Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The shocking scene in front of the young man left him paralyzed, his mind going in circles trying to make sense of what was happening. His feet and hands are bound, and he is kneeling on the ground in front of those he thought were his friends. His family. "How could you?" Harry whispered, his voice shaking. In fear, disgust or anger, he doesn't know.

"How could you?" Shot back Ronald Weasley, fury shining through his eyes. Snarling, the taller man approached his friend's fallen body and grabbed him by his collar. "You've lied to us."

Those words uttered by his best friend didn't make any sense to Harry Potter and yet, very deep inside him, he knew it to be the truth. But about what? What could he have lied about? His friends are the only thing left in his miserable life after the war. Harry shook his head, confused. "I... I don't understand. I don't know what you're-" A blow to his face took his voice, his face turning to the side at the force. The young man blinked, shock obvious in his gaze, before noticing the blood pooling in his mouth and leaving a bad taste behind after gulping it down. This was wrong. This world is wrong. This can't happening, came his desperate thought.

"Liar." Spat Weasley. Narrowing his eyes at him, he ordered without turning "Take him to Azkaban."

"What!?" The raven tried to stand up "No! Wait! Ron!" But his words fell into deaf ears. Strong hands grabbed him by his shoulders and held him tightly before being apparated. His ginger friend's back was the last thing he saw. 

Chapter Text

Life in Azkaban is surprisingly boring. Cold and loud and silent at the same time, and so, so dark. The Dementors, despite not attempting to suck his soul anymore, continue to keep him company. Too close, too freezing. Their - too long, too pale - hands feel like ice against his pale skin, a rotting smell coming from their mouth. 

The wizard can't remember for how long he's been here, locked and abandoned, far from other prisoners. Is there anyone else out there? When was the last time he saw someone? Or just the sky, the twinkling stars shining all around him. Are they still there? So lonely... But maybe that's a good thing, the green-eyed man thought, his tired and lost gaze glued to the grey wall in front of him. So filthy. He has so much peace now that there is no one talking behind his back, or constantly staring at him. Expecting. His dry lips moved up in an attempt to smile. However, his face soon darkened remembering the reason he ended up here. His friends, he spat mentally, his voice too weak after so much time without anyone to talk to, were the ones to put him in this place, the ones who condemned him into this life. His green eyes sparkle with unshed angry tears. This is no way to live...

The sensation of ripping out his own soul and ending his suffering came back strong as ever, making him dizzy for a moment. Harry Potter blinked back the black spots in his vision. So much silence... And it's so loud. Why is it so loud? I want to sleep. 

Shaking his head, Harry leaned his head against the wall, a small bang echoing in his head. He couldn't feel anything anymore. Not worth it. Nothing is. A shuddering breath left his blue lips before closing his eyelids for a short - too short - nap. Maybe next time I'll wake up at Hogwarts. 

Chapter Text

He ran and ran without ever getting anywhere. Everything looked dark, full of cold judgmental eyes following him, and he kept running. Running until he collapsed, floating lost in space. Something feels off. What is this feeling? He wonders absentmindedly. Why does he feel so empty? Why are people watching him everywhere he goes? Who are they?

With a gasp, the raven woke up from his disturbing dream. Not a dream. A memory of a dream. He could still remember the feeling that suddenly appeared somewhere inside him after killing Voldemort, as if he was missing a part of himself. How he wanted to cry out in agony but couldn't because everyone else was cheering. At that time, he asked to himself if he was a bad person for feeling sad for killing the person who took everything from him, his family, a happy life. Oh, if only he was there to see the irony. Condemned for doing what everyone asked him to do. Taking a life. And he regrets it from day one, every second he's alive.

A dry laugh escaped his dry lips. Another day waiting for his inevitable end, it seems. For how long would he be surviving in this miserable place? The question faded out as soon as it came, footsteps reaching his ears. Even in this state he couldn't shake his hypervigilance.

"Awake, I see." Came a familiar voice. Eyes raised wearily, Harry looked at his visitor. Malfoy? He tilted his head to the side while maintaining eye contact. What was Malfoy doing here? "I know what you're thinking, and all the answers will come. Eventually. Right now, however, I'm on a time limit." The blond approached him with determination, something that got the raven's attention. "I'm here to free you."

Just before he could continue though, the other wizard shook his head in fear and worry. Regardless of the reason, he couldn't let anyone be hurt by trying to help him.

"Oi, scarhead, I don't care what you want. This isn't even about you, so try to focus on what I'm saying." Draco snapped at him, grabbing the cell bars. Noticing he has all the attention again, Draco took a deep breath calming down enough to continue. "Magic is dying. Your friend, Granger, managed to give too much information to the muggles and now we are being attacked. We've been under attack for quite some time, actually..." He trailed off before going silent. His gaze turned to the gray ground, an air of loss surrounding him. "Look, we don't have much time. You've been here for a long time, Potter, and a lot of things had been happening while you were here. I don't believe Weasley and Granger have told you anything but we're all in the bring of extinction."

"Exti-extinction?" Harry's shaky voice was full of dread. Why haven't he heard about this? Why didn't they tell him what was happening? With a speed that was deceiving because of how fragile his body looked, the green-eyed man moved towards the entrance and grabbed the bars of the cell, next to the blond's hands. He ignored the pain the chains caused him. "Tell me more." He pleaded with his raspy voice and a desperate look.

"I will." Draco promise without looking away from his old rival's eyes. "But right now I need you to do everything I tell you. We need to work together in order for this to work. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded quickly, wishing more than anything to know more. Magic can't die. Surely, that's impossible. His mind was plagued with those thoughts but he made an effort to push them as far as possible in order to focus on the present.

"Alright." He shoved a small white paper into his dirty hands. Even with his bad eyesight the raven could make out the words. "I'm working with some friends of mine, they are distracting both the guards and the ministry employees. The Dementors aren't far from here but they won't attack us. Another friend is taking care of the wards around this area. I'll open the door now, so be ready to get out and run as fast as you can and then apparate to that address. The school is protected and guarded with very old and powerful wards, although I can't guarantee how much longer it will last. Once there I'll explain more. Any questions?" A second of silence and a blank stare later, Malfoy pointed at the lock and whispered "Alohomora".

Harry had only time to blink at how easy it was to open his cell door before hearing his old classmate shout. Without another thought, he bolted outside to his freedom and didn't stop running until he remembered the other part of the plan. And so he disapparated on the spot, leaving his second personal hell behind him. No soon after the wards activated again, first where Harry Potter has been staying for thirty years, now empty, and rapidly spreading to the rest of Azkaban. No one else but some of the other prisoners and unconscious guards remained in the island, slowly getting surrounded by hungry Dementors.

Death have mercy on those who wronged its Master. 

Chapter Text

A far away, desolate place, with the weight of sorrow enveloping it greeted Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, soon followed by two more pops behind them. The raven looked around, horror filling his vision. Everything was charred, completely in ruins, bodies lying around.

"What happened here?" he whispered in a broken voice, unable to look away.

A female, and very familiar, voice spoke quietly from behind him. "Muggles did it." That was, apparently, the only explanation needed.

"I don't understand... How long I've been locked up? For how long has this been going on?" His voice broke as he continued, "Why would they do this?"

"Because we're different, they hate what's different." Explained the same voice.

Harry turned around, finally acknowledging the voice, and seeing who it was that helped him. Draco moved closer to Luna Lovegood at some point, and next to her were Neville Longbottom and Blaise Zabini. Both Neville and Blaise looked lost, the slytherin missing an arm.

"Luna... Neville, what?" whispered the gryffindor. They look older, much older than he expected. He didn't pay attention at first, when he saw Draco, but he could see it now. They were all taller, Neville even had more muscle on him. Despite that, their appearance was that of someone who's been dealing years without food and clean water, their clothes torn in some places, or burned in others. "I don't understand... What happened to you? Luna, your hair..." His green eyes turned misty at seeing her beautiful locks turned into a very short and messy hair. He, then, turned his attention next to the man standing next to her. "Neville, who did that to your face?" His friend's face looked as if he had been slashed multiple times leaving behind raw pink scars. 

"Potter," called Draco with a sigh. "Lovegood is right. All of this was because of the muggles. They found us when Granger told them about our world. They destroyed everything and took what they wanted with them. Our kids were taken, our women, our gold and books, too. All of it, and left death behind. There're only a handful of survivors. No one knows how the other magical communities are fairing. For now, all we can do is keep fighting on our end." The blond took a deep breath, walking closer to the other wizard, past him, and eventually to a secret entrance surrounded by runes." I'll tell the rest inside, where we'll be safer."

Neville looked at his friend with sadness, ignoring the other two who followed Malfoy. 

"Harry... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I know this is a shock to you." He nervously scratch his neck. "It's been thirty years, we've been trying to get to you for so long but Weasley wouldn't let us. It wasn't until he was killed -not by us, don't look at me like that- that we could find you. A lot has changed, I hope you can give us a moment to prepare before explaining the rest. It's... hard." The gryffindor's voice got weaker until he stopped talking. He took Harry's smaller hand leading his friend to the entrance, which disappeared behind them as if it never existed in the first place.

Harry said nothing as he followed them, his gaze moving from one face to another, all with injuries of different kinds. Some missing arms or legs, others with obvious gun shots. All for them with dark, lost looks. The air reeked of death, yet he kept going, walking past those people, some of whom were just children no older than he was when he started Hogwarts. The man looked away, unable to bear the sigh of a three year old in just a blanket, black spots in the little amount of skin that he could glimpse. Burn, he was burnt and he was infected. The kid wouldn't last long. Harry swallowed back the tears that wanted to come out.

As the raven kept following his rescuers, he couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts. He didn't expect any of this, he didn't expect that his time in Azkaban would be that long, and that outside of it there were people suffering more than him. People who needed his help, people he didn't know were dying while he was locked up. Ron never told him anything. Why? What happened to Hermione? Is this even real or a figment of his imagination while still locked in his cell? Perhaps he never woke up from his nightmare. 

"Harry," he heard Luna call him. He couldn't look at her without feeling guilt. How many people died while he was absent?

"I'm okay." 

"Sit," she carefully took his hand into hers, ever as kind, and guided him into an uncomfortable looking chair, a cup of tea in front of him. "You'll need it." She explained. He took it in his shaking hands, not having realised how thirsty he was. "Slowly, Harry." She reminded him. He didn't deserve her kindness.

"I'm sorry, Luna." He whispered after taking a few sips. He's sure there's potions added into it. Then, he starred at the rest of the group. "Please, tell me everything. I need to know." The green-eyed man pleaded.

"It all started a few months after you were incarcerated," Draco started. He saw Zabini take some papers which he passed on to Potter. The raven read quickly what it said, his green eyes getting wider at what was written. "As you probably noticed, the muggles got permission to know about our world with the intention of 'modernisation' and getting along without fear of being discovered. Wizengamot approved, although some members were either absent or criminally incompetent, like my father. It didn't quite work as Granger, the head of the Muggle Liaison Office, intended." Malfoy turned his back to him." I heard she had great parents. Of course, that doesn't excuse her lack of understanding of the reasons why we never opened our doors to muggles. Why the ministry chose to erase their memories despite the controversy. History shows what muggles are capable of -things I learned first hand, unfortunately,- and how bad of an idea it was to do such a dangerous thing. Initially, no one thought much of it, they trusted a friend of the great Harry Potter." His silver eyes looked back at him with a sneer forming on his thin lips. 

"They trusted her because she lived in the muggle world," Neville continued, starring down at Malfoy in anger. The blond rolled his eyes. "which was ultimately what made the other wizards and witches less careful while using magic when in view of muggles. It was a slow process. They started to protest, to call us names, they didn't trust us. Then, some of the children who started to show signs of doing magic were hunt down, and eventually the rest of us. It escalated very quickly into the leaders demanding to know how many of us existed, what were we capable of doing. Granger told them everything, putting her parents as an example. She begged them to believe that they control their magic and wouldn't hurt anyone. Unsurprisingly, they were horrified when they heard what she did to her own parents, ignoring the reasons as to why. It got worse when she mentioned how there were multiple wars and that some deaths were caused by us, accidentally as they were. The muggles wanted to control us, Granger let them do as they pleased." Harry noted how Neville was saying Hermione's name. He hated her, and with good reason, he thought angrily. The fact that she let them do all of that even after he told her about the Dursley... Did she really though so little about his experience at the hands of his relatives? Or is it that she believed they were just the exception?

"Where is she?" He finally asked what was eating him inside. "Ron is dead. Where's Hermione?"

"She... disappeared." Harry noted the pause in Neville's explanation, his friend's eyes shifting from one side to the other, not quite meeting his. There's something else, something he doesn't want to tell him. 

"What else?" He prodded. 

"Just tell him already!" Malfoy complained, clearly fed up with the other Gryffindor. It took him only two long steps to get in front of other man, snarling. "She run away, it's what she did. She left like a coward." The blond spat out, rage shining is his silver eyes.

It went suddenly very quite, no one looking at Harry, who's eyes were staring unfocused at him.

"Draco." Luna admonished the Slytherin. Blaise remained silent. He's been silent from the very start, thought the raven, dizzy. 

"Why isn't he talking?" Harry asked carefully, not wanting to upset anyone anymore than he already did, his head lowered. His eyes were pointing at Zabini. 

"Blaise got his vocal cords damaged," explained the witch. "In a battle against one of the muggles, we were trapped and Blaise got caught by one of them. They cut his neck. Then his arm was blasted off when we finally managed to escape." Harry noticed how uncomfortable acted Zabini, his remaining hand close to his turtleneck.

"Sorry." Was all he could say to the Slytherin. They weren't friends because of what the other slytherins did to him and others. He doesn't know him, either. However, no one deserves this. Blaise nodded at him in thanks.

