Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Magical theory states that a magical signature is the unique combination of energy and intent that is cast when a spell is performed. By using the concept of misdirection, a magical signature can be hidden by imbuing a spell with the intent of a third party, effectively masking your identity to the trained eye of another witch or wizard. By focusing on a third party and imagining their energy instead of your own, it is possible to trick the listener into believing that the spell was cast by someone else. With enough dedication and focus, it is possible to become completely undetectable to those using magical signature detection.

Every magical being or practitioner has a unique magical signature, akin to a fingerprint. This signature is the energetic imprint left behind when casting spells, performing rituals, or using magical abilities.

Concealing one's magical signature is essential for various reasons. It can help maintain anonymity, protect against detection by magical foes, and prevent unauthorised use of one's magic.

There are three main ways to hide one’s magical signature. The most popular being Energetic Camfolauge. This method involves masking your magical essence with a mundane energy. By blending your magical energy with natural or everyday energies, like sunlight, wind, or ambient sounds, you can make it challenging to distinguish your magical signature from the background. While it is the most popular, it is also the hardest to amount to.

Instead of hiding your signature completely, this technique involves altering it. You can manipulate the frequency, colour, or intensity of your magical energy, making it unrecognizable to anyone attempting to trace it. This method is called Signature Distortion.

The most complicated, but certainly most powerful, way to hide your signature is Encryption. Advanced practitioners can use magical scripts, runes, or sigils to encapsulate their magical signature. These symbols act as a protective layer, obscuring the true essence of the magic at work.

Some practitioners utilize temporal magic to displace their magical signature in time. This means that the energetic imprint is left in a different moment, making it nearly impossible to trace back to the caster in the present. Be aware that skilled magical beings or practitioners may attempt to uncover hidden magical signatures. Therefore, it's essential to have counter-detection spells and wards in place to defend against such attempts.

Some practitioners utilize temporal magic to displace their magical signature in time. This means that the energetic imprint is left in a different moment, making it nearly impossible to trace back to the caster in the present. Achieving proficiency in concealing your magical signature requires practice and patience. Continuously refine your techniques and adapt them to different situations to become a master of this art. 

Concealing one's magical signature should be used responsibly, and only used by wizards of age. It is generally considered unethical to use these techniques for malicious purposes, to avoid accountability for the use of harmful magic, or as an excuse for underage magic.

Harry scratched his head, jotting down notes on a piece of lined paper he stole from his aunt. He had read this chapter over twelve times already! He had been stuck at his aunt and uncles for two weeks already, and the only way he had kept his sanity was the daily notes from Neville and Ron. Sometimes they were long, other days they were just simple sentences. Harry wrote back every time saying how grateful he was for them. Still, he needed to focus. 

Closing his book, Harry took a deep breath. Seriously, he needed to focus. Fred had snuck him a list of the people guarding him, and he knew Mad-eye would be on guard in a few nights. If he didn’t figure out how to get out of here before that, he would be stuck here until Mad-Eye’s evening shifts were over. Who knew how long it would last? 

Tapping on the window alerted Harry to another letter being delivered, which was odd since it was still the middle of the day. He greeted Hedwig with a soft head rub, paying attention to her soft feathers. After Neville had decided to let her spend most of her time with him over the summer, Hedwig maintained the healthy glow she normally had during the school year. Living with the Dursleys left her skinnier than any owl should be, even with Harry giving the poor owl his meals. He took the letter, opening it carefully. Oh, it was from Neville!

Harry!

So glad to write to you, I remember you asking me about rituals last year, so I thought I should tell you about the next upcoming one! On July 3rd, there is a summer ritual called Soruzen, a summer ritual meant to remember happy times. I wish you were here to celebrate it with me! Sadly, I’ll have the house to myself those few days, so I’ll be alone during the ritual. 

Wish you were here!

Neville. 

“Neville, you bloody genius you!” Harry exclaimed, jittery with laughter. Finally! A way out of this hell hole and into the arms of his best friend! Quickly, he jotted down a quick ‘I’ll see you soon!’ and gave it to Hedwig to pass along. Harry stroked her feathers more, and the snowy owl took off. Finally. 

Opening his bedroom door, Harry stuck his head out. He heard movement in the kitchen. It was a Monday, July 1st, So that meant Vernon was out. If Dudley was home, he was quiet, which meant Harry could go down in the kitchen without being bothered. Well, until he faces Petunia that is. 

“Aunt Petunia?” He asked her, tacking on the ‘Aunt’ to seem more respectful.

“What did I tell you about being down here, boy-”

“I’m leaving, can you unlock the cupboard so I can get my things?” It was a request, sure, but if she refused he would be able to get it himself. 

“Where are you going?” She hissed. “You don’t have that godfather of yours anymore, who will take you in?” Harry’s heart panged, another reminder of Sirius being gone. Of him having killed his own godfather.

“My friend Hermione offered to take me in, so I’ll be staying with her.” He lied, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. What good would it be to her if she knew he was with Neville, anyway? His aunt clicked her tongue before grabbing a key off the top of the refrigerator and handing it to him quickly. He made quick work, unlocking the cupboard and moving his trunk to the door. Thank Merlin for the easy wheels. 

Quickly, he headed upstairs, bringing down the books and other items he had smuggled up there. Petunia paid him no mind, resuming whatever activity she had started before Harry had interrupted her. 

He was packed and ready to go in less than five minutes. 

Now, how could he get to Neville? 

Harry took a deep breath, taking in the hot humid air as he walked to the curb. No muggles were out in the heat of the day. However, he also couldn’t sense any other magic users nearby either. Chapter 17 of his Magical Signatures book had taught him the process of noticing others' magical signatures, and while he hadn’t managed to hide his own in those two weeks, he had learned how to spot others. He had grown used to seeing, or rather feeling, Remus’ magical signature outside, as well as a few others he didn’t recognise. Today, no one was here. 

Oh well, best to not look a hippogriff in the mouth then. He raised his wand, a silent Lumos lighting the tip of it.

Then he felt his naval pull.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, the familiar feeling reminding him too much of the graveyard, of the ministry. Every fibre in his being tensed, and his vision blurred whenever he tried to open his eyes. The air shifted around him, and the world seemed to spin, colours dancing and bleeding together like a colourful cloud. It was a violent feeling like being torn from his body. Air rushed past Harry’s clothes, whipping at him as if the air was shot out of a canon. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. His feet touched the ground, and suddenly Harry collapsed to his knees, trying to maintain every bit of what sense of balance he once had. Even after the sensation subsided, a feeling of queasiness and dizziness was left in its wake, like having gone on a particularly fast roller coaster ride. He opened his eyes, pushing his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose. 

And there Harry was, in Grimauld place, the ancestry home of Sirius Black. 

A surge of emotions shot into his throat, choking him as tears threatened to fall. This would have been their house, their place of mystery and danger. Harry had thrown that all away in a fit of panic. 

He was pathetic. 

He looked, around, noting his trunk was still right with him. But how had he apparrated? He wasn’t of age, nor had he any training in doing so. This was odd, but Harry wasn’t going to complain. It had gotten him away from the Dursleys, that was all that mattered. 

“What is a nasty mudblood doing in the house of black?” A hoarse voice said from the shadows. Harry instantly recognised it as Kreacher, and anger flooded his veins, boiling hot. 

“Kreacher.” He spat. “Come here.” The elf bared his teeth but hobbled forward. Harry’s hand struck the house-elves head, fast and hard, knocking the little creature to the floor. 

“That,” Harry seethed, malice and the overbearing intent to harm filling his voice. “Was for your disrespect. Now, I need you to go alert Neville Longbottom I arrived here. And if you don’t, I will not hesitate to end you.” Kreacher said nothing, teeth still bared at the fifteen-year-old. Harry went to strike him again, and the elf popped away, taking some of Harry’s anger with him.

What else was he to do but look around? 

As Harry ventured deeper into the house, he couldn't help but recall the stories he had heard about Grimmauld Place. It was Sirius's childhood home, but it had been a place of cruelty and intolerance. The Black family had been known for their pure-blood fanaticism, and their dark history was well-documented. Now, it was also the meeting place for the “Order of the Phoenix”. 

The creaking wooden floorboards echoed beneath his feet as he cautiously made his way through the dusty corridor. The portraits of grim-faced Black ancestors lined the walls, their disapproving eyes following his every step. The house seemed to resent his presence, as if it knew he was there to dismantle its darkest secrets. He wasn’t, not today, at least. Perhaps when he was older.

He entered a cluttered room that appeared to be a study, with books and scrolls scattered haphazardly on every surface. The air was thick with the smell of ageing parchment. He began to search methodically, examining every nook and cranny, trying to find something useful in this house. 

Although he tried to ignore it, the familiar feeling of dark magic caressed his skin, making him shiver. In delight or disgust, even Harry didn’t know. That’s when he felt it. The magic of Lord Voldemort. A Horcrux.

 Minutes felt like hours as Harry meticulously sifted through the room's contents, looking for any signs of the Horcrux. His heart raced with anticipation and frustration. He knew this locket was in here, he could feel it. He had grown used to the feeling, of feeling it inside his head.

Just as he was beginning to feel agitated, his fingers brushed against something cold and metallic hidden beneath a stack of old books. Carefully, he withdrew his hand, revealing a locket. It was an ornate piece of jewellery, tarnished with age and neglect. Its intricate design depicted a serpent twisted around a skull, a chilling symbol of Voldemort's dark allegiance.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he realized he had found it—the Horcrux they had been searching for. The locket seemed to emanate malevolent energy, as if it were aware of Harry's presence. With great care, he stowed the locket around his neck, vowing to keep it safe until they (Ron, Neville, and himself) could figure out what to do with it. 

“Out! Out of here!” Harry heard a screech. He wiped around, wand in hand, staring at the nasty elf in front of him.

“Why? Are you trying to hide something for your precious Dark Lord?” Harry sneered. The elf just bared its nasty teeth. “Trying to hide this?” He asked, pulling the locker back out from underneath his shirt. The elf screeched, lunging at him, hands aiming around his neck. 

“Give it back! That locket belongs to master Regulus!” Kreacher screamed. Harry pushed the elf off, throwing him to the floor. He clattered into a pair of stacked books, toppling them over on top of him. Kreacher's breathing was ragged, and his eyes staring up at Harry were full of hate.

“What did Neville say?” Harry asked, his wand pointed right at the creature. Kreacher snarled at him.

“Little meek pureblood said to wait for him and the grandmother.”

“Good.” Previous anger filled Harry, this time his own. Kreacher had told him that Sirius wasn’t home, thus resulting in Sirius going to look for Harry. Kreacher had killed Sirius!

“Why did you tell me that Sirius wasn’t home?” Harry demanded, shoving the point of his wand at Kreacher's neck. The elf just laughed, maniacal and dark. 

“Kreacher was messing with the mud-blood heir.” Heir? Whatever.

“Sirius died because of that, Kreacher.” Harry was raging with fury, his magic whipping around inside him. Harry wanted to torture this elf, to end his life. With dawning horror, he realised it was his own feelings. Voldemort hadn’t been in his head since the attack of the Ministry. Kreacher just laughed more, leaning onto the fallen stack of books. Fine, if that’s how he was going to be!

“Avada Kedevra!” 

A flashing green light edited his wand, going straight for the elf's throat. Its eyes rolled back, white as a sheet of muggle paper. Horror filled Harry as he stared at what he had just done. How would Neville react? How would Ron react? He staggered back, falling onto his butt as he slowly backed away. No, no, no, no, no! Maybe he was becoming Voldemort? And wasn’t that a horrifying thought? 

He had to get rid of the body.

“Harry?” Harry heard from his place in the kitchen. He jumped up, cups clattering as he ran to see his friend.

“Neville!”

“Harry!” 

The two boys hugged each other tight, missing the thrill of being with each other. It had only been a few weeks since they last saw each other, but it had still felt like too long.

“Where is your grandmother?” Harry asked his friend. Neville pointed outside, but the front door had already closed.

“She doesn’t know how to get in like you and I do, so she’s still waiting out there.” He paused for a second, staring at Harry’s face. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m great actually,” Harry admitted, a large smile on his face. Neville just smiled back, oblivious to the darker nature of his friend's happiness. “Just happy to see you.” 

“I’m glad, come on, and I don’t wanna leave Gran waiting.” Harry followed, trunk in hand. 

Neville's grandmother was a tall, regal woman who demanded respect. Her grey hair was swept up in an elegant bun, held together with a diamond pin. She wore a pristine dress of silver silk, with delicate lace trim along the neck, the sleeves, and the hem of the skirt. She had a matching hat on top, adorned with a multitude of feathers. Despite her years of experience and wisdom, there was a certain lightness to her stance, as if she could dance and soar with the very wind. Neville's grandmother was a sight to behold, her dignity and beauty unmatched, and Harry knew exactly where Neville got his charms from. 

“Heir Potter.”

“Matron Longbottom.” He greeted. Her face broke into a small smile, and she opened her arms to give Harry a large hug. Harry accepted it with a grin. Soon they were off to Longbottom Manor. 

Once they arrived, and Harry had gotten over his nausea, Agusta had shooed them off to their rooms. The two boys agreed without fuss, letting the old woman do whatever it was she needed to do. 

Neville's room was filled with the rich, warm smell of the earth. Green plants grew in pots along the walls, taking in the sunlight that poured through the windows and doors. The windowsill itself was lined with all kinds of plants, some of which sprouted flowers made of the prettiest petals. The rug underfoot was soft and cosy, the material feeling comfortable on the feet. The walls were covered in artwork of every shape, size, and style, all of it showing moments from Neville's past. Fancy vases and furniture covered every surface, adding to the warmth and comfort of the room. Though Neville had no real use for the extra furniture, Harry enjoyed lounging over every piece, so he never brought up getting rid of them.

“So, gonna tell me how you got out? I know you got my letter and then sent Kreacher, but how did you even get to Si- that house?” Neville asked, turning his head to look at Harry. Harry opened one eye, his gaze roaming over his friend's face, before closing it again.

“I apparated.” 

“Bullshit.” That startled a laugh out of Harry.

“I’m serious! I didn’t know if there was like, a day version of the night bus, and then I started getting freaked out and stuff and ended up in the middle of the entryway.” 

“What freaked you out?” Neville asked, worried.

“Well, I guess freaked out isn’t the right word, but I just wanted to get to you as fast as possible, and I couldn’t sense any other wizards around either. Then I felt that awful pull in my gut. Poof.”

“I’m glad you are safe at least,” Neville said, beginning to braid one of the longer sections of Harry’s hair in his boredom. Luna had taught him how to braid during one of their study sessions last year, and it was quickly becoming one of Neville’s favourite things to do.

“Neville..” Harry spoke, voice muffled by the comforter. “Can I-” Harry shut his mouth

“Harry? Are you okay?” His friend quickly asked. 

“No-I, I don’t know maybe I’m overthinking this, Merlin, I-” 

“Harry, it’s okay, you know?” His hands had stopped braiding Harry's long hair. “If it isn’t life or death, I’m okay waiting for you to tell me.”

Harry sat up, softly pulling his hair from Neville’s hands and undoing the braid. Just in case…

“I committed murder,” Neville said nothing for a second, a quick intake of air, then-

“Was it your aunt? Or maybe that fat cow of a cousin. Now don’t get me wrong I’m pretty big myself, but nothing tops that great oaf, or his father, Oh Harry please say it was his father?” 

“What? Neville, my God no, that's not-” Harry took a deep breath. “Kreacher. I killed kreacher.”

“Can I ask why Harry?” Neville softly thumbed Harry’s hands. 

“He was the one who lied to me, y’know? With, with Sirius. Said he wasn’t there. And I believed him like a fool.” 

“I can understand that. Thank you for telling me, Harry.”

“That’s not all.” Harry quickly pulled out a large chain, rumpling his shirt in the process. “I found this.”

“A Slytherin locket?” Neville was confused. "I mean, if you want to embrace that side of yourself..."

“It's a Horcrux, Nev.”

“Oh.” Neville was no longer confused. 

Chapter Text

Harry walked through the lush, expansive gardens of Longbottom Manor, the scent of blooming flowers filling the air. The manor, a grand and stately home nestled in the heart of the English countryside, was a place of tranquillity and natural beauty. He was a tad bit jealous of Neville, knowing his friend had grown up in such beauty, but couldn’t fault him for it. Neville added to the beauty of this place.

“Harry! You’re taking forever!” Neville complained. He was a few feet away from Harry, and was taking him around the manor to show the new things that were added. 

They strolled through the enchanting botanical gardens, where Neville's green thumb was on full display. He pointed out rare and magical plants, sharing stories of how some of them had been used by his family for generations. Harry marvelled at the diversity of flora, appreciating the peaceful atmosphere. They spent hours exploring the vast estate. Neville proudly showed Harry the expansive library, filled with ancient tomes and magical texts that had been passed down through generations. He explained how he had been working to preserve and expand the collection, hoping to make it a valuable resource for future generations of witches and wizards, and how Hermione had given him the idea. 

Lunch was served in the elegant dining room, where a long table was set with fine china and crystal glasses. The meal was prepared by the skilled house-elves of Longbottom Manor, and the dishes were exquisite, a blend of traditional wizarding cuisine and modern twists that showcased Neville's appreciation for fine food.

“You have to try this one, Harry! It’s so good!”

“Neville if you don’t stop shoving food down my throat I’m gonna throw up.” 

“Then I’ll just feed you some more!” 

After lunch they found themselves back on the grounds, chasing butterflies and other little creatures they found. Neville brought him back to the greenhouse too, insisting he had to show him something. 

“It’s dark, Nev,” Harry stated.

“Thanks, Watson,” Neville remarked, still tinkering with the light.

“Was that a Sherlock Holmes reference?” Harry asked. Neville tensed up a bit, and Harry laughed. 

“Hermione made me read it,” Neville said, grateful it was dark so his blush was still mostly hidden. “It’s a pretty good book.”

“I enjoyed it back in primary, our teacher read us a kid version.”

“Primary? What’s that?” The light flickered on above them, and Neville grinned. Finally! 

“It’s a muggle school thing, we go to learn to read and stuff.” Neville just gave him a confused look, but ended up just giving Harry a shrug. 

Harry looked around the room, staring at the piles of dirt. It was a bit cramped with all the dirt in it, but both boys could stand comfortably. 

“Gran had it created for me when I showed her my dirt bird thingy. Said I needed a place to practice. Oh look, there’s Fhozite!” Neville pointed at a corner of the room. There sat a tangle of vines, long and thick, impaled into the dirt. The plant's vines reached up to the low ceiling, covering it. Fhozite stuck out a smaller tendril, wrapping around Harry’s finger. Harry smiled at the closeness but shook his head.

“Axiome isn’t gonna be here for a few days, buddy. I’m using too much magic as is. Maybe later.” 

“What do you mean, Harry?” Neville questioned.

“I mean, I couldn’t just leave Private Drive you know? They’re gonna come after me if they think I’m gone. So after, uh, Kreacher,” Harry winced. “I sent an illusion of myself to private drive. It’s just laying in bed, so I don’t have to worry about it too much, but in case Dumbledore checks in or something, I need my magic to be there.” 

“Wow, Harry!” Neville stared at his friend in amazement. “That’s so cool! How did you figure that out?” Harry flushed.

“Well, it was in a book Mad-eye gave me. I’ll give it to you to read, promise.”

“Alright!” Neville turned his back to him, putting his hand in the dirt, running it over his finger, scooping it into his palms. “Let me show you why we’re here.” 

Neville closed his eyes, pressing harder into the dirt. The room, previously bathed in the soft glow of a rune light, began to shimmer with an otherworldly radiance. The very air seemed to come alive, charged with an energy that sent shivers down the spine of both boys. It was as if the room itself had awakened, its walls pulsating with a faint, otherworldly rhythm.

As the magic continued to weave its intricate dance, tiny motes of light began to materialize out of thin air. They danced and twirled, creating intricate patterns that hung in the atmosphere like a living tapestry. These luminous specks emitted a soft, soothing hum, their presence a testament to the sheer power of the arcane. A few floated by Harry, zapping his skin with soft kisses whenever they touched.

Slowly, tendrils of magic snaked their way into the dirt, their presence felt rather than seen. The earth responded, stirring to life as if it had been granted a newfound vitality. Roots of nearby plants reached out, intertwining with the magical energy, as if they too sought to partake in this extraordinary communion.

As the magic delved deeper into the soil, the room's occupants could sense a profound connection with the natural world. It was as if the very essence of the earth had been awakened, and they could feel its heartbeat beneath their feet. The air was imbued with the scent of rich, fertile soil, and the room seemed to breathe in harmony with the land.

And slowly, like a phoenix born out of the ashes, a bird began to rise from the dirt. It was made of the dirt itself, but more solidified, as if you dried mud into it’s very shape. 

“Harry, meet, uh, I haven’t named him, actually she’s a her, yet, but yeah. Meet her!” Harry chuckled, and slowly put his hand out for the bird…sniff? Yeah, Harry didn’t know what he was doing, but it seemed the bird didn’t care, as it promptly flew onto Harry’s shoulder. Clumps of dirt landed on his shoulder, but he didn’t care much. It was when the bird started to nuzzle his hair that he started to regret his decision. 

“Neville there is dirt in my hair-“ 

“Harry, you know you can shower here right? Every day if you want.” Harry’s cheeks flushed, and he looked down at his shoes. 

“Oh, yeah,” he was embarrassed, having gotten readjusted to his ‘shower every 3 days’ routine at the Dursleys. “Anyways, what are you gonna name him?” He never was subtle at changing topics, but at least Neville didn’t laugh. 

“I don’t know, I was thinking something easy to say, so if I need him he’s there quickly.” 

“Kind of like a house elf, right?” 

“Yeah, kind of, I guess.” Neville gave the bird a few pats on its head, shaking more dirt onto Harry’s head. “I think I’ll name her Eve.”

“Eve?” Harry questioned. 

“Yeah, it’s easy enough, right?” Harry just shrugged, not really caring much. She was still shaking dirt all over them. And then she tried to sing.

It was as if death was trying to speak to him. It grated on his ears and tore at his soul. It felt like a dementor was actively trying to escape out of his body.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Neville sighed, letting the bird bury back into the dirt and disappear with a poof. 

“That was horrible,” Harry said honestly. 

“Oh, right, you aren’t death-chosen or whatever.” Neville dusted some dust off of Harry’s shoulder. “Sorry, Harry.” 

“Nah it’s fine, can I go shower though? Because..” He gestured at himself. “I’m not staying like this for dinner.”

Dinner was a boisterous affair. Not necessarily because of the conversation, but because of the massive food fight that managed to happen. 

“That was an accident, Nev!” Harry yelled, quickly ducking under a pair of soaring sausages.

“It was not!” 

“Was too!” Harry ducked again. Neville didn't buy it. He had known Harry for long enough to know that he was always looking for ways to get under people's skin. And he wasn't about to let this one slide. Before Harry could gather his next item, Neville grabbed a handful of peas and flung them in Harry's direction. The two boys paused for a moment, staring shocked at each other, before bursting into laughter.

The peas went flying back and forth across the table, splattering everywhere and making a huge mess. The dinner table was a battlefield of green and yellow goop, and the two boys were in the middle of it, trading blows with the nearest ammo at hand.

Next were the mashed potatoes. Well, they were boiled beforehand, but they were hitting the boys so hard they mashed right into their skin! Harry laughed, throwing a soft carrot at Neville next. Neville didn’t have time to dodge and got hit in the forehead with it, reminding Harry of their second year with the Doxies. Harry laughed, bracing himself on the table as the memories flooded him. 

That was when Neville struck. 

“MASTERS!” They both heard, but it was too late. Quickly, so quickly, the steak was nearing Harry. “What are you doing?!” 

The steak hit Harry square in the cheek. Neville's hand covered his mouth, out of shock at first. Then his laughter began to slowly bubble over. It was like an exploding potion. He was almost able to contain it. Till he made eye contact with Harry, the look of pure shock on his face was too much. He doubled over, bracing his stomach as he laughed, gasping for breath. He tried wiping his eyes, covered in food and tears, but he just couldn’t. He laughed and laughed, and Harry quickly joined him. It looked like a scene out of a madhouse! 

They laughed so hard that they collapsed onto the table in a heap of exhaustion. They lay there, breathing hard, before rolling onto the floor and continuing to laugh until their sides ached. Not once did they look up, or open their eyes, and they didn’t notice the food vanishing around them. 

“Are- are-” Harry laughed some more. “Are you full, Nev?” He wheezed.

“TEA KETTLE!” Neville shouted, falling into laughter once more, eliciting snorts and wheezes from his best friend. 

“If Masters are still hungry, they will have to feed themselves, they will! Mopsy is done for the night!”

“Yes, Mopsy, thank you,” Neville spoke in breathy giggles, Harry still lying on top of him. They stared at the top of the dining room ceiling. It wasn’t enchanted like the Hogwarts ceiling was, but it was still quite pretty, In Neville's opinion. 

Of course, that could be because he had someone to stare at it with him. It wasn’t as lonely as it usually was. 

Minutes passed, their breathing calming as they relaxed, enjoying each other's company. Many would say it was a romantic scene, looking at the drawn cupids above, hearts and runes carved around. The thought didn’t cross their mind. 

“Oh, Harry! I completely forgot!” Neville jolted up, practically throwing Harry off his chest. “I was going to show you this new plant I’ve been cultivating!” Harry groaned. 

“Nev, I just showered, please don’t bring me back to the greenhouses today.”

“Harry, we just had a food fight.” Harry blinked, then laughed. 

“Good point.”

“And anyways, it’s in the downstairs shower.” Neville got up, Harry following him with a curious look on his face. 

“Do I even wanna know why?” Harry asked, following him with a mixture of curious delight and painful intrigue in his stomach. 

“Here, just read this!” So, Harry took the paper from the boy. Some lines were more underlined or slanted than others, and the paper itself was a bit crumbled, but Harry could still read it. 

The miraculous herb Aefrinthe is renowned for its capacity to purify water. It is frequently employed in brews and spells that deal with the element of water.

Aefrinthe has a very unusual root system, which is an intriguing characteristic. Aefrinthe can filter enormous amounts of water via its system because its roots spread out like a spider's web as opposed to growing straight down into the ground as most other plants do. Because of this, Aefrinthe plants are water-intensive and frequently grow close to bodies of water or in areas with high water tables. The herb's purifying properties have also made it a valuable ingredient in numerous healing and purifying medicines. Aefrinthe is a plant that can be grown reasonably easily and grows best in damp environments. Depending on the intended use, it can be kept in a container or planted in the ground and needs plenty of sunlight. The plant should, however, be grown in an area with access to plenty of clean water, like a stream or pond. 

No-Grow

The mystique surrounding the rare and mysterious plant known as azurite agréable is thick. It is claimed that a wizard named Azurite, a renowned herbalist known for his lovely garden made the discovery. The name of the plant alludes to its special ability to clean the air and make it pleasant to breathe.

The mythical plant known as Azurite Agréable is said to grow on the outskirts of dense, gloomy woodlands. The flower is thought to have a pleasant, musky scent, and the plant is distinguished by its deep, azure-coloured foliage and blue blossoms. The plant is also said to have medicinal benefits, and some people think it can produce a potent healing elixir out of its blossoms that can treat a wide range of illnesses.

