yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing. I don’t even know why the Dark Lord’s bothering to kill yer! Come on, Draco, do it!"

But at that moment there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a voice shouted, "They’ve blocked the stairs - Reducto! REDUCTO!"

Harry’s heart leapt: So these four had not eliminated all opposition, but merely broken through the fight to the top of the tower, and, by the sound of it, created a barrier behind them.

"Now, Draco, quickly!" The brutal-faced man snapped angrily.

"Do not call me that!" The Rider bellowed. "The boy is trying to regain control..."

"I’ll do it," Greyback snarled, moving toward Dumbledore with his hand outstretched, his teeth bared. 

"I said no!" The brutal-faced man shouted; there was a flash of light and the werewolf was blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and staggered, looking furious. 

In that brief moment, Greyback had let Johnny go and he fell to the ground. As Greyback stepped closer to the brutal-faced man, they completely forgot about Johnny.

"Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us -" Alecto screeched, but at that precise moment, the door to the ramparts burst open once more and there stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to Johnny collapsed on the floor, to the four Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf, and Malfoy. 

"We’ve got a problem, Snape," Amycus said. "The boy doesn't seem to be able to -"

But somebody else had spoken Snape’s name, quite softly. 

"Severus..."

The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading.

Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

"Severus... please..."

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape’s wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry’s scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air. For a split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backward, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

Somebody screamed for Harry.

Johnny, all forgotten in a heap on the floor, leapt up suddenly and grabbed the Rider from behind. He hefted it above his head and then slammed him down hard against the wooden floor, which immediately gave way to the slam's strength. Both Johnny and the Rider fell through the floor and out of sight.

Chapter Text

"I do not want statues built of me or days named for me after I die. My portrait in the Headmaster's office and a mention of my affinity for odd candy in the history books will be enough for me."

- Albus Dumbledore to a disgruntled Severus Snape, one night in his office, 1997

Copper and cement were all he could taste, all he could smell.

Never in his life had he been hurt like this. Every single cell in his body screamed in agony. The only sign that his fingers hadn't fallen off his hands yet was from the feeling of them brushing against the hard cold stone floor of the bottom of the tower.

Johnny tried to push himself up but failed immediately as the pain was too great. It was dark, so dark that his eyes hurt from straining to adjust to it. But he was alive. The pain was a testament to that. 

There was no demon here to finish what Greyback started, no reminder of his past here to punish him for his sins. 

Malfoy was gone, the Rider was gone, maybe he thought Johnny was dead. 

A terrible moan of pain escaped his lips as he slipped a hand into his jacket to feel for the dagger Mephisto left him. It was still there. He still had a job to do.

When he blinked, he realized that the area in fact, wasn't dark, but that there was so much dirt and dust in his eyes that he was blinded. That's what was causing the pain, not his eyes trying to see in the dark.

Johnny rubbed at his eyes furiously, which only served to cause him more pain, but after a few moments, he regained some of his vision. Everything was a little blurry, but the green light from the sky still faintly illuminated the bottom of the tower. Normal light was pouring in from a hole in the wall that was no doubt created by Malfoy to get out. 

Pushing himself up took great effort and multiple attempts. But finally, Johnny was on his feet. He stumbled through the hole in the wall and into presumably a first floor corridor. Looking around was unhelpful, as there was nobody in sight, but he did recognize the area. The Great Hall was nearby.

Each step was agony, every breath he took felt like it might be his last. Johnny could feel the shards of his bones being moved around as he did.

It was quiet, worryingly so. There were no sounds of battle, no shouts. 

He rounded a corner and saw that the doors to the Great Hall were ajar. Cautiously, he stepped inside.

Immediately, Johnny was met with the sight of a dead body by the entrance. Thankfully, it was a Death Eater. 

The windows in the hall were all shattered, and the Gryffindor table was fragmented on the floor. 

There were only a few people left in the hall, and a tidal wave of relief hit him when he noticed one of them was Hermione, alive and well.

She noticed him too, for she jumped up off the Hufflepuff table at the sight of him.

"Johnny!" She cried hoarsely, sprinting over to him.

He was engulfed in a hug that brought the pain back to the forefront of his mind, but he didn't care. 

She was okay, she was alive.

"Oh my God!" Hermione gasped. "Your fingers! Merlin..."

"Fucking hell..." Came Ron's voice. 

Johnny noticed him standing a little off behind Hermione, along with Tracey and Blaise.

"Where are the others?" He asked.

"Sirius ran off after you," Hermione said. "And then the Death Eaters got here soon after. We held our own for a bit, that tall blonde one was shooting off the killing curse wildly. He hit one of his own." She gestured to the body at the door. "Professor McGonagall recognized him. Gibbon was his name. It just seemed like they wanted to cause a distraction. He ran off after a bit with a few others. Professor McGonagall, Mr. Weasley, and Mundungus went after them."

He let out a groan of pain. "And you haven't seen Sirius since?" 

Hermione shook her head. "No, we thought he'd be with you! What's happened to you!"

Tears sprung to his eyes. Dumbledore was dead. Had he gotten Sirius killed too?

One of her hands cupped his face, forcing him to meet her searching brown eyes. 

"Dumbledore's dead." He said, failing to keep the emotion out of his voice.

They all stared at him dumbfounded. 

"Snape did it." Johnny continued. "Killed him in the Astronomy tower."

The betrayal did not yet burn, though he knew it would later. His mind was just too filled with pain and hopelessness. 