Several minutes of silence followed before Harry decided to continue with questions that were gnawing at him. "What now? What about the ministry? Shouldn't they have stopped all of this from happening?"

"Why would they?" Draco Malfoy was calmer, now. "Granger was the one controlling it before she disappeared. By then it was too late to do anything. Dumbledore wasn't there to guide them. The Minister died and no one replaced him. The employees don't have no one to guide them, the only thing they can do is to defend themselves. Oh, some of them did try. They died, too. Hogwarts was useless as well. If it wasn't because of my Godfather the rest of us would have died, too." Draco mentioned wearily. His body slumped against another chair, hiding his face behind his hands.

"Your godfather?" questioned the raven. 

"Severus Snape. He survived the snake's attack." The blond admitted with a broken voice. "My Godfather survived only to die protecting us."

Harry didn't know what else to say. There was only so much he could process before getting mad. Snape surviving wasn't something he expected either. He never heard from him after he thought he died. No one said anything.

~

The next three days were spent helping whenever the Gryffindor could, either by giving the survivors clothes for the cold, finding food, cleaning them... Meanwhile, he learned a lot about Draco and everything else that has been happening in his absence. 

The Slytherin became a healer to his surprise. And he's really good at it, patient, kind, unlike what he remembers about their Hogwarts years. It was refreshing to see a different side from his old classmate. He also saw his worst side, by mistake, and found out what happened to his parents who both died protecting innocent bystanders from an attack at Diagon Alley, fifteen years before Snape died. Nothing was done to improve the defences, and so more attacks followed. 

Luna was the one to explain him the next part. One day, Hogwarts' protections suspiciously failed, unable to hide the castle nor stop the bombs. The kids that survived were taken by the muggles and no one knows where they are or what happened to them. All teachers died protecting them, waiting for the Aurors to arrive and help. No one did. It was later revealed Ron was the one to reject it. His excuse? Hogwarts already had protections and so they didn't need more. The parents couldn't do anything about it, either. It was a massacre. That was six years ago. 

A month later, Blaise was attacked after falling into a trap, fake information leaked by a squib. Luna was the one who saw it in time to rescue him.

Draco, Neville, Luna, Blaise and many others were abducted not long after, which explains their appearance. Luna was witness to the atrocities the witches suffered. From sexual abuse, physical labore, experiments. Luna was rescued by Snape, who later died, before she had to go through the same. Neville was savagely attacked by a werewolf, just a teen who was experimented on. Even though he never blamed the kid, his face was disfigured with the addition of the curse. Draco managed to save his eyes, healing part of his vision, and made all the potions to manage the gryffindor's transformation. The teen died from his own injuries. 

A year later, Ron Weasley died at the hands of one of his people. Nobody trusts nobody. Not anymore.

"As time went on, we started to notice odd things." It was Neville's turn to talk to Harry. "Creatures were dying. It was the smaller ones first. Then the Dragons, the centaurs. Every one of them, they kept dying. The cause? A mystery. It was as if the air around them was poisoning them. We thought it might be one of the muggle's weapons, but we soon realised that it was because of magic." Neville gave Harry potatoes to peel. "The protections in the mansions of the old families did not hold anymore. The house elves began to fall as well. The wards from different places stopped working. Wizarding kind couldn't hide anymore, the only thing left was our own magic. Sadly, even the wands stopped working. The only thing sustaining us is the magic around us, or what's left of it, anyway."

"But I don't understand. Neville, how can magic just... die?" Questioned the raven. 

"'Cause its alive. It was said, centuries ago, that magic was part of life and death, that it was part of a delicate balance. There were theories about why magic exists, and why only some of us were blessed with it." The other Gryffindor started to boil the the bits of potatoes and carrots that were added to the soup. "Muggles took life after life, destroying the balance. Not only our life, but that of nature. The whole ecosystem was disrupted. Magic tried to compensate for it. It was fruitless. Muggles kept destroying everything they touched, everywhere they went. There was nothing anyone could do."

"Why free me, then?" Inquired the green-eyed man. His long black locks were tied back, his famous scar for everyone to see. "I'm not exactly Merlin, Neville. It seems pointless for you to get exposed to danger just to get me."

"That's not true." His blond friend vehemently denied. "I know you don't think of yourself as someone powerful, but you are." He paused momentarily, his voice softer. "It isn't because of that we wanted to find you. We... Weasley and Granger never told us what happened to you, we only got confirmation you were in Azkaban because Weasley liked to show off." He made a face. "Anyway. We were worried, that's why we got you. If you ask me, it was worth it." They smiled at each other. "And you're helping us with just your presence. Everyone is more lively since you arrived."

"If you say so, my friend. If you say so." Harry mumbled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Chapter Text

It was during the night. The sound of falling rain woke him up. That, and a presence close to him. Acting on instinct, the raven moved quickly and grabbed the arm of the person near him, pulling him over his shoulder against the bed. A low growl brought him out of his darkness, realizing that it was Neville.

"Neville, what's wrong?" His friend's eyes glowed amber, before calming down and disappearing.

"We've been found," he forced out. It has been getting harder to control his inner wolf. "I don't know how, but our runes aren't working anymore. We need to go. Now." He growled.

Harry took that as an order and immediately jump to the door and run through the halls. He could hear whimpers and cries of help around, distracting him long enough for him to not notice when someone else approached him. It was a muggle, the glimmer of a knife in his hand.

"Potter!" A shout and a red light later, the gryffindor found himself standing in front of a fallen body.

"Malfoy!" He shouted back, angry. 

"What are you doing standing there like a buffon!? We are under attack!" He said in frustration, turning away and facing another set of Muggles. They wore what appeared to be uniforms, belts filled with bullets. The black-haired man took a position to defend his partner.

"You could have said so!" he exclaimed. 

"I already did!" Draco cried out as he sidestepped a blade to his face, "You were too slow!"

"Like hell I'm slow!" Harry punched one of the men after kicking their weapon off their hand. More of them appeared. 

"Get ready to throw a bombarda." 

"I was born ready," smirked the raven, enjoying their banter and the feel of adrenaline cursing through his veins.

Both wizards moved in unison, their backs against the wall, facing their enemies, with their arms raised in front of them. The muggles, sensing danger, tried to escape. However, it was too late as their vision filled with red and then black, their bodies crashing into the wall behind them, some of them missing pieces. Luna and Neville managed to cover the rest of the spectators with their shields. It was a grousome vision, one that Harry wouldn't forget. There's was no time to question if what he did was right, they needed to move, and fast.

"Are there any more?" Draco shouted at the other two, who approached them soon after. Neville shook his head. 

"Not that we know. Blaise went to check the east. Luna came from the south and I came from the north, just like Harry. What about you?"

"They managed to sneak up on us from the west side," he explained, calmer like the general he was in that moment. "Luckily, that side is just for storage. There was no one else but me, making a list of what we needed for the next week."

"Did they took something from there?" Asked Harry, worrying his lower lip. Food and water wasn't the only thing that could be found there, but weapons. It isn't something they want to use, but there aren't many options.

"No. Wait." He denied, then paused. He took running in that direction, the rest following him. 

"What is it?" The blond slytherin kept running, ignoring the raven's words. It didn't took long for them to enter and search for anything missing. The weapons were gone. They were even more defenseless. Harry approached Draco, concern in his voice. He seems to be still in distress. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"They took it..." He whispered. The others looked at each other, Blaise walking closer to Draco, miming to his chest, then at him. 

"Yes." The raven looked with confusion at the other slytherin, expecting some kind of explanation before remembering he couldn't talk. He turned his attention to the other two who shook their heads. "I lost my kid, Scorpius." Draco's voice startled him. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Astoria Greengrass' child. I lost both of them. They took my family away from me." His fists clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white. "All I had from them was a photo and... And Scorpius' dragon plushie. He... loved that stupid thing." It was an old toy he had when he himself was a child, and he never understood why his son liked it so much. And now he didn't have it anymore but he wanted it back so bad. His son, his life. "I want them back." The blond croaked out, tears falling down his pale dirty cheeks.

Blaise shook his head at Potter when he saw the gryffindor try to comfort him. He knows his friend, that isn't what he needs right now.

Feeling terrible, Harry nodded in understanding and got out, followed by Luna and Neville. Luna went to his right side, Neville his left. 

"I didn't know he had a child. He never said..."

"It's not your fault, Harry." Luna whispered, her hand taking his. It gave him the strength he needed. It wasn't enough. 

"I know." I still blame myself. 

Chapter Text

An hour later, the group was at the entrance from the inside inspecting the runes. "As we suspected, they are flickering out. They cannot be sustained." Draco confirmed, getting up from the ground. 

"What do you suggest we do?" Neville asked, looking back at the other survivors. "We don't have much time and moving might be too dangerous."

With a heavy sigh, the slytherin got up to look at everyone's exhausted faces. 

"We have no choice. We're running low on food and water. We don't have weapons. We're the only ones who can use wandless magic, and the wards are failing. It's either move and die or stay and die."

"If we move there's a chance of saving a few of them." Pointed out Luna softly, so soft that no one heard her but Malfoy, who was standing near her. 

"We can't leave them behind." Harry protested.

"You think we don't know that?" Malfoy snarled. "But at least some will survive." 

"Leave us here, we beg of you. We'll all die in the end." A hoarse voice from among the wounded interrupted.

"We're tired." One voiced out.

"There's nothing we can do." Another uttered in dismay.

"We can't keep running and hiding." Another raspy voice added.

"My little baby has died, I don't want to continue living without him." A woman cried out.

Their voices filled Harry's head. He can't stop them, they are asking him to die, to save him from this hell they are forced to live in, but he can't. 

"S-stop..." The raven whispered. "It's wrong. I can't do it." But the voices wouldn't stop, the volume rising higher and higher until they became full screams. "Leave me alone!"

"Harry?"

"Potter?" He heard Neville and Draco call him at the same time.

His green eyes widened, confused, as the silence rang inside him. The others were looking at him as if he had gone mad, and his skin burnt with shame, not understanding what just happened to him.

"Sorry..." Was the only thing he could utter. 

Cautiously, they all turned their attention back to the matter at hand. 

"What do we do?" Longbottom quietly questioned. "They're right, you know. We can't force them if they don't want to come. Many of them are still injured and now our hideout has been discovered. There aren't many other places we can go to, either."

"Are you giving up?" Draco asked in disdain.

"That's not what I said, Malfoy." The gryffindor said in exasperation. "We are limited on what we can do, that's all. Someone has to be objective here. Logical." He paused, thinking deeply. "Maybe... Maybe we can try something else?"

"And what do you suggest?"

"Time travel."

"You're kidding me." Draco was afraid to know.

"I'm not kidding. It's a good plan." Neville stated, looking hard into his silver eyes.

The slytherin knew at that moment that nothing he said would change the other's mind. Swallowing, he looked away, his head down and tried anyway. "We don't even have a Time Turner, how can we travel back in time?"

"Not us. Harry." They all looked at the black-haired man who took a few steps back in surprise.

"You can't be serious. That's too dangerous, Neville!" Harry spluttered. They are the ones mad, he thought hysterically. 

"It is. You're right." He accepted. Then, he bravely took a few steps closer to Harry with an intense look in his eyes. "However, we have nothing to lose by trying."

"The Time Turners only work for a few hours, there's no way we're going to change anything in that time. No way. It won't work." The raven shook his head from side to side.

Neville caught his bony shoulders, forcing him to look at him. "We can if we work together." He assured.

"But…Draco mentioned it earlier. We don't have a Time Turner." Pointed out the raven in reluctance. 

"I do." Neville confessed after several seconds of silence. "We only need to direct the rest of our magic into it, all of us. It should boost it enough for you to travel years in the past. Hopefully, more than thirty." He added the last part dryly. 

"We are here, right now. Nothing's changed. That means it won't work. There's no point." Harry tried again, desperation clear in his voice. Why am I fighting so much against it? It is a good place, after all. 

"Not if you create another timeline." He countered, getting clearly fed up. 

"Listen to yourself! You can't! We can't!" The green-eyed man wriggled out of his grasp, moving away from them. In his agony he fell to his knees, his hands clutching his long mane. "You can't make me. You can't." He kept repeating. "I won't go through the same. I won't. You can't make me. No. No. No."

Luna, who stayed silent all this time, took that moment as her cue to approach Harry, ignoring the other's protests. At this moment, her friend needs her. She already predicted this would happen. Calmly, the woman sat down next to him, her delicate hand stroking his messy hair. "It'll be fine, Harry." she soothed him like a a mother to her child. "You won't be alone. Everything will be fine." She continued with a soft voice. Humming to herself, she kept calming the raven, her distracted gaze moving to everybody else who looked away guiltily.

"I-I... I can't do it. Luna, please, tell me what to do." He pleaded her weakly a moment later. 

"You know what to do." She didn't let him talk. "You are afraid to repeat the worse parts of your life. But Harry," her distant voice sounded so clear now, that it caught the gryffindor's complete attention, "you don't have to repeat it. You can make it better, make more friends, meet new people, save everyone. Save yourself." Luna took his scarred hands in hers, face to face, her forehead touching his, and murmured so softly that only he could hear her. "Your soul was torn apart without your knowledge. The soul fused with yours long ago, and you were forced to kill him. You can help him if you return. Guide him to his true destiny. Your destiny." She closed her eyes prompting his own to shut down, too. "Prophecies cannot create your future, only you can. Unite your soul again and make it right." 

With a heavy heart, Harry Potter moved apart from her and nodded in understanding. He knows what he has to do in order to avoid this ending. He knows who Luna is referring to. As much as it pains him to admit it, she's right. He's been living with just half of his soul, but that is no way of living, it's merely surviving. 