“Neville, what’s this last one? ‘No-grow’?” Harry questioned his friend. Neville flushed, head to neck getting coloured pink. 

“Uhj sha cnt hhgro whf mgacx.” Neville mumbled, head down. 

“Uhm, what?” 

“I can’t make it grow with magic,” Neville said, shaking his head. “No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t grow. I even snuck into greenhouse five without telling Professor Stout because I needed to know if it was a me thing or a plant thing.”

“Is it only that plant?” 

“As far as I know of, but that's not why we’re here! Come, come!” Neville pulled him into the downstairs bathroom. 

And there was a fucking plant in the bathtub.

“Oh yeah!” Neville plucked the note from his hands, using the wall to write down a quick sentence. 

Bathtub works. Bloody Hell Neville.

The next day was a calmer affair, and neither boy mentioned the food fight that had gone on the day before. Not even when Neville’s Grandma was giving them the meanest stink eye. 

Then, Ron arrived. 

“Ron!” Harry yelled, getting off the couch to give his friend a hug. Neville got up too, albeit slower, and gave Ron a hug too. “Man, I’ve missed you so much! I didn’t expect to see you today!” 

“It was hard to convince mum, that's for sure, but I told her it was for your birthday, and that me and Neville were planning something big. Oh, how are you here?!” Ron demanded, sounding quite hysterical. 

And so, they spent a good ten minutes filling Ron in on everything that happened. Not Harry’s murder, no, never that. Not with how Ron had reacted after the attack on the ministry. No, that was one secret Harry and Neville would take to their grave.

“How’s it been at your place?” Neville asked. Currently, he was dying Ron’s hair the muggle way. Each stripe of his newly buzz-cut hair was painted a different colour. Ron didn’t mind. The buzz cut was a result of him not being able to cut his own hair, and Molly taking pity on him. Harry was reading a book on quidditch, only joining in to shout another colour to add to Ron’s mess. 

“Not the best mate, Mum’s not Happy about me wanting to do warding,” Ron admitted, wringing his hands anxiously. Harry looked up, bookmarking the page about the Kenmare Kestrels. Apparently, they were on a winning streak. 

“Why not? Charlie does it, doesn’t he? Or wait no, that’s-”

“Bill, yeah. And that’s what's making me so upset! When Bill brought it up, Mum loved the idea! I was like, nine or something when Bill told the family he was gonna start curse-breaking and warding at Gringotts.” 

“What's her issue with you doing it?” Harry asked, ready to give Mrs. Weasley a piece of his mind.

“She said it’s a ‘sudden interest’ and that once I get bored of it, I won’t care anymore.” Ron ran a hand over his face, groaning. “I even showed her some of the Rune Layering I have been working on! Even Flitwick was impressed with it, you know? But nooooo~ Mum said I shouldn’t make a hobby out of a job.”

“Like Bill and Charlie did? Like the twins did?” Harry deadpanned. “Honestly, I don’t know what the big deal is. Like, it’s your life.” 

“It is my life! I don’t know, sometimes I just wish she’s bugger off about it, you know? I already got approval from Flitwick and Babbling to join Ancient Runes, and I’ll just take the O.W.L for it at the end of this year. If I pass with an EE, they’ll let me take N.E.W.T Leve.” 

“Not arthimacy?” Neville joked. He didn’t dodge Ron’s pillow in time. “Ron, if you get dye on my pillows I’ll paint you pink!” Threatened the herb boy. Harry just snickered before returning to his book. 

“Oh, Harry, did you get a letter from McGonagall about potions yet?” Ron asked. Harry shook his head.

“No, but I only got an EE on my potions, that's not enough for Snapes NEWT level class.” 

“We got a new potions professor! Some dude named Slughorn, but McGonagall told me it’s a part of our schedule because he takes in EE students.”

“I’ve never been happier to have gotten an A.” Neville joked. Ron jerked away from him, probably to hit him again, but Neville was painting his head with black dye. “Oi! You messed up my run swirl!” Ron just stuck his tongue out. 

“I hope it's optional, I’m not buying another potions book,” Harry said, pointedly glaring at his trunk. 

“Oh shit, I gotta go water Crystal!” Neville said, hopping out of bed. He shoved the dye and brush into Ron’s (not) awaiting hands, smearing dye on them as he raced out of the room. Ron’s jaw slacked, but Harry just got up and followed his running friend. 

“Oi! I’m not going outside! Come back, Harry!” Ron yelled!

He still followed them outside. 

When Harry and Ron entered the greenhouse, Neville was cradling a familiar walnut-coloured pot. Inside was a flowering plant, its leaves and buds a strange multicoloured mess. Almost as if they were reflecting the light. 

“That looks familiar.” Ron pointed out. 

“Yeah, it’s the plant Grandma Mary gave me! I have to water her every few days, kind of like a succulent.”

“How you know its a her?” Ron said, poking one of it’s leaves. 

“It flowers. I mean, a lot of male plants can flower too, but the Dryopteris Sensibilis is a plant that only flowers if it is a girl. Plus, they have danger receptors in the middle of their blooms, and if they don’t feel safe they won’t bloom. It’s an extraordinary plant. I thought it was a boy for the longest time. 

“Wow,” was all Ron managed to say. 

“You should show him Bathtub Ben.” Harry said, wiggling his eyebrows at Ron. “You’ll like him.” Ron paled slightly, but Neville laughed. 

Later, the boys were once more lounging around, and Harry was growing sick of it. They hadn’t done anything, and Harry was tired. Tired of having to maintain an illusion back with the Dursleys, and of being bored. 

“Let’s go get ice cream.” Harry practically demanded, throwing his book to the ground. Ron gave a lazy thumbs up, but otherwise didn’t move. 

“Harry, I am not walking in this heat for ice cream,” Neville said, referencing the muggle town a few miles away. 

“Neville, you have a fireplace.” Harry pointed out. “Let’s just, go somewhere. I hate being all cooped up. I feel like-”

“Like you’re about to shit yourself?” Ron unhelpfully inputed. 

“What?” Neville and Harry stared at Ron. Ron stared back, then shrugged, getting up.

“Something Bill always said.” Ron grounded while he stretched, back uncomfortable from laying on the floor for the past few hours. “Come on, let's go. Harry’s right, I’ve been here for a few hours and wanna do more than just talk before I gotta go.” 

“Where to then, my liege?” Nev joked, pushing Harry to the fireplace. 

“Same place we went last time, I suppose. I wanna try that banana flavour they have.” 

And the boys were off Germany, Harry being the most ungraceful one out of the floo. A few nearby families giggled, but he tried his best to ignore them. It wasn’t his fault Wizard travel was so annoyingly hard!

“One Banana ice cream please,” Harry ordered from the girl working the counter. Her apron read ‘Cuore di Vetro’ in bright pink letters. Ron thought it was an eyesore. Harry said it reminded him of Ron’s hair. The girl giggled but jotted down his order. 

“Am I funny-looking or something?” Harry grumbled as they sat to eat. “I mean, come on! I look good with my longer hair, don’t I?” 

“Harry, you’ve got soot all over your nose.” Neville pointed out, barely hiding his grin. 

“Bloody Hell.” He angrily wiped at his nose. 

“You haven’t heard from the Greasey Git this summer, have you?” Asked Ron, taking another large bite out of his ice cream. Of course, Ron would be the friend who bites into his frozen treats. 

“No, thank Merlin. I know Dumbledore said he would try to get him to write, but I hope he never does.” 

“Harry…” Neville said softly, patting his friend's hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even know he said that.” 

“I could care less, to be honest, he’s not my dad. James was, an-and so was Sirius!” He sighed, taking a bite of his ice cream. It was really good! “Ugh, I wish he could just, not exist.” 

“Don’t we all,” muttered Ron before quickly changing the topic. “I completely forgot I brought this along, but here we go!” Ron pulled out a folded bunch of papers from his pocket. “It’s about my rune stacking! Go ahead, give it a look!” Harry and Neville looked over it. Ron clicked his tongue before he began explaining. 

“In rune magic, if you use correct runes, you are able to create run stacks, or rune-circle stacks, which is what I’m working on right now. These are for buildings, and they are engraved on the house to activate. Rune-circle stacks are used to create larger and more complex rune circles. They can get pretty big. This is just a reference drawing, but it would need to be about triple the size to actually work. Anyways, the smaller rune circle contains the specific runes you wanna activate, and the two larger circles here contain the bonding elements, and the backing elements.”

“What are those, Ron?” Neville questioned. “I know you said they are the specific runes, but what exactly are they?”

“Oh, right,  you guys aren’t in runes. Okay, this is the rune Kenaz, normally meaning light, but if we use this bonding rune, Cegrur, which means aspect, it changes the meaning to heat. Zowru, this rune in the middle stack, is a semi-rune, meaning it's a small rune that is factored into the whole stack, not just the individual line. And Lekad, which means Brass, is the bonding for Ugrerth, which means fire. Sorry, I’m not trying to drone on, but I really like this stuff. Plus, you know, my mum.”

“Mate it’s fine! I might not understand it all, but you like it, and that's all that matters.” Harry said earnestly, giving his friend a large smile. “It reminds me of something if I’m honest. Where’d you get the idea?”

“A muggle heating system my dad brought home from work.” 

“Oh, fun. I think. It was cursed, wasn’t it?”

The rest of the night, Harry, Ron, and Neville stayed up late. They talked of the future, of chaos, of ruling the world, of ending the world, and everything in between. For the first time in a while, Harry truly felt like Harry, and he was grateful for that. 

When Harry finally laid down that night, it was nearing dawn, and the Slytherin locket warmed comfortably on his chest. He wondered if the locket had a warming rune on it. 

As his eyes closed, he felt something begin to slip from his mental grasp. Maybe, if he had been more awake, he would have held tight to it. Not tonight though, not tonight. He let go.

Harry

The headmaster sent me a letter, about how he can’t reach you. I know you aren’t ignoring us, since you wrote me back, but please write to the headmaster. I believe he is truly worried, and I thought you set aside your differences. If something more happened, please tell me and I’ll let the matter drop, promise.

Love, Hermione

The letter lay, originally, unopened on top of a desk, falling into a pile of Hogwarts letters. All are addressed to the upstairs bedroom of Number 4, Private Drive. Harry Potter had disappeared, and Severus Snape was the one who watched the boys illusion-self shatter.

Chapter Text

“Headmaster Dumbledore.” Severus spoke, rushing into the esteemed man’s office with every ounce of grace he owned. Inside stood Minerva, leaning against Albus’ desk with an agitated look on her face.

“Albu- oh, hullo Severus. Hogwarts business?” 

“No, not today. I need to see the headmaster.” Something akin to worry was evident on the potion’s master's face, but Minerva didn’t know what it could be.

“He isn’t here, Severus. What’s the matter?” McGonagall asked, getting off the desk. 

“It really- Merlin damn us all, Potter has gone missing.” Severus explained through gritted teeth. God, if she-

“Oh Severus, you must be so worried!” And there it was. “I don’t know where he is, he stepped out so suddenly. I couldn’t even hear where he was flooing too.”

“Grand.” He spat, rolling his eyes. “I suppose I must do something about this myself then.” 

“I’ll help, Severus. You know, I always told Albus those muggles were the most horrid sort. I am very cross Mister Potter ran away, but I understand why he would. If I was subjected to that hell hole for the past sixteen years…”

“Hell hole?” Severus snorted. “It’s precious saint Potter, his life is utter perfection and endearment.” 

“Is that what Albus told you? You know what, of course it is.” Minerva sighed as they quickly walked through the empty Hogwarts halls. Most of the paintings vacated as well, travelling to other areas. “He was raised by Petunia, Lily’s sister. Oh well, you would know sense-”

“Yes, I know who the bitch is.” The esteemed Transfiguration professor took in a sharp breath, and Severus barely withheld rolling his eyes. “That’s what she is, and how she’s always been.” 

A stunning blue phoenix suddenly flew into the room, doing laps around both professors before speaking. 

“Severus, Minerva, please come to my office.” The bird spoke in Albus’ voice. “I’m afraid I have some pressing news.”

“Old coot,” Severus muttered to himself, but the pair headed back upstairs .

While Severus Snape hated Harry Potter with a passion, he could not deny that he was worried for the boy. He wasn't sure why he was so concerned about the boy's well-being, as the two had never been close. Perhaps it was simply a parental instinct, a leftover remnant of human emotion buried deep within his heart. Although Snape would never admit it aloud, he feared for the boy's safety. And he didn't know why. Severus had lived long enough to know that nothing happened without a reason, but what reason could this be?  He knew that the magical world was a dangerous place, full of hidden perils and unexpected dangers, and he worried that the boy might not be able to face them alone. If he was left in the muggle world, that was even worse. It would be even harder to find Harry there. He tried to convince himself that the worry was due to the stress of teaching, or the incoming year, but a small part of him, deep inside and hidden from his own conscious mind, told him that it was something more. 

It sounded like Dumblesdores voice, so he promptly ignored it.

“Albus, what the hell is happening?” Minerva exclaimed as she barreled into the old man’s office, Snape following quickly behind.

“I believe something something has happened to young Harry-”

“Quite right, Albus! The boy- well, Severus can tell you exactly what happened. I bet you it was Petunia’s fault, horrid woman!” Minerva said, her Scottish accent thick in her words as she grew more heated. 

“Severus? Will you explain your side of things?” Dumbledore asked, making Snape’s eye twitch. 

“For some ungodly reason, Miss Granger asked me to check up on Harry.” He pulled a crisp letter out of his pocket and handed it to the headmaster to read. “When I asked Lupin to do it, he said he couldn’t.” Snape sneered. 

“Ah, so you went to check on him?” Snape nodded, and Albus gestured for him to continue. Snape almost rolled his eyes. 

“He wasn’t moving. Just sitting in his bed, staring at the wall. It was as if he had experienced something horrible, whatever that could be.” Snape muttered to himself. “I grabbed Potter by his shoulder, and he disintegrated.” 

“D-disintegrated?” Exclaimed Minerva, hand flying up to her mouth.

“Ah, I believe that was one of Harry’s many fine illusions. He’s gotten quite good at full body illusions, even getting them to walk and talk. At such a young age too!” Albus praised.

“Oh wow! Just as talented as you, Severus.” Minerva crooned, fear forgotten as Albus compared the boy to him. 

“Quite.” Severus spoke through gritted teeth, ignoring the pang deep inside his chest that craved that sort of praise. 

‘My boy, just like me.’ it seemed to say. 

 Absolutely disgusting. 

“But, I must say, it was I who owled Miss Granger about Harry’s whereabouts. Why on earth would she owl you, Severus?”

“‘Mione!” Harry exclaimed, hugging his bushy haired friend as she stepped through the fireplace. Hermione grinned as she enveloped Harry in a large hug, silently appreciating the way Harry was slowly growing taller. While Ron and Hermione were originally a foot taller than Harry, the boy was catching up fast. They were almost the same height now! “Oh, let me go get Neville!” He shouted, running and slipping down the hallway in his socks.

“Did you do it?” Ron questioned. “Did it work?” 

“Yep!” She whispered back, passing a copy of the letter she had written. One was now one Harry’s desk, and two were residing in Longbottom Manor. She quickly pulled out another. “This is the one I wrote Snape.” 

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” Neville exclaimed, running over and taking the letter from her. “This is bloody brilliant!” 

“And you and Ron are supposedly in Germany right now! He’ll never figure it out!” Harry exclaimed, addressing Ron and Neville. They weren’t lying, they had gone to Germany, they just hadn’t stayed. “Did your mum buy the excuse of the quidditch match?”

“Yeah, think so. She said she couldn’t believe I was gonna go without you, but I said it was a once in a lifetime experience.” 

“Isn’t that what I told you to say?” Hermione jokingly grumbled. 

They casually made their way to Neville’s room, talking and catching up on events that couldn’t be talked about in letters. Including-

“He was honestly so sweet, I wish he had been a wizard.” Hermione sighed, flopping down on Nevilles bed. Neville, being the only one really interested in the mooshy gooshy romance Hermione was sharing, was listening intently. “He called me ‘mon chérie’ it was so…” Hermione made some sort of squealing noise into her pillow. 

“Oooh, he was french?” Neville questioned, leaning in. Hermione nodded dreamily. 

“Boo, go back to Krum.” Ron said, back turned to them as he tinkered on a piece of rune-glass. Harry was holding up a book for him, only half listening to both ongoing conversations. 

“Prat.” Hermione said, tossing a pillow at his head. Ron only guffawed, not looking up from his rune drawing. 

“So like, how did you meet?” Neville pressed. Harry snickered as Ron rolled his eyes. 

“Well, I was going up the steps to see the eiffel tower from above, and I tripped! I was so scared! We were so high up and I didn’t wanna use magic in front of muggles, and he caught me before I fell! ‘Vous êtes en sécurité, ma chérie’ is what he said!”

“Boo, Krum good, french bad!” Ron said again. Hermione threw another soft pillow at Ron, this time missing and hitting the wall.

“Jealous, Ron?” Harry teased. Ron just rolled his eyes. 

“Course not, you know I’m owling Lavender.”

“Lavender Brown?” Hermione questioned, rolling off her back to look at Ron. “When did this happen?” 

Ron just shrugged. 

“She said she was impressed by my O.W.L work for Charms.” 

“Annnnnd?” Hermione pressed. Ron just shrugged again. 

“Now we owl?” Hermione groaned, causing Neville and Harry to laugh. The joy didn’t last for long though, as Ron exclaimed a loud “Shit!”

“What happened, Ron?” Harry dropped the book he was holding leaning over to check on his friend. 

Ron had slit his finger on the carving tool by accident. Alright, nothing too bad. 

Until a drop of blooded landed on a half-written heating rune. 

“Everyone run!” Ron shouted, shocking Hermione and Neville into motion. The group of four quickly ran out of Neville's room, slamming the door seconds before a small explosion happened. 

“Everyone okay?” Harry gasped, checking in. 

“I left my book, but besides that I’m alright.” 

“I’ll get you a new one, Hermione.” Harry assured, turning to Ron to do the same. 

“What happened?” A new voice asked, Neville's Grandma!

“Gran, I’m so sorry-” Neville went to appease, but Ron cut in. 

“It was my fault. I was craving some new runes into rune-glass and cut my finger.” He held up the bloody digit. “Blood landed on a half made warming rune and it exploded. I’m really sorry.” 

“Give me your hand, son.” The matron said, pulling out her wand. She muttered a few healing spells, and with a wince, Ron’s skin stitched up again. “Not much we can do about the room, I suppose. Neville, you’ll likely have to room with someone else. I’ll clear out the room so you can check up on your plants. 

“It’s alright,” Neville assured. “I’ve been rooming with Harry anyways. Most of my plants are there.” Madam Longbottom gave her grandson a look, one he couldn't miss. 

Quickly, the older woman began clearing the room of any smoke of debris left over. The walls were intact, just covered in a few scorch marks here and there. The bed sheets would need to be fixed, but she would have Mospy change those out. Her thoughts still lingered on what her grandson had said. Rooming with Harry? Were they, perhaps, together? 

Well, she would have to ask. 

“Neville, come down to the kitchen for a moment.” she said, walking down the stairs with grace. Neville grimaced, but followed quickly. 

His gran was quiet as she drank her hot tea, sipping it slowly. Neville fiddled with his cup, not saying anything. 

“Are you in love with him?” She finally asked.

“In love- what, wait, who are we talking about?” Neville stuttered, almost dropping the cup he had finally picked up to take a sip out of. 

“With Harry, Neville. Now, if you are I won’t intervene but I feel i must warn you on the dangers of underage sex-”

“NO! Merlin, no, we aren’t, it’s not like that, we just.” Neville sighed. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this. “I love Harry. I don’t think I could live without him. We are… we’re connected in some way. If he dies, I will die after. But I’m not, I wouldn’t wanna…” Neville's face flushed pink.

“Bugger him?” His gran asked, the crude language sounding odd coming from her. Neville nodded stiffly, red face still staring at the floor. 

“You’re so much like your father, Neville.” She said softly, reaching over and grabbing his hand. “I believe I had this very same talk with him. Word for word.” 

“R-really?” 

“Indeed.” She took another sip of her tea. “His name was Joshua Holmes, a muggleborn in his year. They were thick as thieves. I always thought they were a couple, until he brought home your mother. He said-” she sighed, placing her cup down. “That if Joshua were to pass, he would pass soon after.” 

“Did, did Joshua pass?” Neville asked in a quiet whisper. 

“Yes, he did. A few weeks,” her breath hitched. “A few weeks before the attack.” 

“Oh, Gran.” Neville squeezed her hand, and the older woman let out a watery laugh. He ignored the stab of guilt in his gut. His father was still alive. 

“I always figured Frank, somewhere in his mind, is a little disappointed. Joshua was supposed to be your godfather, you know.” 

Neville said nothing as he held his grandmother's hand, letting the older woman tell him quiet tales about his father, things he had never been told before. 

It comforted Neville in a way he couldn’t explain. 

“Ah, Augusta!” Dumbledore announced cheerfully, coming through the fireplace. Hermione froze, book falling out of her lap. How did- how was he-

“Albus. Good of you to come unannounced.” 

“I’m afraid it’s important.” Albus sighed. “Harry is missing.” 

“Yes, I’ve heard. Hogwash if you ask me. How can one just lose a boy?” 

“I’m afraid it happens every so often.”

“You’re afraid of a lot of things, aren’t you, Albus.” The jovial tone had left Augusta’s voice. Albus sighed, this one making him sound many years older then he already was.

“I’m afraid so, Augusta.” 

Hermione bolted up the stairs as quietly as she could. 

“Harry! He’s here!” She said, closing the door. “We need to do something, He’s downstairs!” 

“Who, ‘Mione?” Harry questioned, rolling up his charms homework. 

“Dumbledore!” 

Ron was the first to move, quickly spitting in his hands and pressing them against two sides of the door. It flashed a brilliant yellow, igniting the synced runes within the room. Harry stared in amazement for a moment, knowing that he had helped Ron (holding a book is helping, thank you very much!) create such awesome runes. 

Neville and him moved next. Neville, with Hermione’s help, moved pots of vines in front of the door. Harry imagined larger, scary vines, and let his magic attach to the plants in front of him, blocking the door. 

They held their breath, not daring to move or speak.

“Do you think we’re good?” Neville whispered.

“What wonderful wards, Mr. Weasley!” A voice exclaimed. Harry’s head fell to his hands. Dumbledore. “If you could lower them so I could talk to Harry, that would also be quite wonderful!” Ron stared at Harry.

“Uh, Harry’s not here.” He was looking at Harry

“Are you sure Mr. Weasley?” 

“Yep.” Nope, Harry was right there.

“Well, his magical signature says he is.” 

“Those are his trousers.” 

“His… trousers?” 

“Yep.” He was making eye contact with Harry Potter.

“Ron, just let him in.” Harry muttered. Standing up and beginning to pack his bags. Neville and Hermione shared a look, looking at each other as Harry slowly brought his illusions down. 

“Absolutely wonderful, Mr. Weasley!” Dumbledore slowly stepped into the room. “Mr. Longbottom, Mrs. Granger too!” 

“Professor.” Hermione said, voice steady, as if she hadn’t just tried to keep their professor locked out of Harry’s room. Neville stayed silent. Slowly, Dumbledore lowered himself on the ground, sitting crisscrossed. The teens stared, looking at each other, confused. 

“I have read that, when conversing with teenagers, it is more likely to go well if you can all be on the same level. Come, come sit.” Albus’ eyes twinkled as Harry and Ron instinctively sat down, Hermione and Neville following soon after. 

“Harry, be honest with me, how long have you been here?” Dumbledore asked, not unkindly. The man seemed genuinely interested in Harry’s whereabouts. 

“About two weeks, Harry.” 

“And the rest of you?” Ron and Hermione replied with their respective answers, both looking down at the ground. “Well, Harry, I should tell you that it’s time to go back to your aunt and uncle, but,” Dumbeldore sighed, taking off his moon shaped glasses to rub his nose softly. “I assume that wouldn’t go over well?”

The looks on their faces confirmed this.

“They hate him professor,” Neville began. “He can stay with us! You know Gran doesn’t mind.”

“Severus wouldn’t mind either, Harry.” Dumbledore interjected. The room dropped ten degrees, all of the students on guard until DUmbledore eventually stood with a sigh. “Though I suppose it’s better to keep you safe and happy. See you all on the first, then.” Dumbledore said his goodbyes rather quickly, leaving four teenagers to stare in shock. 

“Did he just?”

“Yeah, I think he did.” 

“Great.” Neville said cautiously, looking around at everyone. “So, uh, gobstones?”

“Grandpa!” Harry yelled, bursting into the kitchen. Tom startled, alarmed, before smiling happy, gums and all. 

“Harry! How have you been, kid?” Harry hugged the old man, Tom gesturing to his two friends behind them. Ron and Neville walked in, both smiling and shaking the man's hand. Tom sat them down at the tiny dining table in the back, getting them set up with tea and a tray of biscuits. 

“Tom, where it- Harry!” Mary said, the older woman bustling around to him, covering his cheeks in kisses. “It’s been too long, and you’ve brought friends!” Mary hugged her boy, eventually pulling the other two into it as well. “How have you been, Love? Oh you must be so relieved to be away from those muggles. Have you enjoyed summer?”

All three answered her questions, laughing as Tom would lovingly mimic her fast pace talking from behind her back. Mary must have known he was doing it, as whenever Tom turned around she would stick her tongue out at the man. 

Harry smiled, laughing when Neville and Ron both lunged for the last biscuit on the small plate. If his parents were still alive, would it be like this? Would he be sitting at a dining room table, Ron and Neville right next to him? Would he have siblings running around, grandparents that would replace Tom and Mary? 

Harry didn’t know, but he also didn’t want to think about it. He had a family now, and he was more than content enough to keep it at the forefront of his mind.

“Harry, is it true you can cook?” Ron asked.

“‘Course.” Harry said with a nod. “Told you I worked here.” The redhead's eyes were shining with joy (and a little mischievousness) as he pulled Harry up. It was past the lunch hour, so Tom gave them permission to use the kitchen, Mary settling with a cup of warm tea. 

“Teach us how to cook!” Harry laughed at his friends, rolling up his sleeves as they flicked through a green cookbook, Mary telling them random pages that they flicked through. 

“Let’s make cupcakes!” Ron said, cheering as they settled on a flavour. 

Mary smiled at her pseudo grandchildren, taking a sip of her tea. Her heart soared as she saw these teenagers, almost legal adults in their world, smiling and acting like children. 

With all that was happening, they deserved it. 

Two hours passed, Harry, Neville, and Ron all covered in flour, but their cupcakes were done. Ron laughed, wiping his hands on a towel as Mary floated the cupcakes out of the oven. 

“Blimey, I don’t know how you do it!” Ron cheered as he bit into the bare cupcake, Harry staring at his friend, appalled. 

“Ooh, give me one too!” Neville reached over, plucking a freshly baked cupcake out of the pan. Neville bit into it, groaning at the taste.