He took out the Map to check it and saw that the Death Eaters had not yet escaped the school's boundaries. A good number were still caught up in battle by area of the grounds near the Quidditch pitch. The rest of the Order had combined. Heading to Hagrid's hut, he noticed the contingent that was in the tower with him earlier. All except Malfoy. 

Johnny's blood ran cold. 

On the first floor, by one of the exits, was Malfoy, who was face to face with Harry.

He turned the Map to show the others who all paled at the sight, and then they were all running as fast as they could to get to their friend.

Johnny was prepared to die tonight, as bleak as that was to admit to himself. To die for the ones he loved, so that they might live. He couldn't let Harry get himself killed. He wouldn't.

They ran on and on, and the pain retreated to the background. Johnny's only focus was on Harry. The portraits watched them go, urging them on. 

He could hear shouting up ahead around a corner, the sound of spells breaking the stone walls, and the smell of hellfire and brimstone.

Malfoy had his back to them, while slowly advancing towards Harry, who for his part, was flinging everything he could at the Rider. 

Lacerations tore through Malfoy's robes, but they didn't seem to bother him. Explosive spells momentarily stopped him, but never longer than a second.

Johnny didn't think, instead, he acted on a primal, animalistic instinct. 

He screamed both in pain and rage, retrieving the holy blade from his jacket once more and plunging it into the Rider's back. 

It screamed too, terrible and otherworldly. 

Johnny reveled in its pain, its fear.

With his mangled hands, he was briefly worried he'd be unable to take the knife out of Malfoy's back, but it slid out with ease. 

The Rider turned to face him, but Johnny stabbed it once more in the ribs. 

A punch caught him in his jaw and he felt it shatter as he crumpled to the ground. 

"NO!" Someone screamed. Multiple someone's. He couldn't tell who. Couldn't tell much of anything right now. His vision was fading, and not from any dirt this time.

"There's more here!" An older, male voice shouted. It sounded like a fight had broken out. 

Death Eaters? He had to get up. Had to -

The Rider kneeled over him, a gloved hand closed around his throat.

"This time, you die."

"Draco," he gasped. "This... isn't... who you... want... to be..."

His windpipe was being crushed, his life being squeezed out. Soon he'd choke to death.

And that skull, that flaming visage would be the last thing he'd ever see.

Johnny would never see his brother again, not Harry, Sirius, Tonks, or... Hermione.

Hermione.

His left hand reached out to where he knew the handle of the blade was still protruding from the Rider's ribs.

He yanked it through and across his abdomen. 

A terrible scream erupted from the Rider then, and black bile poured out onto Johnny's body. The grip around his neck came loose as the Rider fell over onto the ground to his side.

He lay there for a moment, recovering. The sound of spellfire and shouting continued. 

Only one thought got him moving again, the same one that had been repeating like a mantra since he'd grabbed the handle.

Hermione.

Johnny rolled over and got on his knees next to Malfoy. 

The Rider was bleeding profusely, one hand haphazardly trying to quell the flow.

He still had the blade in his left hand. Johnny looked at Malfoy sadly. He remembered Mephisto's deal and his words. 

His lies.

"Please..." Malfoy gasped. "Please kill me..."

"I know you're in there, Zarathos." He said. "I want to make a deal... a new one."

He hated this. Hated that he was asking for it.

"Kill me... please... he won't... help..."

"Oh, yes he will," Johnny grunted. "He will if he wants revenge."

A jet of red light missed him by mere inches but he paid it no mind. 

Johnny could notice the shift in who was running the show. Malfoy was more stiff in his actions as the Rider while Zarathos was more fluid. 

"I am listening." 

"Mephisto wants you dead." He said. "Even gave me the weapon to make it happen, but I have a better idea." Johnny winced from a sharp pang of pain in his hand as he let the blade clatter to the floor. "Return your spirit to me. Help me win this war... and when it's all said and done... we kill the devil."

He stood there, and for a moment, Johnny thought that it was too late. That the Rider had died. 

"I suppose there is not much of a choice."

"Not really, no."

"It will hurt."

With great effort, he smiled.

"Pain's an old friend."

And just like that, the form of the Ghost Rider returned to that of Draco Malfoy. A ball of muted orange light left his body and entered Johnny's, just like it had left him back at the Ministry a year ago.

He screamed, and it felt like his vocal cords tore from it. His skin melted off entirely, a pain he had not felt in a year. Johnny was being baptized in flames. 

The pain subsided, and the familiar burning rage returned. This anger... only happened during that first year after he became the Rider. 

There was something new though.

Hello, Johnathan. 

He recognized that voice.

It's you? He thought, which was weird. Talking to a voice inside his head was new. Johnny knew now that the voice from his dreams, the one telling him to find it, that it was an old friend... it was Zarathos all along.

Indeed. 

Why did you send me those dreams?

I didn't. Not intentionally, anyway. Our minds were linked, did you not realize? A little piece of me remained with you, while the rest of me inhabited the Malfoy boy.

Johnny hadn't realized, but it made perfect sense.

I believe it was that small part inside of you, yearning to return to me. 

I heard screams, Malfoy's screams.

My own subconscious sending hints, perhaps? This is new for me too.

He didn't have much time to mull it over. The fighting was still going on all around him, and Malfoy was bleeding out. Johnny asked one more question.

Why did you help Voldemort?

I could not leave my new host, it seemed best to go along with them and strike a deal at a later date. However, I doubt that the Dark Lord would have any intention to help me.