There's nothing anyone can do to fix this world, which is why going back and splitting the timeline makes more sense than staying here, he understands. But it still hurts, so, so much. It seems so impossible, both going back in time and to dissuade the Dark Lord from killing all muggles, to find other ways to get rid of the danger they pose. Still, he has to try, if not for himself, for everyone else. 

"Alright." 

Chapter Text

The ritual for his travel through time was being prepared by his friends. Meanwhile, the green-eyed man was standing aside, waiting, observing the few stars that can be glimpsed with a forlorn look. They were protected temporarily by the few runes that were still working, tense and quiet. It was now or never, according to Luna.

The thought of living them on their own still bothers him, however, causing a tight feeling in his throat and chest. What if it doesn't work? What if he messes everything up, again? How can he help? He's just one man, a human, and not a very powerful or smart one. He wasn't even capable of protecting himself from the Dursley, easily locked away by his best friend. Betrayed by both. Blinded by his experiences during his years at Hogwarts, he thought he could trust Ron and Hermione, that they cared about him. He believed that everything would be all right once Voldemort... But no. Things only got worse.

With a deep restless sigh, Harry moved his gaze to where his friends were -or the few that remain- surrounding a circle with various runes written on it. Draco, Neville, Luna, Blaise... People who believe in him. People who have nothing left, who lost everything. And he's here, alone, feeling pity for himself. What a miserable old man he ended up being, he thought in shame. Harry couldn't stop blaming himself for not saving their loved ones, even when they told him that it's not his fault and that there's nothing he could have done to change the outcome when he didn't even know this would be their end. But they lie! He knows they are lying. How could it not be his fault when he was the one who caused it all by not being there, as he swore he would? Oh, Harry suspected they were just being nice to The Boy Who Lived, their old classmate. They went through worse than him, and yet... They are too kind.

Day after day, after being free of his cell, after seeing what happened to the rest of the world, the raven kep thinking, feeling helpless, unable to understand. Why did Ron lock him up in Azkaban? Why didn't Hermione or Ginny ever go see him? What happened between them, when years ago they were inseparable? What went wrong? He could have helped them if they had problems managing the muggles, or if they didn't know how to fix their mistakes. He would have understood! He would have forgiven them. His entire life revolves around helping others. That is his only purpose in life. So why?

Closing his eyes, his legs against his chest and arms loosely around, the black-haired wizard listened to his surroundings. Always alert. A deep breath. rustling to his left. That's where his friends are. Another deep breath, silence on his right side. Breath in. Silence behind. Breath out. Silence in front. He never would have thought he would miss the birds singing, or the sound of the crowds in Diagon Alley. The warmth of the sun or the cold drops of rain. The rich flavour of chocolate, or even the bitterness of Severus Snape. The colorful life he had before this... this war, he miss it. Now he's living in grey. Oh, he misses the times when he didn't witness the misfortunes following him around or when he was confronting Voldemort, the only moments of his life where he felt alive. 

Opening his eyes, he stayed watching the others. But he's lucky, he slowly realised. They would never experience the fullness of it all again. Unlike him, this Blaise will never speak again. This Draco will never see his wife or his son. This Neville will never see his parents and this Luna... It hurts too much to think about it. The sting in his eyes caught him by surprise. He's crying. He never cried in Azkaban. Wiping them away, he thought about the only times he did cry. The first years of his life with the Dursley while in his cupboard, after losing Sirius, the time he visited his parent's grave in Godric's Hollow. And, finally, when Hedwig, Dobby and Snape died. He almost cried the time Cedric died, too, but he was in too much shock at his sudden death. It was the first time he saw the light from someone's eyes leave if he ignores the time his parents were killed when he was a baby. Not like he remembers much of it. Grimacing, Harry stood up and walked away, closer to one of the bodies. It was but a mere skeleton after all these years, still wearing their clothes which were torn in multiple places. Gulping down his guilt, he got to his knees and touched the remains, troubled by the unjust death of an innocent, someone who probably couldn't even protect themselves. This is worse than any war. Harry swore he would change this future, he will make sure no one has to go through any of this. 

Harry Potter

The aforementioned heard his name being whispered near his ear, a cold breeze making him shiver. What? He thought in confusion and fear. What was that?

Harry Potter

He heard again, although this time he flinched back, standing up and leaving the corpse alone. He didn't imagine it, he knows. Swallowing hard, the man approached another body. This time it's small with no skin or meat, no face to see. There is no way of knowing its hair color, or the shape of its face. One thing he's certain about.... It's so young. Too young. His trembling hand touch the surface of its skull, fear through him when he heard it again. 

Harry Potter

It's sounds young. It's the kid's voice, he's certain. But how? 

His breath hitched when he heard the kid's laugh right behind him, forcing him to turn around. There's no one. But he heard it. Looking back at Draco and the rest, he knows they didn't hear anything. They are too preoccupied with the ritual, so perhaps it was just him and his paranoia. Did his godfather ever hear voices? Did he go mad while in Azkaban without him realising? Shaking his head vigorously, Harry withdrew from that part of Diagon Alley. There are many corpses around him, so he carefully avoided any kind of contact with them, wincing everytime he missed. I can't do it, he thought to himself. Visually shaking, the raven returned to his previous spot. They are here, not part of his imagination. He isn't crazy. No, he denied vehemently, I'm not a madman. I know I'm not.

Tears had been streaming down his cheeks while experiencing this new ability of his. That was his breaking point. 

Rushing towards Luna, Harry took her from her shoulders and told her without thinking, "You can hear them too, right? Right!?" She merely blinked in confusion.

"Potter! What are you doing!? Let her go, now!" Draco caught his wrist, squeezing, a dark expression on his silver eyes.

As if struck, the other man released her with a horrified look on his pale face. "I…I, I'm sorry." He stuttered, his voice cracking, more tears falling down his sunken cheeks. "I didn't meant to, I'm sorry." He repeated, taking a couple of steps back. 

Pursing his thin lips, Malfoy didn't release his hold on Harry's wrist.

"What were you doing?" he hissed at him, a crease of worry and confusion on his face. "What's wrong with you?"

"I... I just thought... I heard-" His sentences were broken, clearly not making any sense. He continued regardless, "I heard... But it can't be- I can't...!" Harry was gasping for air, sweat trickling down his forehead. Ignoring Draco's orders to get away, Luna moved closer until she was in front of her friend.

"Harry," she said, softly. "Look at me." Once she got the reaction she wanted, she continued, still as gentle. "Whatever it is you're hearing, it doesn't mean you are crazy. Magic is mysterious even for us. You'll get your answers." Then she smiled up at him, holding his hands on hers. "Remember that."

It was then that Neville interrupted with a nervousness that he hadn't shown since he was young. "Everything is ready."

~ . ~

Gathering around the circle of runes, holding hands -except from Blaise, who stayed to the side since he's mute and missing one arm-. Harry's still terrified. He's full of doubts, of uncertainty. He's also determined. He's not a gryffindor for nothing. He could hear the dead, so what? That shouldn't stop him from completing his mission. 

"Okay, Neville. You lead the way." He announced shakily. They all agreed silently on that. If the blond was nervous, he didn't show it. He nodded.

"We'll be chanting," he started to explain. "Harry, you stay still and silent. We'll be the ones doing the work. And, please, don't take the Time Turner off. Not even when you're in the past." His voice turned stern at the last part. The other Gryffindor nodded in understanding. A silent promise. "No one can break the circle. The runes will active, hopefully, and we won't stop until we are sure this worked." Taking a deep breath, Longbottom looked at each one of them and finally said, "This ritual is mainly to give our magic as a boost to help Harry. For that, we need to be one, and we need to focus. This... This is our call for help, our hope. We need to give our all."

"For a better future." Malfoy smirked at him, receiving a shy smile in return.

"For a better future." The whole group repeated while closing their eyes.

Harry followed soon after.

For a second nothing was happening. That is, until they all started to hum softly in tune with their connected heartbeats, the electric vibrations passing through the intertwined hands. They know the words without sharing them, only magic and their will needed to connect and understand each other. Then, a fleeting energy went through their bodies, one after another, filling them to the brim. Outside their bodies, the wind was picking up, the runes began to glow, and the wounded approached the group, getting closer as if they were drawn by a magnet. With their hands clasped close to their chests, as if in prayer, they began to hum to the rhythm of the magic around them.

His eyes still closed, Harry no longer could hear their songs, he could only feel.

Strong but fragile, cold but burning, like a current that wouldn't let go, he felt magic surge within him, calling the others, dancing, merging together. His brows furrowed in his effort to hold it all in. It's too much. Struggling to breath, the raven kept fighting. They are all so different, sweet and melodic, others bitter but warm, one chaotic and noisy, others desperate. Many people, all those souls depend on him, call for him, and he just doesn't know if he can handle it. Then, just for a second, an image came to mind. A red so intense that it consumed him completely. However, it didn't feel like a threat, or a burden. It wasn't a warning, either.

They were very familiar eyes that encouraged him to continue. To never stop. He didn't stop. For their sake, he couldn't stop. 

Long seconds after, an explosion of light gave way to a black desert land with several bodies lying on the ground. One group in particular were near a half erased circle. No one was breathing, everyone with a calm expression on their faces, eyes closed as if they were sleeping. A mark was left behind in the middle, a triangle with a circle inside split in half. Silence reign. 

And Death whispered: Pity those poor souls who destroyed Life in this valley of dying stars. 

Chapter Text

It happened suddenly, too fast for anyone to react. Something impacted, hard, shaking the ground, disrupting the quiet night. No one dared to move until it settled down. Some of the few people that were still in Diagon Alley were either too shocked or to afraid to go and see for themselves what it could be, waiting for someone else to take the first step. They watched as white smoke was rising from the crater, hiding a small moving shape. After a few seconds in silence, the shape stood up, and they could hear coughing, and a voice. It sounded young, so young it prompted one of them to move and, without thinking, climb down to help what appeared to be a small child. Immediately after, more people approached the crater, the smoke dissipating to show a small naked boy. It had black short hair going everywhere, dark skin, and very vivid green eyes. His scar, Harry would think later in relief, was hidden thanks to his wild hair and soot.

"It's a kid!" Someone shouted.

"I can see that," the one who was closest to Harry replied.  "Quick! Someone call a healer!" 

The voices were too much for the raven, whose eyes were glossy and half lidded. He closed them, breathing in, familiar but painful smells hitting him at once, before suddenly dropping unconscious.

When Harry opened his eyes he knew he was in a hospital, or perhaps the magical version of one, St Mungo. It was mostly the typical smell of healing potions that made him lean more on the second option.The bright lights stung his eyes, forcing him to immediately shut them. Without his permission a moan escaped his lips, distressed at finding he couldn't remember what happened after the ritual. Did he made it? What happened to the others? His whole body was aching, but that wasn't new to him. What happened?

"You're awake!" The new voice startled him, his head jerking painfully to that side. It was a healer, or so the boy hoped, who approached him with a kind smile on his face, eyes crinkling at the motion. "It's okay, you're in a safe space. But you shouldn't move. You are still healing." There was worry in the man's gaze before shaking his head and turning his full attention on the raven. "How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Soreness?" 

"I..." What could Harry say? He still couldn't remember what happened. Why is he here, of all places? Then, Harry realised something. "What date is today?" His voice broke. He also couldn't remember when was the last time his voice sounded so young. Actually, everything looked bigger than he remembers. Not that he had many opportunities to be at San Mungo in his previous... life? 

"1991. 22nd of July. Monday." To his surprise, the healer responded to his, in his opinion, crazy question.  

"So..." So I did time travel! The glee he could feel inside him was short-lived when he remembered his mission and why it was so important. Although that didn't explain why did his body hurt. "What happened?" 

"You don't remember?" The other man wasn't expecting an answer, his pensive look indicating he was lost in thought. Harry waited patiently, unbothered by the lack of attention. Meanwhile, he took the time to look down at himself. He was wearing the typical hospital gown, but even that couldn't hide the bandages around his thin arms and hands, and most likely his legs from the way they felt. Thin and small. He... He's a kid. Despite the shock of what he just discovered about his body, he didn't feel anything. Too numb and tired. He's so tired. His eyes were closing when someone shook him from his drowsy state. "Stay awake, kiddo." 

"I'm... I'm awake." He slurred his words, forcing his eyes to open. 

"I need you to focus on the light." Light. He could do that. Or so he thought. Before he knew it, his shoulder was shaken again. "It seems you're still magically exhausted. Your pupils seem to be working properly, however. That's good. You need more rest, I'll leave you sleep now." 

The next time the young wizard woke up, there was someone else sitting in an armchair next to his bed. Long white beard, blue twinkling eyes and brigh pink robes with little white dots all over it. Someone he knows very well, or so he thought years ago, before he was sent to kill and be killed. Ron never explained why he was locked up, what did he do wrong. The redhead simply mentioned that he was following orders left by the Headmaster before he died. True or not, he couldn't trust the Headmaster.

"Um... Hello?" He croaked out, coughing until he felt better. No water offered like Neville once did. No, "Are you okay?" Only, "Harry, my boy, I'm glad you're finally awake." His voice sounding cheerful. He didn't look cheerful. Boy. How much he hates that damn word. 

"Who are you?" He doesn't think he is supposed to know him just yet, his eyes looking at Dumbledore's nose to avoid any possible mind invasion. Not like he can see it with how blurry was his vision, although better than when he was older. 

"My name is Albus Dumbledore, I'm the Headmaster." He introduced himself as if Harry was supposed to know who he is. Not like he doesn't. 

"Headmaster?" Frowning, Harry turned to look at the closed door of his room, meaning it was a private room. Where's the healer? "From my school? St. Grogory, sir?" He quickly added the last part, surprised he could still remember the name.

"Not exactly." He heard Dumbledore say, "I'm not from your primary school, I'm the Headmaster from your new school, Hogwarts." 