“These are bloody fantastic!” Neville cocked his eye at Harry’s open mouth. “What? Do you not want one?”

“Are they not hot?” Harry asked, hand held over the pan. They sure felt hot.

“No?” Ron questioned, crumbs falling out of his mouth as he talked. “Why would they be?” 

“Because we just got them out of the oven?” Harry said, voice raising in confusion. 

“Harry, this is a magic pan, it cools the food as soon as it comes out of the oven.” 

“Seriously?” Harry said, taking a cupcake from the pan slowly. It wasn’t hot at all! It was nice and warm, sure, but Harry was able to take a big bite without having to wait for the cupcakes to cool. It made them softer, fluffier in Harry’s mouth. 

“Boys, I think you are forgetting something.” Mary said in a singson voice, getting up from her chair and heading over to the pantry, opening the door to dig somewhere in it. 

“What is it?” Neville asked, standing on his tiptoes to see over. Mary stood up, holding a metal container. 

“Icing! For the cupcakes”

Suffice to say, more icing went in their mouth then on their batch of cupcakes, but the boys were fine with it. It was a delicious, plain vanilla flavour that paired well with their sweet treats (and their spoons, according to Ron who had chosen to eat the rest of the container's contents.)

“Boys, it’s getting late you know, you best hurry if you want to finish your shopping.” All three boys groaned, slowing their cleaning of the kitchen to stay longer. “Come now, Augusta won’t like it if I keep you.”

“You know Gran?” Neville asked. Mary nodded. 

“We were prefects together, me and her. She’s a good woman.” Mary waved her wand, dishes beginning to wash themselves in the sink, dry themselves, or fly into the open cabinets. “Now, you know I love you all here, but off you trot! I will be seeing you on another day.” Mary hugged all of them, ushering them out the door with a smile. 

“Best write!” she called out as Tom shook their hands and patted their backs, giving them all a little drink on the road. They all shouted back in agreement, leaving Mary and Tom smiling from cheek to cheek.

“They’re good kids.” Mary said softly. Tom patted his wife's back gently, rubbing soothing circles on it. “Harry reminds me so much of-” her voice caught, thinking of her son. Tears shone in her eyes as her hand laid itself on her heart.

“They’re fine boys, Mary darling. They’ll be just fine.” 

Yes, thought Mary, yes they would be. 

“Quit shocking me!” 

“It’s not my fault, it’s the electricity!” 

“Well now Harry is just making up words.” Ron said as they all shoved into their back to school compartment, trunks clicking and scraping, warm jackets rubbing up against the static, creating electricity. Hermione followed, her own trunk floating behind her with ease. She rolled her eyes, gunning for the window seat as everyone else struggled to lift their trunks up to the top. 

“Honestly, Ronald, I don’t get why you don’t do it with magic!” Ron bristled lightly, sticking his tongue out childishly. “It’s much easier!”

“Course it is,” Ron grunted, giving his object one last push. “But I look much better putting the work in.” He flexed in the window, bringing a snort from both Harry and Neville, and an eye roll from Hermione.

Harry sat down next to Neville, the other boy pulling out a downsized herbology book from his pocket and resizing it to read on their journey. He had both Gobstones and Happy Families in his other pocket, waiting to be pulled out the minute one of them decided they were bored. Harry sat, hand pulling out the badge in his pocket, fiddling with it softly. 

Was quidditch something he actually wanted? He knew he loved the game, but to actually coach it? It wasn’t something he had ever found himself doing, but apparently the head of houses found he was the best for the job.

Snape probably voted against it, and for some reason, his heart hurt at that. Many nights of staying up late and thinking had Harry convinced that the voice that found him mid breakdown had been the one severus Snape, although now he wasn’t so sure. It could have been any male in the house that day, but Moody had a raspier voice, and Arthur was unable too, and Sirius would have been much kinder. 

No, it was definitely Severus.

“You alright, Harry?” Ron asked, looking up from the muggle colouring book Hermione had brought for him. He had seen her doing it and immediately took up the pastime. 

“We had colouring pages growing up, yeah,” Ron had explained, chewing his sandwich. “But, you just pointed a wand at the book and it coloured. It wasn’t as fun as this, I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Harry said with a sigh. “Just, I never saw myself being a coach. I like playing, but actually commanding it? Never crossed my mind.”

“I mean, you can always give it up,” Ron said with a shrug, reaching for it with a laugh. Harry gasped, pulling it to his chest. 

“No!”

“Then what are you complaining for?” 

“I’m not complaining, I just don’t know if I can do it.”

“Of course you can,” Hermione said, giving Harry a soft look. “You’re the best player on our team, and I guarantee you can ask McGonagall or Wood for notes.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Oh yeah, what classes are you taking Hermione?” Harry asked his friend, turning his body to lean against Nevilles arm. 

“Same as last year, although I did drop Divination.”

“Didn’t you drop it last year?” Neville questioned. 

“Well, not technically,”Hermione trailed. 

“I thought you dropped it in third?” Ron was bewildered. Suddenly Harry gasped. 

“Hermione Jean Granger!” 

“Harry, you can’t blame me?” She whined, hiding her flushed face behind a book. “It was so boring! And she didn’t even notice I was gone!”

“What do you mean?” Ron pressed. When Hermione didn’t answer, Harry spoke up for her.

“‘Mione has been skipping class for two years!” 

“Bloody hell…” Muttered Neville, book forgotten as they all dissolved into laughter. A few hours later had Ron complaining of boredom, the colouring book no longer satisfying his curiosity. So, they whipped out the popular muggle game (thank you, Hermione and Harry) Happy Families. 

“Do you have a… Niece!” Ron called out, pointing at Neville. The bastard smirked, pointing to the slowly diminishing pile. 

“Grab. Another. Member.” 

“Rats.” The redhead muttered, grabbing another card.

Hermione and Harry shared twin looks, each looking at the backside of each other's cards, trying to guess which one was inside each other's hands. They sat comfortably on the compartment floor, enough room for all of them to stretch their legs. 

“Hermione, can I have your grandfather?” Neville asked, much calmer than Ron as Hermione handed her card over to a grinning Neville. 

“How do you always do that?” Neville said nothing, turning to ask Harry for a different card. A knock rang on the door, Harry shouting a loud “Come in!” 

There stood Daphne, Blaise, Tracey, and… Malfoy?!

“May we join you?” Daphne said, stepping over their seated form all the while. Hermione moved a bit, letting Daphne and Tracey sit beside her, albeit on the seats. Blaise gave a soft hello to the boys, Malfoy following with a terse grin. He looked pale, unhealthy. Harry narrowed his eyes. 

Malfoy looked like Harry did, coming back from his gracious aunt and uncle. It rubbed Harry the wrong way. 

“And why’s he here?” Ron wasn’t scared to ask, looking pointedly at the blonde headed boy sitting behind Harry and by Blaise. Malfoy opened his mouth, likely to say something rude and crass, but Blaise covered his mouth with his hand. 

“Gregory and Vinc- Crabbe and Goyle got together, and none of us can stand their goo-goo eyes. It’s quite annoying, and we aren’t as cruel as to leave Draco there on his own. We said he could stay as long as he’s civil .” 

Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Harry shared a look, a long round of shrugs passing through them in silent conversation. 

“Sure.” Said Neville, snatching a card from Harry’s hand. “Long as he’s nice, I suppose.” Malfoy looked a bit surprised by that, the game continuing as the Slytherin watched. Harry reached into Nevilles bag.

“No, no more cupcakes!” Neville said, slapping his hand away. 

“I made the damn things!” Harry said with an eye roll, reaching further to pull out a bunch. He passed the wrapped treats to the newcomers, each taking one gingerly. He held one up to Malfoy, waiting for the blonde to take it. He was going to make a snide remark, but Blaise beat him to it. 

“That’s where you take it, Draco.” The blonde tisked, swiping the cupcake out of Harry’s hand and unwrapping it. Harry rolled his eyes, sneaking another cupcake for himself. 

“You said you made these, Harry?” Daphne asked. Harry nodded with a smile. “I like them, they’re very good.” Tracey and Blaise both agreed, both taking large bites out of the treats. Even Malfoy unwrapped it, taking a small bite from it before looking at Blaise, who waved his hand as if conducting a toddler. 

“Adequate, Potter.” Was all Malfoy said before eating the cupcake in four massive bites, as if he was a starved man. Harry smiled sadly to himself, passing up sandwiches and homemade tea as well. 

Malfoy may be an arse, but Harry wasn’t going to let anyone starve. He was a murderer, not cruel. 

Slowly, the game continued, Daphne joining in after learning the rules. The others preferred to watch, all gaining amusement as Ron lost card after card, never getting a pair from his friends (even with Blaise whispering Harry’s cards at him, Ron wasn’t very good at reading lips, and instead said completely different cards). All in all, it was a lot of fun.

“See you in potions, yeah?” Blaise asked before he left their compartment to change and exit the train. 

“I only got an EE, I won’t be able to attend Snape's class.” 

“Haven’t you heard?” Blaise asked, confused. “Snape isn’t teaching positions this year. Some man named Slughorn is.”

Chapter Text

“You mean to tell me, it’s the first weekend back, and you already have lessons with Snape?” Neville said as they changed into their pyjamas, while Ron pushed their beds together in the other room. “That’s awful!” 

“Tell me about it,” Harry said with a groan, letting his head fall onto the ceramic counter of their sixth year bathroom. Neville rubbed him on the back, buttoning his shirt with his other hand. “At least it won’t be in the dungeons. Maybe then I can throw myself out of the window.”

“Why is Harry throwing himself out of the window?” Ron asked as he walked in, instantly stripping to his pants as he threw on his sleeping trousers. 

“He’s got another lesson with Snape.” 

“Ah, rough luck mate.”

“Tomorrow.” Neville added as an afterthought. Ron paused in his dressing, looking at his friends with wide eyes. 

“Bloody rough, are you serious?” Neville nodded. “Mate, maybe you should do it then.” Harry groaned, leaving the bathroom to throw himself on the bed. Neville and Ron followed quickly, all three relaxing into the softness that was the Hogwarts bed. 

“I really don’t like him, you know?” Harry said, eyes tracing over the symbols Ron had carved over their shared canopy. Ron had gotten so good with magic, it almost drove Harry insane. He pointed his wand upward, small sparkled forming shapes that danced above them all, chasing each other as Ron closed the side of their beds. 

“I know,” Neville said with a sigh. “It’ll be alright this year. He’s only teaching defence, it’s your best class. You’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah, mate. You’ve got this.” Ron agreed, letting the animals dance above them before they fell into soft sparkles. “At least potions should be easier without Snape teaching it.” 

Neville nodded, although Harry noticed the slight flicker of doubt in his eyes. He knew Neville would struggle the most in that class, no matter who the professor was. 

Ron and Neville lay on either side of Harry, all three of them staring up at the ceiling. The room was quiet, except for the occasional creak of the old bed frame. With a sigh, Neville rolled over and grabbed a book, using his wand as a slight light as he read. A peaceful silence hung over the room, interrupted only by the occasional rustling of pages as Neville turned them over. Harry let out a deep, calming breath, letting his mind drift away from the stress and excitement of the upcoming year. He closed his eyes, taking in the soft fabric of the pillow under his head and the warmth of Ron's body next to him. He was always the warmest of the three, and Harry found himself relaxing, even as his mind wandered.

They had been through a lot together already - learning magic, solving problems, and facing off against some of the most powerful wizards in the world. Despite the danger and the uncertainty, they had become closer than ever before.

As Harry's thoughts turned to the future, he couldn't help but feel a familiar sense of worry and contentment, wrapped up in each other like a babe in a blanket. 

It settled in his chest and allowed his eyes to close.

Occlumency went well, for the most part , although Harry’s mind “person” avoided Snape like the plague, unrelenting hissing filling his ears instead as he tried to traverse Harry’s most guarded memories, but he struggled. A point to Potter, Severus supposed. 

“Potter.” Snape barked as the boy began to pack up, an hour having passed after Harry had arrived. “Sit.” Harry did so, an obvious tension filling his body.

The two men sat in the dimly lit room, the only light coming from the flickering candles on the table. The air was heavy with the tense silence between them. Suddenly, Snape spoke, voice thick with something Harry couldn't quite place. 

"Potter, I'm afraid I must warn you against using illusion magic," he said sternly. "It's a dangerous and unpredictable branch of magic, and it has no place in the hands of an inexperienced student like yourself." Harry blanked. 

“Inexperienced?” Harry’s face contorted. “I’ve been doing it for years, thank you very much.” 

“You shouldn’t- what were you thinking, using illusion magic? It's dangerous, do you realize how many people could have seen you? How many people could have been injured or even killed? Those muggles-”

“They don’t care.” Harry spat back, hands crossing across his chest. “And they all know about magic too, not like they like it any. I was fine.” 

“Because Illusion magic is dangerous. It can be used to manipulate others, to deceive and even harm them," Snape hissed, his face contorted with anger. "I don't want to see you using such magic ever again.”

“My magic isn’t like that! It’s not dirty!” Snape had thought the same. “My magic is… is good! And playful! And happy!” Severus sneered at the boy, hands slamming on his desk table, body freezing slightly when harry flinched. 

Damnit, Severus!

"Harry, I cannot stress enough how dangerous illusion magic is," Snape said, his voice tinged with a mixture of anger and concern. "It can lead to all sorts of problems, not to mention the potential consequences of using it."

Harry paused at the use of his first name.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, grabbing his bag to head out the door. Snape caught his sleeve, glaring at him. 

Snape's expression darkened even further as he leaned in closer to Harry. "Let me be clear, Potter," he snarled. "I care because that magic is forbidden by the Ministry of Magic. And if you continue to use it, I will have no choice but to alert the authorities."

"And what would the Ministry do? Arrest me?" Harry asked incredulously. "Is that what you want, Snape? To see me thrown in Azkaban for breaking your precious rules?"

Snape's grip on Harry's shirt tightened as he spoke, his face twisted in anger. "No, Potter," he said, his voice low and intense. "You will learn to follow the rules, or you will not survive in this world. I will not have you becoming a dark wizard, like your father." Harry turned to face the man. 

“Like my- you mean you?” Harry said incredulously, mouth gaping. Severus nodded, body stiff. A disbelieving laugh bubbled up out of Harry’s throat. “"Why do you care?" Harry retorted, his own anger rising to match Snape's. "You've never cared about me or my well-being before. Why start now?"

“I care-”

“If you say if it’s because I am your son-”

“Do NOT! Interrupt me, Harrison.” Severus commanded, the use of his son’s first name falling naturally from his lips. It fits. Regal and common enough, just like his own name. Lily had chosen well. “I care, because as much as we both despise it, I will not have my son, my bloodline, doing illegal magic. No matter” He continued talking over Harry. “No matter how fun or pretty it seems. 

With that, he released Harry and stormed out of the room, leaving Harry feeling confused and shaken. He knew that Snape was right, that he should not be playing with magic like that. But he also knew that he had to be able to defend himself, no matter what the cost.

What was he thinking- Snape being right? Course not! Magic was magic was magic! It’s not like he was casting the Crucio curse with it! Harry was fine , Snape was just trying to play father. Harry didn’t need that, not this late in the game. 

On Snapes end, the older man sighed, sitting down at his desk, pulling out a glass and some brandy. His mind swirled with memories, both of his time with Lily and his time with the death eaters. 

He took a sip, letting himself get lost in his memories.

“Sev! That’s so cool!” Lily said, staring at the stars he created. They were in the summer of their fifth year, and Lily had just been made a prefect! Severus was excited, both for her and for the fact that she could stop the torment Potter and his ilk put him through. It would be a good year after all. “Can you make a heart?” She asked, laying down in the grass beside him. It was cool for one of their summers, the grass nice and dry beneath their backs as they looked up at the tree. Sparks flew from Severus’ fingertips, a small heart forming in the air, exploding into sparkles after it rolled around a bit, covering Lily in pink sparkles. She giggled, just for a moment, and Severus was happy, thigh no longer aching from his fathers abuse. 

The memory changed.

“I’m leaving, Fa- Tobias.” Severus announced to the cripple of a man. He was drunk and injured, longing for a wife he only loved a fragment of their time together. “You’re on your own now.” He added in spite.

“You get your ass back in here!” The man demanded, limping after Severus. “I won’t have you joining those wizard folks! I let you go to that damn school, now you’ll grow into a proper man!”

“Let me?” Severus said, stepping closer, wand in his hand. “You didn’t let me do anything! It was my duty-”

“Put that damn thing away!” Tobias yelled, waving his hand around. Snape backed up, a flash of fear rushing through him as his father swung. 

No, he was no longer a little boy, and Lucius was waiting for him out front. He couldn’t be fearful in front of his friend

“Give it to me!” Tobias yelled, crashing a vase to the floor. Snapes mind blanked, watching his mothers ashes fall to the floor, only for his father to step right in the pile. 

It was Tobias’ turn to watch in fear. 

The man watched in horror as the illusion monster that had been lurking in Snape's wand finally burst forth into the world, the wand quivering in Snape's hand as he did nothing to hold it back. It was a truly horrifying sight, the beast covered in a dark, swirling mist that seemed to shift and change as it moved, leaving behind a trail of ominous darkness like a dark cloud in its wake. It growled, low and in the back of its throat, rumbling the foundations of the very household Severus had grown up in. 

For once, Severus didn’t care. 

“You put that black magic away!” Tobias yelled, waving his arm, feet slicing themselves on the glass below him, sullying the ashes of his dear mother. Snape let his eyes close, let magic be his will, and let the illusion become what it was designed to be. 

Even though he never saw the sight, the smell of blood and the sound of crunching bone never left his mind. Lucius walked in, gasping at the sight. The monster hunched in the corner, quieted and small now that its cause had deceased. It chewed on a spare arm, Severus turning away with a wave of his cloak. 

“Set it ablaze.” Severus said, both of them exiting and doing so, wand waving in perfect synchrony. He cared little for the beast, corpse, or ashes left inside. 

All had been sullied by his father already.

Runes are frequently portrayed as a mystery power that has vanished with time, notably in relation to runestones or other relics from antiquity. They are frequently portrayed as possessing enormous power and significance and are frequently connected to ancient gods or nations.

According to one idea, runes are a type of prehistoric written language that has been utilised for communication and information recording by many different societies throughout history. The many symbols known as runes that make up the runic alphabet are said to have been utilised by the ancient Germanic and Norse tribes. These runes can be seen on a variety of things, such as jewellery and metal items, runestones, and other stone sculptures.

There are numerous theories as to what the runes' initial users may have meant from the various interpretations of the symbols that have been argued for ages on their precise meanings. While some academics think the runes were just an early type of writing used to record the ancient languages spoken by those nations, others think they may have had mystical or magical meanings associated with spiritual rituals or deity worship.

Runes have also been connected to the science of runology, which is the interpretation of old runic inscriptions. In order to read and comprehend the runes, runology is a complicated field of study that frequently requires the examination of historical, linguistic, and archaeological data.

Runes are frequently portrayed in fiction as mystical symbols that can be utilised in magical rituals or to cast spells. Within this framework, runes are frequently portrayed as possessing particular attributes or meanings, and are employed by practitioners of magic to direct their energy or manipulate supernatural powers. Runes are also described in some fictional works as having the power to produce or control elements like fire or water, as well as to influence other people's feelings and ideas.

“Fiction?” Ron asked, placing the book Harry handed him down. The table raised an eyebrow. “In here, it says that runes are displayed in fiction works, with magic and stuff. Magic isn’t fictional.” 

“To muggles it is, Ron. You have to remember that.” Hermione chided. 

“Oh, yeah, right. Did you ever read about magic?” 

“I read one book. It was super popular. “DR, RG, and EW Discover a Red Stone.” Harry said, marking a place in his charms book. 

“What do the letters stand for?” Ron asked. Hermione was the one to jump in with an answer this time. 

“Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson. But the title is so long that-”

“Most fans only say the letters, and the number of the book they are reading.” Finished Harry. The pair nodded, Tracey’s face lighting up. 

“Oh my sister read those! I couldn’t get into them though, not when Gary Oldman died.”

“I don’t remember a character named Gary.” Harry said with a frown. 

“He comes in book three, he’s a businessman that was actually Daniel's father! It was super interesting!”

“Might have to give it a reread, one day.” Harry said, turning back to his book, letting Tracey and Hermione talk about the book. 

Advanced Charm Theory is a topic of study many schools in the world teach, but is more commonly learned on one's own. where young witches and wizards are taught the theories and techniques behind advanced Charm work at their own pace, instead of having to keep up with a classmate. This theory is explored in much greater depth, allowing learners to delve into the intricacies and complexities of Charm work.

The investigation of an object's magical qualities, including composition and structure, is one facet of charm theory. Witches and wizards can more effectively design and control Charms that target particular materials or things by being aware of these features. This also entails being aware of an object's limitations, such as the amount of magical energy it can hold before breaking, and the ways in which various kinds of magic affect it.
The study of various charms, especially those that control elements like fire, water, air, and earth, is another facet of charm theory, but mostly applies to students who can use a specific magical affinity. Students can execute feats like creating storms, fires, or other elemental hazards by learning these elements and using them to craft specialised charms that harness their power.

Students are also taught about the several kinds of charms that can be placed on living things, including people, animals, and plants, in addition to these components. These charms can be used offensively as well as for a wide range of purposes, such as protection and healing. After taking advanced Charms, and eventually ones S.T.A.R.R (or other equivalent, including N.E.W.T.S) students may choose another path to go down that relates to this topic. 

One of the most advanced concepts explored in Charm Theory is the concept of the "Charm Circle," which is a complicated pattern of magic that can be used to create powerful and complex charms. This circle is composed of a specific arrangement of symbols, colours, and words, and must be invoked in the correct order for it to work properly. The use of a Charm Circle can allow a skilled witch or wizard to create charms that are far more powerful and complex than those that can be created without it, and is therefore a highly sought-after skill in many fields of magic.

“What’s a charm circle?” Harry asked his friends, only for Madame to come, clearing them out. They left quickly, parchment, books, and quills shoved roughly in their bags. Apparently the library wasn’t fully open yet, and students had to wait a whole week to be able to check out library books and materials, which included tables. That was fine. 

The group headed outside for lunch, Harry summoning sandwiches from Dobby. The group enjoyed them, chewing them slowly to savour the taste. They hadn’t tasted as good, or as crisps as Harry’s own, but they were quite sweet. Most of the group enjoyed it. 

And if Harry had Dobby sneakily drop off a few on Draco's bed, no one knew it but him.

And Blaise, because he wasn’t dumb, but he could keep a secret.

“Harry, thank you so much for meeting me.” Dumbledore said as Harry entered the ornate office, eyes blinking a bit from the sudden light. It wasn’t fair to have a staircase that dim, but an office so bloody bright . “May I introduce you to Horrace Slughorn. He’ll be your potions professor this year.” 

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Harry shook the older man's hand. He was obviously excited, hands sweaty as they met. “But I only got an EE for potions…” 

“Truly alright, Harry! I only require an EE for my students anyways! An O doesn’t always make the students the best!” Slughorn said with a wink, Harry smiling back awkwardly. “Well, I will see you all at another time! I look forward to seeing you this Friday afternoon!” Harry nodded, his smile dropping the moment Slughorn had left the office. Dumbledore sighed, a small smile playing on his old lips. 

“He’s a bit eccentric, isn’t he?” Harry nodded, not trusting his voice. “But alas, meeting Horace was not the reason I brought you here.” 

“What is it, Sir?” Harry asked, shoulders stiffening. If this was about his illusion magic-

“It’s about this trinket right here.” Dumbledore opened a drawer and pulled out a dairy, torn in the centre, stained black ink coating its once brown cover. “Do you remember this?”

“Yeah, that's the Diary Lucius Malfoy gave Ginny, right?” Dumbledore nodded. “I thought I gave that to him for Dobby?”

“I had Dobby give it to me before he went on his adventure, I wanted to review its properties. I had an inkling but…”

“What is it?” 

“Harry, have you ever heard the word Horcrux?” Harry shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so at least. What is it?”

“A horcrux is a terrible bit of soul magic. It tears off pieces of your soul, little by little, and with each one you make. It drives a person insane.” Harry connected the dots. 

“And you think the diary was one?” He questioned. “Tom Riddles, you mean?”

“Yes, and that leads us to our second pressing of the matter, I believe there are more.” 

“How many?” Harry asked, the breath sucked out of his lungs, making his voice weak. “You mean he, he actually-?”

“Tore his soul apart, yes. I believe that there are at least five, if not more. Although I know of 2 others. But, Harry.” Dumbeldore interrupted his trailing thoughts. “You mustn’t feel agony for Tom. Pity, yes, but I assure you Tom knew exactly what he was doing when he created them. Except..”

“Except what, Professor?” Harry said, body shaking. God, if only Sirius was here. That would make this better. 

“There’s one Horcrux I believe he hadn’t meant to make.” 

“Which…which one? Harry asked in a whisper, eyes staring into Dumbledores until slowly, slowly, those blue eyes locked onto Harry’s forehead. The blood rushed out of his body. “Me?”

“Yes, my boy.” Dumbledore sighed, taking off his glasses. “I didn’t want to think so, but with Severus telling me of how your mind blocks his attacks it revealed to me the truth.”

“Y-you’re telling me I have a piece of Voldemort stuck in my head?!” Harry’s voice grew hysterical, each word tripping over the other.

“I am afraid so, Harry.” Dumbledore said. “But do not worry, Harry, Professor Snape and I are looking for a way to safely remove it. 

“T-theres a piece of voldemort in my head- that makes sense! That makes so much sense! The voices, the strange feelings- I’, sorry sir, please, continue.”

“Harry said this, although he was shaking with adrenaline. Everything made sense now. He wasn’t crazy , he just had a piece of voldemort inside of him! 

“This ring is another horcrux, and I have come to ask you to take me to someplace I would never want you to go again.” Dumbledore showed his decaying hand, and the red ring on top of it. Harry gasped, but followed along. 

“The chamber of secrets.” He said.

“Precisely. Basilisk venom destroys everything, including soul fragments. If we could go now…”

A light lit up inside Harry’s mind. Perfect .

“Harry, what was so important you had to keep us up for a few hours? You know we need sleep before astronomy, and it’s only a tuesday.” Ron yawned. Harry rummaged through his chest, pulling out a silver locket. It hissed, contented in his hands, Harry slipping it over his neck. “Oh cool a necklace, goodnight-” Neville held Ron’s shoulder up with his hand, yawning.

“I’m sure it’s important, Ron.” Neville said. Harry sat down on his bed, pulling a spare basilisk fang out of his school bag. Ron and Neville both gasped. 

“Before we get started, do any of you know of an object called a horcrux?” Neville and Ron both shook their heads no, and Harry smiled, wide and dark. It gave Ron the chills, but Neville seemed to lean into it. “Then I have a tale for you!” 

Harry launched into the tale Dumbledore told him, sharing each line with wicked glee. Finally, he stopped, Neville holding his palm up to Harry's mouth. He licked it instinctually. 

“You mean you are.. Housing Voldemort's soul?” Harry paused, nodding slowly. “Bloody- my god.”