No, he wouldn't.

Johnny surveyed the battle. Hermione, Ron, Tracey, and Blaise were putting up a good fight. A great fight, even. 

He didn't know the names of the Death Eaters, but three of them were losing badly. The tall blonde one was flinging the killing curse every chance he got, but Blaise was deftly moving rubble in the way of each green spell to block it. Tracey kept a short, stocky man busy while Ron and Hermione fiercely dueled with a thin, shaggy haired man. 

Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Panic thrummed through him but he tamped it down.

Although he wanted to help, Malfoy required his immediate assistance. Johnny scooped him up easily, praying to every god he could think of that Malfoy wouldn't die before he could get him to the hospital wing.

He ran and ran, knowing the way by heart at this point.

Why do you help the boy?

He didn't want this. Didn't want to hurt anybody.

But he is your enemy.

Not right now he's not.

This wasn't up for discussion. Right now, Malfoy needed help. It might already be too late for him, but Johnny was gonna try. 

He saw too much of himself in him.

Harry pelted toward a shortcut, hoping to close in on Snape and get ahead of the Carrow twins. He felt bad for leaving the others behind, especially Johnny, but once he saw that he was fine, Harry bolted.

Remembering to leap the vanishing step halfway down the concealed staircase, he burst through a tapestry at the bottom and out into a corridor where a number of bewildered and pajama-clad Hufflepuffs stood.

"Harry! We heard a noise, and someone said something about the Dark Mark -" Ernie Macmillan began.

"Out of the way!" Harry yelled, knocking two boys aside as he sprinted toward the landing and down the remainder of the marble staircase. The oak front doors had been blasted open, there were smears of blood on the flagstones, and several terrified students stood huddled against the walls, one or two still cowering with their arms over their faces. The giant Gryffindor hourglass had been hit by a curse, and the rubies within were still falling, with a loud rattle, onto the flagstones below.

Harry flew across the entrance hall and out into the dark grounds: He could just make out three figures racing across the lawn, heading for the gates beyond which they could Disapparate - by the looks of them, Macnair, Rookwood, and, some way ahead of him, Snape.

Rage burned in his chest and fueled him despite the cold night air ripping at his lungs. He saw a flash of light in the distance that momentarily silhouetted his quarry. He did not know what it was but continued to run, not yet near enough to get a good aim with a curse -

Another flash, shouts, retaliatory jets of light, and Harry understood: Hagrid had emerged from his cabin and was trying to stop the Death Eaters from escaping, and though every breath seemed to shred his lungs and the stitch in his chest was like fire, Harry sped up. They wouldn't get Hagrid too.

Something caught Harry hard in the small of the back and he fell forward, his face smacking the ground, blood pouring out of both nostrils: He knew, even as he rolled over, his wand ready, that the brother and sister he had overtaken using his shortcut were closing in behind him.

"Impedimenta!" He yelled as he rolled over again, crouching close to the dark ground, and miraculously his jinx hit one of them, who stumbled and fell, tripping up the other; Harry leaped to his feet and sprinted on after Snape.

And now he saw the vast outline of Hagrid, illuminated by the light of the crescent moon revealed suddenly behind clouds; Macnair was sending curse after curse at the gamekeeper; but Hagrid’s immense strength and the toughened skin he had inherited from his giantess mother seemed to be protecting him. Snape was still running; he would soon be beyond the gates, able to Disapparate.

Harry tore past Hagrid and his opponent, took aim at Snape’s back, and yelled, "Stupefy!"

He missed; the jet of red light soared past Snape’s head; who turned. Twenty yards apart, he and Harry looked at each other before raising their wands simultaneously.

"Cruc-"

But Snape parried the curse, knocking Harry backward off his feet before he could complete it; Harry rolled over and scrambled back up again as Macnair behind him yelled, "Incendio!" Harry heard an explosive bang and a dancing orange light spilled over all of them: Hagrid’s house was on fire.

"Fang’s in there, yer evil -!" Hagrid bellowed.

"Cruc-" Harry yelled for the second time, aiming for the figure ahead illuminated in the dancing firelight, but Snape blocked the spell again. Harry was surprised to hear a tone of shock in his voice, rather than a sneer.

"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!" He shouted over the rushing of the flames, Hagrid’s yells, and the wild yelping of the trapped Fang. 

"Incarc-" Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm.

"Fight back!" Harry screamed at him. "Fight back, you cowardly -"

"SILENCE!" Snape roared, silently sending a jinx his way. Harry blocked it hastily with a shield charm. 

His mind was too hectic, he couldn't focus enough to cast spells nonverbally. Snape would simply keep blocking them.

"Macnair! Rookwood!" Snape shouted. "Come! Before the Ministry arrives-"

"Impedi -"

But before he could finish this jinx, excruciating pain hit Harry; he keeled over in the grass. Someone was screaming, he would surely die of this agony, Snape was going to torture him to death or madness -

"No!" Snape roared and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started; Harry lay curled on the dark grass, clutching his wand and panting; somewhere overhead Snape was shouting, "Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord - we are to leave him! Go! Go!"

And Harry felt the ground shudder under his face as the brother and sister, Rookwood, and Macnair obeyed, running toward the gates. Harry uttered an inarticulate yell of rage: In that instant, he cared not whether he lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward Snape, the man he now hated as much as he hated Voldemort himself.

Sectumsempra! He thought clearly and was rewarded with a howl of pain. But it was not from Snape.