"Hogwarts? But..." This time he tilted his head in the Headmaster's direction, trying his best to act as child like as he could. Confused he already was, so he didn't need to act for that part. "I thought I would go to Stonewall High? 

"No, my boy. You misunderstood me. Hogwarts is a magical school. Your parents registered you at birth." The old wizard explained, a small smile forming on his face. The raven could imagine the infamous twinkle on his eyes behind those half-moon glasses. 

"You knew my parents?" Harry was curious about what would Dumbledore say about their death, the war and Voldemort, compared to Hagrid. He tried to ignore the agitation growing inside of him, the sweat on his forehead. "Wait. How did you know my name?" 

"I did. You'll find your parents are quite famous, as you are." 

"Me? What for, sir? My aunt and uncle always told me my parents were drunk and unemployed. That they died on a car crash." He paused for a moment, his voice sounding softer. "Did... Did they lie to me?" 

His green eyes were hidden under his bangs, half listening to the response of the man who he believed was his mentor. Dumbledore could have gone to visit him at some point, or forced his relatives to tell him the truth. The truth about his parents if nothing else. He never did. Why? It can't be because of his celebrity, he mentioned it seconds ago. Did he know about their treatment? Or did he just not care? The young wizard remembered clearly when he discovered he was being watched so many years ago, spied by the Order. Was it from the start? Did they know?

"Harry? Is there something wrong?" When Harry looked up at Dumbledore's gaze he made the mistake of meeting the professor's eyes. The feeling of someone on his mind made him close his green ones immediately, black feeling more comforting than ever. 

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm feeling dizzy." It wasn't a lie. And hopefully the Headmaster didn't notice anything off. 

"I'll call the Healer Anestis. We'll talk another time." The raven tried not to flinch when he felt Dumbledore's touch on his shoulder, nodding at what the older wizard said.

"What's my favourite patient doing?" Greeted Healer Anestis, not even ten minutes later. 

"Hello, sir. I'm doing better." Replied Harry, unsure of what to think about the man in front of him. He looked to be middle aged, brown hair turning grey. His gentle grey eyes were so similar to Sirius' that the raven couldn't help but stare.

"At least you're more aware now. How are you feeling today?" He didn't mention his staring which Harry appreciate it. 

"Just a bit sore." Harry received the disappointed shake of the healer's head at his lie, and so he admitted, "My legs and arms still hurt, same with my back." 

"Any headaches?" He shook his head, "And your breathing?" The raven took a deep breath and let it go easily as an answer. "Good. Show me your hands, Mr Potter." He just isn't used telling anyone how he feels. 

"Harry, sir." He corrected, frustrated at his shaky hands. 

"Harry. No need to call me sir, it will get old." Chuckled the older wizard, "Jason is fine." Next, the healer checked his legs, and then made him stand up. "You need to move to help your mobility." Was his explanation at Harry's quizzical look. "You are doing great!" 

"Everything seems to be in order." Healer Jason Anestis announced happily. He had been stuck in this room for two whole weeks. Apparently broken bones weren't the only injury he received during his... fall? During that time, Harry learned quite a lot. He appeared out of nowhere inside a crater, and, to his embarrassment, naked. His whole body suffered from second degree burns, broken bones, internal bleeding, and many bruises. Mr Anestis - I told you to call me Jason, - had worried about a possible concussion, too. Luckily, he didn't have one. There was also malnutrition and bad eyesight added later on.

"Thank you, Jason." Harry smiled up at the healer, really greatful for what the older man had done for him. More than anyone else, sadly.

"You're most welcome, Harry." He took his wand, slow in his movements in order to not scare the boy, "Let's see how's your eyesight doing, yes?" 

The young wizard nodded at him to proceed, already familiar with the procedure. Anestis was kind enough to not let anyone visit Harry, mainly Albus Dumbledore, after Harry admitted he didn't feel safe nor comfortable in the presence of the Headmaster. Anestis didn't even ask why, he just did as asked, a playful wink in return after telling him he kicked Dumbledore out of St Mungo. That was the first time the raven cracked a smile, making the healer smile wider at him. It's funny knowing someone who isn't a dark wizard doesn't worship the Headmaster, after all.

"Perfect! You're finally free from me, Mr Potter." Announced with amusement the older man.

"Free? But Jason, you're the best! I will miss you." It started as a joke and it ended as the truth.

"I'll miss you too, kiddo." He received a sad look from the healer, before it changed into his usual cherry self. "So try and come visit me, alright?" His laugh calmed Harry enough to return his smile.

Two weeks. Hogwarts started without his presence, news of him in St Mungo everywhere. No one knows why or in which room he was staying. It helped to move around in his disguise after leaving St Mungo using both transfiguration and the Disillusionment Charm. His first visit was to the Dursley, surprising himself. They didn't seem to be aware of his absence, nor did he see anything around the surrounding areas. Odd.

His next stop was Gringotts Bank. Aware his disguise couldn't fool them, Harry didn't bother hiding his face. He still had his hood up though.

"Greetings Master Goblin. I'd like to request a blood test. I have the gold to pay for it." Granted, he stole it from many unsuspecting victims, he thought ashamed of himself.

The goblin stared down at him from his place before grunting a "Follow me". 

It took him around half an hour to be done. He got a promise they wouldn't be enemies, his key changed, and all his vaults checked for anything that was taken. Just in case. Luckily, it didn't seem anything was taken. But there was registered that there were some items James Potter took and were never returned. Like his Invisibility Cloak. Some books, too. In exchange, they got some more gold and his own promise of not causing them any problems. Mentioning he was a time traveler seemed to do the trick, the knowledge of their dark future enough to silence them. Harry didn't feel proud.

After that he went directly to the Leaky Cauldron, were he waited for someone from Hogwarts to come get him. Jason probably already told them he was discharged. And he was right, as it only took them three hours later, when it became night time, for someone to knock on the door. It was firm and quick. It stopped, waiting for him to let them it.

"Mr Potter," It was, to Harry's surprise, Severus Snape. 

"Oh. Um, hello, sir. Are you from Hogwarts?" He tried to straighten his back and appear both interested and shy. Confident but unsure. 

"I am." Black eyes moved around the small room before settling in his form. "Professor Snape. I'll be your Potion teacher while at Hogwarts. The Headmaster told me you didn't receive any letter." It didn't sound like a question, but Harry answered anyway.

"I was at the Hospital, sir." He doesn't want to make Snape hate him like before. He hates the idea, knowing the man in front of him saved his life multiple times. 

"So I was told." He spoke softly, not having moved from in front of the door. "May I know the reason?" The rush of emotion Harry felt at seeing Snape raise an eyebrow took him by surprise, unable to form a coherent answer.

After a few long seconds of breathing deeply, the young wizard managed to say he was found injured and that he couldn't remember how it happened. Snape remained silent, taking something from his pocket, a white-ish envelope. Harry took it, his hands shaking for different reasons than those of his injuries, and opened it. He already knew what it would say, of course, but after so long it was hard to remember all the details. The way the paper felt in his hands, the color of the ink, the smell of the parchment. It made him feel alive.

"Thank you," He whispered, reading it again with a smile. He didn't see black eyes softening their glare. 

Chapter Text

"Sir, how come no one told me I was wizard?" Harry wondered over a quick dinner, both wizards in the younger's room. They stayed in the Leaky Cauldron after Harry thanked his teacher for the letter, and asked for the Potions Master to stay in the pub to accompany Harry tomorrow in his shopping. During that time Harry had so many questions ready, but all he could ask was the same question he had the first time around. Why no one ever told him anything? Except, he never told anyone any of his doubts, assuming there was nothing wrong, that it was normal and it happens to everyone. 

Snape didn't react externally beyond rising one eyebrow, waiting for an explanation at the odd question. Although the man was informed about Harry Potter living among the Muggles, the boy seemed to indicate that he knew nothing about magic up until he arrived at Diagon Alley.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, sir, but it's hard to believe in magic when all my life I've been told it doesn't exist." His comment was phrased in a way that would indicate there were problems where the kids lives, or so Harry hoped. Snape's smart, he'll realise something's wrong. 

"And where did you get that idea from?" His body leaning into the table they were sharing, Snape pressed his fingers together, looking over them at the green-eyed boy. So different from what he expected and was told.

"My aunt and uncle told me. They were adamant it didn't exist." Was his short explanation in a uncaring manner.

"Your aunt and uncle?" His black eyes stared at him for a few seconds, mulling over what his student told him and what he knew. "Is your aunt's name Petunia, by any chance?" Feigning a surprised expression, Harry nodded, immediately asking if he knew her. "You could say that. I was... friends with her sister. You mother." He added softly the last part.

"Oh." Harry finished the rest of his meal in silence, wanting to leave his teacher to his thoughts. Even though he doesn't know much about their relationship, it was always obvious to him they were somehow close.

"You should rest now, Mr Potter. We're going to get up early tomorrow so I'm expecting you to be ready when I come to get you." The potion Master stood up, looking at the boy for confirmation before leaving to his own room.

_

Next morning, just as promised, Harry was awake and ready for his shopping. The first stop was Gringotts, the goblins knowing better than react differently than expected. However, when their turn came, the Goblin did not accept the key Snape offered, explaining that it was not active.

"I'm afraid we received information that the key was unsafe when various items from the Potters' vaults went missing. Furthermore, we did not obtain any confirmation that Mr. Potter was alive after the death of his parents, nor was it possible to contact him to read the Potter family will, therefore the key was deactivated for security measures. However, you can do a blood test now, and obtain another key. For a small fee, of course." Smirk the Goblin, showing his teeth. 

"Of course," grumbled the Potion Master, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He ended up paying with his own money and soon they were outside with a full pouch and a new key in the youngest hands. 

"Why did you have the key?" The question was out before Harry could mull it over, his curiosity too strong to ignore. Hagrid had his key before, too. Then the Weasley kept it. 

"Unfortunately, the Headmaster thought it better to keep it with him rather than giving it to you or your guardians." His reply was exactly what the raven expected but at the same time it displeased him. Why did Dumbledore feel the need to keep the key to his vault? He wasn't his guardian. When he was younger he didn't question it. Now he's older, and what the old man did was against the law. So why? It's not like the Dursley had access to the magical world to steal gold from him, nor would they have lost it knowing the Headmaster could get mad at them. It just didn't make sense. Unless... "We should get you clothes first before continuing." 

His thoughts were interrupted by his teacher, noticing his look of distaste. Now that he mentioned it, he hadn't been able to change his clothes, used as he was to always wearing the same one. Both when he was with the Dursley, when he was in Azkaban and after that. He didn't have many options. 

"Yes, sir." 

This time, getting measured and trying on the clothes took much longer. Professor Snape forced him to buy several items of clothing: shirts of various colors, sweaters, pants, shoes, underwear, coats, and even a black cape with silver details. All of very good quality and obviously spelled to fit as he grew. He never expected the Potion Master to some day spoil him this much. With clothes, no less!

"Sir, I think this is too much..." the raven mumbled, overwhelmed, not used to so many things. As of now he was wearing a dark green shirt that was so smooth that he had to resist running his fingers over it. Black comfortable pants and black shiny shoes. They were simple but better than anything he's ever worn. 

"Nonsense. These are the basic, Potter. I won't hear any complaints from you." If he put it like that... Harry nodded quickly, too warm to complain anymore. It was really nice of his teacher. 

"Thank you." He grunted but said nothing more, moving to another shop. Trunks, this time. 

Chapter Text

They were on their way to Ollivander's shop with his trunk full of potion ingredients -carefully chosen by Snape,- his new clothes and uniform, all type of books, and much more. Professor Snape made him buy several books that he had never read or heard of before, remarking how important it is to be well informed about their world. Harry's not fan of them, never was. It still left him with a warm feeling all over his chest. They also took a break getting an chocolate flavour ice cream in Florean Fortescue after the Potion Master caught him looking at it.

"Why do we need wands if we can do magic without them?"

And this is were they were now, getting his own wand. The raven suspected he would get the same one he had before. He missed it, remembering when he was told it was broken yet again. The Elder Wand disappeared without a trace when he got captured. 

"Wands help when we use magic by creating a connection between our core and that of the wand. Some have a harder time to let their energy out."

"So all wands are different, tailor-made for each individual and used both as a tool and an extension of our arm." His answer got an odd look from his teacher that got unnoticed. 

Once inside, the interaction between Ollivander and Harry was the same as he remembers except for the presence of Snape, who frowned when he heard the part about Voldemort's twin wand. The fact that the wandmaker gave no indication as to what that means worried the time traveller. He never asked. That is, until now.

"What does that mean, sir?" Pale silvery eyes locked into his emerald one, making Harry a bit uncomfortable. That would never change, he suspected. 

The wandmaker didn't respond immediately, seemingly distracted by his own thoughts. "Not much is known about them. Brother wands hold greater power when used together and can't ever fight each other." He was hesitant, the raven noticed. Harry needed more. 

"But sir, why did the phoenix choose us? I'm nothing special. And all I know from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is that he killed my parents and left me with a scar. I just don't understand." A sigh of frustration left his lips, not wanting to let go of this opportunity. There has to be more, he thought gnawing at his lip. There's too many coincidences for this to be nothing. There must be a connection, not just the Horcrux. The wandmaker is no seer, nor is it possible for the wands to know the future. So, there has to be something else.

"I'm afraid that's all it is known of the twin wands, Mr Potter." Ollivander's voice sounded strangely cold, detached, even. Somehow, Harry knew he was lying. He's hiding information from me. Why?

"Enough." Snape's dark voice snapped the raven from his thoughts, worried about what the Potion Master must have thought of him. I don't want him to hate me, I have to be more careful. "How much?"

"Seven Galleons," was the wandmaker's clipped reply.