“I know how to destroy it now! Basilisk venom! It’ll work, on both me and the locket. “

“You think the locket is one?” Ron questioned, looking green. “Then why do you have it on your chest?” 

“It makes it less volatile,” Harry rubbed the edge of it, enjoying the hiss of magic. “Now, one of you needs to stab it.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“Nope.” They both agreed. Harry groaned, agitation beginning to creep behind his eyes. 

“Why not? It’s not that big of a deal, just stab it with the fang, and another one will be gone! Then we can stab my own scar-”

“No ones stabbing anything-” Ron tried to placate, watching with twitching eyebrows as Neville reached out to touch the locket. 

“I’ll do it.” Neville said with a shrug, a sullied glint in his eyes. Ron groaned into his hands, covering his face. Was he the only bloody sane one?

“We should soundproof the bed, just in case.” Harry said, looking at Ron with an incisive smile. Ron just sighed, giving into his fate as he casted a series of spells, watching Harry and Neville with bated breath. The fang was held tight in Nevilles hand, pointed right above the locket - and Harry’s heart. 

“Be careful, please.” Ron pleaded, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to see this.

The scream was loud enough to break glass. The group was surprised that the sound shielding charm had even worked. Harry grinned, excited, Nevilles own soft smile matching his fever.

“Bloody brilliant!” They shouted. Harry laid down, waving Neville over. “Come on, one more and then-”

“Wow, Harry, I can stab a locket, but my best mate? Absolutely not!” Harry rolled his eyes, but Ron plucked the fang out of Neville's hand, rushing to his own trunk and dropping it in there. 

“No one is stabbing anyone , okay? We’ll figure out this… this Harry Horcrux thing later just- my merlin do we all need sleep. Harry you look Niffler shit insane, Neville you reek of magic, all of us just need sleep.” Ron threw himself down on their mattress, other boys (mostly Harry) grumbling. 

A tear slipped out of his eye. 

“How are you going to protect yourself?” Neville whispered to Harry. 

“I’ll make an illusion phoenix of course! It can cry into my scar and heal me like last time.”

“Are you sure that will work?” He sounded worried. Harry sounded cocky, unlike his normal self.

“I read about it, it’ll work. Swear it.”

Another tear followed. What was happening to Harry?

Chapter Text

The next morning, Harry was the first to wake up. He groaned, rolling over on his side, finding Neville drooling, lying on his back. He rubbed his eyes, reaching over the sleeping form of his friend to grab his glasses. Slipping them on, he adjusted to the soft darkness of the room, eyes zeroing in on the destroyed locket on the floor of their dorm. 

Memories flooded his mind, taking over his senses as he thought of everything he had done. It had been a manic blur, the conversation with Dumbledore sending him into a delighted, dangerous ecstasy. He hadn’t meant to actually destroy the locket, only tell his friends about it and their plan. They were going to do it together, with Dumbledore, safe and sound, away from the other students. 

Instead, Harry had found himself racing down the hallways, mind filled with one thought. I am a horcrux . The thought whispered throughout his head filling his every sense. His hearing dimmed, his body itched, his eyes narrowed. He tried to whisper the words out loud and couldn’t even get his voice to work. 

His head turned quickly, hand gripped tightly around the locket as his eyes looked over Ron’s trunk. 

I am a horcrux.  

Gingerly, Harry climbed out of the bed, stepping over a sleeping Neville as he tiptoed his way to his own trunk, grabbing his invisibility cloak. He made his way to Ron’s chest next, hands sliding over it, feeling the familiar ridges and bumps and- runes. Damnit. Ron had warded his trunk. Harry was a lot of things, being good at runes was not one of them. 

I am a horcrux. 

With a glare at his friend, Harry slipped the locket over his head and quietly moved out of the dorm room. Fine, if Ron was going to lock up his tooth, he’d go and get another himself. Besides, it was better than waking his roommates if he happened to yell.

I am a horcrux.

The halls of Hogwarts were dark, the rising sun not yet meeting her large windows and filling the hallways with delightful rays. It gave Harry ample time to sneak around, ducking by alcoves and windows, hiding from paintings and rats alike. 

I am a horcrux.

Quietly, Harry slipped into the second floor girls bathroom, making his way to the sink. He heard Myrtle, the bathroom ghost, murmuring behind him, even touching his shoulder, but he paid her no mind. He had more important things to do. 

I am a horcrux.

The hissed words fell from his throat, so deep and present it would raise the hair on anyone's arms. It sounded so much like him, yet like someone else at the same time. He liked it, even though it reminded him of the Dark Lord.

I am Voldemort's horcrux.

Harry slipped down the slide, landing in the cleared up hallway. He and Dumbledore had made sure to fix it up, transfiguring the rubble and slick into a nice, cleaner room. A sign of respect to Hogwarts. Harry was glad they had done it, it made slipping through its grey walls much easier. 

I am Voldemort's horcrux.

Yes, he knew that already. The words floundered up through his skull, down his spine, and into his very heart. He hated it, yet it was a constant reminder of what he truly was. Once he was rid of this damn horcrux, he’d finally be Harry. Just Harry. Harry waved his wand, severing off a tooth of the great carcass in front of him. They had promised to leave its contents alone for Severus to come and look at, and it was clear the man hadn’t done so yet. It remained perfect in all but its death. The scales were a smooth, sleek brown, each scale looking like it was hand placed on the beasts. Shades of all colour wrapped around it, rich chocolate meeting deep grey’s, turning to iridescent blues by the creature's nose. Harry allowed his hand to run over it, no longer under Dumbledore's eyes. It was warm to the touch, with a soft, almost silky texture. Four years dead, and the creature still felt so alive. Although Harry knew the beast was alive, no matter what his mind tried to tell him.

He grabbed the large bottom tooth,staring at the yellow-white mass with keen observation and delight. Finally, he was so close. Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he allowed his magic to work, letting his soul guide him. He needed a phoenix. 

He heard rustling somewhere in the cave but paid it no mind. He had a goal he needed to accomplish. His wand began to glow.

A delicate, otherworldly creature emerged as the spell's white light faded. Harry opened his eyes, marvelling at his own illusion, his own creation! And Snape had said this was an evil skill! The phoenix trilled an off putting tune, making Harry’s nape hairs stand on edge. Maybe not perfect, especially since it was the wrong colour, but it was perfect. He ran his hand over the fluff. The feathers had an almost lifelike quality, as though each one were a single feather from a bird in flight that had been frozen in time. The animal had the look of a magnificent phoenix, with brilliant white feathers flowing into greyish-green on its wings and tail. It wrapped around Harry, playful. With every motion, its body appeared to shimmer like a desert mirage, shifting in colour and tone. Harry stuck out his arm, allowing it to settle there. It’s claws stabbed in deep, making the teen wince, but he ignored it. The phoenix's eyes had a rich, mysterious green colour, as though they were filled with all the secrets in the cosmos. It appeared to know more than anyone could possibly know; it seemed to have the answers to all the questions concerning life and death, happiness and sadness, light and darkness.

They mirrored Harry’s own, the pupils slightly wide in want. 

“You know what to do, right?” Harry whispered to the bird, ignoring the pit-pat he heard. It must be raining outside. The bird nodded, trilling once again. Harry took a deep breath, and readied the fang at his scar. Just a little cut, then he’d be fine, it was going to be fine, right? This would work?

I am Voldemort's horcrux.

This had to work. 

Harry’s mind went blank, a silent scream leaving his lips parted in agony. His mind whirled, dragging him in a multitude of directions. Emotions and memories flashed through his mind, leaving him hopeless, angry, upset. Every negative thing he had ever felt filled him.

The white phoenix flew above him, singing its desolate song as illusionary tears fell from its eyes. Drops of soft white landed on Harry, having deemed it enough time for the poison to work through his horcrux addled soul. Instead, Harry twitched below him, shaking, scar smoking as the basilisk venom made ruin of his body. The white creature of grace sang, the same empty tune he had tried, letting more tears fall onto Harry’s face. 

Except it wasn’t tears that dripped into Harry’s body, but his own magic. The phoenix was essentially useless. 

“Myrtle! We don’t have time for this, bugger off-” Ron said as the girl repeatedly flew through their bodies, leaving them cold. 

“It’s Harry! He’s gone into the chamber!” 

“We know, Myrtle!” Neville said, legs pumping and face turning red as he ran. This damn fool, damn it all to hell! How could he be so stupid! To run off on his own like this? He was going to- Harry was going to kill himself doing this!

Why had Neville ever deemed this a good idea?

“If you want to help, Myrtle.” Ron panted as they arrived in the bathroom, rushing to the closed sink. “Go get a teacher!” The ghost girl nodded sharply, flying through one of the toilets. Ron cursed, kicking the sink. 

“Let’s hiss at it!” Neville said, pushing Ron out of the way as he hissed at it. It took a few minutes, and every second that passed, Neville and Ron grew more irate, more worried, their magic sparking and lashing out without the use of any spells. Finally, with one low and forceful hiss, the sink began expanding, opening and moving like the jaws of a snake. Feet pounded down the hall, and Ron slipped down. Neville wasn’t fast enough to get away. 

“Longbottom! Do not go down there!” Snape yelled, pulling the boy up by his button up, the first two buttons popping off at the sudden force. “You will wait for Dumbledore, or Merlin help me-”

Neville used his free hand, snapping off the sleeping shirt. He pulled his arm and wand free and rushed to the whole, jumping down it before the dower potions professor could stop him. 

“Longbottom!” The man yelled, but wind pushed his voice back as Neville rushed down the pipe, small scratches lining his bare back. Ron was waiting, tapping his foot. 

“Snapes here, let’s go.” Was all Neville said, both boys rushing down the endless escapade of hallways. Severus was quick to accompany, silencing his own steps as he followed the boys thumping feet. 

The wretched ghost had appeared in Severus’ bathroom that morning, head popping out of the toilet as Severus brushed his teeth. She had frightened him, Severus almost pulling out his wand and firing at the floating mass. Not that that would have done anything to her. 

“Harry Potter has gone down to the chamber of secrets!” She shrieked, voice high and whiny, never changing from the voice she had died with sixty years ago. It grated on his ears, even as her words filled him with cool dread. “He seemed out of it! I couldn’t get him to respond to me at all!”

Severus took in a deep breath of air, bolting from his rooms with newfound speed. Dumbeldore had shown them all where the entrance was three years ago, alerting them to listen to Myrtle (the new permanent guard) if she ever came to them about a student acting off. 

Of course, the next time it happened it had to be Harrison bloody Potter.

Of course, it had to be his wayward son. 

Snape arrived quickly, taking secret tunnels and portrait passageways he hadn’t used since his Hogwarts days. He arrived quick enough to catch Longbottom, before the blasted boy had escaped from his clutch. 

The ride was bumpy for Severus, nicking at his clothes. He hoped it had torn into Longbottoms back for even thinking of escaping him. 

What had led Harry to go into this detestable place? Severus thought to himself. The halls were old, beaten with age, but they were clean, as if they had just been covered in Scourgify and other cleaning spells. Was that what the boy was doing? Cleaning? No, cease the thought! Precious Potter must hate cleaning, especially after all of the torture his relitives put him through. No, he must be down here doing something worse. 

A bright hot phoenix flew above him, and with a quiet point-me, Severus followed, eventually running into Weasley and Longbottom. He ran past them, but Longbottom was smart, casting a point-me on Severus as well. The three ran, worry rolling off of them in waves as they tried their hardest to keep up with everything that was happening. Severus still had unanswered questions. 

They turned a hall, and the bird disappeared, both sets of point-me’s going off wildly. Three halls stood in front of them, all just as dark as the other. Severus turned to his two students, fuming. 

“You will tell me what happened, or I will leave you here.” He hissed. Ron bared his shoulders, looking like a bear protecting its cubs.

“We don’t have to tell you anything.” Ron spat. “Why did you even follow us? Everyone knows you hate Harry!” 

“It’s Harrison, Weasley, if you would use the boys proper name-”

“When pigs fly, Snape.” Neville said, pulling out his wand. Ron followed suit, and Severus had to resist the urge to laugh. Two students against the Dark Lord's own illusionist? How bloody likely.

Suddenly, two loud melodies played, one heinous and vile, the other soft and inviting. They shared a look, all three running towards the sound. If this was where Harry was, that means Fawke’s had found him! 

As they ran down the hallway, eventually slowing as it grew more and more narrow, the three of them stepped into a large, almost empty cavern. It held a statue, a bloody fucking basilisk , two twirling phoenix’s and… Harrison! 

Snape ran towards his son, skin paling and heart beating wildly, each step memoring only half the speed of his pumping blood. He knelt down, ignoring the snake corpse, and began examining his son. 

Atop of his scar was a wound, no bigger than a knut, but right in the middle of his forehead. Snape went to mutter healing spells, so many awaiting on his tongue, until he heard a loud gasp. 

“He actually did it…” Neville said, staring at the fang in Harry's hand. “He actually-”

“Not the time, Nev!” Ron souted, pulling out his wand. “He needs to heal!” 

Fawkes, and the horrid white phoenix, sang above them, letting tears fall onto his boy's face. Harry was sweating, body twitching. Snape moved his head up, sitting himself on his knees so his son's head could rest in his lap. 

Was Harry trying to kill himself?

“Ron, what are you-” Neville hissed, stopping Ron’s hand. Fresh blood poured out of Harry’s calf, and Severus resisted the urge to snatch the wand from Weasley’s hand. He had recognised the first two lines though, the beginning of a healing rune. Ron didn’t stop, wand slicing thinly into Harry’s calf. Severus looked up, eyeing Fawkes, who dropped one more tear on Harry’s face before colliding with the white phoenix, sending a scattering symphony of sound and magic everywhere. One of Harry’s illusions, and a tainted one at that. 

Harry had already fallen down his path. 

Severus was next to begin casting, wand waving over Harry’s head. The young boy's heart was beating slowly, but it was beating. That’s all they needed right now.

Harry slowly opened his eyes, light brown walls surrounding him. For a moment, his body tensed, grabbing at his forehead. He couldn’t feel his scar! Had he- well then- where was he? 

“I see you have awakened, Harrison Potter.” Harry grimaced, the voice chuckling at something - likely his scrunched up taste. What had his parents been thinking with a name like that? Harry was a much better choice. “Just Harry then, I suppose.”

“Who are you?” Harry said, turning around. A figure sat in a chair, a darker brown than the light brown walls that surrounded them. He waved his hand, and another seat appeared. He gestured at it, and Harry slowly took a seat. 

“Let’s talk,” The man said. He had the appearance of a wealthy and refined gentleman, with an air of importance that seemed to fill the room. The man was dressed sharply, in rich, dark browns that shone in the light. His clothes were tailored to fit his lean, muscular frame, and the cuffs of his shirt were rolled up to reveal dark, tanned forearms. A gold pocket watch swung idly by his belt, untucked from its perfect little pocket, and two watches adorned his wrists, both with black leather bands and golden dials. His hair was dark brown, cut short and styled to immaculateness. His eyes were a deep, rich brown, with a sharp and intelligent gaze that seemed to be able to bore into Harry’s very soul. He seemed confident, regal, dressed in his matching vest and pants, all another shade of brown. Harry felt poor just sitting in his presence, and tried to sit up straighter. The man smiled at him, eyes sparkling with secrets of the world within them. They were sharp, but not in the way that a disapproving parent would look at Harry, more like the way a scientist would look at a rat. 

It unnerved Harry. 

“Who are you?” Harry asked again. The man chuckled, deep in his chest as tan hands summoned two floating plates, one with cookies and the other with tea. 

“My, I figured you would know me. You deal with me every day.”

“Quit speaking in riddles.” Harry demanded, ignoring the trays. The man sighed, standing up in a fluid wave of motion. He stuck his hand out, a cloak flying into it. It was familiar to Harry, all brown and tattered, and the man slipped it on over himself, crouching. He stuck out a - now skeletal - hand as he mumbled mindless words. Realisation dawned, and Harry instantly relaxed. 

“Time! I didn’t know you could look so…” He searched for a word, as Time threw the cloak on the floor, stepping over it with a sigh. 

“Human?” The deity offered, sitting back down in his chair. “Yes, we usually don’t when talking to humans, but I had to grab you out of my brother's realm a few minutes ago. Besides, I look much better as a person than a snivelling cloak.” Time huffed.

“You mean- you had to grab me from Death's version of this?” Harry said, looking around. Time nodded, taking a sip of his tea.

“It’s not often that our wards try to kill themselves.” Time spoke lightly, judgement strategically plucked out of his tone. Harry froze. 

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself?” He said, crossing his arms. I was trying to get rid of the Horcrux!”

“Which would have killed you.” Time said, taking another sip. “Before you get worked up, have a cookie. I baked them myself, you know.” Harry grumbled but took one of the soft cookies, taking a bite of it. Magic filled his tongue, filtering out his senses and warping them into something new. His bones felt stronger, his body deeper rooted in his own magic. Like stretching a muscle that hadn’t been used to its full ability. He was practically bursting out of his seams, body tight and loose. 

Most of all, his chest felt full, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Oops.” Time deadpanned, making Harry’s gaze turn to face him. “I seem to have given you the wrong type of cookies. Oh well.” 

“What-?” Harry asked, confused. That didn’t- he just said he made them himself?

“Oops. Anyways, how have you been, Harry?” Harry stared, mouth gaping a bit. 

“Wouldn't you know?” Harry asked. “Don’t you deities watch us?” Time rolled his eyes, chewing on a chocolate cookie. 

“Not all of the time, especially not my siblings. We have tasks to do, moving the earth along. Why, I still haven’t decided what course I want the earth to take this year! Should it pull a centimetre to the left, or the right? Such choices.”

“I- well alright. What am I doing here?” Time shrugged. 

“Technically, you’re in limbo.”

“Limbo?” Harry tasted the word. “What’s that?”

“Your body is alive but your soul is dead. Well, on your part, only part of your soul is dead. Limbo is where people who have their soul sucked out by Dementors come. It’s not pretty, their bodies still being alive and all, with their souls so forcefully ripped out.”

“So I’m like, what, a lost soul?”

“Precisely!” Time said, waving his teacup. “But, you’ve got people working on your body at the moment, so I’m sure you’ll be ripped back there soon” He looked at his wrist. “Much sooner than I thought, actually. Your father is working on your body.”

“Fat- Oh, you mean Snape.” Time laughed quietly into his tea, hiding his grin.

“He cares for you- or, he will, I should say. Quite soon.” 

“When? On his deathbed?” Harry rolled his eyes. “As if, Snape wants nothing to do with me.”

“Only time will tell,” Said Time, taking one more sip of his drink before Harry groaned. “Harry, I’d like to tell you a story about a boy, Cadmus Peverell. You may know him.”

“Don’t recall.” Harry said, pulling his feet into his chair. Time bristled a little, but began the story of his first, and only,  worshipper.

“Cadmus Peverell was one of three brothers, much like you and your friends, only, they were actual siblings. Cadmus was my first, and my only actual worshipper.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, leaning forward a bit. “Did he like, summon you?” 

“No, nothing so crass. Cadmus devoted his life to me, trying to enhance everyone's time, or shorten it, depending on my ‘will’”. He fell apart when Death claimed his lover, and using a stone Death had given him, had tried to bring her back from the dead.”

“To give her more time.” Time nodded. 

“He was a good man, but one constantly overrun with power. Not the strongest of his brothers, or the weakest, as they were all equal in power, but he held the most drive, the most want.”

“What happened after he used the stone?”

“He was sucked into it, forever erasing him from time. Death had thought it a funny prank, but Cadmus had already passed before we could get the poor man out of the stone.” Harry shivered. “Not a pretty story. Unlike Death, I have taken on no other worshippers, until you, Harry.” Before Harry could speak, he coughed, body pulling itself out of their world, leaving Time alone once more.

 He stood up, stretching, and picked up his cloak from the floor. 

He walked through a wall, his brother and sister waiting for him. Life, dressed in a glowing white dress, body tiny despite her being the eldest of them all. Death was there too, dressed like a warrior from top to bottom, black armour fitting him like it would a noble steed. Where Time was lithe, Death was muscular, where Life was short, Death was tall. Forever an opposite and a completion.

“So? What was it like?” Time shrugged.

“It was good, I suppose. Although I doubt I could do it again. The flow of time slowed down too much while I was gone.”

“Maybe when they’re all old and dead, we can talk to them.” Death said, looking longingly at his knife. Time sighed, walking away. Time to get time back on track.

Chapter Text

Snape's eyes fluttered open at the sound of a groan. He too began to rouse from his chair, standing up with a loud pop. Only thirty-six and already popping like an old man. It was probably the stress. Likely caused by the very boy in the hospital bed beside him. With an agitated sigh, Severus began waving his wand, casting different medi-spells over the groaning boy. Severus was filled with the intense urge to both comfort the boy and introduce him to “pillow therapy”. Obviously, he could do neither, no matter how much the sound grated on his ears. 

“Potter, if you are through with the groaning-”

“Go away~” Harry whined, turning his body to push his face into the hospital bed. “Everything bloody hurts.”

Snape’s eyes twitched. 

“After the events of last night, Potter, I will not be going anywhere. It is in your best interest that you get up.” Harry groaned again, sitting up with a wince. Good, he should be hurting, Severus thought. Especially after the events he pulled last night. How had he even begun to think that going down into that chamber was a good idea? He had no clue. He didn’t want to know! 

Well, he did, and that was the issue.

“Why are you even here?” Harry muttered, mostly to himself. “I’m bloody fine.” Snape's teeth ground against each other. This insolent little shit-

“It so happens, Potter, that I saved your life last night. A little respect is in order.” Severus said, finishing his spells with a dramatic flourish. Harry flinched, dark (depressing) satisfaction filling the potion master's bones. Was he really petty enough to want the child to live in fear?

“That can't- I made the phoenix! I would have been fine!”

“Oh? You mean your illusion?” A dark smirk grew on his face, while his emotions were in utter turmoil. If Albus found out… “Your little phoenix was quite tainted Potter. It did you no good.” Harry’s face grew crestfallen as he looked down at his hands, clenching them tightly. 

“It should have worked…” Harry mumbled, hand sliding through his hair in an agitated manner. A spike of familiarity shot through Severus. Watching Harry pull at his long strands of hair reminded Severus of himself as a child. “There’s no way- I did all the research!” 

“It would have worked…” Severus trailed, watching the child’s head turn upwards, Harry’s eyes peering at him from beneath his bangs. “If you hadn’t used an unforgivable. So, Potter, who did you kill?” Snape's words were icy, sharp, striking Harry straight in his chest. All colour left his face, leaving him paler than he normally was, and colder too, as blood rushed out of his body. 

“I didn’t kill anyone.” Harry said, mouth tasting of ash, memories flashing back to Kreacher. He hadn’t- but he had killed him, and it wasn’t- it wasn’t his fault! Kreacher deserved what he got, that wretched little creature-

“A liar and a murderer, hm?” Snape said, satisfied glee thrumming through his bones. Finally, precious Potter would get what was coming to him! Whatever poor muggle Potter had murdered would surely get him thrown in jail, and out of Snape’s way. 

“I didn’t do shit, Snape.” Harry spat, a dark underlayer to his words hiding in his speech. He didn’t do anything that Severus could prove. 

“Then why is your bird not completely white? Why is its song so sullen and sad? So warped?” Severus challenged, towering over the boy. “Is this what our saviour has become?” 

Each word scraped on Harry’s mind, recalling unpleasant memories 

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t deny it now, Harrison! I told you illusion magic would turn you dark, evil, a path you didn’t follow! But you knew that already! You were marked for ruin before you even made it to adulthood-”

“HE DESERVED IT! HE DESERVED EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED TO HIM!” Harry shouted back, anguish and hatred lining every syllable, every sound in his throat. He hated Kreacher, and Harry would gladly commit the murder again. 

Snape was frozen in his tracts, breath caught in his throat as they stared at each other. He recognised the pain, the anger, the hate in his boy's eyes, and his thoughts shot back to Tobias. Had his own father- a numb cold overtook his senses, filling his mind and heart with static. 

He was acting exactly like his own father, a pathetic, vile man. Goading his son, cursing at him, he was a miniature Tobias in the making! 

Severus waved his wand, a bubble covering the two of them. With a flick, the hospital curtains closed. Severus had to use every ounce of muscle control to not fall into his chair. 

“Pot- Harrison.” the boy made a scoffing noise as Severus raised a hand to his head, rubbing his temples. “You have my word that I will not share what happened, but I need to know.” 

“Swear it.” Harry mumbled.

“What?”

“Swear it.” Harry said a little louder. Longing poked at his chest, threatening to overtake his common sense. Snape couldn’t be trusted, not with this. Not without a safety measure. “Swear it or I won’t tell you anything.” 

“I’m not swearing to a child!” Severus remarked, eyes narrowing just as Harry’s own did. “Blood- fine!” and with a quick wave of his wand, the spell began. 

“I swear not to tell anything Harrison Silas Potter says in this room to anyone, without his consent or prior knowledge.” Snape added sneakily. Harry nodded, sticking his hand out to shake his father's. 

“Or else he will lose his magic.” He rushed the words, their hands gripping quickly. Before Severus could protest, or add his own verbiage, the spell settled over them. Harry had a not-so-small smirk on his face as he laid back in the hospital bed, agitating Severus.

“Speak, Potter.” Severus demanded, headache pulsating as Harry rolled his eyes. “Boy-”

“Don’t call me boy.” Harry said sharply, the words striking Severus as odd. Albus called him boy- oh, it must be because Severus was his father. Well, who cares? Severus would say whatever he wanted. He was the adult, Harrison was the child. 

“Potter-” 

“Pick a damn name will you! Quit changing it up!” Harry was getting more agitated by the second, trying to place his thoughts. Severus scoffed in annoyance, crossing his legs so he could grip his leg instead of gripping the child's throat. Fine, Severus could play Dumbledore, if that’s what the insolent brat wanted. Severus had played many roles in life, one more couldn’t change that.

“Harrison,” He began, tone soft and selected, like a mother goading her child into telling the truth about a stolen cookie. “What did you use?”

“The killing curse…” Harry began quietly, looking down, his shoulders drawn up tight. Severus’ heart leaped with glee. Unforgivable, at such a young age? This would get Potter out of his hair for sure! Now if he could just get out of this bond, and get more information, it would be all set!

“On who, Harrison?” Severus asked, barely keeping himself from leaning forward in delight.

“Kreacher.” He stated, and Severus felt himself pause. The black elf? Potter wouldn’t get in trouble for that, people killed insane house-elves all the time, and if he couldn’t prove that Potter had used the killing curse, all of it would be for nothing!

“Harrison-”

“You don’t understand!” Harry interrupted, fingers flying to his hair, pulling at it. “He was the reason- if it weren’t for him then Sirius might still be alive! He had it coming, he deserved everything! He deserved more! I should have tortured him!” 

And for a moment, Severus thought he was looking in a mirror. He slowly rose from his chair, lightly pulling Harry’s white-knuckled hands from his locks, rubbing at them in a familiar manner. He hadn’t meant to get up, in all actuality he had wanted the boy to suffer, but…

Something inside Severus refused to let the boy rot like this. 