The other man had deflected it and the spell ended up hitting Rookwood in the side, who crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape’s face clearly at last: he wore an expression of... pain? Or something akin to disgust. He paid it no mind.

Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi - "No, Potter!" Snape screamed. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape’s pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was not suffused with hatred like it was when he killed Dumbledore. Instead, Snape looked... sad...

"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? Oh, yes, I am the Half-Blood Prince. It was my spell you used on Draco."

Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight.

"Kill me then," Harry panted, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward!"

Snape slashed at the air: Harry felt a white-hot, whiplike something hit him across the face and was slammed backward into the ground. Spots of light burst in front of his eyes and for a moment all the breath seemed to have gone from his body.

Through the pain and the howls from both Hagrid and Fang, Harry heard Snape mutter something he almost didn't believe he had heard.

"I'm sorry."

And then he was gone.

"Why... are you... helping... me...?"

Malfoy's voice was scarily faint. Johnny upped his speed as he rounded a corner. The stone floor cracked with every step under his strength.

"Save your strength, don't speak."

"Tried to... kill you..."

Older students were now wandering the halls, no doubt confused as to what was happening. When they saw him sprinting down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing they ducked out of the way.

He brings up a good point.

Johnny ignored Zarathos. A voice in his head would take some time getting used to, no doubt. But he was in the driver's seat now.

He burst into the Hospital Wing, making Madam Pomfrey scream in fright.

Her wand was out in an instant, aimed at him.

"It's me! It's Johnny." He said, trying to placate her.

"Good heavens!" Pomfrey said, placing a hand on her chest. "Oh!" She noticed Malfoy in his arms, bleeding profusely all over him and onto the floor.

"Please, help him."

The matron levitated Malfoy out of his arms and into a bed. If Johnny could, he might have vomited at the sight of his intestines spilling out. 

Pomfrey swore under her breath. "I... I don't know if I can..." She took a deep breath and seemed to collect herself. "I'll do what I can. What's happening out there? I saw the Dark Mark."

Johnny debated on telling her of Dumbledore's death but decided against it. Hearing about that might distract her from saving Malfoy.

"Death Eaters were in the castle, but the Order arrived and fought them off."

Pomfrey nodded, already getting to work, waving her wand in intricate motions and muttering rapidly under her breath. Already, he could see the blood receding back into his body. 

Johnny turned to leave. He'd done all he could. The others needed him now.

A few minutes later he was back in the hallway where only the big blonde Death Eater was still up and fighting. His comrades had left him and the only thing stopping him from being defeated was his wild cursing.

That couldn't save him from Johnny.

A fiery chain erupted from out of his hand and wrapped around the Death Eater. With the turn of his wrist, the chain tightened. 

The man screamed in pain. "No! No! Please!" 

But the chain burned more and more.

That's the way.

"Have mercy! Please!" 

The smell of burning flesh filled the air. 

"Sorry, all out of mercy."

The Death Eater fell silent and still. The chain retracted.

And the others stared at him in fear and shock.

There's the Johnny Blaze I know.

"S’not too bad," Hagrid said hopefully a few minutes later, looking at the smoking wreck. "Nothin’ Dumbledore won’ be able to put righ’..."

Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound of the name. In the silence and the stillness, horror rose inside him.

"Hagrid..."

"I was bindin’ up a couple o’ bowtruckle legs when I heard ‘em comin,’" Hargid said sadly, still staring at his wrecked cabin. "They’ll’ve bin burnt
ter twigs, poor little things..."

They had put out the fire in his cabin. Hagrid's wounds were thankfully superficial. 

"Hagrid..."

"But what happened, Harry? I jus’ saw them Death Eaters runnin’ down from the castle, but what the ruddy hell was Snape doin’ with ‘em? Where’s he gone - was he chasin’ them?"

"He..." Harry cleared his throat; it was dry from panic and the smoke. "Hagrid, he killed Dumbledore."

Hagrid simply looked at him, the little of his face that could be seen completely blank, uncomprehending.

"Dumbledore wha’, Harry?”

“He’s dead. Snape killed him…”

“Don’ say that,” said Hagrid roughly. “Snape kill Dumbledore — don’ be stupid, Harry. Wha’s made yeh say tha’?”

“I saw it happen.”

“Yeh couldn’ have.”

“I saw it, Hagrid.”

Hagrid shook his head; his expression was disbelieving but sympathetic, and Harry knew that Hagrid thought he had sustained a blow to the head, that he was confused, perhaps by the aftereffects of a jinx.

“What musta happened was, Dumbledore musta told Snape ter go with them Death Eaters,” Hagrid said confidently. “I suppose he’s gotta keep his cover. Look, let’s get yeh back up ter the school. Come on, Harry…”

Harry did not attempt to argue or explain. He was still shaking uncontrollably. Hagrid would find out soon enough, too soon... As they directed their steps back toward the castle, Harry saw that many of its windows were lit now. He could imagine, clearly, the scenes inside as people moved from room to room, telling each other that Death Eaters had got in, that the Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that somebody must have been killed...

The oak front doors stood open ahead of them, light flooding out onto the drive and the lawn. Slowly, uncertainly, dressing-gowned people were creeping down the steps, looking around nervously for some sign of the Death Eaters who had fled into the night. Harry’s eyes, however, were fixed upon the ground at the foot of the tallest tower.

He imagined that he could see a black, huddled mass lying in the grass there, though he was really too far away to see anything of the sort. Even as he stared wordlessly at the place where he thought Dumbledore’s body must lie, however, he saw people
beginning to move toward it. 