"Give him a black leather holster." Added the other. 

"Eight, then." The older wizard nodded at the teacher, floating what he was asked towards Harry.

Once outside, Snape helped him put his holster around his waist before continuing the rest of the shopping. There was only one stop and it was Magical Menagerie. Harry didn't feel ready to face Hedwig again, unsure if the girl would still be in there. What if she didn't want anything to do with him, if she was inside?

"Sir, I don't think I want an owl." There was an unmistakable tremble to his voice, something Professor Snape took notice of.

"Owls are not the only pet you can get. However, if you really feel you're not ready for now, perhaps we can try another day." He accepted.

"That would be... nice, sir. Thank you."

"In that case, we better head down to the Leaky Cauldron. We've spent enough time here as it is." His teacher prompted him to speed up by putting his hand over his shoulder.

"Why there?"

"We'll be taking the floo." Was his only answer. Once there, Tom the bartender ushered them to another room where a fireplace was waiting for them. Snape didn't hesitate to take a handful of floo powder and throwing it to the fire, changin its colors to green at the contact. "Inside, now. And do try to stay silent." Harry quickly did as told, nervous, remembering his first experience with the floo. He heard a familiar address but didn't have time to react as the next second he felt an uncomfortable pull.

The experience wasn't as bad as he remembers it to be. It must have been because I was alone the first time, thought the shorter wizard, getting out of the fireplace dizzy.

"Marvellous! I see you both made it just on time, Severus, Harry." Said wizard swore mentally before looking up the crooked nose of Albus Dumbledore.

"Hello, Headmaster." He greeted, giving a fake smiling.

"Headmaster," Nodded the teacher in black.

Chapter Text

"Take a seat, my boy." The Headmaster gestured in front of his desk where a red chair with golden details appeared. Just the one, noted Harry with a frown. Despite his reservations, he did took a seat after snatching a quick look at the Potion Master who stood still. Dumbledore sat down in his own chair-like-throne calmly as if he wasn't thrown out of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries by one of the healers while visiting Harry Potter, the boy who lived, weeks ago. "I see you got new clothing," the older wizard remarked.

"Yes, sir. I didn't have any left." Was Harry's reply. He took his need to avoid looking at his twinkling eyes by openly admiring the interior, as clustered as he remembers it to be. He didn't see Fawkes.

"Haven't you thought of going back to the Dursley to get some of your things?" This was an interrogation the boy realised with a start. It still surprises and disappoints him everytime he notices the Headmaster's odd choice of words, always stirring the conversation to where he wants it to go. It infuriates him.

"I haven't thought about it, sir." He barely stopped himself from snapping before quickly relaxing his shoulders, adding, "I got distracted by magic. This world is amazing!" Faking enthusiasm wasn't as hard as he expected, although it probably had something to do with actually loving magic even after all this time.

"Good. That's good to hear. Magic is extraordinary, isn't it." He paused for just a second before asking the next. "Is there a reason Healer Anestis banned me from seeing you while you were at St Mungo?" 

"Sorry, sir. I didn't even know you tried to visit again." The raven lied through his teeth. "I thought you were too busy as the Headmaster. Sir." 

"I see. If that's the case, can I ask why didn't you go back to your home after being discharged? I know for a fact you've been staying in a room in the Leaky Cauldron." Dumbledore's questions were making him angrier by the second. 

"As I said before, sir, I haven't thought about it, to caught up with this new world. I'm sure the Dursley don't miss me." He smiled tightly when saying the last part. 

"I'm sure they do, my boy. They are your family after all." After taking a deep breath, he continued. "Harry, as you probably were already informed by professor Snape here," the old man didn't even deign to glance at said teacher, who remained silent during the whole interrogation. "Hogwarts has already started. That means you'll have to study hard to keep up with your fellow classmates. For that we need to first know where you're going to be sorted." The old man didn't even try to explain what Houses were nor what do they mean before standing up and fetching an old looking hat. He could have used magic, why didn't he? Does he also believes Snape told me about the Houses? And why did he mention the Dursley? What's his plan? How infuriating. All those thoughts were plaguing Harry Potter, interrupted only by the return of the Headmaster. Dumbledore didn't say anything, putting the hat over the messy nest he calls hair. Just like last time, the hat was too big for his head and took his vision completely, surrounding him with darkness. He was used to the darkness.

Oh! A time traveller! I never got to sort one until now. The voice inside of his head exclaimed in delight. Detecting the slight panic on the kid the hat calmly assured him it wouldn't tell anything to anyone, nor can anyone take the information from it. I have to say, seeing myself is an odd feeling I never thought I would experience. Now, where were we? That's right! You were a great Gryffindor in your previous life, however... I see that was more out of necessity over the real you. You're been through a lot, haven't you. And yet, you, Harry Potter, has still so much potential. Where to put you? Where to put you? The hat kept ruminating while exploring inside the raven's head, going all about how ambitious his goals were or how brave he was at all times. Oh! I know! Even after all you went through, you still care and show a lot of determination and loyalty towards those you called friends and family. You belong to...

"Hufflepuff!" The other wizards heard. Both were surprised at the chosen House, however, it was Snape who reacted first by removing the hat, his black eyes meeting green familiar ones. 

"Congratulations, Mr Potter." The kid smiled shyly up at him before turning his  gaze to the Headmaster who was still unresponsive.

Anxiously, he coughed to get the old man's attention. "Is that all, sir?"

"Yes." Words were finally uttered, "Yes. That is all. Professor Snape will guide you to the Hufflepuff's common room. Since this is your first day we can assume you'll need a couple of days to get used to the school and to your roommates." Dumbledore smiled at Harry and nodded at him to go, clearly dismissing him.

Both of them left, the door closing softly behind them. 

They were down entering the same corridor where the kitchens are when Harry stopped, forcing Snape to also stop walking and to turn around to look at him questioningly. "I'm sorry, sir."

"What for?" The older wizard stayed where he was, staring. "Look at me, Potter." Harry looked into the black eyes, unsure. "Never apologize unless you've done something wrong."

"I'm so-. I mean, yes, sir." He nodded. 

"Now, tell me what is this about." The Potion Master ordered gently.

"I was apologising because you had to use your own money to help me get my key and accompany me through out all the shopping, sir. I didn't mean to inconvenience you." While he was explaining it, Harry realised how silly it sounded, squeezing the bottom of his shirt in his hands. Snape was right, he understands now. He hadn't done anything wrong even if it feels like that.

"It was my own choice." Harry nodded in understanding, watching as the other man headed towards the Hufflepuff's common room entrance. "Now, your dormitory is waiting. The others are still in class, so use that time wisely to unpack and read a book. I'll be expecting good performance in my class." There's a bit of playfulness in his potion teacher's voice, taking the raven by surprise. 

"Y-Yes, sir!" Harry grinned up at him, excited to make this better. A better impression. Maybe a friend, a grown up who he can trust this time around. Only time will tell. 

Chapter Text

Somewhere unknown, a man with a purple turban appeared out of nowhere, disturbing a few birds that flew away. The man entered what appeared to be a shack in the middle of a mild storm after hastily retrieving from Hogwarts without leaving any notice of his sudden disappearance. It's dark both inside and out, but the man didn't seem to have any problem peering into the shadows and beyond, finding a very old creaky bed to lie on. The cold air from outside moved slightly the whitish curtains, hiding the moon. His eyes were closing, only his stubbornness helping to maintain them open until he received the okay. 

"You'll die, my faithful friend." A sibilant voice sounded yet the wizard didn't open his mouth. The voice didn't come from him. 

"I know, Master." Was his soft reply. His energy is quickly vanishing and his body is deteriorating fast, faster than anticipated. "I was aware this could happen before I approached you." 

"You did good. You still have one last order to fulfill for me, nonetheless. It is not yet your time." 

"Yes, Master. Tomorrow." He implored in his exhaustion. His closing eyelids won the fight.

"You may rest." Permitted the other softly. They would extend his life, if only for a bit.

The next day they started to gather every tool and ingredients needed for the potion they were about to make, early morning. It was a simple one that was created many centuries ago before it was restricted, as the Ministry considered the ingredients as too barbaric. Nothing compared to drinking unicorn's blood, however. 

Quirrell took a shaky step closer to the cauldron. They were waiting for the water to boil before adding guts from a rabbit caught half an hour ago (as any animal would do for this one). Then, he had to stir to the right seven times before adding some herbs and, finally, his own blood. No more than three drops. He had to consume it before it turned into a mess of rotten meat.

The sacrifice would do to survive for a few more weeks. After all, what they were about to do will take time and a lot of energy that he otherwise wouldn't have. 

A few days passed for the right moment to perform a ritual to help magic, the order his Master wanted him to fulfill. One of many. Voldemort had at some point stopped performing rituals, stopped thinking about Magic as what it is, a source of life. He forgot his origin. 

While waiting, the Dark Lord told Quirrell about a mistake he did long ago to become immortal, reminiscing about his younger self when he was more naive but had the right head over this shoulders. 

"Now magic is dying. We are not as strong as we were before, Quirinus." 

When asked about it, his words were carefully chosen. To his horror, he spoke of a near future were death prevails over life, where the ground is black with ash and bodies scattered everywhere. Of no nights and days because of the thick fog that fell over them. Of screams and wailing echoing, granting inside your skull until only the silence of their demise is all that remain. And then, only then, there's the shadow of diseases and muggle weapons to erase everything else. 

After that, he started to talk about some objects that were in danger of being found out and used against him. Quirrell didn't fully understand what he was listening to. Despite being a Ravenclaw, he had yet to read everything about dark magic. His Master laughed at his silly thoughts and corrected him. As it turns out, creating Horcruxes is actually neutral magic, not dark. While you had to use a sacrifice to get it, the magic itself wasn't based on strong emotions, nor was the sacrifice the direct cause of its creation. You didn't use blood or life. Horcruxes are created after breaking a part of your soul to then put it somewhere else for safe keeping. To do that, you don't need to kill a person, any animal would suffice. The only difference is that you have to want to focus on getting that specific shard of your soul to move it into another container and seal it there to stay. It's a very painful procedure, unfortunately. There isn't much research on it, only the words Proceed with Caution and the ritual. Anyone who kills an animal, creature, or human, accidentally or not, has their soul broken, something Voldemort could see happening because of his ability to see magic. Meaning, he knows when someone has already killed someone. There's no fixing it. Of course, none of them used the ritual, therefore none of them created Horcruxes. Hence why it isn't dark magic. It's a shame, then, that it is seen as such. And, in the end, magic is magic, regardless of labels. 

Even more of a shame is the fact that it's so easy to stop your own death even if it is temporary, but there's no way to stop the death of someone else. No one needs to know the last part, however. Quirrell promised to take those words to his grave, whenever that might be.

"Please, Master. There has to be another way." 

The miasma of pure magic in the air was making his breathing harder by the second, choking him and making him fight for every move of his lungs. 

"Quirinus, I believe I already told you why it has to be this way." The voice of the Dark Lord replied menacingly, impatiently. "If we don't, magic will die. Everything will be for nothing." 

"I know. I know." The poor man squeaked out. "But... How? How can I do this? I've never seen any ritual this complex before. Many of these runes are unknown!" He was spiraling deeper and deeper into his thoughts. "If a fail you, Master, what, then? I don't want to be the one responsible for killing Magic." The young man wailed. 

"Unknown for you." Hissed Voldemort, tired of his servants excuses. "I've lived longer, I've learned more than you could ever imagine. You won't kill magic, you'll be helping me restore it and save it from the muggles. Understood? Now, copy down the runes I've left you written in that piece of paper and do as I say!" Angry words were spilled out, dripping with authority.

"Y-Yes. Yes, Master! Immediately, Master!" Quickly, he grabbed his wand, falling into his knees to start to engrave the runes painfully slowly into the stones and the ground around him. And, finally into his own flesh. It would take a day or two if he was quick, and a week if he was careful. Careful it is, he thought miserably, wincing at the pressure of magic.

"When you're done, I expect you to let me use your body to do the rest." 

"Yes, sir." 

An entire week of carving thousands of runes with the fear of them exploding in his face over his head were taking a toll on Quirrell. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he took a few breaks to make sure he was hydrated beofe continuing. The Dark Lord knows what he's doing, he has to keep reminding himself. Why was he so scared? He wouldn't fail. He couldn't fail. 

After another night sitting with his legs crossed, blood seeping into the ground down below from the wounds on his skin, the younger wizard tapped into their shared bond, Quirrell waited for Voldemort take over and watch his Master's plan enfold hidden inside his own mind.

It started with an incantation, in a language he never heard before. When the runes were activated, lighting all of them at the same time, Quirrell starred in amazement at how the magic swirled around his naked body. Some were close to him, some were touching his bare skin and sending electric currents down his spine, the feeling both familiar an unfamiliar, a bit muddled for being just a witness in his own body. He shuddered, warmth and cold fighting against its each other. He felt so strong surrounded by this much power. How much more was his Lord feeling? 

Soon, the lights got brighter and brighter, rendering him blind, and then unconscious. But the body stayed upright, unfaltering, red eyes intensely focus and chanting under his breath. The other wizard's mind couldn't take it, but the Dark Lord could. Soon, he would go back to take what was his, but now... Now he had to protect Magic. He closed his eyes and breathed. 

_

It was late when the students returned to their own common rooms, putting down their books and preparing to go to dinner. In Hufflepuff, however, things were different. When the students entered, the first thing they noticed was the warmth that emanated from inside, clearly from the burning fire. And in front of the fireplace, settled in a brown armchair, was a dark-haired boy sleeping comfortably with a book on his chest which rose and fell gently.

"Who is that?" One whispered. 

"Looks like a kid. Is he lost?" Someone else mumbled. 