“It wasn’t my fault, Kreacher deserved it.” Harry repeated, mostly to himself, as his eyes squeezed shut. “He killed Sirius, it wasn’t me! I’m not- I didn’t kill him.” 

“No,” Severus said, holding Harry’s hand in a loose grip, the same way his mother would do to him during his own episodes. “No, you didn’t.”

Hidden memories flashed through his eyes, reminding him that his own illusion was black as pitch. He had no reason to judge Harry’s slightly grey illusion. 

He still would tho.

Dear Harry,

We heard from Neville that something had happened to you, so we sent you a letter as fast as we could! 

Neville was very secretive about the details, so we don’t know if it was caused by quidditch, a duel, or even something like the basilisk you mentioned last summer! So, we sent a bunch of everything, including the finished quilt for your shared bed! You mentioned Ron tended to hog, so I made it a bit longer!

I hope you get better soon, Harry, and if you need anything please let us know! Anything you need, we’ll help you get. 

Be safe(er) and have fun,

Mary and Tom

Harry smiled at the letter, folding it back up neatly as he sat in the common room. He hadn’t seen his two friends since he was initially released, but he secretly relished the silence. He could be alone with his thoughts, and himself for once.  He needed to figure out where the illusion had gone wrong. 

Snape had mentioned something about it being the use of the unforgivable, but that didn’t make sense. His illusion was designed to help, to cry the same tears Fawkes could, why didn’t it work?

Every book Harry had read said the same thing, illusion animals always followed the same patterns as their living counterparts! Harry had tried it with dogs and cats before, and they had been perfectly fine! Even once, he had imagined a snake slithering about the Longbottom Manor floors, and the baby had gone and hunted mice! 

It should have worked. 

“Maybe I should try something else. A basilisk maybe? With venom?” Harry thought out loud.

His cheek burned, eyes watering as his head spun. It was an intense, sharp pain, making his eyes water and snot instantly begin to run out of his nose. His glasses were askew, digging into his nose and temples uncomfortably. With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Harry stood up, turning to face his assaulter. 

“What the bloody hell, Ron!?” Harry shouted, fixing his glasses to more carefully look at his friend. Ron was fuming, Neville not standing far behind him, his face a desolate look of pain and anger. It was uncanny seeing his normally soft-hearted friend having a look so dark etched into his features. “What was that for!?”

“You’re seriously thinking of doing that again? After all you put us through?” 

“Ron, it wasn’t that big of a deal, Snape said-”

“Snapes a bloody liar then!” Ron shouted. The common room slowly emptied, leaving the three boys standing there alone. “You weren’t there, Harry!” 

“I was! If you don’t remember, I was the one injured!” 

“And who saved your thankless arse?” Neville added in, his voice sharp and forceful, cutting into Harry’s side like a knife. Harry had always been good at moving when wounded. 

“I didn’t need you to save me, I would have lived!” He bent over, stuffing his things back into his bag. Ron grabbed at it, pulling it closer to himself. 

“You aren’t getting out of this! We watched you die, Harry!”

“No, you didn’t!” Harry’s cries bordered on hysteria. “I am still ALIVE!” 

“You weren’t, damnit! You weren’t alive! We felt your heart stop!” Neville shouted, pushing past Ron, pushing his face up into Harry’s. His breathing was shallow, each breath radiating an anger previously unknown. His pupils were wide, blocking out the colour Harry was used to seeing. “We. Watched. You. Die.” 

All of his words were enunciated with a poke at Harry’s chest. Harry scoffed angrily, pushing his hand away. Neville had no right, and neither did Ron! They weren’t…they weren’t infected like he was! And he may still be, even if it was just a little bit! They didn’t understand. 

“You’re pushing us away, just like you did last year, and you swore not to!” 

“You wouldn’t get it-”

“Then tell us until we do!” Ron stepped up to his friend. “Scream at us if you got to, but don’t stop until we understand!”

“NO!” Harry shouted, his body shaking with emotions far too complicated for his mind to deal with at the moment. “I just- no! Leave me the hell alone, will you?!” 

“No, we won’t.” Neville stepped towards the green-eyed boy, his voice instantly lowering. “You are our friend, Harry. We aren’t going to let you kill yourself.”

“I’m not going to bloody kill myself.”

“Really?” Ron spat. “Then what was that a few days ago, huh? Just a silly feeling?”

“I was killing a Horcrux, Ron! And you refused to help me-”

“Because we won’t let you destroy yourself!” Neville shouted, but Ron just shook his head. 

“He won’t get it, let’s just go, Neville. Harry can find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

“What the hell?” Harry called out, walking after them. “You can’t kick me out of the dorm!?”

“Fucking watch us.” Ron said, pulling Neville up the stairs. Harry didn’t follow, instead walking back to his place on the couch. Bloody fools, of course, they wouldn’t understand, they didn’t have a piece of Tom Riddle in their damn head. He rubbed at his scar- no, at his blank forehead. He had forgotten. Still, the phantom itching rang true, and he scratched at it. In all honesty, he was a bit pissed, at both himself and his friends. If only they could understand. It wasn’t as complicated as they were thinking. Harry had a part of Voldemort inside of him, just like the locket had. He would have been fine either way. Time wouldn’t let him die. 

Fine , Harry thought, looking at the time. If they won’t let me sleep here, I’ll find somewhere else.  

Harry knew exactly where to go.

“And you think I would let you stay here?” 

“Well, yeah.” 

“Potter, I know you may think otherwise, but I am not a man for jokes.”

“Course not,” Harry said. “But I’m serious.” 

“Sir.”

“No need to call me sir, professor.”

“Potter!”

“Sorry, habit. But, just one night.” 

“Absolutely not!” Snape shouted. “I already must have you here for extra lessons, I don’t want you here for any time more than that!” Snape sat down at his desk, his door flying open. “Now, out!” 

“Bloody prat.” Harry mumbled. “I’ll just sleep outside your door.”

“Ten points for your cheek, Potter. Get. Back. To. Your. Dorm.” Harry left, slamming the door behind him. Fine, if Snape was going to be a prick, Harry would just find somewhere else to sleep. Why did he even think that would work? 

Casting a quick warming charm, Harry got to work transfiguring his socks. 

Snape sighed from his side of the wall, pouring himself a small glass of wine. He had never been one for daily drinking, but of course, it would be his dearest ‘son’ that made him drink all day. Casting a quick charm, Snape’s jaw clenched as he realised Potter really was outside his door. Fine then, he would freeze his buttocks off and then head back to his dorm. No point for Snape to worry. 

Oh, but he did worry, even if he tried to drown it with pepper-up potions and expensive wines. An unruly combo for his work effort, but one must have a break every few days. Snape waved his hand lazily at the fire, lighting up that part of his office. He relaxed slightly in his chair, leaning back and taking a small sip. It was French, a gift from Minerva on his birthday. It was quite nice, a sharp flavour that easily relaxed into something sweeter. 

His eyes danced around, moving from the dancing fire to the shadows it cast on the walls. Shadows that struck him with familiar memories, of watching the same flames dance around in his Spinner's End home. He remembered making the little shadow creatures dance around his home whenever Tobias wasn’t there, making them parade and sing for him whenever they wanted. Or when he and Lily sat by the river, he had made little delicate fish that swam around their heads, bopping their noses with wet kisses. How he had continued to do that even after Lily wasn’t there, although the water had never looked as clear as it had when they were together. 

He took another sip. ‘He deserved it!’ Harry had said. Snape had thought the same once. When he was young and foolish, far too overpowered for his own good. Much like Harry was now: young, foolish, with power pirouetting from his fingertips. 

Was he really outside still? You know what- Severus didn’t care. He was going to finish this glass and go to bed. Well, good wine needed a good snack to go with it. 

He walked over to his pantry, taking out a pack of those American crackers. The square kind, where you must have something to drink with them or they dry your whole body out. Some cheese was next, and he just took the whole block with him back to his bedroom. Wine, crackers, cheese, and the next chapter of that potions book. A good, relaxing evening, no Potter or Albus to bother him. 

A few hours later, when his glass of wine was long gone, his cheese almost finished, and the crackers more crushed than square, Severus made his way to his room door. It had been nagging him like a sadistic spouse. Was Potter truly out there, or was it one of his illusions? 

He opened the door with a quiet creak, staring at the boy sleeping directly across his door. He had been serious? You know what, of course, he had been. He was Harry bloody Potter. With a sigh, Severus walked over to Potter, shaking his shoulder. 

“Potter, wake up this instant. I’ll take points.” He whispered, trying to rustle the boy. Potter, sleep-riddled, shook his head, turning over. Snape shook him some more, but the boy wouldn’t budge. With a sigh, Severus looked around the empty hall before picking up the Gryffindor. He felt heavier, which was good. Bringing him inside, He laid him softly on the couch, summoning a blanket to drape over him. Just this once.

Harry turned, his hand slinging over to hover above the ground, something clattering to the floor as his hand unclenched. Severus grabbed the small vial, staring at it suspiciously. He uncorked it, sniffing it. Dreamless sleep. He now understood why Potter wouldn’t wake up, but a larger question remained. How had he gotten it? 

A question for another time. 

“You can’t just kick him out forever, Ron.” Neville said with a sigh, watching his redhead friend slam their dorm door. Ron didn’t reply, angrily kicking at their bedframe instead. “Ron!” 

“I know I bloody well can’t, but if he cares enough to come apologise he can walk his arse right up here!”

“He isn’t going to do that, Ron. You and I both know that in Harry’s mind, he didn’t do anything wrong.” Neville tried to explain, instead watching Ron angrily change into his sleeping clothes. 

“Well, good thing the world doesn’t revolve around him then.” Neville sighed again, grabbing his clothes from a drawer as he began to change himself. The shirt was one of Harry’s old ones, one he had bought in Germany. A ‘Muggle cut’ as they had called it, but Neville had liked the style so much he had opted to call it ‘our shirt’ instead of just Harry's. Sure, he could have gotten his own, but it felt nice to have a brother to share clothes with. 

“He could have died, Neville. He could have died and he doesn’t even care.” 

“He cares, Ron. But he doesn’t see what we see. He thinks he is saving us, saving himself. We know different.” 

“Don’t try and take his side now, you yelled at him too Nev.” Neville slipped into bed, grabbing a book off of his side table. 

“I’m not taking his side. I’m just- I understand him more than he thinks. He’s likely going to sleep down there, get cold, and come slip into bed. We’ll all wake up, it’ll be tense, and he’ll apologise. Then we can explain to him why we are so upset.”

“You really think so?” Ron asked, a hopeful spark in his exhausted eyes. “I’m just so worried, what if he tries to do this again, or worse, goes after those damn things without us?” 

“He won’t.” Neville confirmed, settling into bed. 

“Did you see his forehead?” Ron asked, lying down on the other side. “It’s gone, you know. His scar.”

“Yeah, I did notice. I wonder if he has.”

“I doubt it.” Ron let out a soft laugh. “It’s a bit lonely without him. Feels like we’re a couple in the middle of a fight.” 

Neville crinkled his nose,  smacking Ron with a pillow. Gross. 

That night, Neville barely slept. When he finally managed, it was like he was having a fit. His limbs shook, and his body alternated between heavy and light. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight, little bird!” Death was seated on a tall throne, dark swirls of grey and black amassing into a horrifying image. Three pierced skulls, bony jaws hanging open in a forever silenced scream. Part of Neville shivered, half elated, half fearful. 

“What am I doing here?” Neville asked, looking around. Death just sighed, playing with his knife. 

“Can’t a god just say hello?” 

“Err, right,” Neville replied awkwardly. “Well, hello death.”

“You know, I thought Time was wrong when Harry stabbed himself with that fang. I for sure thought he was dead! I even bet a whole week of choices on it! You really let me down.”

“Let you down?” He questioned. “How did I do that? I didn’t even know you wanted me to do something.” 

“You let Time’s kid live! If you had made him die, Life would have owed me a week of choices.”

“I’m not going to harm Harry! He’s my best friend! And so is Ron for that matter.”

“No fun,” Death pouted. “Well, I’ll see you soon then.” 

Neville woke up with a gasp, practically falling out of bed. His feet felt heavy, like cement blocks thumping against their wooden floorboards. He opened their door with a huff, thumping down their staircase until he made it to their common room. He needed to find Harry, to see that his brother and friend were alright, then he could sleep happily, even if it meant sleeping downstairs with him. 

But Harry wasn’t there.

“Potter, pay attention. I need you to relax.” The boy took a deep breath, slowly opening his eyes. “You are giving me a headache”

“It’s not my fault your attacks hurt so bloody much!” 

“Langauge!” Snape barked. “Now, I must give it another glance over. If you would please relax, that would be wonderful.”

They both took a deep breath, Snape more so for the boy to copy him. First, the boy wakes up on his couch with no memory of having chosen to sleep out there, then he has a magical freakout, and now he demands Severus to look inside his head! Severus Snape was not suited for fatherhood.

“Just get on with it, please.” Harry rushed to add. Severus’ jaw clenched. Fine then. He dove into the boy's mind with practised ease. 

Like normal, Potter’s occulmency shields were thin, transparent, and easy enough for Severus to step through. They twisted, like glass around him, shielding important bits from him, enticing other ends of his mind. He resisted the urge to shatter them. No good killing their saviour after all. A dark ball caught Severus’ attention. 

“Don’t look at this!” It seemed to scream. Tucked into a deep corner, along with a few other memories, Severus grasped at it. It was dark, musky, taking in his sense of control like a moth to a flame. He looked at his surroundings. It was much darker in here. No longer were Potter’s mental walls surrounded by bookshelves and intriguing doorways. Now it was just…empty. The darkest cavern in his son's mind. 

Rubbing his hand over the small orb, Severus smashed it on the ground, letting the sticky black substance fall from his hand. It dripped, and a memory rose. 

Sirius Black. 

Snape watched, not moving, not breathing, not feeling. All he could do was see. Sirius Black, struck by a spell. Falling…falling…only to never hit the ground. 

Harry’s scream rang out, making Severus grab at his ears. If these were in his darkest corner, something so emotional and unique, what else was over there? What was in that sickly pile of dankness? Severus reached forward. 

“...OUT!” Severus stumbled, clutching at his forehead. Bloody hell. How had Potter managed to push him of all people out? If it had even been him. But, Potter was fine, he hadn’t come across the ‘second Potter’ as he had taken to calling the voice in the kid's head. 

“Why did you smash it!” Harry yelled at him, palms pressing into his eyes. He was crying. Tear tracks covered his face, his pants damp with unwanted droplets. “That hurt you bloody wanker!”

“Pot- Harry. For what it’s worth…” Severus sighed, ignoring Potter’s word choice. Perhaps, just this once, Severus deserved it. “I am sorry.” 

Harry sobbed. 

Moving slowly, Snape knelt in front of Harry. Sobs wracked his body, and the poor boy looked a wreck. A wreck Severus had aided in. He moved Harry’s palms from his eyes, his face red from forcing the tears to stay back. Severus had looked like this once, sobbing in his mother's arms after he and Lily had stopped being friends. She had comforted him, running her thin hands through his matted locks. 

With a soft sigh, Severus moved to sit next to him on the couch. Harry’s hand shut up, pulling at his hair. Severus soothed it down, holding both of them on the boy's knee. No need for him to hurt himself in his grief. Severus tentatively moved a hand to his son's head, just leaving it there for a while. His hair had grown, just a bit past his shoulders now. It suited him, and his thinning face. Although he felt heavier. It was the Prince genes in him. Severus himself was lanky and thin, no matter how much he ate. 

“Let me go, please.” The boy pleaded. And that’s exactly what he was. A boy. 

“Not in this state.” He replied, not uncaring. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. And you will, do not deny it. You have the same hair-pulling habit as your mother… and myself.”

Harry wouldn’t say anything, but he was grateful for the gloomy potions master, for his father. 

The word didn’t taste so bitter anymore.

Chapter Text

“Mr Potter!” He heard McGonagall say. With a sigh, he hopped off the wall he and Ron were standing on, clambering through senseless first years to talk to her. 

“Yes, professor?”

“Shouldn’t you be in potions right now, Mr Potter?” 

“Oh, I’m not taking it this year, I can’t. I needed an O to get in, but I got an EE.”

“It would do you well to remember that Professor Snape is not teaching it this year, but Professor Slughorn.” She reminded him. “He only requires an EE to make it into his class.”

“Oh.” Great response, Harry! 

“I would head there now before you are late. Oh, and bring Weasley with you, he looks far too happy up there.” And with a swift turn, McGonagall headed back to her classroom. Or maybe her torture chamber, since thats obviously what she wanted to do to Harry.

“C’mon Ron!” He called out, his red-headed friend hopping off the wall and walking towards him. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Potions. McGonagall said Slughorn accepts EE students.”

“Rotten luck mate, well, good luck-”

“You’re coming with me, Ron.”

“Damnit.” He said, following Harry into the dungeons. “I hope he isn’t as bad as Snape.”

“Yeah, me too.” Harry replied, rounding the corner. Slughorn stood at the door, inviting students in with a smile. 

“Mr Potter!” He cried out. “I had hoped you would attend my class! Oh, and you are?” 

“Ron Weasley, sir.” Ron told him. 

“Excellent, come on in!”

“Sir, you see, the thing is, we don’t have any of the materials. We thought we needed an O for this class.” Harry told the professor. Ron mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like “who’s we?”

“Oh, not a problem at all! I should have two spare book in the cabinet, you’ll see it on your left when you walk in. ANd for ingredients, all will be provided for you today, and I can set you up with some later. Only the best for you, Mr Potter.” 

Slughorn slapped his shoulder with a wink, laughing as the three of them entered, Ron and Harry going for the books.

After a long, dangerous fight (only about ten seconds of shoving) Harry was the proud new owner of a destroyed potions book. Wonderful! 

“Welcome all, I am so glad you are here! Now, to start us off easy, I’ll ask you some very basic questions. I hope you are all ready!” Slughorn chuckled, seemingly to himself. “Now, when does one harvest Swenton?” 

Hermione was the first to raise her hand. 

“Yes, miss?”

“Granger, sir. You harvest Swenton every new moon at precisely seven in the evening for the most potent of its juices.” 

“Correct, Miss Granger! A point to Gryffindor.”

“She totally learned that from Neville.” Ron whispered to him, Harry nodding in agreement.

“What is the potion that inflicts a sense of love, partnership, and adoration, all while being fake?” Slughorn asked, calling on a Hufflepuff girl this time. 

“Amoretia, sir.”

“Correct Miss Bones! Which leads us into our next topic, brewing this certain potion. While not outlawed by the ministry, if one is charged with using this type of love potion, you can be charged a very high fee. However, the potion itself doesn’t last that long with a single use. In fact, you’d have to dose someone repeatedly to get the desired affects of the potion you want.”

“How often would it need to be used.”

“I can’t tell you that, but I’m sure with some light reading you can find it.” Slughorn said with a laugh and a wink. “In fact, too much of this potion can be fatal, and there is a certain window of time when it is okay to deliver the potion. Now, since you’ll have to write a paper over the potion, we’ll move on to the fun part of it.” Slughorn opened up a caldron next to him, taking a deep breath. “Smelling it!” 

“Sir, is this safe?” Hermione asked, even as she tiptoed closer to it. Harry looked to his side, noticing Ron doing the same. He shot his hand out, stopping his friend with a shake of his head. 

“Of course! A small little sniff will tell you a scent that truly attracts you, which isn’t harmful. Just don’t drink it, of course.” Slughorn laughed again. Harry wondered if the man talked to himself, with how much he laughed at his own sayings. “Now, dear girl, what do you smell?”

“Parchment, and…” Hermione took another sniff. “Eucalyptus, and… oranges?” 

“Wonderful, wonderful! Now, would anyone else like a try? Say, Mr Potter! Come get a sniff of your own! Maybe the lucky lady is in this class.” A few students laughed, and with pinkening cheeks, Harry walked up to the front and took a quick sniff. 

He couldn’t smell anything . So, he did the next best thing. Lying.

“Flowers, sir. Like…tulips, and…Petunias?” Harry cringed inside of himself. “And…quidditch wax.” 

“My my, Mr Potter! Very good nose. Anyone else?” 

Students clamoured one after the other, lining up to smell the potion of love. Hermione settled in the back with Harry, raising an eyebrow. 

“Petunias, Harry?” 

“Shut it.” He told her, cheeks pink. “I had to make something up.” 

“Make something up?” She questioned. “Why?”

“I couldn’t smell anything.” Hermione nodded slowly, eyes turning sharp. A new subject to research and learn about.

“Maybe your nose has stopped up.” She told him. Harry took a deep breath in a shook his head. Allergies weren’t really a problem with him. “Well, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out soon.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” 

“Now, everyone,” Slughorn began again. “Turn to page thirty-seven in your book, and we’ll begin!” 

Opening his book, Harry stared at the words written on the inside cover. 

Property of the half-blood Prince .

How odd. Anyways. Page thirty seven. 

Except, almost every page was written over, covered with notes and spells, crossing out measurements and margins filled in with tiny sprawls of handwriting. 

And then there were the spells . 

“Now, today we will be brewing the Draught of Living Death! Instructions are in your book, you may begin! 

Harry couldn’t wait to start the process. 

“Harry, how are you getting so much juice out of it?” Hermione asked, peaking over at his cauldron. 

“Crushing them?” 

“But it says to cut in the book, Harry. You aren’t following instructions.”

Crush the Sopophorous bean with a flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.

“Oh, I guess it does. My bad.” Harry told her, flipping to the next page of instructions as he moved to stirring. 

“Harry, stop turning it that way! 

Add one clockwise turn after every 7 clockwise turn to make the potion turn white faster

“Aren’t I supposed to?” Harry remarked, hiding his smile with his hair. “I’m just following the instructions.”

In the end, his potion was a molten gold colour, bubbles leaping throughout it like fish. They seemed to dance upon the surface, slowly sinking into the water only to come out again later. 

Safe to say, Hermione was not happy when Harry won a certain vile of Felix Felicis.

“Outstanding job, Harry! May I call you that?”

“Of course, sir!” 

“Wonderful! Say, I may be bringing back a certain club of mine, you may not have heard of it…”

“The Slug Club, sir?” Harry questioned, a bubble building up in his throat. 

“Absolutely right Harry! Now, if I am able to bring it around, I would love to have you as a part of it, what do you say?” 

“I would love to, sir!”

Harry hated how well he lied. 

“Wonderful, wonderful!” Slughorn applauded him, rubbing his shoulder. “I’ll let you know of our first meeting.” After a pause, Harry replied. 

“Can’t wait!” 

“Harry, you should give this back to Professor Slughorn, maybe he’ll order you a new one. It’s not right to keep this.” Hermione told him. “It gives you an advantage over other students.”

“Don’t listen to her, mate.” Ron told him, settling next to him on the Gryffindor couch. “She’s just upset you’re doing better then her at Potions.” 

“Ronald! I am not!” She told him, scoffing when he started laughing. “It’s just not right!”

“I mean, I think it’s pretty cool, do you know who wrote it?” Neville asked, reaching over to grab the book from Harry. Harry tensed for a second, reluctantly passing it over to his friend. 

“Some Half Blood Prince seemed to like fancy titles I guess.” 

“Wow, this really is good information.” Neville muttered as he flicked through the pages, passing the book back to Harry. “It’s even got herbology notes in there! Good score, Harry.” 

“It’s not a good score, he needs to give it back.” 

“Don’t be a killjoy, ‘Mione. Harry may finally be good in potions!” Hermione just groaned, returning to her own potions book, sending half-hearted glares to the group of boys. 

“So uh, how are you guys?” Harry asked tentatively. After Harry had spent the night in Severus’ quarters, the three boys had apologised to each other. Things were tense, but getting better. Though, they had all decided to sleep in separate beds for a while. The coping wasn’t healthy, or at least that's what Hermione had said. 

The circles under Nevilles eyes showed he wasn’t sleeping very well. 

“I’m alright, say, you’ll let me look over at the notebook from time to time?” 

“Of course, mate!” Harry told him. “And you, Neville? You can copy the herbology stuff from it.” 

“Why don’t we just duplicate it? Write our names in it and such. I know I’m not taking Potions, but it’s still good stuff to know.” 

“That works for me.” Ron said with a shrug. Harry hesitated for a moment but agreed. He shouldn’t hog the limelight after all. Ron and Neville both deserved resignation, even if it wasn’t from the…best of sources. 

“Alright, cool, wanna play exploding snap?” Ron asked. 

And like that, Harry knew they would all be okay. 

“Thank you for coming to meet me today Harry, how are you doing?” Dumbledore asked him. Harry just shrugged.

“Fine I guess, I started Professor Slughorn's class, which I’m doing well in. So is Ron, which is a lot of fun.” 

“I heard. I also heard about this Slug Club of his, both you and young mister Weasley were invited, yes?” 

“Yes sir, he said me and Ron remind him of past students he had.” Harry told him, relaxing in his seat. 

“This is very good, Harry. It means we can set our plan in motion.” Dumbeldore stood up, tapping his white wand on certain stones. 

“Plan, sir?” Harry stood up, sore from that morning's quidditch practice. He should have been more active that summer, it was like he lost every amount of muscle he had gained. 

“Come, Harry. I would like us to view this memory together.” 

Harry was sick of memories. Regardless, he walked over to Dumbeldore, letting the teacher guide his head into the pensive. It was wet, and then suddenly, he was dry, standing right next to a grinning Dumbledore and- Tom Riddle?

“Professor, if I may, I have a certain question I must ask you.”

“What is it, Tom?” Slughorn questioned, putting down his quill.

“It’s a bit of a touchy subject, so I do apologise if I offend you, professor. I just can’t trust anyone else with this question.”

“Go on then, lad.”

“You see, I overheard this in the common room, and I tried to research it myself but- I don’t mean to bore you with the details. Professor, what is a horcrux?”

Memory Slughorn paused, body going pale as he stared at Tom, appalled. It was like he was seeing Tom in a new light, as the devious, evil little bastard he was always meant to be. 

“A terrible branch of magic Tom, and you best not research it anymore.”

“But Professor-”

The memory rippled, the room acting like it was trying to shift to a new memory and not continue the one they were currently watching. 

“Absolutely not, Tom. If I hear of this even once, I will take you straight to the headmaster myself!”

Tom nodded, turning around to grab his bag, his neutral smile turning into a horrifying scowl. 

Harry and Dumbledore exited the memory, Harry leaving it with a gasp. 

“You may not have realised, but that memory has been messed with.”

“The ripple?” Harry asked, rubbing his head. 

“Quite right, Harry. When I got this memory from Horace, I didn’t notice it, and thought this was the whole truth.”

“How was he able to mess with the memory?” Harry asked.

“Unbeknownst to me, Horace is an exceptionally skilled Occlumens.” Dumbledore picked up a small orb on his desk, the ball flashing a brilliant gold and red

“Oh, so you think he still has the original memory?”

“Yes, I do, and I’d like you to be the one to retrieve it from him. I have tried myself, but he knows exactly why I am after it.”

“Why are you after it?” Harry questioned, taking the orb from Dumbledore when offered. It flashed a bright purple, slowly turning to a light blue.