"What’re they all lookin’ at?" Hagrid said, as he and Harry approached the castle front, Fang keeping as close as he could to their ankles. "Wha’s tha’, lyin’ on the grass?" Hagrid added sharply, heading now toward the foot of the Astronomy Tower, where a small crowd was congregating. "See it, Harry? Righ’ at the foot o’ the tower? Under where the Mark... Blimey... yeh don’ think someone got thrown -?" Hagrid fell silent, the thought apparently too horrible to express aloud.

"Hagrid..." Harry said, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill out. There was an awful pressing feeling in his chest...

He and Hagrid moved, dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the very front, where the dumbstruck students and teachers had left a gap.

Harry heard Hagrid’s moan of pain and shock, but he did not stop; he walked slowly forward until he reached the place where Dumbledore lay and crouched down beside him. He had known there was no hope from the moment that the full Body-Bind Curse Dumbledore had placed upon him lifted, known that it could have happened only because its caster was dead, but there was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet.

Dumbledore’s eyes were closed; but for the strange angle of his arms and legs, he might have been sleeping. Harry reached out, straightened the half-moon spectacles upon the crooked nose, and wiped a trickle of blood from the mouth with his own sleeve. Then he gazed down at the wise old face and tried to absorb the enormous and incomprehensible truth: that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, never again could he help...

The crowd murmured behind Harry. After what seemed like a long time, he became aware that he was kneeling upon something hard and looked down.

The locket they had managed to steal so many hours before had fallen out of Dumbledore’s pocket. It had opened, perhaps due to the force with which it hit the ground. And although he could not feel more shock or horror or sadness than he felt already, Harry knew, as he picked it up, that there was something wrong...

He turned the locket over in his hands. This was neither as large as the locket he remembered seeing in the Pensieve, nor were there any markings upon it, no sign of the ornate S that was supposed to be Slytherin’s mark. Moreover, there was nothing inside but a scrap of folded parchment wedged tightly into the place where a portrait should have been.

Automatically, without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry pulled out the fragment of parchment, opened it, and read by the light of the many wands that had now been lit behind him:

To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want
you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have
stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I
can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you
will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.

Harry neither knew nor cared what the message meant. Only one thing mattered: This was not a Horcrux. Dumbledore had weakened himself by drinking that terrible potion for nothing. Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him Fang began to howl.

Chapter Text

"Go, Kreacher, take the locket and never look back... you have been a good friend to me..."

- Regulus Arcturus Black to Kreacher, inside a dark cave in 1979

"Johnny?"

Hermione's voice was filled with fear. For a brief moment, he hated himself so fiercely that the flames seemed to burn as hot as he'd ever felt them. In a second it was gone, replaced only with relief. They were alive. She was alive.

The flames dissipated, and the voice in his head was silent as Johnny returned to normal. 

"I'm here," he said. Johnny tried to ignore the charred corpse between them. Soon the smell of burnt flesh would become unbearable, he knew.

Hermione walked around the body and gently took his hands into her own. The gash on her forehead would surely scar, but it fit right in with the three slashes across her face from the previous year. 

She cupped his face with one hand and then pressed her forehead against his. 

It grounded him in reality. Somehow, this simple action made him feel safe.

"We should go to the hospital wing," he said. "To check on Malfoy."

"You took him there?" Ron said incredulously from behind Hermione.

"Of course he did," Hermione answered for him as if it were incredibly obvious. But they both knew it wasn't. He was a killer, no doubt. They'd just seen proof of that and knew about plenty more. But he could see it in her eyes, in her brilliant smile.

Hermione was proud of him. Like she knew he'd do the right thing.

He found he couldn't quite speak.

"Let's go," she said, doing it for him and taking his hand.

Johnny nodded gratefully.

Faces swam on the edges of Harry’s vision, people were peering at him, whispering, wondering, and Gryffindor rubies glistened on the floor like drops of blood as he stared at them blankly. 

Dumbledore was dead.

"Harry, come on."

But he did not move, could not move of his own volition.

A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was pulling him towards the marble staircase. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Harry recognized Ginny's voice, soft and sad.

"We’re going to the hospital wing," Ginny said.

"I’m not hurt," Harry said monotonously.

"It’s McGonagall’s orders," Ginny said. "Everyone’s up there."

"Is anyone else hurt?" He asked, though he barely registered the words as his own.

"Bill is," she said. "But don't worry, he's alive." There was something in her voice that boded ill.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I’m sure... he’s a - a bit of a mess, that’s all. Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he won’t - won’t look the same anymore…" Ginny’s voice trembled a little. "We don’t really know what the aftereffects will be - I mean, Greyback being a werewolf, but not transformed at the time."

They had reached the hospital wing. Pushing open the doors, Harry saw Neville lying, apparently asleep, in a bed near the door. Ron, Hermione, Johnny, Tracey, Blaise, Sirius, and Lupin were gathered around another bed near the far end of the ward. At the sound of the doors opening, they all looked up. Sirius ran to Harry and hugged him; Lupin moved forward too, looking anxious.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"I’m fine. How’s Bill?"

Nobody answered. Harry looked over Hermione’s shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on Bill’s pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque. Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment. Harry remembered how Snape had mended Malfoy’s Sectumsempra wounds so easily with his wand.

"Can’t you fix them with a charm or something?" He asked the matron.

"No charm will work on these," Madam Pomfrey said. "I’ve tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites."