"Everyone, move away, let him sleep." Cedric Diggory ordered quietly, standing in front of the rest of the students. The older students soon followed, watching the spectacle. 

"But Cedric, there shouldn't be anyone else here. Shouldn't we call Professor Sprout?" Observe another voice, a second year, all eyes on either Cedric or Harry.

"He must be a late student." Was the third year student's response, uncertain. 

"So he must be Harry Potter!" Cedric heard a girl shriek. A tired sigh left his lips, trying to silence all the whispering. They were too loud and were gonna wake up the sleeping boy, couldn't they see it? Even the older years seemed to be talking to each other, too curious to stop. That is, until the door opened again to let in their Head of House.

"Professor!" At the exclamation, all voices lowered until only silence remained.

"I see you've already found our new addition." Joked the woman, her eyes moving from student to student. Pomona Sprout is a squat little witch with short, grey, wavy hair, kind eyes and even kinder heart. And so, it was a surprise when she turned serious in front of them. "Don't stay there, move! Move!" She made them bolt outside before closing the entrance. Once alone, a sigh left her. When she received news about Harry Potter in her House it was quite a shock. Initially, she believed it must have been a mistake until professor Dumbledore assured her it wasn't and that the kid was in the common room, waiting. She tried to make it in time to stop her little badgers from bothering the poor boy, arriving just in time. 

With confidence, the Herbology professor conjured another armchair and took a seat in front of Harry, her hand over his shoulder to wake him up. She didn't expect his reaction at the sudden contact, however, forcing her to release her hold. 

"It's alright, Mr Potter. Shush now, you're okay. You're safe." Her words were spoken softly, comforting. His haunting green eyes looked up at her from his half sitting position, terror shining in them. "You had a nightmare, didn't you? You're awake now, it's alright."

"Sorry, professor. Didn't mean to bother you." His student replied after a period of silence, wary of her reaction. She was one of the teachers he never got the time to properly meet, so he was unsure on what to expect. He remembers a kind soft-spoken woman who loves plants, but beyond that? Nothing. Did she survive the War? Was she one of the corpses he saw? 

"It was no bother. You had to wake up anyways, dear." Her chuckle soothed his frayed nerves, his shoulders relaxing at last. A second later she seemed to remember something and added, "It's time to dinner."

"Oh." He didn't realise how much time he spent sleeping. Face flushing, his eyes turned down in his lap, "Thank you for the reminder, ma'am." He mumbled.

"You're welcome, dear. Would it be okay to talk tomorrow, after breakfast, about your missed classes?" Harry nodded, confused. Noticing his expression, she explained, "It's to make up for the lost time. You'll be in the other students level in no time! I'll make sure the other teachers help you with it, too. I'd also like to talk about you, Mr Potter. As your Head of House, I want to know if there's any allergies or difficulties you might have. During this, and the next years, I'll be your guardian, after all. And I try to take care of all of my badgers." Mcgonagall never did anything like that with her lions, came the sad thought. 

"That would be nice, professor. I... Thank you." Was all he could say, tears welling up.

"No need to thank me." Understanding the boy needed some time alone before going to the Great Hall and face everyone, she stood up to leave. "I'll be waiting outside."

Harry immediately went to the bathroom. He didn't look at his reflection, simply splashing cold water in his teary face before changing his clothes into something more comfortable. Then he took a deep breath, coming out of the Hufflepuff common room. His new Head of House waiting as she promised. There was no one else.

"Ready, Mr Potter?" The raven nodded and promptly followed her.

No one said anything during the the short walk to the Great Hall. Harry took that time to properly study his surroundings, all the portraits, the walls, the stones as they went up the stairs. So familiar and yet so foreign. There were no scorched marks, no broken paintings or bodies. It felt odd to walk in these same halls after what he experienced. It felt empty.

"We are here." Pomona announced, turning in his direction. Her eyes softened at what she saw. "You don't have to answer anyone's inquiries if you don't feel comfortable with it." Her student nodded again, silent as ever. And so, she opened the big doors, the chattering falling into silence at their entrance. All eyes were drawn to the boy next to her. "Well? Keep eating!" She scolded at them. The young wizard took the opportunity to approach the Hufflepuff table and take the only seat that was available. It was like time stopped and then stated up once he took his seat. The whispers resumed as well. That doesn't seem to ever change, came the disgruntled thought.

"It's true! Harry Potter is in our House!" 

"In Hufflepuff? That's so lame!" 

"I thought he would be in Gryffindor..." That voice sounded vaguely familiar but Harry kept ignoring all of them. 

"What do you think happened?" 

"I heard he fell from the sky." 

"That's impossible!" 

"As if. He probably lied to get more attention." They went on and on. Their opinions, though not important, were starting to get to the raven, who was trying to eat in peace. 

"Hey, Potter." Someone from his table called. He ignored them. "Potter." He took another bite of the soup when he was suddenly interrupted, his spoon forcefully taken from him mid-air. "Potter! I'm talking to you!" Lifting his gaze to the one was bothering him, he took notice of his face and name. Zacharias Smith. One of the people who escaped during the battle of Hogwarts, pushing first years out if his way. Harry slammed the bowl down on the table, his eyes locked on the cowardly boy across from him who froze at his attention.

"Talk, then. You have my full attention." The other boy remained silent until he heard the next words. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I wanted to know if the rumours are true." He stuttered out while trying and failing to maintain an air of authority. 

The raven pulled his better impression of Professor Snape, voice quiet but strong, back straight and head up. Then he lifted up one eyebrow curling his lips in distaste. "Do you believe every rumour you hear?" 

Gasping at the display, Smith openly gaped before spluttering, "D-Don't you dare talk to me like that! Do you even know who I am?" Snarled the blond, pointing a trembling finger at him. 

"I don't. And I don't care." Throwing him a furious look, he continued while trying to get his spoon back. "I was eating before you interrupted. I thought it was obvious I wasn't interested on talking."

Smith was seething, getting up from his seat and taking the object from the other boy's hand and throwing it away. If before it was quiet, now it was deadly silent, the tension rising to an unbearable point. "It's rude to ignore others."

"You're not entitled to my attention." Harry shot back, irritated. "And I find your actions more rude than me ignoring you."

"You little-" 

"Enough!" A voice boomed, interrupting whatever Zacharias was about to say. "Mr Smith, detention with your Head of House after dinner." It was the Headmaster, who was wearing a serious expression. For once, his eyes weren't twinkling. "Mr Potter." Everyone waited with baited breath. "With me." And just like that, whispers broke the silence. Harry scowled at the other boy, leaving the table to approach the Headmaster. Just what he needed, his first day and he was already in trouble.

"Excuse me, Headmaster. I'd like to talk to my student." To the surprise of both Harry and Dumbledore, Pomona Sprout stepped in front of them, her body positioned in such a way that was hiding the younger one from the old man.

"Now?" 

"He's my responsibility. And I wouldn't want to interrupt your meal, Headmaster." Her smile wasn't soft like the previous times, but sharp. 

"If you insist." He relented. With a disappointed expression, he left them be.

"Follow me, Mr Potter. I'll talk with Mr Smith later." 

It was taking longer to arrive at Sprout's office than the young wizard expected. He couldn't take it anymore and started to apologise.

"I didn't mean to loose my temper, professor. I'm sorry if I caused you problems with the Headmaster, it won't happen again."

"Relax, dear. You're not the one at fault here. Remember when I told you didn't have to answer anyone's questions if you didn't feel comfortable with it? I meant it. Zacharias Smith has always been an insolent child but I didn't expect him to take it this far. Don't blame yourself for what he did." Somehow, her words calmed him down enough to peer up at her in curiosity.

"So you're not mad?" 

"Oh, no, no. I am mad." Her laughter seemed to contradict her words, further confusing the boy. "I'm mad at him, not you, dear." It still didn't explain why she wasn't berating him, showing she's, in fact, angry. Why was she hiding it? "Since you couldn't finish your dinner we'll be eating in my office. Would that be okay?" 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Chapter Text

Professor Sprout's office is spacious with several plants spaced around it to no one's surprise. Cream walls, pale yellow curtains, and a mix of browns and greens in other places, the place was giving a very welcoming feeling. Harry saw there was a brown sofa with a yellow blanket in the middle, in front of the fireplace, and next to it was a shelf full of books and some scrolls, clearly used because of how worn but well cared they looked. Harry didn't see any portraits, probably for the sake of privacy. But what got his full attention, apart from stairs on the side, was the big, giant, window occupying one entire side of the walls. He got closer to look at the view and was surprised it wasn't spelled for it was showing exactly what was outside of Hogwarts. Mountains, the lake, and beyond the dark forest was the sea - very, very far from where they were watching it. It was a nice view that transmitted both calm and positive feelings.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He heard his teacher's soft voice. He nodded without looking back at her, entranced. He could stay here forever. "We can eat right here, if you want." It wasn't exactly a question but the raven finally turned around to look at her with hopeful eyes that made her laugh lightly and move her wand to make a table, two comfy chairs appearing in front of the window.

"Thank you, professor." She nodded, accepting his gratitude before gesturing for him to take his seat while she took hers. 

"Sunny." Pomona called out loud, a very silent pop sounding next to them. Harry stared at the small house elf. She had big brown eyes and had the same floppy ears as Dobby. But that's were the similarities stopped. Sunny looked far healthier and more happy that the boy has ever seen a house elf look, adding a yellow pretty dress with white flowers as a pattern.

Noticing his students surprised look, she turn to him, introducing her. "This is a house elf, dear. They help with some of the chores in here. Her name's Sunny. Say hi, Sunny." She smiled encouragingly. 

"Greetings, young master." Her squeaky voice was actually less squeaky than he expected, her English sounding better, too. 

"Hi." He replied shyly at her before blurting out, "I did the chores for the Dursley." Well, he thought, this is as good as any time to mention them.

"That's... nice of you, dear." She paused before saying those words, her lips tight. "But in Hogwarts you won't have to do any chores except from what is your direct responsability, which ranges from tidying your room and make sure everything you used is cleaned afterwards. That rule includes everyone else, of course. Beyond that, you and the others are free to do as you please." Her explanation makes sense and it was agreeable, in Harry's opinion. "Now, what would you like to eat? She and the other house elves will get it ready in no time!"

"Umm... Soup sounds nice. I don't really feel that hungry." He apologised, his fingers twiddling in his nervousness. He tried to smile although it probably looked more like a grimace. There was something about kindness that always made him feel uneasy. Would she want something in exchange? He doesn't believe so. Still, he would be on his ward.

"That's alright." She turned to Sunny, who was waiting patiently, "I'd like macaroni and cheese, please, Sunny. And two glasses of water, too."

"Immediately, Ms Flower!" The raven blinked at the spot she left, surprised at the nickname not expecting such informality coming from a house elf. It was nice. Cute, even.

"Mr Potter."

"Harry, ma'am. I prefer to be called Harry." Realising he interrupted her he immediately apologised, hands clasped tightly in his lap. I can't make any bad impression. 

"Then you can call me Pomona, yes?" She smiled gently at him, unbothered. "Harry, may I ask you about your relatives? If not, we can discuss other topics. It's your choice." He knew he probably should, it would help him get out of there. Not like he will go back... But, even after all this time he still struggles to talk about them. They weren't worse than facing Voldemort, for Merlin's sake! So why was he finding it so hard?

"They don't like me or my magic, ma'am." Was all he managed to utter, his heart constricting. Sunny took that moment to appear with their respective meals, silent considering his previous experiences with these type of creatures and their magic. To be fair, Dobby was silent when he wanted. 

"I see. Thank you for telling me. What about we talk about any possible allergies?" Her change of subject was welcomed, and Harry used it to take first a sip from his hot soup, noticing rich flavour against his tongue. It was delicious. It was also different from the one in the Great Hall. He gathered all the information he knew about himself, which was not much, as searched for any mention of allergies. He found none. 

"I don't know if I have any. The only time I went to the Hospital was when I was around four years old because of a strong fever and persistent coughing. The Dursley were worried it was something contagious so they took me there. I don't remember any mention of allergies, though." He finished his explanation, taking another sip.

"That's worrisome. I'll ask Poppy to check you later. Do you have any difficulties related to studies?" Harry could smell the cheese of her teacher's food, getting distracted for a moment.

"I... I think so? I enjoy practice more than theory. I can't focus for long periods of time when I read." It wasn't something he ever paid much attention but was conscious of nonetheless. He wanted to learn more, his brain simply wasn't working. Or at least it felt like that. His eyebrows scrunched together in thought. "Actually, that also happens when I'm listening." He added.

"What about your handwriting? If I understood correctly, you've been staying in the muggle world. I don't believe they use quills anymore." 

"Does everyone know that?" His groan of annoyance got Pomona laughing, amused at his expense. "It's not fair."

"You're right. It is not fair." She nodded her head sympathetically. "If it makes you feel better, no, not everyone knows. Some don't believe it, others have theories. Only a few selected know for certain."

"Ah. I also have a horrible handwriting, or so I've been told. My wrist hurts everytime I try to hold anything." Which is true, but it mostly happens when he uses any tool for far too long or uses too much strength. 

"I'll make sure you practice how to use it properly after getting that checked out." Her lists of what the kid needed to get checked was getting too long. "Have you had time to read? If so, is there anything that caught your attention or you find interesting?"

Harry hummed before replying, taking his time to choose the right words. "I find potions interesting. I promised professor Snape I would do well in his class. His exact words were 'I'll be expecting good performance in my class'."

"Ah, yes. That sounds like Severus."

"He was the one to give me the letter." His comment got another smile. Pomona Sprout was a very joyful person, Harry was realising during their chat. And that would explain her wrinkles around the sides of her mouth and eyes. Smile lines? Laugh lines? Whatever they are called, he hopes someday to have them too. Signs of happiness. Oh, how wonderful it would be. Finished their meal, there were many questions in the raven's mind, prompting his next words. "Professor. Could I ask you some questions?"