“To stop Voldemort.” Harry paused.

“And Slughorn doesn’t want to stop him?”

“On the contrary, that is all Horace wanted to do, but since he found out Voldemort is in fact is beloved student Tom Riddle, he has been less…” Dumbledore paused, thinking about his choice of words. “Up front about it. You see, Horace could never have children, it is half of the reason he became a teacher in the first place. And when a small, orphan Tom Riddle walked into his dungeons, his heart was stolen away.”

“Why didn’t he adopt Tom then?” 

“I never knew, and I never dared ask.” Dumbledore cleared his throat, taking the orb from Harry and placing it back on his desk. “Do you think you can do it?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Wonderful! And please know, you can stop it at any moment if it feels like you are going to far to get it. This is just to help us, but we do not need this memory, Harry.” 

“I know, sir.”

“Potter, sit.” Snape told him when he walked into the classroom. Harry held his tongue, not wanting to argue with the dowry man after Dumbledore dropped that excruciating task on him. It was far too…Slytherin for his tastes. He needed to befriend Slughorn, get close enough to him to be seen as someone worth wanting, then ruin that trust and get that memory. Oh boy. 

This is some Tom Riddle shite . Harry thought to himself, clearing his head as he sat down in the chair. He felt a bit more confident about this meeting, having been able to start the building blocks of his mind, stacking them up around the darkest crevices of his heart and brain. Maybe he could even keep Snape out of them? 

“Potter, I hear you made it into the Slugclub.” Snape told him, cleaning off a scalpel. It looked intimidating, but maybe that's what the man was going for? “You and Weasley both.”

“Yes.”

Snape looked like he wanted to hex him for not saying sir, but continued in his tirade.

“How is it, that in my class, you and Weasley were deplorable, causing explosions left and right, not able to form a single potion for grading half the time. Then, in Slughorn's class you are both rising stars?”

“Well for starters we don’t have Slytherins throwing things into our cauldron.” Harry grumbled. “And second of all, I’ve been studying.” 

“Studying, Potter?” Snape asked, eyes narrowing into a glare. 

“Yes! Merlin, why does everybody get that look on their face! I got an EE on my OWLS you know? And that was just on the written part! I got an O on my potion! I know what I’m doing, it’s like cooking!”

“Do not compare something as trivial as cooking to the art of potions making, Potter.”

“Yeah, okay.” Harry grumbled, mentally rolling his eyes. “Can we start this already? I need to finish up my potions homework.” 

He had already finished it, but he felt like throwing that bit in to piss Snape off. 

“Ready yourself, Potter.” 

Snape didn’t even give him a chance before the man was in his mind. 

Memories flashed through his mind, taking up all of his strength and concentration. Then, an Idea struck him. Pushing every memory he knew of towards the forefront of his mind, Harry tried his best to cover up those little dark area’s of his mind. 

Of course, Severus caught on instantly. He tore through Harry’s memories like a man gone wild, like he was searching for something special, something private that only he knew about. It made Harry tense, on edge, even a little scared.

So he did the only thing he could think of. He tensed up, and watched as private memories of him and Sirius played through his head. 

“You’re bloody right it's not! Sticking my son with that git-” Sirius interrupted the headmaster, hands slamming onto the table.

“Snape, I’ll have you know I haven’t seen my Son all summer! You can bugger off, you know!”

“A blood potion would have run out if you weren’t continually taking them.” Sirius stated. He looked down at his Godson, and his heart broke. “Oh pup, you’re still my godson, no matter what, or who your biological dad is. You are James and Lily’s son, you hear me? My son. That won’t ever change, Harry. Not in a million years. Even if you went up and joined Voldemort. Still have to kick your ass though.”

“Sirius!” Harry shouted, hand reaching out to grasp at the man, maybe even to jump in after him. Sirius smiled down at him, and so slowly (even though only meer seconds had passed) fell into the veil. 

Sirius hadn’t looked so peaceful in so long. He hadn’t looked so happy, even with Harry beside him. 

Sirius was joining James. 

Severus exited his mind with a sharp gasp, Harry bent over and clutching his head. For a moment, neither of them said anything, both breathing deeply. 

“For what it’s worth, Pot- Harry, I am sorry for your loss.” 

But Sirius had no right to claim Harry as his own. 

“You’re a right pompous git you know that?” Harry retorted, not even waiting for Severus to reply before stomping out of the classroom, forgetting his bag. Severus sighed, locking the classroom door and heading inside. 

He really fucked up this time. Hadn’t he said that a week ago too? Damn. 

How was it that Sirius Black was so much better at this than him? The man was dead! Severus had followed every step in that godforsaken book he had ordered. He listened, he gave punishments for bad behaviour, he allowed him free reign-

Okay, maybe it wouldn’t work with a teenager as well as a tween, but still! They were practically the same thing! Why wasn’t it working? Why did Harry prefer a dead man over him!? 

With a long, exhausted sigh, Severus collapsed on his bed, still in his teaching robes, and screamed into a a pillow. He needed to return Potter's stuff before lessons tomorrow.

And he still didn’t find what he was searching for in the boy's mind.

Collapsing on his bed, Harry screamed into his pillow. Snape was such- just a- UGH! Harry hated that man. How could he ever think of calling him father, or dad, or anything like that? Think of him as being better? He was a fucking jerk! 

“UGH!” Harry groaned, pressing the pillow into his face further. Maybe if he ceased breathing Snape would feel an ounce of remorse, pathetic arse he was. 

“You good mate?” Ron asked, looking up from his quidditch magazine. 

“No, I fucking hate him.”

“Snape?” 

“Yes.” Harry replied, pressing his head into the pillow once more. Suddenly, someone knocked on their dorm door, Dean getting off the floor where he was sorting his playing cards. 

“Uhm, Harry needs to come down, it’s Professor Snape!” A small voice said, Harry groaning a nasty set of words as he got off the bed. He’d have taken his time going down, but he knew Snape would be even more of an arse if he took ten minutes to get down. 

Exiting the common room, Harry looked up at the man. 

“Potter.”

“Professor.”

“Your stuff.”

“Oh, uhm, thanks.” Harry said, taking the bag from the man. His rising anger quickly cooled, settling into guilt. Harry ignored it. “I didn’t know I left it.”

“Indeed. Potter?” Snape asked him. 

“Yeah? I mean, yes?”

“I do apologise.”

Harry stared at the man, floored. Snape was- again? What did he say?

“Uhm, yeah, me too. Sorry.” 

And of course, Harry fled back inside, guilt creeping its tiny tendrils up his throat

Chapter Text

“Muffalito.” Harry whispered, waving his wand. The potions book lay comfortably in his lap as he looked over its contents, trying spell after spell. It’s just- his wand wouldn’t work! 

“Muffalito!” He tried again, groaning when Ron shook his head no. Guess nothing was working. It didn’t make sense! His wand had been behaving strangely since he left the hospital wing, not that he had used it much since then anyway. Most of his classes had been theory, and even when he had had a chance to use his wand, one of his friends had done the small task for him. 

Truth be told, he was struggling.

“What could have happened with your wand?” Neville asked, looking over from his bed. “I mean, it’s not like you lost a fight or something, and even then, wands rarely choose the winner.”

“Maybe it liked the tasty basilisk venom more than it liked Harry.” Ron joked, getting smacked in the head with a pillow. 

“You should go see Dumbledore, mate.” Dean told him, sketching the scene of Harry’s potions book laying on the pillow. “I mean, he would know what to do in this case.”

“Yeah, I doubt you’re the first person whose wands stopped working.” Seamus piped in quietly. Harry just groaned, sliding from his bed and onto the floor like the dramatic boy he was. Neville just rolled his eyes, placing his book down as he stretched. 

“Come on, let's go speak to Dumbledore, Harry.” Neville told him, gesturing to their open door.

“He’s not in, I already tried.” 

“Then let's go see you know who.” The room went silent, all eyes turning to Neville. “Not- no I didn’t mean- not, him , the other him!” 

Harry and Ron burst into laughter, Dean and Seamus sitting with conflicted looks on their faces. When Ron and Harry noticed them, they just laughed even more. 

Neville hated everyone. 

“You guys are mean,” he pouted. “Fine, I guess I can do the herbology work myself then,” 

Harry and Ron scrambled after him, eventually having to come back into the dorm and grab their bags. Dean and Seamus just chuckled at them, the pair heading out as well to go look around the castle. 

“There are still secrets to find,” Dean had told them. “And I want to paint them.” 

As the group of three wandered around, twisting and turning, taking secret hallways, Harry waved his wand. From levitation spells to a Bombarda Maxima, nothing seemed to leave his wand. The most he got was a few sparks out of the latter spell, and even then it was like it zapped his energy out of him. Ron and Neville were concerned. Harry was just angry. 

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Harry said, kicking a small rock across the hall, huffing as he rubbed his hands through his hair. “This is stupid!” 

“Harry, maybe you’re stressed! I know that's how I was when I first joined Hogwarts, maybe it’s the same for you?” Neville tried to reason, but Harry was having none of it. Over and over again, he cast. Nothing came, and he was seconds away from snapping it. He didn’t need a damn wand, he’d just use his illusion magic, damn it! 

“What,” A voice began. “Is going on here?”

Severus Snape. 

“Nothing, sir, I’m just-” Harry began to say, being swiftly interrupted by Ron. 

“Harry’s wand isn’t working. Hasn’t worked since his hospital visit earlier.” 

Harry stared at Ron, pissed and a little betrayed. The redhead just shrugged. 

“Harry, you and Hermione both told me to go get my wand fixed, and I didn’t. You know what happened because of that. Now, I’m making you get yours fixed.”

“Come with me, Mr Potter.” Snape drawled, turning and walking away. Harry sighed, following after him, sending two glares at Ron and Neville. The boys didn’t even look upset, slowly following after Harry and the potion master. 

“How long has this been an issue, Harry?” Snape asked calmly. Harry just shrugged. 

“Since the whole… fang…thing, I just thought it was angry at me, but it's not working at all. Even Hermione tried it yesterday, but nothing would work.” 

“Why didn’t you come to a teacher immediately?” Snape asked, tone rising. Harry couldn’t tell if the man was genuinely curious, or if he was about to deduct a million house points from him. 

“I didn’t really use it to cast this week, and most easy things I do without magic…” Harry said, doing his best to stay calm. No sense snapping at Snape when the man knew he couldn’t cast magic. In actuality, though Harry played it off as humorous, he was scared. Was he losing his magic? It wasn’t likely, he had cast perfectly fine through Neville's wand after a few tries, but his own wand still refused to work. 

“Here, P- Harry. Go talk to Madam Pomfrey, I will go get Dumbledore.” Snape said before he departed. 

Snape was being…nice. Harry didn’t hate it, but it was odd. Snape had been a massive prick since it was revealed they were related. What changed?

Oh god, was he being nice because Harry was turning muggle?!

“Mr Potter, what are you doing here?” Pomfrey asked, gesturing Harry to a bed. 

“No, I’m not sick, at least, I don’t think I’m sick. I just- my wand isn’t working. Snape went to go talk to Dumbledore about it, but he told me to come here for whatever reason.”

“Quite right! On the bed you get, I’ve got a few charms to cast.” Harry sighed but complied anyway, sitting on the hospital bed as the nurse began to cast. Some were red, others blue, but the more she cast, the deeper her frown got. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, pulse racing. “Am I losing my magic? Does it even work like that? Merlin, am I dying?” 

“There is no need to fret, Harry.” Dumbledore said as he walked into the room. “I’m sure it’s nothing as drastic as that, right Poppy?” 

“Mr Potter, you have never been healthier. It’s puzzling. Here, look at this graph.” Pomfrey waved her wand, a magical graph appearing in front of them. It was covered in waves, jumps of a little green line all about the pages.

“This is a graph of your magical activity from the past thirty days, as you can see in the beginning, it is calm, with a few jumps here and there but mostly level, which is common for Hogwarts students. Then, there was this giant spike, and resulting fall from your…incident so to speak. However, what’s puzzling is, that there was another spike right after you were released, and it seems to level off there.”

“It’s higher than before the incident.” Harry noted, tracing the green line with his eyes. “Why?”

“I don’t know, but it is proof that you aren’t the problem. Mr Potter, I believe you have grown out of your wand.”

Huh?

“Poppy, are you sure? He’s so young!” Dumbledore announced. “Most wizards don’t get a new wand until they’re at least thirty.”

“Mr Potter isn’t most wizards, is he?” Poppy asked him, continuing when Dumbledore stayed silent. “I recommend you get a new wand as soon as possible, Mr Potter. Today, if you can. Of course, the school has many backup wands for situations such as these, but it would be best to speak to Olivander for a new one.”

“Does this happen often?” Harry asked. Pomfrey thought about it for a moment. 

“Not often, per se, but we get about one student every few years whose magic just- shifts. There is actually a branch in the ministry devoted to studying why this happens, not that they’ve come up with anything. It’s normally caused by extreme stress, life-threatening injury, or emotional turmoil so great it changes how your magic works. Yours is likely the result of being saved from basilisk venom.” 

At the mention of that, his leg began to itch where the runes had been carved in. They were likely going to scar, even the ones that were magically healed. Oh well, Harry preferred pants over shorts anyway. 

“I was bitten by the same basilisk in my second year, but this didn’t happen.” Harry pointed out. All three adults looked puzzled before Dumbledore sighed, stroking his beard with a gloved hand. Odd, but Harry would ask about it later. 

“Well, a trip to Ollivanders is needed. Professor Snape, would you mind taking Harry today?” 

Harry froze, eyes going wide when the man nodded. 

“We shall go now if that is all.” Snape said. Pomfrey and Dumbledore nodded, and Snape and Harry were soon on their way to Snape's private quarters. They were going to floo there. He’d take that over apparating. 

“Har-Harrison.”

“Yes?” 

“I am going to glamour you before we go. I would rather not be fawned at while we make our way through Diagon.” 

“Oh, yeah sure.” Harry agreed, barely flinching when Snape brandished his wand and muttered a spell. When Harry opened his eyes, he heard Snape let out a soft gasp before putting his wand back into his sleeve. Nudging Harry forward, Harry stood in the fireplace. 

“Leaky Cauldron, Harrison.” Snape said, passing him the bag of powder. Harry nodded, taking some out and throwing it down. 

As he shot up out of the fireplace, his stomach twisted. God, he hated wizarding travel. Couldn’t they have taken a bus?!

Landing on the floor of the pub, Harry’s vision swam. A few moments later, Snape stepped out and helped him off the floor, vanishing the soot that rested on his face. 

“I hate that.” Harry muttered to himself. Snape snorted softly as he nodded. 

“Indeed, Silas.” Snape agreed, Harry’s head shooting up at the use of his actual middle name. What the hell was Snape doing?

“Ah, Severus! What brings you here during the school year?” A worker asked, his dirty blonde hair tied up in a loose ponytail. “We usually don’t see you until the summer!”

“Just passing through, Layson. My ward Silas requires his first wand.” Severus explained, pushing Harry towards the brick passageway. “We’ll be out of your way soon.” 

“I didn’t know you had a son! He looks just like you, eyes and all!” Layson laughed, returning to his sweeping. “Have fun!” 

Snape practically dragged the shocked Harry out of the room and to their entry point. 

“What did he mean? And why did you call me Silas?” 

“Keep your voice down, Harrison. I’d rather not let it be known to the public who you are.” Snape said, tapping his wand on the bricks. “You have a glamour on you that makes you look like a younger version of myself, Harrison.”

Harry said nothing, following Snape through the windy alleys of Diagon. Does he look just like Snape? That- 

Well, it didn’t turn his stomach as much as he thought it did. It was honestly a bit comforting, now no one would know who he was! 

Harry stopped at a glass window, inspecting his face in the glass. Snape was right! Especially his eyes! No longer were they the bright green he shared with his mother, but a cool black, like the colour of coal before it became diamonds. Snape stopped with him, raising his eyebrow as Harry touched his own face. Even his jaw seemed sharper, his cheekbones higher than he remembered them being. The only thing that looked different to Snape’s was his nose. It was longer, sure, but it didn’t have the same large bump the man had. And- why was he so short?!

“I look just like you.” Harry said. Snape rolled his eyes. “Just, short?”

“Obviously, H- Silas. Now come, we don’t have all day.” 

Harry followed, walking near Snape so as not to get lost. It wasn’t as busy as Harry remembered, but there were still plenty of people around. Some regarded Severus with glares, others giving Harry pitying looks as they passed. Harry did his best to ignore them. 

“Ah, Mr Potter! Mr Snape! Or should I say, both Snapes?” Olivander said as they walked in, both black-haired men instantly on guard. “Do not worry, your little secret is safe with me. So, what is the matter?”

“I need a new wand.” Harry told the man, walking up to his counter. “It just- stopped working all of a sudden.”

“Ah, do not fret. I think I know how to help.” Olivander disappeared into the back, bringing out three boxes. “The first, Dragon heart string and Cherry. And odd combination for me, but it may work well with your newfound… freedom, so to speak.” 

Harry was confused but gave the pink wand a small wave. Nothing happened, so Olivander passed him the next one. Mahogany and unicorn hair. Giving it a wave, a few red sparks came out before the wand began heating up. Harry dropped it, hissing as he held his hand close to his chest. Olivander hummed, summoning the wand and stuffing it back in his box. The third wand, Redwood and Phoenix Feather did much the same as the first, only this time it flew out of his hand and into the back of the shop. 

“Curious, very curious.” 

“What is it?” Snape asked, stepping forward. 

“Much like you, Severus, Harry here may need an uncommon core.” Olivander explained, heading further into the back than he normally went. 

“What does he mean?” Harry asked, turning to face Snape. 

“The three main wand cores in Brittain are phoenix feathers, unicorn hair, and dragon heartstring. From my knowledge, this is because those are the three cores that will suit the most wizards in most situations, like how you were able to use Longbottom's wand. However, those cores don’t react best with everyone, which is why there are core types set aside for such cases.”

“And you were one?” Harry asked. “Of those cases, I mean.” 

“Indeed,” Severus said, pulling out his own wand. It was long and skinny and two-toned as well. Harry thought it was quite pretty. It was like the wood swirled around each other, soft pink almond mixing with beige. He slipped the wand back into his sleeve. “It’s core is erkling fang.” 

“One of my finest creations, I must say.” Olivander said, returning with a singular dusty box. “Quite the troublemaker, too. Severus was able to get it under control.”

“So, do wands really have that much character?” Olivander nodded, clapping his hands. 

“They do! The wood and core matter plenty when both crafting and selling wands. The wood used to make Severus' wand was Cedar and Hazel. While they share similar magical properties, both being woods kin to the mental arts, they are rarely seen together. My, tie that in with an erkling fang, I thought it would be impossible for Severus to break it in!” 

“Why?” Harry asked, curious. 

“Cedar and Hazel, when combined, make what you would call an inflexible wand. The two woods refuse to mix or work together. Cedar wands represent insight and perception. Some even say loyalty. Hazel wands are sensitive, and when mixed with the wrong temperament are volatile. Erkling fangs are used to make faster wands, which I believe counters the heaviness of the wood types. I’m prattling, don’t mind me. Here.” Olivander handed him the dusty box, letting Harry open it up. It was beautiful! A spiral wand, similar in colour to Severus’s own. He picked it up gently, letting it rest in his palm before quietly casting a leviosa on the box. 

It shot into the rough, and Olivander clapped. 

“Wonderful! Dogwood and Hippogriph feather. A sturdy wand, so you may want to practise getting your magic under control before you do any classwork. Another unusual combination, but very adaptable.”

“What makes it unusual?” Harry asked. 

“Dogwood wands are like children, Harry. They’re playful and like to make mischief. However, when paired with an ingenious owner, the magic they can perform is astounding, especially used in more… dire situations.”

“Dire?” 

“Dogwood was originally used to make daggers, Harrison.” Snape told him. Olivander nodded. 

“They tend to have a violent streak, which is why it's unusual to be paired with a hippogriff feather. You see, hippogriff feathers as a core need to be shown respect, just as the animals themselves do. They need to be cleaned, often, and must feel safe with their owner to be of any use.” He paused for a moment, giving the pair a large smile. “If legend has it, you may just share the same core as Garrison the Great!”

“Oh, cool!” Yeah, Harry had no clue who that was. “Thank you, sir. How much?” 

“As much as any other wand, seven galleons.” Harry handed over the needed amount and left with Severus, his stomach growling. Olivander was left alone with his thoughts. 

Why would a boy so near adulthood have a wand wood that usually preferred children? 

“Silas.”

“Sir?” 

“Pick somewhere to eat, lunch has already passed,” Snape said, pointing at a row of restaurants nearby. Harry chose a small tea shop, the father-son duo settling outside after they received their food. Harry decided, for once, he would stick out the olive branch of friendship. 

“Did you feel weird when you got your first wand?” Harry asked. “You know, it being two woods and all.”

“This was not my first wand,” Snape told him. “I received this one when I was twenty-one.”

“Did you grow out your wand?” Harry inquired, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“No. I snapped my original one.” Harry said nothing, mouth agape as Severus continued eating. “Close your mouth, Silas, I can see your food.”

Flushing, Harry quickly chewed his lunch and swallowed, deciding to ask his next question. 

“Why Silas? Like, as a middle name. How did my mum pick it?” 

“Why all of the questions?” Snape shot back. Harry didn’t say anything, more annoyed than anything. Yep, still an arse. Snape sighed. “If you must know, it was the name I decided to name my child if I had one. However, we decided this when we were young. I am… surprised she remembered it.” 

“What did she choose?” Harry asked, hopeful. Finally! He could learn a little more about his mum!

“Rose. She always insisted she would have a girl.” 

“Oh.” Harry didn’t say anything. Had his mum wanted a little girl and not a boy? Was she disappointed? 

“Although I am sure that opinion changed later in life,” Snape told him. It didn’t really help his thoughts. 

Finishing their lunch, the pair headed out of the alley and back to the cauldron. Severus’ friend wasn’t there anymore, this time it was a young woman serving drinks. She nodded to them as Snape added two knuts to the jar, gesturing for Potter to go through first. 

“Severus Snape, Flower,” Severus told him as he stepped in, throwing down the powder and appearing back in Hogwarts as a sick mess. He didn’t throw up, thankfully, but it was a near thing. 

“Practice with your wand, Harrison. I won’t have you blowing up my classroom because you were too lazy to do so.” Harry rolled his eyes, heading for the door. He stopped suddenly, turning around to see Severus sitting back at his desk. 

“Professor?”

“What?” Snape asked back, glancing at the door.

“What made you snap your wand?” The words rushed out before he could stop them, but he needed to know. He had been under the impression that wands were sacred, that snapping them was the worst thing in the world. It was why they were snapped when you were expelled or went to Azkaban. 

“Your mother's death.” Snape admitted, quiet as a brush of wind on your neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, not waiting for a response as he fled out of the room. 

“Come on, Harry!” Ron said, racing down to the carriages. “We're sixth years, we don’t have to walk!”

Harry and Neville laughed, watching Ron marvel over the carriages. The first Hogsmeade visit of the year, and Harry had a lot to do. Shopping for Christmas gifts, including something small for Blaise and Daphne. Maybe even something for Snape, not that he planned on getting something in return. 

The group had marvelled over his wand, Hermione and Daphne rushing to the “W” section of the library to look up wand lore. Blaise thought it was extremely cool, even asking the wand if he could hold it. He didn’t dare risk casting with it, both for his own safety and because they were in a library. He fawned over it for a moment, passing it back to Harry. He made sure to give it a thorough shine after they got back to the common room. It was broom polish, but it would do until his wand-cleaning kit came in. 

“You stroke it like a baby all the time, Harry,” Ron grumbled as the carriage made its way to Hogsmeade village. “You won’t get any girls like that!” Harry just rolled his eyes, sticking his wand into its holster. He had caved and ordered one the moment he had gotten back from shopping, and it had arrived today. Hermione was instantly infatuated with it and decided that her afternoon was going to be spent studying wand stuff. She had invited Daphne, but she and Blaise were going to go on a date. 

“What do you want for Christmas?” Harry asked them, peering out the window. “We have practice on the next Hogsmeade visit, so I want to pick up gifts now.” 

“I’m good with anything,” Ron said with a shrug. “You know what I like. Ooh, but if there is a Cannons poster in one of the shops, I want one of those.” Harry nodded, turning to Neville. The other boy shrugged as well. 

“I don’t really want anything to be honest, I’m happy enough with what I have.” 

“Bullshit, he’s been looking at this robe in one of Gin’s fashion magazines.” 

“Ron!” Neville groaned, kicking his foot. 

“Show me it, and I’ll get it for you.” Harry told Neville, deciding to do it even when Neville shook his head no. 

“What do you want, mate?” Ron asked. Harry thought about it for a moment. 

“Not much, probably just stuff to read over for illusion magic and stuff. Or just magic stuff in general.” 

The trio arrived in Hogsmeade, checking out most of the stores before the three of them rushed into Honeydukes, picking out their favourites and restocking on the cheap stuff. Harry laughed, picking out Lolli’s and sour candy he hadn’t tried before. Their next stop was the joke shop, where Neville and Harry eventually left Ron to go do their own thing. While Neville headed out to Baywell: Herb and Greenery store, Harry began looking at stores that his friends may take interest in.

He found a small quidditch shop which had a few Chudley Cannon posters scattered around, as well as a few bobbleheads as well enchanted to dance with whatever song was playing in the room. Perfect! 

Heading to the checkout with two bobbleheads and the nicest-looking poster they had, Harry had them wrapped in a gift box and shrunk to fit in his robe pocket. He was grateful, he didn’t wanna carry around the box. Next on his list was something for Neville. 

Well, that was the plan anyway. He had seen Malfoy walk by and it distracted him. The blonde looked pale, too pale, and far too thin. Even from just a glance, you could see the dark circles lining under his eyes, how his cheeks hallowed out as though someone was sucking the very life out of him. Even his arms, holding a brown parcel, looked weaker. He would get thrown off a broom in his current state. 

Suspicious. Especially since his family worked for Voldemort. He needed to bring it up with Snape. Wow, what a weird thing to think. 

After grabbing some magical soil and plant growth powder from a nearby shop, as well as matching bracelets for Blaise and Daphne, Harry headed back to Zonkos, where he found Ron and Neville waiting for him. After much pleading about what Harry had gotten them, and vice versa, the trio headed to the Three Broomsticks for some butter beers. 

That's when they heard a scream. 

Rushing over, Harry saw his friend a teammate, Katie Bell, writhing on the road. 

“Katie! Katie, come on!” Her friend yelled, trying to hold the girl still. Harry nodded at Ron, who ran off towards the castle to 

“What happened? Harry asked, rushing over to see what happened as people circled nearby. Neville pulled out his wand, casting a few charms on her, pointing the words towards a spare stone. They slowly carved in. 

“She wasn’t herself- she wouldn’t drop the package and then I went to look at it, and Katie touched it and- OH MY GOD KATIE!” 

White foam began to fall from Katie's lips, Neville cursing as he looked at Harry

“She’s been cursed.”