"But he wasn’t bitten at the full moon," Ron said, gazing down into his brother’s face as though he could somehow force him to mend just by staring. "Greyback hadn’t transformed, so surely Bill won’t be a - a real -?" He looked uncertainly at Lupin.

"No, I don’t think that Bill will be a true werewolf," Lupin said. "But that does not mean that there won’t be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are unlikely ever to heal fully, and - and Bill might have some wolfish characteristics from now on."

"Dumbledore might know-" Johnny began suddenly, but then his face crumpled in anguish.

"What's wrong?" Lupin asked him, looking concerned.

"Dumbledore’s dead," Ginny said.

"No!" Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Harry did not, Lupin collapsed into a chair beside Bill’s bed, his hands over his face. Harry had never seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon something private, indecent. 

He turned away and caught Sirius' eye instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what Ginny had said.

"How did it happen?" Sirius whispered. 

"Snape killed him," Harry said. "I was there, I saw it. We arrived back at the Astronomy Tower because that’s where the Mark was Dumbledore was ill, he was weak, but I think he realized it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I couldn’t do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak - and then Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him -"

Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and Ron groaned. Tracey's mouth trembled.

"- more Death Eaters arrived - and then Snape - and Snape did it. The Avada Kedavra." Harry couldn’t go on.

Madam Pomfrey burst into tears as Lupin shot out of his chair and Sirius stepped purposefully with him toward the bed Malfoy laid on unconscious just a few feet away.

Faster than either man, Johnny was between them and Malfoy.

"No." He said calmly but firmly.

"He tried to kill you!" Sirius shouted. "He tried to kill Dumbledore!"

"I don't give a fuck." Johnny said. "Neither of you are going near him."

"How can you protect him?" Lupin demanded. His voice was full of rage.

"Because he was given an impossible choice and an impossible mission!" Johnny said. 

"He didn't want to do it," Harry said, "I could see it. He was lowering his wand."

Johnny spared him a grateful look while both older men ignored Harry.

"Think about what you were about to do." Johnny implored them. "To an unconscious and defenceless teenager." 

"Think about all the people he's killed!" Sirius yelled.

"I said I don't give a fuck!" Johnny yelled back, losing all semblance of calm now. "If either you take one more step forward so help me God I will put you both through that damn wall."

They looked murderous but had no time to make a move as Ginny spoke up next.

"Shh! Listen!"

Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: It was his own grief turned magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows.

How long they all stood there, listening, he did not know, nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning, but it felt like a long time later that the hospital door opened again and Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: There were grazes on her face and her robes were ripped.

"Molly and Arthur are on their way," she said, and the spell of the music was broken: Everyone roused themselves as though coming out of trances, turning again to look at Bill, or else to rub their own eyes, shake their heads. "Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid, you were with Professor Dumbledore when he - when it happened. He says Professor Snape was involved in some -"

"Snape killed Dumbledore," Harry said. She stared at him for a moment, then swayed alarmingly; Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have pulled herself together, ran forward, conjuring a chair from thin air, which she pushed under McGonagall.

"Snape," McGonagall repeated faintly, falling into the chair. "We all wondered... but he trusted... always... Snape... I can’t believe it..."

"Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens," Lupin said, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "We always knew that."

"Dumbledore swore up and down that the slimy git was with us," Sirius said. "But I never really believed it."

"He always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape," muttered Professor McGonagall, now dabbing at the corners of her leaking eyes with a tartan-edged handkerchief. "I mean... with Snape’s history... of course, people were bound to wonder... but Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape’s repentance was absolutely genuine... Wouldn’t hear a word against him!"

"I’d love to know what Snape told him to convince him," Sirius said bitterly.

"I know," Harry said. Everyone turned to look at him. "Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn’t realized what he was doing, he was really sorry he’d done it, sorry that they were dead."

They all stared at him.

"And Dumbledore believed that crock of shite?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape hated James! Hated all of us!"

"And he didn’t think my mother was worth a damn either," Harry said, "because she was Muggle-born... ‘Mudblood,’ he called her."

Nobody asked how Harry knew this. All of them seemed to be lost in horrified shock, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had happened.

The doors of the hospital wing burst open, making them all jump: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were striding up the ward, Fleur just behind them, her beautiful face terrified.

"Molly - Arthur -" Professor McGonagall said, jumping up and hurrying to greet them. "I am so sorry -"

"Bill," whispered Mrs. Weasley, darting past Professor McGonagall as she caught sight of Bill’s mangled face. "Oh, Bill!"

Lupin and Tonks had got up hastily and retreated so that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could get nearer to the bed. Mrs. Weasley bent over her son and pressed her lips to his bloody forehead.

A rough hand lightly gripped his right elbow. Harry turned to see Johnny near him.

"We should give them some space," he muttered.

Harry nodded and beckoned Hermione, Tracey, and Blaise to follow them. 

"I would like a quick word with you, Harry," McGonagall said. "If you’ll come with me..."

"See you in a bit," Harry murmured and followed Professor McGonagall back down the ward.

The corridors outside were deserted and the only sound was the distant phoenix song. It was several minutes before Harry became aware that they were not heading for Professor McGonagall’s office, but for Dumbledore’s, and another few seconds before he realized that of course, she had been deputy headmistress... She was now headmistress... so the room behind the gargoyle was now hers.