"Why, yes, of course!"

Seeing her expectant expression, he turned his head away with the excuse of looking at the view. It was getting dark very quickly and he knew he would be soon returning to the common room. She waited patiently. 

"Do you think-" He paused, his hand touching his face in worry, biting his lower lip before continuing. "Is it possible to stay here during summer?" He already knows the answer, of course, but that didn't stop him from asking. From trying. "I mean, I don't want to bother anyone. I was just wondering if it's possible to go somewhere else to stay during summer rather than going back... home." The last word was said hesitantly, eyes darting to his teacher.

"According to the rules, no. It is not possible unless in very dangerous times in which case it would be a lock down." Seeing his student's dejected look, she felt the need to add. "However, since you're a Potter you can find another family that are related to you other that your muggle relatives. Most old magical families are in some way related, so it shouldn't be hard." That got his attention.

"Really?" His eyes widened at the information. He got his blood test done but all he saw mentioned was Gryffindor and Peverell. Black too, of course, but mainly because of his godfather. Which it reminded him.... "Oh! Profesor! There's something else I've heard about. It's about Sirius Black, ma'am. I know he did bad things. The goblins told me all about it when I asked about who was my godfather." A necessary lie, which luckily she seemed to buy it. "It's just... They mentioned there was no trace of any trial done?" He tried to not sound confident. "How do we know if he was really the culprit? If there was no investigation, no prove, how do they know he was guilty?" He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping he wasn't that obvious. Eager, curious, like any kid would be. He hopes.

"That IS a good question, Harry. I wasn't aware there wasn't any trial." She readjusted in her seat, her arms resting over the table. "Those times were dark, so it shouldn't surprise me. I'll look into it." She promised. "I have a friend who takes care of these type of things. Right now you shouldn't worry about it. Let us take care of it, yes?" There was a pensive look on her eyes. Good. That's means there's the possibility of getting Sirius out of Azkaban sooner, AND getting him cleared of any charges, if there was any in the first place, thought Harry. Seeing her teacher stand up he followed suit. "I believe it's time we say our good night's. We'll talk more tomorrow." His emerald eyes followed hers, seeing the night sky greeting him. The stars were out and no light of the sun could be seen.

"Right. Good night, Pomona." He tried out her name, glad it didn't feel as awkward as he feared it would. Being mentally older did wonders, he guessed. 

"Good night, Harry. You won't find any trouble getting back at the common room, I presume?" He quickly shook his head.

"I have good memory!" She chuckled at his remark.

"Good to know. Be careful, though. Wouldn't want one of my students getting in trouble so soon." She winked her eye to him, her humour infectious. 

"No promises, professor!" He exclaimed, running to the door and leaving before a chuckle of his own escaped him. To be finally free, how wonderful. 

Chapter Text

The next day, Harry woke up with memories of his previous life swirling in his mind. He blinked several times to get the images of wreckage and corpses out of his head. He could still see the skeletal face of the boy he heard the voice from. He would never forget any of that.

Shaking his head, the time traveller got up from his bed. Grabbing a change of clothes from his trunk, he headed for the bathroom he shared with his roommates. He closed the door behind him with a soft click. It was too early for any of them to be awake but he wanted to make sure he wasn't interrupted.

Taking his shirt off, the raven stared at his reflection. As he remembers, his body is too thin to the point where his bones stick out. His clavicle, his ribs, his spine... But not as bad as before. Healer Anestis did a great job healing any of his bruises and broken bones but there are things even magic can't fix. Not immediately. With a heavy sigh, Harry took off the rest of his clothes and turned on the shower, warm water pouring over his messy head and shoulders. He stayed under the water for a few more minutes to enjoy the sensation before shampooing his hair. Rinsing out the shampoo, Harry slowly opened his eyes.

Something changed.

He brushed off the drops falling into his eyes, feeling the magic around him. Hogwarts felt more alive than ever, he noted with surprise. Narrowing his eyes, he finished quickly his shower before changing into his clean clothes. A black shirt, dark forest green trousers and black shiny shoes. His hair was still dripping with water so he dried it off with a wave of his hand without a second thought. Once out of the bathroom, the raven left the room and went downstairs to the common room.

The morning sunlight shone through the windows, sunbeam sparkling beautifully. None of it caught his attention, however, but the thin layer of protective magic that he could see from one of the windows. It disappeared as soon as it appeared.

It wasn't my imagination, he thought in awe. But how?

Turning on his heel, he left the common room and went outside in the corridors. There was no one. Looking around, he headed for the staircase and up the seventh floor. The Room of Requirement was the best place to be alone with his thoughts. He would set a timer for when it was breakfast time once there. What he didn't expect is for the room to open without him asking, a figure already waiting inside.

Cautious, he stepped inside.

"Hello, Harry." That voice... 

Chapter Text

"Hello, Harry." That voice... Harry stepped further into the room, the door closing on its own. The figure turned around to be seen, the only source of light floating around them. Dark curls falling handsomely over red dark eyes, tall and wearing a black modern suit. He's an older version of Tom Riddle. Human, not in his snake like form. 

"Voldemort." The raven whispered. He was left breathless at the sudden appearance of his enemy. Or no longer enemy if he was lucky. "What are you doing here?" He hissed, then, alarmed. "Dumbledore-"

"Shush, my Horcrux." It made Harry cringe hearing the last word. "He doesn't and won't know I'm here, Hogwarts is hiding me. You don't need to worry about that. No." He paused in his speech, eyes darkening. "You have something else to worry about. Like avoiding magic's death. Am I correct?" He knows. But of course he knows. He was there during the ritual. What he couldn't understand is...

"You remember?" His words left his lips in a rush, feeling conflicted. He was relieved he wasn't alone. However, why Voldemort? Why now? Does anyone else remember?

"Only me and you have the knowledge of what happened." Voldemort's voice cut through his thoughts. Something else is nagging him. 

"Where's Quirrell?"

"Dead." His answer was disturbingly void of any emotion. Not surprising.

However, that didn't stop Harry from approaching him. "Why are you here? How?" Voldemort step forward to meet him, eyes not moving from his emerald ones. 

"Magic." To the time traveller's frustration, the other man remained silent after that. What is that supposed to mean, Magic? Is he here to help or not? If Harry had to stop him again, he will. Even if it pains him. 

"You..." Interrupted again, his emerald eyes followed the pale finger moving over his lips to stop him from speaking. Red piercing eyes traced the scar, from his forehead to his cheek where it stopped just shy from touching his chin. Voldemort's expression softened. 

"Now is not the time, my Horcrux." He said quietly, reverently. 

"Stop calling me that." The raven snapped, too overwhelmed in this early morning. He was losing his cool, anxiety turning his stomach. He had to stop himself from the urge to bite his finger off which only made the other smirk.  

"Feisty." His smile disappeared the next second. "Why should I? You are my Horcrux. I can feel it. It's calling me," He said, wonder coloring his voice, "showing me all your memories. You've been mistreated."

"No." He denied, his eyes widening at what he was hearing. He saw his memories? 

"Neglected." Harry shook his head in denial to no avail. Voldemort continued. "Abused. Imprisoned. You've suffered so much in both worlds." He sounded angry. He didn't want Him of all people to be angry for what others did to him.

"You hurt me." Red eyes snapped at his own, something unknown shining on them. "You tried to kill me. You did kill me." His voice went from hard to uncertain, not knowing where he was going with it. "You killed my parents." He felt the frustration bubble up inside him, his voice breaking. 

"I'm sorry." Harry held his breath, taking several steps away from the other wizard and bumping into the wall behind him. The door disappeared. The Dark Lord followed easily. Shock coursed through Harry's body. Sorry? He's sorry? "You don't mean that." He snarled weakly.

"You know I do." His body tensed when long arms reached towards him, enveloping him completely. His body got squeezed closer to the older man. Warm. Alive. Complete. The emptiness inside him left at the contact, tears falling down his cheeks as he hiccuped. He's telling the truth even if it was solely because of the consequences of said action. Small hands held tightly his black robes. "Cry all you want, I won't let you go until you are done." Somehow, that was all Harry needed to let all his bottled up emotions go. He sobbed and sobbed some more, falling down into his knees. He sobbed for a very long time completely aware he was crying into the chest of his parent's killer. His soul. As his weeping subsided, the raven wiped away his tears with the back of his hand to avoid dirtying his knew clothes, remembering he was supposed to go to the Great Hall. How long has it been? 

"I have to go." He throated out, not wishing to release his hold on Voldemort.

"But you don't want to." Harry frowned. Can he read my mean? A chuckle left Riddle's lips, his arms tightening around the smaller form. 

"No. You're projecting your thoughts loudly enough for me to hear." He said, amused. 

"Tell me you're actually the only one who can hear me." Harry practically pleaded, remembering the times he talked to Dumbledore or Snape. Or Pomona Sprout. He groaned, thinking back to previous conversations. 

"Calm yourself, dear. No one else but me can hear you. Although," he looked pensive, as if debating whether he should say what was in his mind or not. "I do believe other Horcruxs will able to hear your thoughts. If you're loud enough, that is." The last part was an obvious jab at his lack of Occlumency shields.

"Ha, ha, very funny." Was Harry's dry reply.

"I know. I'm hilarious." That made a smile tug on the smaller one's lips, hidden away at the older man's chest where he rested against and listened to the beat of a real heart. So alive. He wanted to cry more. To avoid it, the boy shuffled away from him. 

"Voldemort. Seriously, how are you here? I mean... You vanished that night and now you're here in your Tom Riddle persona. What's going on?" He questioned agitation clear in his eyes. 

"As I said before. Magic. I created a ritual to help Magic years ago which I performed in exchange to get my physical body back. Unfortunately, it won't sustain this form for much longer so I will need your help to get a more permanent one." The explanation didn't soothe any of Harry's worries but it did explain what he saw outside the window. 

"So... What will you do now?" He let go his hold on the older man, stepping back to fully inspect him. He hadn't realised how tired the other looked until now. 

"I will be helping you, if that is what you mean. But," he interrupted whatever his Horcrux was about to say, "I won't stop killing. The death of some people is inevitable." Green eyes avoided his, bitting his lower lip. He was unsettled at the idea. He understands why. He understands it's unavoidable. He himself killed people. Merlin, he killed Voldemort! 

"I'm sorry." Knowing the other was already aware of his thoughts, he looked back at Voldemort and projected all his regret onto him. Regret for killing him. Regret for the death of million of innocent people he inadvertently caused, wizard or not. Regret for letting magic die the first time around. Regret for being too weak. Regret for not having done enough. 

"You did enough. It wasn't your responsibility but mine and the rest of the grown-ups. You were but a child and couldn't have done anything to change the outcome. Not without the knowledge of what was about to happen. It's not your fault." He reiterated the last part.

Silence reined after that, both wizards comforted at each others presence. Their talk calmed Harry enough to lean back into the other. Their souls were practically singing to the raven's surprise and mortification. As a form of distraction, green eyes roamed around the room they were in. It was full of trinkets. The room of Hidden Things. 

"Why are we here?" 

"Mmm?" Voldemort looked at what his Horcrux was staring and understood what he meant. "Ah. That's the first place that came to my mind." The young hufflepuff huffed. For such a smart man, the Dark Lord tends to be quite impulsive and predictable.

"How did you even get in?"

"Using one of Slytherin's entrance." Explained Riddle. "There are many portals from all the Founders, all strategically placed in order to exit in case of danger. Or, in this case, get in if one of them gets stuck outside. Slytherin wrote about them on one of his journals." Thankfully, he seemed to have been a bit prepared. "Oh. And, dear? You are still projecting all your thoughts." 

"That was mi intention." Harry smirked, unbothered, looking up at the amused red eyes. His smile was soon replaced by worry. "Does Dumbledore know?" 

"I don't believe so, no. After so many decades, any mention of it - apart from one of the founder's journals - got either erased or forgotten."

"Well, that's a relief."

It wasn't until much later while Harry was eating in the Great Hall - he wasn't, in fact, late but just in time - and after promising to talk again, that Harry realised how close and open, how truthful, they've been to each other. It was an unexpected development but a good one. Taking a bite of some bits of vegetables, he continued to think. It feels so awkward now. It still wasn't worse than the emptiness of being separated again. That wrenching pain didn't seem to go away or lessen, leaving him sore and in a bad mood, stroking the area where it felt worse: his head. 

"You okay, Potter?" He heard a girl say. Looking up, he recognised her as Susan Bones, with her red hair in a long plait down her back and soft looking eyes. She helped him during Hogwarts battle, among other things. He doesn't remember much about her personality.

He smiled reassuringly at her, "I'm alright. Don't worry." 

In a way, he's glad he didn't feel uncomfortable or unsafe despite how dangerous it was to let his guard down. Knowing someone else knows what he knows and wants to help change it... It's more than he ever expected to get. He isn't alone and that's all that matters. 

Chapter Text

After breakfast, Harry followed the other first year Hufflepuffs to their first class, on the third floor - watching as the staircases moved from one place to another. He missed how magical Hogwarts is compared to the dead one in the other world.

It's Wednesday, so they have Charms which they share with the Slytherins.

That meant he wouldn't have to face Ron and Hermione, not yet, but the whispers had still followed him, - just like before - many staring at him while passing by in the corridors. Susan Bones tugged on his sleeve, moving him behind her and hiding him from the wide curious eyes of the other students. Some of their own Hufflepuffs stepped closer, helping the young girl. It took Harry by surprise to see how considerate they are. In his previous life, none of the Gryffindors ever done that. Instead they stared at him like everyone else, too curious to stop and think about how it made him feel. 