“My, Harry. That was very heroic of you to take care of Miss Bell.” Slughorn said as he poured Harry a glass of mead, handing it to him with a wink. “Don’t tell.” 

Taking a sip of it, Harry smiled as he settled into Slughorn's couch. 

“It’s what anyone would do, sir. She needed help.” 

Slughorn laughed, settling in his lounge chair as they sipped on their drinks. 

“So, I must ask, Snape told me your grades seemed to get much better than what they were in his class. Have you been doing some extra studying, my boy?”

“Of course, sir,” Harry told him. It wasn’t an outright lie, but not the whole truth either. “Me and Professor Snape never really got along, and it made me scared to try my best in his class.” look down, look bashful damn it! “I didn’t want him to think I was cheating or anything.”

“Of course not, my boy! You’re much too good to be cheating.”

“I used to do a lot of cooking for my aunt and uncle, I started pretty young too, about five I think. It's why I enjoy potions, it’s like cooking. Just, a lot more dangerous.” 

“Ah, so you studied it then?” Slughorn asked. Harry took a breath as he prepared himself for, hopefully, the last lie of their conversation. 

“Yes sir, I studied a lot. I did extremely well on the practical, but the written portion kind of messed me up a bit. I’m proud of my Exceeds though.” 

“As you should be!” Slughorn said, reaching out to clink glasses with Harry. “Do you think you’ll go into the field?” 

“Probably not. I honestly haven’t thought about what I wanted to do. I used to want to be a part of the ministry, but after Sirius passed…” 

“Horrible shame, that. I hope you find a profession you like soon, Harry! Say, how about I introduce you to some friends of mine at our next dinner party? I’m sure you’ll find something then!”

“That would be wonderful, sir!” Harry readily agreed. He may not like these parties, but a little voice in his ear told them it would be worth it, especially after Voldemort was defeated. 

“Harry, I hope you don’t mind if I ask you something on a more… personal note.” 

“Of course not, sir.” 

“Are you here on Dumbledore’s orders?”

Chapter Text

The two teams took their places on the field, Gryffindor in their scarlet jackets and black pants, Slytherin in their green and silver. It was colder then it was this same time last year, but the Gryffindors were prepared. Harry had been working his team to the bone any time he had the chance, following Wood’s way of training.

 It was the first Quidditch match of the year, and the players were buzzing with anticipation. The air was filled with an electric charge, and the crowd was on their feet, cheering and chanting. Magic fireworks shattered above, courtesy of the Weasley twins he had taken the day off to come watch Ron play. 

Harry looked at Ron, sighing. He knew that slipping in the fake vile of Felix Felicis into Ron’s drink was wrong, but his friend looked so confident! Hermione hadn’t approved, but she still came to the game, sitting in the stands with a book to read. 

The match began, and Harry immediately took off, his broom flying like an arrow through the sky. The Slytherin team was quick to follow, but Harry was faster, his agility and skill unmatched. The three chasers, Ginny, Demelza Robins, and Tyler Spinny shot off as well, instantly taking the ball and heading over the the Slytherin goal posts. The Gryffindors cheered, Tyler passing the ball over to Ginny.

Harry would have liked Katie to be apart of his team for this first match, but after what Malfoy had done to her, the poor girl likely wouldn’t play the rest of the year. 

Harry ducked, avoiding a bludger coming right for his head. The teams youngest beater, a third year named Ritchie Coote, hit the ball back towards the Slytherin goal post, their keep flying out of the way to avoid being hit. Ginny scored.

“Good hit, Ritchie!” Harry called out, flying around. He needed to keep his head on the game. 

Thirty minutes in the game, Gryffindor ahead by thirty points, Harry called the first time out. As the team flew down, Demelza cried out, and Harry watched as a beater brought her and her broom straight to the ground, snapping both the broom and her arm. Harry cursed, Ginny and Ron screaming at one of the Slytherin beaters as he grinned cockily. They only had three players on the bench, non of which were chasers. Damn it! 

“Hooch, you have to do something!” Harry said, storming up to her, the Slytherin captain Edward Beaumon storming up with him. “You know that was a cheap shot!” 

“Potter, my beater was already hitting the bludger when you called your stupid half time!”

“Boys!” Hooch yelled out, stopping an argument from breaking out. “We don’t have- just pick another player, Potter! Beuamon, bench Higginsworth.” 

Both boys stomped over to their respective teams, Ginny trying to talk to a fuming Harry. She didn’t have much luck, Harry walking over to Dean, Cormac McLaggen, and Albert Montgomery. 

“Which one of you wants to try your hand at being a chaser? We don’t have time for this.” Dean raised his hand, standing up with his broom. 

“I’ve got it, Harry.”

“Good.” 

After a brief meeting, mostly to tell them to score over defend, the teams were back up into the air. 

This time, Harry was going to play dirty too. 

As he flew up into the air, he began diving randomly, swirving around and spinning like he was looking for a snitch. Malfoy followed, looking far too calm for someone that had just injured a fellow student. It made Harry’s blood boil. 

Fourty more minutes into the game, Slytherin and Gryffindor were tied, 90-90. That’s when Harry finally spotted the snitch, flying up. 

Sadly, Malfoy followed him too, and the two boys were neck in neck, Malfoy slamming his broom against Harry’s own to throw him off course. 

“What, trying to kill Katie wasn’t enough for you?” Harry jabbed, pushing his broom forward. “Want to be a real killer now?” 

Malfoy’s face turned furious, as they raced, dipping down and feinting left and right. Malfoy watched Potter, and Potter watched the snitch. 

“You don’t have the balls to be a murderer, Malfoy.” Harry told him, fingers moments away from the snitch. Malfoy yelled, smacking his broom into Harry's, knocking them both to the ground. In a last ditch effort, Harry grabbed Malfoys nimbus with a shout, and the two boys tumbled down, wind racing against their faces. Malfoy screamed, Harry didn’t have the strength to. He clenched his fists, grabbing onto the blonde as they inched closer and closer to the ground. 

 Magical surrounded them, both boys gasping as they were saved and slowly brought back to the earth. Dumbledore lowered his wand, giving them a hard stare as they used each other to stand up straight. Harry raised his hand up, clutching a small ball in his fingertips. 

Gryffindor had won. 

The crowds erupted into applause and cheers, shouting Harry’s- and surprisingly Ron’s- name as both teams flew down and dismounted off of their brooms. Malfoy pushed off Harry, stumbling as he walked away. Harry’s Firebolt slowly fell to the ground, swaying as if someone was still flying it. Harry didn’t see Malfoys. 

Serves the git right if it broke, Harry thought to himself. He was surprised though. He didn’t think Malfoy had the guts to knock him off his broom like that. If he didn’t hate the bastard, he’d be a little impressed. 

“Harry, we won!” Ron called out, shaking his shoulders in excitement. He leaned in closer, whispering in Harry’s ear “You gotta brew some more of that stuff, if you can. I feel great!” 

“Ron, Ron, Ron.” Harry said as laughter bubbled up. “I didn’t add anything. That was just water.”

“What?” Ron sounded confused. Harry patted his shoulder with a smile, the team walking to the locker rooms. 

“That game? All you, mate.” Ron seemed lost for words, making random sounds of confusion as the team changed, laughing and cheering as they all headed back to the common room for a Gryffindor party. 

“Hey, that was a good game, Harry.” Ginny told him, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I had a question-“ 

Loud “WOOP!” And other cries made their way around the common room, people cheering. Harry pushed his way through the crowd, locking eyes with Neville as they watched Ron be snogged senseless by Lavender Brown. Neville and Harry both cheered, happy their friend was finally getting the attention he truly deserved. Neville called him over, waving an ice cold bottle of butterbeer, which Harry happily walked towards. 

Ginny and Hermione had both stormed out, not that anyone noticed. The team partied long and hard, chanting “Weasley is our king!” The whole night through. After a while, McGonagall came in and shut down the party, giving them a stern talking-to. Her grin gave away her feelings though, and the party continued for an hour afterwards. 

Eventually, everyone settled into bed, all smiles and laughs and full of happiness and cheer. Once he was sure everyone had gone to bed, Harry pulled out his potions book. 

Sectumsempra the page said. For enemies . Harry had plenty of enemies. Maybe he could use it against Malfoy?

“You’re attached to that book, aren’t you?” Neville said, sticking his head through Harry’s curtains. Harry rolled his eyes, bringing his legs in as Neville took a seat. “Anyways, I learned the spell to copy it.” 

“How?” Harry asked, passing him the book, albeit reluctantly. 

“Hermione.” He said, casting the spell Gemino. He passed Harry back his original copy. 

“Really? I’m surprised she taught it to you.”

“I told her it was for a Herbology book of Professor Sprouts. That I didn’t want to take a professor's book, even when offered.” Neville said slyly, cheeks going a little pink. 

“You lied to Hermione?” Harry said, shocked. “Mr LongBottom, have you gone dark?” Neville shoved at Harry, both laughing softly. Eventually, Neville’s curiosity got to him, and his question was blurted out. 

“Why’d Malfoy knock you off your broom?”

“I told him he didn’t have the balls to commit murder.” 

Harry wasn’t prepared for Slughorn’s Christmas party. Sure, he was dressed the part thanks to Neville, who was sadly only going as a waiter, but he felt odd. 

Harry wasn’t this prodigious child Slughorn had made him out to be. He was a cheat, using the Half-Blood Princes' book to get by in class. “Get by” was an understatement. He was finally at the top of his class! Finally, he shone in a class that wasn’t defence! If it took cheating to do that, well, Harry honestly didn’t mind. 

Honestly? He couldn’t care less. Plenty of students cheated, hell, Ginny had cheated on her charms homework many times! Harry wasn’t different from them. 

“Harry, come on, you wanted to get there early, right?” Neville said, fixing his tie. Harry nodded, following him down the steps and into the hallway.

“Why are you even putting in all of this effort?” Neville asked, curious.

“Dumbledore. He wants me to retrieve the real memory of an event.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Apparently, actually not apparently, I saw the memory, anyways, Slughorn gave Dumbledore a fake memory of a conversation he had with Tom Riddle.” He leaned in closer, letting his voice soften as he whispered into Neville’s ear. “Dumbledore thinks Slughorn told Tom about the Horcruxes.” 

“Seriously?” Neville asked, bewildered. “How?”

“Tom was a student who was very close to Slughorn; almost like a son. Dumbledore says Slughorn would have adopted Tom if he could have.” Harry shrugged, turning a corner as he fixed his tie. 

“The more you learn,” Neville said, seemingly out of it. He shook his head, hand sliding over his hair to fix the slicked-back look of it. Neville had wanted to slick Harry’s hair back as well, but with its length and his scar, we figured it would have looked stupid. “So Dumbledore thinks you could get it?” 

“Yeah, he said something about ‘Horace seeing the similarities’ or whatever.”

“Awful luck.”

Harry snorted.

“You’re telling me?” The pair laughed, walking into the mostly empty, expanded classroom by Slughorn’s rooms. There weren’t many other students there, mostly waiters and helpers like Neville, all dressed in fancy pseudo-server outfits. Provided by Slughorn, of course. 

“Ah, Harry! Neville! Wonderful to see you! Neville, if you could head over to the table over there, Miss Griffin should be able to help you with what you need to do.”

“Got it, by Harry.”

“Bye Nev!” Harry told him, flashing his best smile at Slughorn. 

Shouldn’t he feel guilty for this? He was essentially- no he couldn’t even sugarcoat it, he was manipulating his teacher. A teacher who held Harry in such high regard! They were even casual with each other! Was he wrong for doing this? 

Was he even more like Tom than he originally thought?

“Harry, how have you been? Enjoying yourself as of late?” 

“Yes sir, I have! Me and Neville have been working on a lot of spell research recently!” Harry told him, flashing a smile. At least he could be honest. 

“Whatever for?” Slughorn asked, leading Harry inside and away from the doorway.

“I’ve gotten into spell creation as of late. It’s very… interesting.” Sue him, he couldn’t think of a better word. 

“It is indeed! Why an old student of mine used to come up with spell ideas at the drop of a hat! Most were already invented of course, but he had a few very interesting ones himself. You may have heard of the paraphrase spell, or even its quill variant?” 

Harry thought for a moment, nodding slowly. He had seen something similar to that when out in Hogsmeade, 

“He created it! Dear Nowit Nesses, such a smart lad.” Slughorn passed him a champagne flute, Harry taking a gingerly sip. It was sweet and bubbly, he liked it. “Say, can I ask you a bit of a personal question?”

“Go right ahead, sir.” 

“Are you and Neville…” Slughorn trailed on, looking between the two boys. “It’s alright if you are, I am not prejudiced at all!” He rushed to add.

“Are we together, sir?” Slughorn nodded his head. “No, we’re just friends. Best friends, more like brothers really. Last years Christmas gifts even have us, Ron too, labelled as brothers.”

“God lads,” Slughorn told him, patting him on the shoulder. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it of course, but,” Harry, only half listening, let the man talk on and on as he watched other patrons enter and exit the room. A few Slytherins, Flora and Hestia Crow, dates to Blaise and Knott respectfully. Two Puffs, Susan Bones and her date, Ernie Macmillan. Susan was the only actual Hufflepuff member, which the redheaded girl openly flaunted. A few Ravenclaws, Kevin Entwhistle, Padma Patil (who had brought her sister as her date) Terry Boot, and their dates Harry didn’t know the names of. 

A few Gryffindors flooded in, fashionably late as ever, consisting of Dean Thomas with Ginny as his date, Hermione with Cormac McLaggen as her date, and Sophie Roper, a mysterious girl Harry only knew by name. 

“Harry! You look so good!” Hermione told him, walking over to him and giving him a deep once-over. Harry laughed, shaking his head.

“Compliment Neville, he’s the one who made it work.” 

“I didn’t know he was so into fashion.” Ginny told them. “I thought he was avoiding it like the plague.” 

“‘Mione got him into these male magazines, both muggle and wizard. He takes a lot of inspiration from them.” Harry explained to her, laughing when Hermione tried to defend herself, only to stop short with a soft blush.

“Well, they’re good magazines!” Hermione said, glancing around. “Where’s Ron, Harry? I thought he was your date?” 

“He was making out with Lavender when we left. Should be coming later. Hey Hermione.” Neville said, holding a platter of delicious pink champagne, greeting them. Harry gladly grabbed one, drinking some of it before setting it down on the table next to him. “I’m technically Harry’s date tonight.”

“Are you two…” Ginny trailed on, looking between them. 

“No! Bloody hell, first Granny, now you?” 

“At least you got her, I got Dumbledore and Slughorn!” Harry told him, the pair laughing at the shocked looks on their faces. It's like they weren’t expecting the two boys to be so okay with it. After a quick goodbye, Neville began walking over to the other guests, offering drinks and smiles. Harry was glad he was out of his shell, at least for the most part. 

Not even a moment's peace later, Slughorn was back on Harry like a vulture. 

“Harry! Come meet this old friend of mine, F. T. Hisheet! He’s from the islands in America, you know! Very interested in your spell making habits. 

“Coming, sir. Be back later.” Harry told the two girls, Hermione silently fuming while Ginny watched him go.

“What’s your problem?” Ginny asked her, grabbing a sweet from one of the other waiters. 

“Harry! It’s just- that book is such a problem!” She mused, face turning red as she vented to her friend. “If he had just given it up like I said, he wouldn’t be filled with “spell creation” ideas!”

“Hermione, you do know that spells have to be created, right?”

“Well yes, but-”

“And some of the runes you use are as recent as the past twenty years?”

“Yes, but-”

“And Ron has been praised for starting the process of creating and finding new runes?”

“Its not the same!” She almost shouted, flushing as she lowered her voice. “Harry is cheating, and everyone knows it. And he’s being all close with Slughorn for no reason!”

“Trust me, Hermione. He has a reason.” Ginny told her, giving her a quick side hug. “He’ll probably tell you soon, I bet you.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” SHe told the girl, rubbing a hand over her face. “Maybe I’m just jealous.”

“Oh, definitely.” Ginny told her, Hermione sending her an offended look. “Oh hey, there’s Susan! Susan!” 

And Ginny ran off, leaving Hermione alone once more. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair and downing the rest of her hair. 

That's when she saw it. A woman, older, dressed fully in pink. 

Her skin turned pale white, like a vampire was suckling the blood right through her eyes. Her skin felt too tight, too loose, too hot, too cold. Her breathing quickened, each breath like the chattering of a skeletal carriage, rolling down the side of a gravel road. Her hands tightened into fists, her nails digging into her skin. It hurt, it truly hurt. Yet it didn’t stop. 

Her mind began to flash horrible images behind her eyelids, showing her every detail as she watched it happen over and over again, like she normally did. Every night. 

Umbridge’s scream rang silent in the room, but deafening in her eyes. A hand came up, covering her ears as she tried to force her legs to move. She needed to get out of here. She was in the middle of the room! Yet everything kept spinning, as if the world was a hare, and she was damned to be the turtle. 

“-ey…out of….okay?” She heard mumbling next to her, a long arm wrapping its way around her shoulders. Her feet wouldn’t move, but the person holding her was patient, and she tentatively took her first step, then another.

“-ats it, okay? Good job….” Her feet moved, each step a horrid reminder. Her mind battled the wayward thoughts, trying as hard as she could to make one coherent non-screaming thought. 

Was God taking punishment on her now ? She didn’t even believe in God! And it wasn’t like she forgot about that . Her every sleeping moment was filled with nightmares. 

“‘S all good, come on.” A large hand rubbed her back, small circles mixed with loose shapes and quiet moments. “Breath, ‘Mione.”

Breathe? Hermione could do that. It was easy, in and out, just like that, yeah, good lungs. Huffs of breath slowly left her body only to be brought in again. She tried breathing through her nose, but every intake sounded horrible with how snotty she was. 

Slowly her eyes unclenched, her nails leaving her palms with little resistance. The hand kept making circles on her back, and she realised they were sitting down. Her legs felt like jelly, her palms stinging and her head suddenly pounding. 

“Hermione?” The voice said softly, the hand on her back stilling. “You alright?” 

Her eyes slowly opened, turning to her right to see who was helping her. 

“Ron?” She whispered, lips parting in surprise. “It was you?”

“Always the tone of surprise.” He joked softly. His hand still rubbed on her back. “You were just standing there when I showed up to the party. Are you alright?” 

“Yeah.” She said, voice firm, only for her to sniffle and bring her prickling legs to her chest. “No, no I’m not.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He questioned. Hermione shook her head. 

“No, I don’t, I can’t, you’ll-” She paused, picking her words carefully. “You’d hate me.”

“Okay,” Ron said simply, hand still moving, turning from soft rubs to his fingers tracing triangles and squares. “But I promise, I wouldn’t hate you.”

“You don’t even know what I’ve done.” 

“Can’t be worse than Harry at the ministry.” He stated, voice tight. “But it's up to you.”

Hermione didn’t say anything for a few moments, using her finger to copy the shapes Ron was tracing on her. It was relaxing, just sitting together like this. 

Her heart squeezed a little, but she ignored it. 

“I killed Umbridge.” She finally admitted. “I brought her to the centaurs and…”

“Bitch had it coming,” Ron said, not even flinching. Heroine shook her head fiercely 

“She did but still I- and she-” A hand flew to her face. “She hurt me, she hurt all of you, and yet…”

Wet, steaming tears rolled down her face as she blinked. Ron’s hand slid from her back to her shoulder, pulling her into his side as he said nothing, thumb rubbing her arm. He said nothing as she sobbed into him, each cry heavier than the last.

“I can still feel where the blood splattered on me!” She cried out, tucking her head into his shoulder. Ron used her hand to tuck her face from his arm. They shared a long look, Hermione’s wet brown eyes staring into his warm blue. 

And then Ron rubbed his hand all over her face. 

“There, just remember where my hand was instead, yeah?” He said, as if that would solve her every issue. 

She couldn’t help but laugh, the tear tracks drying as she watched Ron grin, loud and proud as she calmed down. 

“That was foul.” She admitted, leaning back into his shoulder.

“But it worked, right?” She could hear him grinning. “You’re not crying anymore.”

No, no she wasn’t. 

Inside the party, Harry faked another laugh as Slughorn introduced him to yet another person, his pockets filling with contact information and business cards. They would be useful later in life, probably, but it’s not like Harry needed a magical baker or chef, at least not at sixteen! Hell, even later in life, he could cook for himself, and if he didn’t want to, a house elf could! 

The thought of house elves filled Harry’s mouth with a nasty taste. Although he was grateful for Dobby, any reminder of Kreacher made him want to curse; both literally and verbally.

“Ah, Harry, I must say, I never thought you of much an entertainer, but my old friends enjoy your wit!”

“Thank you, professor,” Harry told him, preening (just a little!) with pride. “I learned from the best, after all.” Harry gave Slughorn a pointed look, the older man laughing and patting him on the back. 

Harry hated himself at this moment. 

“Horace. Mr Potter.” Snape drawled, coming up to the pair, and eyeing Harry curiously. “I hope I am not interrupting?”

“Not at all, Severus! You’re always welcome to join in. Are you enjoying yourself?” Horace asked. Snape nodded, looking around the room. 

“Indeed. I only stopped by to check where my…students are, and I have made sure to find them all.” Horace laughed, turning away to look at the room. Harry caught Snape's eye, and the man nodded at him, confusing the life out of him. SNapes half-neutral line scowled a little, and Harry’s ears turned pink in embarrassment. Oh, Snape must have been looking for him too. 

“PROFESSOR SLUGHORN!” A booming voice called, interrupting them all. The music lowered slightly, with most of the guests looking around. The three men walked closer to the front,  just in time to watch Filch storm into the party room, holding a seething Draco Malfoy by the collar. Harry’s eyes widened for a moment before a smirk found its way to his lips. 

And Snape promptly cuffed him over the head. 

Watch it. Snape mouthed at him, eyes set in his signature glare. Slughorn and Snape made their way to the front of the class, Snape sneering (as he usually did) and Slughorn looking worried. 

“Sirs, caught this one moving around in the dark, you see.”

“I was invited! Just trying to get back in.” No one said anything, everyone was silent. Slughorn gave a soft shake of his head, and Malfoy sneered. “Fine! I was gate crashing!” 

“Mr Malfoy, I can’t believe this, I-” 

“Do not worry, Professor Slughorn,” Snape began, narrowing his eyes at the blonde. “I shall deal with my…wayward student. Release him.” Filtch scoffed, but let go of Malfoy with a hard nudge.

Snape walked towards him, leaving Harry’s side. His hand brushed calmly on Harry’s shoulder, a small squeeze, a nod, and a quiet “Move, Potter,” before he grabbed Draco’s shoulder and fragged him out of the room. 

Draco’s eyes were wide, and never left Harry’s shocked own.

Had Snape just- Harry didn’t even know! What was that for? And Malfoy had seen? What was happening!? 

Harry needed to find out. 

“Well, this is still a party, non?” Slughorn said with an awkward laugh. “Music!” 

Chatter instantly started up, along with the music, and Harry made his way out of the classroom. He hadn’t seen Ron or Hermione come back in yet, and Neville was serving, so he had to do this on his own. 

Right, wouldn’t be the first time. 

Harry slipped out of the room with ease, giving small waves to previous people he talked too, and nods to some of his friends he saw in passing. Easy enough to get out of there. 

Now to find them-

“I don’t need you! This task was given to me!” He heard a voice yell. Malfoy. The shush after it belonged to Snape. Found them easily enough. Harry crept along the hallway, sticking close to the wall, what was Malfoy talking about?

“I do not care what you say, Draco, I made a promise to your mother-”

“That means nothing against the power of the Dark Lord.” Draco hissed. “You shouldn’t even be talking to me, being buddy buddy with Potter as if he were your own son! And don’t say you haven’t! I’ve seen it!”

“Yes.” Snape said. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. 

“W-what?”

“You are correct in your accusation, Draco. Potter is my…son.” 

“Does he know?” Draco asked quietly. Harry strained his ear to listen.

“Yes, Potter knows of this and while I am sure he is not happy about it-”

“No, the Dark Lord, does he know?” Snape said nothing. “He doesn’t, does he? I’ll tell him!”

“And risk your life doing so?” Snape practically growled, pushing Draco into the wallaby his collar. “Risk the life of your mother?” 

Malfoy said nothing, and Harry heard a thud. 

“I’ll finish my task without you, I swear it.” 

“Indeed.” Snape said, turning away with a twirl of his robes. Malfoy walked the other way, stomping as the parted. Snape rounded the corner. 

Harry finally breathed, Snape stopping as he rubbed his head. 

“Harrison, we need to talk.”

"Noooo shit."

Chapter Text

Snape’s classroom felt like ice to Harry, the windows drawn up shut, shutters closed, and only a singular candle lighting up the room. Harry didn’t know why he was there, usually Snape brought him to his rooms. At least it was warm there, a fireplace that the house elves always kept going. 

Harry hated thinking of house elves. 

“Harrison…” 

“Tear off the bandage, will you?” Harry asked, closing his eyes tightly. His hands balled up into tight fists, shoulders squared as if he was preparing for a blow.

“This is a sensitive matter-”

“So is you telling Malfoy I’m your kid!” Harry shot back, voice rising along with his temper. “He’s going to tell someone, and everyone will know, and then people will die-” 

“Mr Malfoy value’s his life, Harrison-” 

“Not enough to side with Vold- Him!” Harry’s nails dug into his palms, crescent dents forming the longer he held them there. Anything to keep from screaming, he supposed. 

Snape’s chest tightened at Harry’s words, memories of his younger self flashing through his mind before he shut them down. Had he valued his life when he joined the Dark Lord? 

No, he had lost Lily. Nothing mattered after that. 

“Regardless, he values his mothers life, who, if you must know, has not joined the Dark Lord.” Harry said nothing in response, staring at the floor in silent anger. Who cared about the Malfoy’s? “Tea?” Snape asked after a moment. 

“Just get on with it.” 

“Dumbledore is dying.” Snape said plainly. Harry flinched, looking up from the ground. 

“What?” 

“Dumbledore is dying and intends for me to kill him.” Snape sighed, beckoning Harry closer with a wave of his hand. Harry followed, sitting on one of the tables closer to the man as static slowly left his head. 

“How is he dying? He can’t be that old, can he?” 

“For a man born in 1881, he is surprisingly youthful.” Snape muttered, shaking his head. “But his age is not the cause of his ailment.”

“What is?” Harry demanded. “We can fix it, or at least try to-”

“If Dumbledore cannot get rid of the curse, what makes you think you can, Harrison?” The man snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“He was cursed?”

“By a ring. Dumbledore believes its the same thing that you happened to take care of at the beginning of the year.” 

“You mean, like the locket?” Like me? Harry added on mentally.

“Indeed. Dumbledore put on the ring, and even though he took it off, a skin-decomposing curse has begun eating it’s way through his hands and arms.”

“That’s why he was wearing gloves, isn’t it.” Snape just nodded. “And he wants you to kill him?”

“The Dark Lord gave Draco- Mr Malfoy the task of bringing the end of Albus Dumbledore.” Harry gasped. “Dumbledore knows of this, yet that old man cannot let a child become a murderer at such a young age. He has tasked me with…delivering the final blow, as he said.” 