In silence they ascended the moving spiral staircase and entered the circular office. He did not know what he had expected: that the room would be draped in black, perhaps, or even that Dumbledore’s body might be lying there. In fact, it looked almost exactly as it had done when he and Dumbledore had left it mere hours previously: the silver instruments whirring and puffing on their spindle-legged tables, Gryffindor’s sword in its glass case gleaming in the moonlight, the Sorting Hat on a shelf behind the desk.

But Fawkes’s perch stood empty, he was still crying his lament to the grounds. And a new portrait had joined the ranks of the dead headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts: Dumbledore was slumbering in a golden frame over the desk, his half-moon spectacles perched upon his crooked nose, looking peaceful and untroubled.

After glancing once at this portrait, Professor McGonagall made an odd movement as though steeling herself, then rounded the desk to look at Harry, her face taut and lined.

"Harry," she said, "I would like to know what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing this evening when you left the school."

He had a feeling this was coming.

"I can’t tell you that, Professor," Harry said, having his answer ready long before they stepped into the office.  It had been here, in this very room, that Dumbledore had told Johnny and him that he was to confide the contents of their lessons to nobody but Ron and Hermione.

"Harry, it might be important," Professor McGonagall said.

"It is," Harry said, "very, but he didn’t want me to tell anyone."

Professor McGonagall glared at him. "Potter" - Harry registered the renewed use of his surname - "in the light of Professor Dumbledore’s death, I think you must see that the situation has changed somewhat -"

"I don’t think so," Harry said, shrugging. "Professor Dumbledore never told me to stop following his orders if he died."

"But -"

"There’s one thing you should know before the Ministry gets here, though. Filch is under the Imperius Curse, he was helping Malfoy and the Death Eaters, and that’s how the poisoned mead got in."

"Filch?" McGonagall said incredulously and then she sighed. "Thank you for telling me, Potter. I can see that you won't divulge what you and Dumbledore were up to." She held up a hand as Harry made to speak. "While that is frustrating, I also respect your wishes and those of the... the headmaster.." 

He looked up once more to Dumbledore's sleeping portrait. 

"He did however leave something for you with specific instructions in his desk drawer." McGonagall continued. 

Harry's eyebrows shot up. Dumbledore had never mentioned this before.

With a wave of her wand, a vial containing a wisp of memory floated off the desk and into his hand. He hadn't seen it when he entered.

"I have not seen what it contains," McGonagall said, answering his unasked question. "I do hope it's helpful. You may use the pensieve in here but do be quick. The Ministry will no doubt be here very soon. I must go meet with the other heads of house."

With that, she was gone, leaving Harry alone in her office. 

He walked slowly, mechanically to where Dumbldore's pensieve was. Harry pulled it out, but before he unscrewed the top and poured the memory into the basin, he took one last glance at Dumbledore's portrait.

He was still sound asleep. 

With a sigh, Harry poured the content of the vial into the pensieve and dunked his head in.

They watched as Harry left with McGonagall and then rounded a corner. 

Johnny sighed. "Let's go to your dorms."

Nobody spoke as they walked, he supposed that each of them had a lot on their mind. 

Johnny didn't know how to feel right now. Even though he saw it happen, Dumbledore's death didn't feel real. Maybe it'd sink in tomorrow, or perhaps he was just used to death by now. But he knew that wasn't true. Nobody ever got used to the people you loved dying all around you.

"Our dorm is that way." Tracey's voice broke the silence. 

They all stopped to look at her but only Johnny spoke.

"I doubt anyone's going to be checking, and it's not like you're going to stay the night."

That seemed to be enough for the two Slytherins, both far too tired to argue at the moment.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady soon enough, and when she spotted them, her bottom lip began trembling.

"Is it true?" She asked, taking in their battered appearances and defeated expressions. "Is it really true? Dumbledore - dead?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

She let out a wail and, without waiting for the password, swung forward to admit them.

The common room was packed. The room fell silent as they climbed through the portrait hole.

There were murmurs as the Gryffindors took in the two Slytherins that had entered. 

Ron, the good man that he was, quickly spoke up.

"These two fought at the Ministry last year, anyone who has a problem with them being here can kiss my arse." He said, and that was enough.

Johnny quickly pulled Hermione aside. There was something he needed to know.

"Back there with Rowle," he said, referring to the big blonde Death Eater. "Were you..." Johnny trailed off. His eyes searched hers. "Were you afraid?"

Hermione stared back at him intently as she answered. "Yes." She said. "But only for a moment. I won't lie and say I like that you killed him, but I know why you did it. And honestly, this is war. I think I'm going to have to get used to a lot of things I don't like."

An honest answer, and a true one. While he was relieved, it also saddened him. There was plenty more death and killing to come. He hoped that she didn't have to take part in it.

It was possibly the most naive thought he'd ever had.

Just then the portrait swung open once more, and Harry stepped inside.

He made eye contact with him, Hermione, Ron, Tracey, and Blaise. With the slightest nod, he then marched off toward the boy's dorms.

The five of them quickly followed suit, ignoring the whispers that overtook the stunned silence of the room when Harry first walked in.

Once they were in Harry and Ron's dorm, and were sure nobody else was there, Ron spoke up.

"So?" He said in a very low voice, as though he thought the furniture might be listening in. "Did you find one? Did you get it? A - a Horcrux?"

Harry shook his head. All that had taken place around that black lake seemed like an old nightmare now; had it really happened, and only hours ago?

"You didn’t get it?" Hermione said, looking crestfallen. "It wasn’t there?"

"No," Harry said. "Someone had already taken it and left a fake in its place."