As they entered, he looked around and saw Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, already waiting for them standing on a pile of books to see over his desk. Many Slytherins were already there also. When Professor Flitwick's eyes met Harry's, the shorter wizard jumped down to greet the young boy, taking his hand in an enthusiastic handshake. "Mr Potter, it's good to finally meet you! I was starting to worry you would never come." 

"Sorry, Professor. I was in St Mungo's." Harry replied, returning much more calmly the handshake, and opting for a polite smile. He always liked the Charm's teacher. 

"Yes, yes, I've heard. It's unfortunate what happened to you." The older wizard shook his head, his lips turning down sadly. Next second, he was smiling widely again. "But I'm glad to see you up and walking. If there's any doubts and questions about anything," he stressed the last word "you can talk to me. I'll be more than happy to assist you!"

As Harry promised he would, he took that moment to ask his teacher if he could sit in the front seat, immediately getting the approval. 

The classroom has three rows of desks, and the boy took the first one - which was also the closest to the door. He felt safer that way. Flitwick took his seat facing the rest of the students, two blackboards flanking his table.

Filius Flitwick. A great duelist. Harry remembers him when he fought during Hogwarts battle. Voldemort said his ritual is only temporary so Harry needs more people to save Magic. Filius Flitwick would be a great candidate so he needs to get his trust and loyalty. For that, he also needs to open his eyes to Dumbledore's actions. As the raven listened to what was said, he made a mental note to mention the Dursley in some way. Perhaps by letting slip some of the things he already told his Head of House? Or should he try something else?

The class continued, some of the students taking notes while others were listening to their Charm's teacher. The small wizard had been talking about The Levitation Charm, which Harry still remembers from the time Hermione corrected Ron. It made him wonder if they were really his friends during those moments or if they changed their minds about him much later. He didn't want to admit he was scared to talk to them, of relieving all those memories and their broken promises. All the times they laughed and defended each other, or when they taught the others students when... Shaking his head, the boy focused back on what matters: the present. 

At the end of the class, the raven got an idea about what he could mention to the Charm's teacher. As he was waiting for every one to leave - glad most of them stopped staring at some point during class - he felt a tug on his sleeve. It was Susan. 

"What's wrong?" He turned to look at her, wondering if she also wanted to ask something at Flitwick but was too shy about it. 

She shook her head, a troubling expression in her face. He titled his head, worried about what could be bothering her. 

"It's just..." She suddenly straightened her back, a look of determination shining in her eyes. "I wanted to ask you if we can be friends."

Harry stared at her for a long moment, her expression changing into one of insecurity and regret at the lack of response. "I'd like that!" He quickly replied, a small smile blossoming in his lips.

He was glad when she smiled back at him, relief obvious in the way her shoulders relaxed and her expression shine. It must have been really difficult for her to gather the courage to ask. Better than assuming they were already friends, although he wouldn't have complained. And, he has to be honest with himself... He does want friends. Sure, they are all children compared to him, and he would always see them as such, but it was nice nonetheless. To have someone to talk to, to share laughter and smiles with. To stop the loneliness from creeping up his spine.

"I'll wait outside, then." Susan said, a curious glance towards professor Flitwick. They had been watched.

"Okay." He nodded at her in thanks, flustered at having been watched during their interaction. Was he too weird? Is this how kids actually make friends? He never had friends, Ron and Hermione not included since they simply forced themselves into his space and life. He never questioned it before, never doubted them. Until now.

"Making friends?" Harry nodded shily at professor Flitwick, his bag hanging in one shoulder. "Good. Friends are very important." His teacher looked happy enough about it, and so the raven put those thoughts aside. "Is there anything you needed, Mister Potter?"

"Yes, sir. I... Would it be okay if I..." Now he's getting cold feet, unsure how to ask for help. He's not used to this. It's not like that's the real reason he's here, but that doesn't stop his mind from blanking and his throat to close off.

"...made space during some of the weekends to make up for the weeks you've been absent? It would be no problem, Mister Potter." Apparently he needn't worry. He was gobsmacked at the effortless way professor Flitwick managed to understand what he wanted to say.

"T-Thank you, sir." He finally uttered full of gratitude. Those would be the best moments to talk about his relatives. It would take time and a lot of energy from him, but he would eventually, hopefully, get to open some of his teacher's eyes and, maybe then, he would be finally leave the Dursley forever. He wants so much to leave them behind him. In his past.

"You're most welcome. Out, now. You'll get yourself and your friend late for your next class." The older wizard replied cheerfully. Harry quickly nodded and left, feeling bad he made Susan wait for so long.

Chapter Text

Harry fumbled with his shirt collar for the fifth time in the past minute, attempting to make himself look presentable and somewhat put together. He smoothed out his clothes and tried to fix unsuccessfully his hair before slicking it back. To his dismay, it flopped in all directions again. Nothing seems to ever work with his hair. Pouting at the unfairness, Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door, a bit of anxiety bubbling inside of him. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait for long as Professor Sprout opened the door to her office greeting him with a bright smile.

"Good afternoon, Harry."

"Good afternoon, ma'am." He returned her smile shakily.

She chuckled at his nervousness as she gestured for him to get inside. "Relax, Harry. We're going to talk, not giving you detention." Harry's shoulders slumped in relief. He wasn't used to talking to teachers unless he was in trouble so it was nerve-racking. 

Looking to the side, the raven saw the small table adorned with a tea set and a few strawberry cupcakes, separating two armchairs. One of them was yellow along a gray blanket with green diamond patterns next to it while the other was similar to the sofa he vaguely remembers seeing the previous time albeit smaller, of a deep brown with the same warm yellow blanket. He couldn't see the other brown sofa anywhere, however. Professor Sprout must have changed it for me, the boy thought warmly. With that feeling in his chest, he sat down in said armchair, gripping the blanket between his fingers and enjoying its softness.

"How was your day?" She started with a simple question, pouring tea in his cup, hers already full. Harry watched the smoke rising lazily from both cups, thinking back on the day.

"It was nice." He bit his tongue and shifted uncomfortably, unsure where to start. As if she could read his mind, - he knows now she can't - Pomona Sprout swished her finger. Music began to play, relaxing him even further as he slumped against his seat.

"You don't have to tell me anything if you are not ready. Our time together is for you, Harry." She stated gently. 

The raven laughed awkwardly, his cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry," he said, accepting the cup of tea and the sugar. "I'm not used to this." Shaking her head, she assured him he doesn't have to apologise. He was nervous, impossibly so, and thought back on what happened. He could start with telling her about his classes, he supposed. The Dursley can wait, he nodded to himself. "I made a friend." He murmured after taking a sip. "During Charms. Her name's Susan Bones."

"Oh!" His Head of House explained, a smile blooming on her face, eyes bright in joy. "Susan. She's a good girl. I'm happy to hear you're friends as Susan is quite shy." 

"But very brave." He pointed out. He wouldn't have been able to ask anyone to be friends like Susan did. His teacher nodded in agreement, clearly happy with his statement. 

"What classes did you have?" As another minute passed in comfortable silence, Pomona stirred the conversation on a different topic. 

"Charms and History of Magic." Harry was sure she already knew but he also understood that it was her way to give him the control he needed to keep talking. "Professor Flitwick agreed to make some time to help me." 

"Filius always wants to take my student from me." She pouted jokingly, making Harry crack a bigger smile. He breathed in the aroma of his tea, feeling the rest of his tension slip away. "What about History of Magic?" 

Harry thought back on his second class, his expression darkening. 

"Did something happen?" Questioned gently his Head of House. Reluctantly, the raven started to explain, his left hand twisting the blanket in his anxiety. 

~

History of Magic didn't go as Harry thought it would. He expected to be bored, to ask Susan to burrow her previous notes to copy them down on his notebook. Or doodle as he often did in his previous life. He didn't realise they would be sharing the class with Gryffindor. 

His heart started to beat faster, mind clouding.

"Liar!"

"Take him to Azkaban."

"Cold."

"...we're all in the bring of extinction."

"Muggles did it."

"They trusted her..."

"Are you okay, Harry?" He heard Susan's worried voice but all he could focus on is the redhead boy amidst the crowd. Ron (blow on his face, lies in his ears, and back receding from a cold prison). And not far from him, he could see Hermione (running away, abandoning everyone after her mistakes) and Neville (pink scars in flesh, brave and with a plan). The tugging on his sleeve startled him. He blinked, eyes focusing back on the present. He looked at his friend, feeling dazed, sweat sliding down his forehead.  

The classroom was already full, many of the students mingling around while ignoring Professor Binns.

"Harry?" 

"Sorry, Susan. I just..." How could he explain his discomfort at the presence of the people who betrayed, - would betray him? - in the future. Past? It was a headache to try and makes sense of his life and so he shook his head, smiling at the young girl. "I guess I'm still trying to get used to this." 

"That's okay. Sometimes I need some time to get used to Hogwarts, too." She smiled back at him. The young boy felt a bit guilty at the lie after her response. She's so kind and understanding. He didn't deserve it. 

Clearing his throat, Harry looked away. "We should take a seat." 

They decided on the closest one to Binns, which most students tend to avoid. It was also the closest to the door. 

While Harry was taking his book, he heard footsteps approaching him from behind, his shoulders tensing. He stole a quick glance to his side, and what he saw infuriated him. His green piercing eyes met Ron Weasley's blue ones, what appeared to be a friendly smile on his freckled face after pushing Susan away from him. How dare he?

"Hi!" Greeted the taller boy. The raven stayed silent, fuming at the rude action. The other Hufflepuff was nervously looking at Harry, then at Ron, clutching tightly her arm. She was indecisive on whether she should simply take a different seat or ask the other boy to give back her own, both annoyed and worried at what she was supposed to do. Ron's smile turned rigid, scowling slightly. "Hey, I said hi." He repeated. When he was met with a silent glare, he stepped closer to the raven. "Are you mute or something, mate?" 

They both know that's not the case, as proven in the Great Hall.

"I find hard to talk to someone who just pushed away my friend." Harry finally said, narrowing his eyes at the obvious ignorance Weasley was showing. He's a kid but that's no excuse for what he just did. 

"I didn't push anyone." The redhead lied. 

"Yes, you did. You also took Susan's seat." Harry pointed out. He could feel eyes over him, watching them. It made him even more tense, finding hard to control his magic as he wanted to punish the boy in front of him. 

"It's okay, Harry-" she was interrupted by said boy, who turned to look at her. 

"No, it's not." His voice resonanted strongly around the room, breath harsh. "It's not okay." He replied, calmer. "I saw him in his own seat, and he only moved here to take yours. I don't care why, I only care that he took your place without permission and rudely." His gaze moved back to the stunned Gryffindor, whispers exploding suddenly after a few seconds of absolute silence. With his face the same color as his hair, Ron stood up and left without another word, clearly embarrassed at being called out. 

The rest of the class went smoothly, as much as it can with a ghost who is unaware of what century he's living in, or the whispers that could still be heard. 

~

"But you probably already heard about that." He said sheepishly, hands shacking slightly in agitation at what transpired less than half an hour ago. He had to put back his cup of tea in fear of spilling its contents. 

"You seem to attract a lot of negative attention, Harry." Replied Pomona. Her lips tightened in worry. She made a mental note to mention this to Minerva. 

"Trouble just finds me." He shrugged. And it is true. All his life has been trouble after trouble, near death experiences after near death experiences. And death after death. "Does professor Binns always talk about Goblin rebellions and wars?" He changed subject, curious despite his previous years. Surely, there must be a time he didn't do so. 

"I'm afraid that even before his departure he taught of the same topics." Was the disappointing answer. He hummed in thought, wondering if there was a way to get rid of him, ignoring the small guilt at the idea. Voldemort probably knows how to do it. "Harry, may I know the name of your healer?" She leaned closer, taking a piece of cake. 

"You mean from St Mungo?" At her nod, he continued. "Jason Anestis. The Headmaster already met him." He added the last part in a dark tone, hoping she would notice. If she did she didn't question him further on it.

"I'll talk to him myself, then. It's important to know if there's any medical history and any other type of information related to your health we need to be aware of." She explained at seeing his confused expression. He nodded in acceptance. "Speaking of. I made sure to make an appointment with Poppy for your checkup. You should receive a letter soon confirming the day and hour. Is that okay?" 

"Yeah. It's okay." His soft words muffled, anxiety rising at the prospect. He never liked the hospital wing. He broke to many bones in there, lost so many people. It was full of bad memories and phantom pain.

"Do you need me to accompany you?" Her gentle voice shook him from his turbulent thoughts. 

"No. I'm... I'm okay. It's just a checkup." He flushed at his stuttering. 

"It's not just that, Harry, and we both know that." She pointedly said. "If you ever feel unsure or uncomfortable, tell me or any other adult you trust. We'll make sure to help you as it is our duty."

The young time traveller stared at her in wonder, still hesitant to accept her words for what they are. He never had any positive experience from any of his previous teachers, both from the muggle and the magical world. Wincing at the rising memories, he forced a smiled on his face as reassuringly as he could. 

"I know. Thank you, Pomona."

More minutes passed in comfortable silence. Harry took the small cupcake into his hands, smelling the enticing aroma before taking a small bite. It isn't treacle tart, but strawberry is nice too. Maybe he could change his favourite food. Reinvent himself now he's reliving his life.

When he finished, his teacher smiled at him. "I belive it's time for lunch." She stated, standing up. "I hope you still have some appetite left."

He doesn't. He nodded his head at her, "I do." He needs to eat more despite his lack of appetite. He's okay with some fruits and sweets, but a whole meal? Even thinking about it made him nauseous. "Thank you for inviting me, ma'am."

"You're always welcome, Harry." Her lips moved into a small smile, her eyes lost in thoughts. In the end, he didn't mention the Dursley, but she seems to have enough with what she learned and so he left it at that.