"Already taken -?"

Wordlessly, Harry pulled the fake locket from his pocket, opened it, and passed it to Ron, who read it and then passed it around, getting to Johnny last. The full story could wait... It did not matter tonight... nothing mattered except the end, the end of their pointless adventure, the end of Dumbledore’s life...

"R.A.B.," Johnny whispered, "who is that?"

"Dunno," Harry said, lying back on his bed fully clothed and staring blankly upwards. He felt no curiosity at all about R.A.B.: He doubted that he would ever feel curious again. As he lay there, he became aware suddenly that the grounds were silent. Fawkes had stopped singing.

And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that the phoenix had gone, had left Hogwarts for good, just as Dumbledore had left the school, had left the world... had left Harry.

The funeral was beautiful. It took place by the lake, it was a warm summer day and the sun shone brilliantly down at them. 

Johnny hated every second of it.

There were hundreds, maybe a thousand chairs sitting out on the grounds in rows. An aisle ran down the center of them: There was a marble table standing at the front, and all the chairs were facing it.

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs; shabby and smart, old and young. The only people he recognized were the members of the Order. Hell, even the Hogwarts ghosts were here, although they were barely visible in the sunlight. 

Around a dozen people spoke about their memories of the old man. Several people were openly sobbing. What a sight they must have been from high up above. A thousand tiny black dots assembled along the lake. 

Merpeople protruded from the water and sang a beautiful song of loss and sorrow, the centaurs left their forest to shoot a fiery tribute in honor of the headmaster's passing.

None of it mattered to Johnny.

All he had was that familiar burning anger barely kept below the surface.

Hagrid walked down the aisle, sobbing and carrying Dumbledore's body, wrapped in a purple velvet shroud with a starry design. 

His anger seemed to evaporate in the heat of the summer at that sight. It was merely grief in a mask, and the mask had slipped.

Johnny started to cry.

Hermione, sitting beside him, was openly crying as well, and she gripped his hand tightly. He slung an arm over her and they held each other as they wept. 

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore’s body. He couldn't hear what the man was saying save for the odd word that floated over to where they sat. Words that couldn't come even remotely close to describing the man that Dumbledore was. 

But Dumbledore was dead. The terrible truth of that had finally sunk in. That great man, his friend, was gone. 

Johnny looked around once more. Harry and Ron were sitting with them as well. Ron’s face was screwed up as though the sunlight were blinding him. While tears did fall down Harry's face, the boy looked determined. He didn't know what to make of it.

The tufty-haired man's speech ended. People stood to leave. Johnny smiled as he remembered one of the last things Dumbledore had ever said to him. 

After life, death. After death, life again.

He let go of Hermione's hand and stood. Johnny walked over to Dumbledore's white marble tomb and placed a hand on it. 

"I'll see you in the next life." He whispered.

"I can’t bear the idea that we might never come back," Hermione said softly. "How can Hogwarts close?"

"Maybe it won’t," Ron said. "We’re not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere’s the same now. I’d even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d’you reckon, Harry?"

He almost hadn't heard the question, too deep in his own head as Harry was.

"I’m not coming back even if it does reopen," Harry said with a shrug.

"I had a feeling," Johnny said, returning to the group. Tracey and Blaise had walked over with him. 

"What will you do?" Tracey asked.

"Head back to Grimmauld Place," Harry said. "Just to get my things, and then go. Maybe to Godric's Hollow, to visit my parent's graves." He'd had the idea in his head ever since the night of Dumbledore’s death. "For me, it started there, all of it. I’ve just got a feeling I need to go there."

"And then what?" Ron said.

"Then I’ve got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven’t I?" Harry said, his eyes upon Dumbledore’s white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. "That’s what he wanted me to do, that’s why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right - and I’m sure he was - there are still four of them out there. I’ve got to find them and destroy them, and then I’ve got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort’s soul, the bit that’s still in his body, and I’m the one who’s going to kill him. And if I
meet Severus Snape along the way," he added, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for him."

He could not meet their eyes in the silence that followed. There was so much he hadn't told Tracey and Blaise, so much he probably should have. But he knew there was no point. Not anymore. 

The crowd had almost dispersed now. There was only a low hum of the surrounding conversations, as well as Hagrid's howls of grief.

"We’ll be there, Harry," Ron said suddenly.

"What?"

"Grimmaul Place, Godric's Hollow, wherever you want to go, we'll be there."

"No -" he tried to say, he hadn't accounted for this, perhaps foolishly. He had meant to convey that he was doing this alone.

"You said to us once before," Hermione said quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We’ve had time, haven’t we?"

Once more, he tried to open his mouth to argue, but once more, he was cut off.

"If you think we're gonna let you do this alone," Johnny said. "You're an idiot."

"A big one," Tracey added, smiling at him sadly. Blaise hummed in agreement.

"We’re with you whatever happens," Ron said, and Harry wanted to cry once more. "But mate, you’re going to have to come round my mum and dad’s house before we do anything else, even Godric’s Hollow."

"Why?"

"Bill and Fleur’s wedding, they've decided to do it sooner rather than later."

Harry looked at him, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful.

But he knew, they could not come with him. He'd just have to work harder at giving them the slip. Harry thought of the memory Dumbledore had left for him and knew this was something he'd have to do alone. 

For he was going off to his death.

The End.

Special thanks to Mark, Sylvia, Evan, and Vampiregrin, all of whom in one way or another gave encouragement and motivation to finish this story.