Harry stared down at the floor, eyes welling up with tears as his nose began to stop itself up. 

“Bet he said it with a smile, huh?” Severus snorted, actually snorted as a hand covered his eyes. 

“Of course he did, crazy old fool.” 

Neither father nor son said anything for a few moments, their hallowed breathing ringing like alarm bells around the silent classroom. Both allowed their heads to hang in a shared anguish. Their teacher, mentor, and even friend was going to die. 

“He wants me to die as well, doesn’t he?” Harry asked quietly, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Yes,” Snape told him, turning around. “Yes he does.”

Matching tears, clouded with silence and resilience, rolled down their faces. Harry sniffled, rubbing his nose as Snape cleared his throat. 

“Horace has also brought something to my attention. He said you were particularly honest with him, can you tell me exactly what happened?” Harry nodded, wiping his face off as he told his father what had happened between him and the new potion’s professor.

“Harry, I hope you don’t mind if I ask you something more… personal note.” 

“Of course not, sir.” 

“Are you here on Dumbledore’s orders?” 

Harry momentarily froze, before giving a dramatic sigh.

“Nothing gets past you, sir. Yes, he did send me.” Harry shrugged his shoulders, looking around. “He says you have a memory he needs, but he won’t even tell me what it is.”

“I would hope not! I have already given that man everything he needs and I- '' Slughorn shook his head, placed his drink to his lips and took a large chug of it. “Oh nevermind, just know you aren’t getting anything out of me, my boy.” 

“That’s what I told him!” Harry lied, shaking his head. He looked to the sides, bowing his head in shame. “You’ve got to be the best professor I’ve ever had, sir. I couldn’t betray you if I wanted to.” 

“Harry my boy,” Slughorn said, a smile evident in his voice. “What a grand student you are! Yes yes, another drink I say! A toast!”

“And so we toasted, went our separate ways, and I got the party invitation the next day at breakfast.” Harry explained to Snape, feet swinging lightly from his spot on the table. 

“How very Slytherin.” Severu shook his head. Harry resisted a snort. “Why does Dumbledore want this memory?”

“Says it’ll bring down Vo- the Dark Lord. Dumbledore thinks Professor Slughorn knows something about the…those….uh, things.”

“If anyone knew, it would be Horace.” Snape muttered to himself, aimlessly moving papers around on his desk as if he wasn’t actively ignoring the awkwardness in the room. After a few moments he looked up.  “Regardless, you should be off to bed. The party ended over an hour ago.” 

“Right.” Harry said, hopping off the table with a run of his eyes. They were still a little blurry from earlier. An odd feeling settled on his chest. It was like, for some odd reason, Harry didn’t want to go back to his dorm. 

“Harrison?” Snape called as Harry neared the door. 

“Yeah?”

“Goodnight.” Harry paused. 

“Night.”

“Hermione?” Ginny asked, sitting on the couch with her. “Oh, Ron, hi.” 

“Hey Gin,” Ron raised his hand in greeting. Gin raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?” 

“You both disappeared during the party, I couldn’t find you after. Although now I know why.” 

Ron and Hermione both flushed pink, Ron quickly removing his arm from her shoulders. It wasn’t anything big! They were just much more comfortable with each other, especially after talking about his fifth year treatment of her… and not just his, Harry’s and Neville’s too. Hermione had explained it in a way that made sense. They had just completely abandoned her! And they hadn’t thought anything about it. 

“I’m over it now,” Hermione swore. “I know why you did it, I just didn’t understand why you couldn’t have explained it to me.”

“What do you want, Ginny?” Ron asked as the two of them separated, Ginny rolling her eyes. 

“Just to see where you were, honest. And where Harry was. I couldn’t find him either.”

“He’s probably still with Neville.” Hermione told her. “The waiters were on clean up duty, and you know how Harry is with Slughorn.”

“Professor Slughorn, ‘Mione.” Ron teased. The curly haired girl just rolled her eyes. 

“Well, I’ll let you love birds get back to it, night!” Ginny told them, laughing as she walked away, ignoring Ron’s minor shout of distress. 

“I should probably get to bed too…” Ron told her awkwardly, standing up from the couch. Hermione stood up as well, looking at her hands. 

“Yeah! Me too, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asked him, looking up. Ron stared into her eyes for a moment, realising how warm they looked in the nearby fire light. 

“Of course.” He told her. They stared for a second, eyes lingering, before Hermione cleared her throat and they went their separate ways. Ron threw himself into his bed with a sigh, groaning into his pillow as he thought about Hermione. She had always been pretty cute, especially as first years (but they were eleven, of course they were cute), but now as the years passed Ron could safely say she was becoming beautiful. No, she was already beautiful. Ron was just finally able to see it now. 

And he had hurt her. How could he have done that? How could any of them have done that? 

With a sigh, Ron rolled over, closing his bed curtains with a swish of his wand. He needed sleep. It was probably all that partying and drinking that was making him so sleepy.

You know, if you disregarded that he neither partied nor drank anything this evening. Ron closed his eyes and let sleep take him. 

And then suddenly he was wide awake, standing in a room of black, white, and pink.

“Ronald!” A booming voice said, cheerful and happy as he rubbed his eyes. Every colour was so bright, even that black! And also, where the bloody hell was he? 

“Hello?” He called out, and as he turned he was suddenly face to face with a woman dressed in a white dress. The ends of the floor length gown were the same cherry-blossom colour as the pink furniture around, and faded nicely into the white, loose top she wore. 

“Ronald, dearest, there you are!” She grasped him by the shoulders. “Exactly what I was expecting!”

“Who are you?” He asked, flinching away from her touch but feeling comforted at the same time. “How am I here?”

“You’re dreaming, Ronald. As for who I am…well, you should be able to figure that out yourself, no?” 

Ron just nodded, having already expected the answer before he even asked the question. There was no mistaking who this beauty was. 

He was staring at the face of life herself. 

“Now, I believe we are overdue for a visit, don’t you think?” She asked him. “I mean, my brothers have already met with your own, so it only makes sense for me to see you!”

“This isn’t a pity visit, is it?” Ron asked, suddenly defensive. “I don’t need to see a God or something to know my worth.”

“Oh not at all, Ronald! Here, sit!” A wave of her hand later and a white couch was summoned a few feet away from them. “What I am going to tell you cannot be shared, Ronald Weasley. You must keep it to yourself. Are you prepared to keep a secret from those you hold most dear?” 

Ron thought about it for a moment, glancing from his hands to the walls to the newly established couch. With a deep breath he nodded, moving to join Life.

“I am.” 

“Wonderful!” She purred. “Let me tell you the real story behind the three brothers.

“Harry!” Mrs Weasley called out, giving Harry a big hug as he exited the fireplace. He had gotten much better at floo travel thanks to their summer escapades. “Oh so good to see you dear!” 

“Hello, Mrs Weasley.” Harry told her, accepting her hug with a large grin. “Oh, we should probably move, Neville’s coming through next.” 

“Right, right, in you get! You know where your bags go. Neville! Welcome dear, so good to see you.” Mrs Weasley moved onto the next introduction, likely giving Neville a large hug just as she did with him. It warmed Harry’s heart, knowing his best friend was being treated the same as him. Trust the Weasley family to be as welcoming as a summer day. 

“Harrikins, good to see you!” One twin said, popping next to his side, startling him. Harry didn’t have time to brace for the second one. 

“Yes indeed! What has our little beneficiary been up to?”

“School, dying, and failing. What about you?” Harry told them, but the twins were interrupted before they could tell their tales. 

“Don’t let him fool you, he's at the top of Potions right now. Over Hermione.”

“It’s because of that book,” Hermione sang, sticking her head over the railing. “Hello Harry.”

“Hi Hermione, is Ron up there?” A hand stuck its way over Hemrione’s head, letting Harry see the jam on his fingers. “Ah, he’s eating.”

“When is he not?” George joked, rubbing his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, going to run through all of this house's food on his first day back.”

“Shove off, George.” Ron said, mouth obviously still stuffed with food. “I’m just hungry.”

“When are you not?” Fred said this time, skipping away with “La-La-La”’s as Mrs Weasley rounded the corner, Mr Weasley in toe.

“Harry, Neville! Welcome, welcome!” Mr Wealsey told them, shaking their hands. “So glad you decided to come. What was the day later for though, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Hora- I mean, Professor Slughorn had a Slug Club meeting for those deciding to stay, and with permission from Snape and Professor McGonagall, we got to come here this morning so we wouldn’t miss it.”

“Ah, becoming one with your studies then?” Harry nodded. 

Eventually, all of their belongings were dragged upstairs, separated, and sorted, before they all settled back down in the kitchen, waiting on the food to be finished cooking. Everyone chatted and joked together, seats constantly being swapped around until everyone was comfortable with who they were sitting with for dinner. 

“Alright,” Molly clapped her hands. “We have big news! Some of the order members will be coming over tomorrow for Dinner and a meeting. That means you,” She gave a pointed look to the group of underage kids eating dinner. “Will not be attending until Dinner. And you,” She gave a pointed look at the twins. “Will not be telling them anything. And you will be on your best behaviour!” 

“We solemnly swear!” They spoke at the same time, sharing matching grins as Molly sighed fondly, floating the plates of food to the table. 

“Thank you’s” Were shouted as conversations began once more, everyone reaching forward to plate their foods and dig in. Hogwarts cooking was good, but nothing compared to Mrs Weasley's cooking. 

“Who’s all coming to the order meeting, Mrs Weasley?” Hermione asked. 

“Remus, Severus, oh and of course Bill and Fleur. Charlie was going to come but one the dragons ended up pregnant…and of course Percy decided to not come- oh that’s right! Fred, George, Bill will be rooming with you tomorrow night, since Remus is coming. And I’m sure Fleur wouldn’t mind squeezing with Hermione and Ginny.”

“Why can’t they share a room?” George asked.

“Yeah, they’re engaged aren’t they?” Fred continued.

Harry dropped his fork. What ?!

“They’re engaged?!” He asked, eyes wide in shock. Who would have thought, Fleur the champion and Bill the curse breaker! What a pair.

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you?” Ron asked over a mouthful of food. “Happened a few weeks ago.”

“Which is much too young to be rooming together.”

“Mum, Bill’s older than when you had him. I think he’ll be fine. If they haven’t made a baby yet, they won’t do it with the whole house over.” 

“Ginny!” Molly's eyes widened, appalled. The rest of the table laughed. “That isn’t appropriate talk for dinner!”

“Yet it’s the truth.” George and Fred said together, sharing grins as they dodged Molly’s swinging towel. The house just laughed, all settling in nicely with each other as they talked and shared stories. 

And if Ron and Hermione held hands underneath the table, no one said anything.

Chapter Text

“Come in Remus, come in come in!” Molly announced the man’s arrival, most of the house sitting in the kitchen, discussing nothing in particular. With the twins back at their shop, the conversation bounced around a lot. Harry’s quidditch career, the Half Blood Prince’s book, Slugclub, Quidditch some more… Yeah, they were running out of things to talk about. But thankfully, more people were here! Now he could stop third wheeling with Ron and Hermione. 

He wasn’t dumb, he could see how they were acting around each other. Their smiles, giggles, flushed cheeks, ginny pointing it out- okay, maybe he had needed a little help, but now that he knew about them, Harry couldn’t stop seeing them as a couple!

It was getting incredibly awkward. 

“I’m gonna say hi to Remus,” Harry announced, standing up from the kitchen table. “See if he needs help.”

“Me too!” Ginny quickly said, standing up with a scoot. “Bye love birds!” She teased as her and Harry walked out quickly. 

“They didn’t even argue this time.” Harry said with a laugh, resisting the urge to look back at them. He really didn't wanna see anyone snogging while he was trying to say hi to his old teacher. 

“It’s because they know it’s true.” Ginny said, laughing. “What about you, Harry?”

“What about me?” He questioned, fiddling with his ponytail. He had gotten used to wearing his long hair around his friends, not bothering with glamour charms mostly out of pure forgetfulness. 

“Are you going to form a relationship with anyone?” Ginny cocked her head. 

“Uh, probably not, no.” Harry told her, taking down his ponytail and fixing it once more. He’d done that at least seven times since he woke up and it was only noon! “I don’t really have time, you know?”

“Cheating in potion’s is taking up too much of your time?” She teased, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “But seriously, no interest in anyone? Anyone at all ?”

“Not really…I mean, I suppose Luna is quite cute, I guess, but I’m not into her like that, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ginny sighed. 

“What are we guessing?” Remus asked, sticking his head through the open living room door. 

“Remus!” Harry said, running up to him, a smile on his face. Remus chuckled, wrapping his arms tight around Harry as he brought him into a big hug. “It’s so good to see you! Wow, look at your hair! It’s so cool!” 

Remus smiled coyly, brushing his fingers through his pink hair. A girl appeared behind Remus, giving the two teens a wink. 

“You can thank me for that! Wotchor, Harry!”

“Tonks!” Harry gave her a first bump, Ginny going in for a hug. “How’d you get him to do it?”

“He lost a bet.” 

“I lost a bet.” They spoke at the same time, Tonks grinning as Remus sighed. “Seriously, never play darts with her, she’s a menace!” 

“It’s called skill, Remus. Not that you have any for darts.” She cackled, and the pair made their way in. Ginny followed them, while Harry waited by the door. 

The next to come in was Alastor Moody.

“Potter.” He said gruffly, shaking Harry’s hand as he walked through the door. “Good, I was hoping to see you.”

“About what, sir?” Harry asked, leaning closer as Moody spoke quietly. 

“You put that gift to good work yet?” Harry jolted, nodding quickly.

“I used it to get away from the Dursleys,” Harry told him. “With the help of Ron, Hermione, and Neville of course.”

“Good lad. Now, where’s Molly? I need some coffee.” Moody wandered off to the kitchen where talking and laughing were heard. Harry sat back down on the arm of the couch, waiting at the door. His gaze constantly alternated between the fireplace and the front door, not knowing when Snape would appear. A few minutes later, as Harry had gotten up to head back into the kitchen, the fireplace chimed. A rush of green flames later, and out popped Severus Snape. 

“D-” Harry stopped himself. Snape had explicitly said he didn’t want to be called dad, or anything like it. Worst of all, why was Harry wanting to do that? He already had two dads, James and Sirius! He didn’t need a third one on top of that. 

Yet Snape the only father figure you’ve got alive, the wicked voice in the back of his head said. Harry tugged at his ponytail. 

“Harrison.” Severus said, bowing his head. 

“Sev- er, Snape-”

“Severus is fine in private.” Snape told him, not meeting his eyes. How odd. Snape was usually the prime example for prolonged eye contact. 

“Severus then, hello!” Harry said cheerfully, a smile working its way up his lips. “I’m glad you’re here.” Harry couldn’t help but say. After spending such a long time with the man, Harry could admit it both to others and himself (never Severus though) that he took comfort in the older man’s company. It was relaxing. 

It felt almost like something a family would do. Harry sitting on the office couch, working his way through his charms homework, occasionally asking questions that Severus answered, explaining them just enough that Harry would make the connections all on his own. Sometimes Severus would sit on the other side of him, a pair of reading glasses settled on his nose as he read over essay’s, snorting and even sometimes showing Harry some of the ‘dialogue’ the students included in their essays. Harry may not be the best essay writer, but he knows for a fact he never wore “Professor, I have no clue what the bloody hell is going on.” as his thesis statement. Nor had he ever written “Please help me I’m losing his mind” every inch for a twelve inch paper. 

Sometimes, when Harry fell asleep at night, he’d imagine his mother there, kissing the top of his head as she walked into the office, settled onto the couch, and laughing at the same essays Harry did. 

A ball of air lodged its way into Harry’s throat as he looked anywhere else but at Severus. 

“I am…glad that you are glad.” Snape told Harry. Harry smiled. That was close enough, he supposed. With a quick look around, Harry walked over to the stone-cold professor and gave him a quick side hug. Thanks to the healthy eating regimen Harry had been put on due to Quidditch (“You will not stay this frail and thin forever, Harrison!”) he had managed to grow a few inches. He came up to Severus’ chin now, and it made interacting with the man a lot easier. Now Serverus had no excuse to, literally, look down at Harry. 

“I uh, hope everythings okay, so bye now!” Harry said, walking briskly away from the man before turning the corner and climbing the stairs. Molly began ushering all of the youngsters out, ignoring and refuting the groans and moans of the people wanting to stay. 

Harry quickly climbed to the attic, finding Neville seated with a small plant in his life. He whispered soft words to the plant, stroking its leaves as carefully as one would do a sleeping animal. Harry waited for the whispering to stop before he walked up to Neville. 

“Whatcha doing?” Harry asked, sitting down next to Neville. 

“Trying to help this plant grow. It’s an Umbra plant.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked. The name didn’t ring any bells.

“It’s a rare and unique house plant. It’s pretty hard to get your hands on. It’s called umbra because of its dark green colour. Most people have them as they’re said to reduce stress and promote better sleep. It’s even used in a few potions and teas to help alleviate insomnia and anxiety. Mrs Weasley just found some growing under the shed, which is awesome.”

“That’s cool, what's wrong with it?”

“Mrs Weasley kept it in the sun. It needs total darkness to grow and actually feel the effects of it. You see the leaves?” Harry nodded. “Usually they are a tad heart-shaped, and very full. They also feel like those velvet strips on Ron’s old dance clothes back in fourth year. These leaves however are sharper, more triangular in shape. And they also feel like dragonhide.”

Harry reached out, gently stroking the plant's leaves as Neville sighed. He was right, they really did feel like dragonhide. 

“So why don’t you just lock it inside a dark closet?” Harry asked. 

“It needs to readjust to the darkness, which is why I’m up here and not in a dark closet. If it gets thrust into the darkness too quickly after being exposed to sun, it becomes an Umbra Foliage, which is basically like this thorny, vine, moss combination and it takes over your house until it’s shrouded in darkness.” 

“Oh wow.” Harry didn’t know what else to say. That was good to know, at least, should Harry ever get one of those plants for himself. Footsteps sounded on the attic steps, Harry and Neville turning around to see Ron, Ginny, and Hermione coming up the stairs. 

“How’d they even silence a doorway that has no door?” Ron grumbled to himself, flopping down on his bed. “Honestly, it makes no sense!” 

“Likely a spell or a ward of some kind.” Hermione said, pulling a book out of her bag. Harry didn’t question how long she had it in there.

“If it was a runic ward, I would have been able to spot it.” Ron said confidently, rolling over onto his stomach as he pulled a quidditch magazine from under his pillow. “Oi, Gin, come look at this chaser.” 

Ginny walked over, laying down next to her brother as they flipped through the pages. Hermione rolled her eyes, joining Neville and Harry on the floor with her book. Harry sat with the plant in his lap, stroking the leaves as he listened to Hermione talk about the new fantasy book she was reading. Apparently, she could take a break from academic books!”

Half an hour later, the gaggle of teenagers were called downstairs. It confused them a bit. The meetings usually took much longer than just thirty minutes. Usually they waited a good hour or two before being released from their metaphorical prison. 

“Hurry, guys!” George called out. “It’s Percy!” 

Ron and Ginny proceeded to run downstairs, Hermione, Neville, and Harry in close succession. 

“I thought he wasn’t coming?” Neville whispered to Harry. 

“Even Mrs Weasley said he wasn’t coming, maybe he had a change of heart?”

However, as they exited the last steps, Harry could tell this visit was anything but peaceful. 

“Ron, Ginny.” Percy acknowledged, glancing over the other three. 

“What are you doing back here?” Ron asked, walking over to his brother, closing the gap with a finger to Percy’s chest. “No letters, notes, not even a howler except to be a right twat to mum when she invited you over!” 

“Ronald!” Mrs Weasley said, ashamed. Ron stared down Percy, the two tall boys able to maintain the cold steely eye contact. Ron’s finger pushed against Percy's chest, even when Percy’s own hand swatted Ron’s away. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you, I am simply here on ministry business-”

“What if we don’t want your business?” George asked him, stepping up next. Fred followed behind, eyes focused and flaring hard. The two may have been twins, but they dealt with their anger completely differently. “What if we want you to get out of this house?”

“George, he’s still your brother now-” Arthur began, only for Percy to roughly cut him off. 

“Good thing my business isn’t with your family then, isn’t it?” Your Family . Harry watched as hurt filled each and every one of them. Ginny even let out a gasp, hands coming to her face as Hermione tucked the redheaded girl into a hug. Percy didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. “The minister wishes to speak to Potter.”

“No.” Snape and Remus say at the same time, and Harry is astounded as Snape seems to put himself in between Harry and the wayward Weasley. Harry stares at his back, eyes sparkling with something akin to hope. 

“It is a ministry order-”

“Har- Mr Potter is not of legal age, Mister Weasley, and therefore does not have to consent to a meeting with anyone over the age of seventeen that is not his direct overseer,”

“It would be well within Mr Potter’s interest if he-”

“I’d do it.” Harry rushed out, sucking in air after. Harry blinked, pushing one thought to the forefront of his mind as Severus turned to look at him. 

Will you be there? Severus’ eyes widened slightly before he gave a miniscule nod, turning around to face Percy again. 

“Very well, Mr Potter consents, but I will be in the room with both of them. As the only available guardian-”

“What makes you his guardian?” Percy pushed. Snape didn’t even flinch. 

“I am the only authority of Mr Potter, as I am his teacher. Therefore making me his temporary guardian should the need arise.” Percy didn’t say anything, simply turning around and exiting, coming back in with Minister Scimgeour himself after a few moments. He said an awkward hello to the Weasley family as Percy ushered him to the sitting room. Harry followed, Snape trailing behind him with a hard look on his face. They quickly settled, Harry casting glances at the potions master before focusing in on the minister.

Harry took a deep breath, clearing his mind the way he had watched Snape do for almost a year now. He could do this. Just had to bring out his inner Severus Snape. 

“Minister, a pleasure, I assume.” Snape greeted. “What brings about this visit?”

“Well, Mr Snape-”

“I prefer the term Master, I’m sure you understand.” Snape said snidely, saying thousands while only speaking nine words. 

“Of course,” He said, voice shrouded in a mockery of kindness. It was obvious he would rather call Snape anything but that. “Master Snape, if you’d agree to it-”

“I won’t.” 

“-I’d like to talk to Harry on his own.” 

“Absolutely not.” Snape said, making eye contact with Harry. Severus’ eyebrow raised slowly, and Harry suddenly understood. 

“It’s Apprentice, sir.” Scrimgeour's eyes widened, but with a shake of his head he continued.

“Well, Apprentice Harry-”

“Potter. Actually.”

“Apprentice Potter!” Scrimgeour took a deep breath. “We need to know that you are with us.”

“With who?” Snape asked, suddenly a lot more on guard. Even Harry, oblivious as he was, could smell the suspiciousness from his spot on the couch. 

“With the ministry, of course!” Percy said, rolling his eyes. Scrimgeour held up a hand, stopping the redhead in his tracks. 

“Apprentice Potter, we’d like you to align yourself with the ministry publicly, if not privately as well.”

“For what reason?” Snape asked. The minister ignored him, continuing to stare at Harry, awaiting his answer. 

“My guardian asked you a question.” Harry said cattily, crossing his arms. The minister threw his hands up, standing up from his seat. 

“This- no, Mr Potter, you need to give hope to the public! You’re the boy who lived, our saviour!”

“He’s a child.” Snape seethed, standing up as well. “He is a child and he should not have to be a part of this.”

“He’s been a part of this since his parents-”

“So because his parents fought, he has to fight as well?” Snape questioned, stepping closer. Although Harry was trying to feign annoyance, his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. A child? He wasn’t a- well technically yes but- 

Wow , okay, he needed to work through this later.

“I won’t be joining you,” Harry said. “I’m sorry, but after what the ministry put me through, I won’t.”

“One bad teacher and you won’t help out?” Percy scoffed.

“She tortured me!” Harry said, appalled. “She didn’t just give me a P on an assignment, she tortured me!” 

“Detentions,” Percy drawled, “Are not torture.” 

“Oh go fuck yourself.” Harry spat, standing up to leave. Severus shook his head, stopping Harry in his tracks. “No, I won’t listen to this.” 

“Show them your hand.” Snape commanded. “Now, Har- Potter.” 

With a sigh, Harry stuck out his hand, letting the minister take a long look at it, the man gasping as he made out the words. His finger traced them as Percy walked forward, reading over his bosses shoulder. 

“Dolores did this?”

“Not just to me, to others too. She did it to everyone who spoke out. Everyone .” His voice caught. “To children, to first years.”

The room felt heavy, Snape keeping a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. The minister let his hand go, Harry quickly shoving it into his pocket. He was uncomfortable, he wanted to get out of here and hide away from the public eye. Scrimgeour cleared his throat, picking up his briefcase. 

“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,” said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?”

“Indeed.”

When the minister and his tag along had finally left, Harry felt himself slump against his teacher. This was far too exhausting, why did he agree to put himself through this?

“You did good,” Snape praised quietly. “You kept your head, for the most part.”

“Yeah,” was all Harry managed to say.

“Are you okay?” Snape asked.

“Yeah,” 

Harry didn’t know if that was the real answer.

The-Boy-Who-Was-Tortured?!

By Rita Skeeter

Dear readers, you would not believe the information I have just become privy of! I know you reread the title at least twice, but another time may be needed! That’s right, our wonderful (ex-lair) saviour was tortured! Where you may ask? Within Hogwarts very walls! By who? Ministry employee Dolores Umbridge! Sadly, the woman was not available for questioning. Here’s the accusation from Harry Potter’s own mouth!

“Not just to me, to others too. She did it to everyone who spoke out. Everyone. To children, to first years.”

There you have it! Even though all of us had accused the teen of lying about You-Know-Who, does anyone truly deserve to be tortured, especially a child?

I certainly don’t. 

For more information about the acts done to H. Potter and his fellow students, turn to page 4. 

For more information about what the ministry will do, turn to page 5.

At the bottom of the page was an image. Severus Snape standing next to Harry Potter, his hand on his shoulder while the wretched minister looked at Potter’s hand. 

Snape looked almost parental! 

Voldemort crumpled the newspaper in his hand, muttering a curse to the death eater that had brought it to him. He had a woman to meet. 

Chapter Text

“Harry, who’s that from?” Hermione at breakfast. They had come back to Hogwarts a week ago, but it still felt like they were on break. The entire atmosphere of the school was relaxed, something it hadn’t been since Harry’s fourth year. Probably before that, if he was honest. Did Hogwarts ever have a relaxing side?

“Oh, a guy I met a year ago, his name’s Blake. We met the summer of fifth year when…yeah.” The topic of fifth year was never a happy one, and the group tried their best to ignore it whenever it would arise in conversation. “Anyway, he’s from Texas! Pretty cool, right? He’s the one that introduced me to all that inheritance stuff.” 

“Has he written to you before?” Hermione asked, scooting closer to read over his shoulder.

“Sometimes, usually when I write first. He was pretty shocked by my letter. Apparently, he was used to seeing friends and family maybe once a year. Said he wasn’t used to actually interacting with them through ‘those damn owls’. His words.” 

Ron snorted, taking a bite of his eggs. “So, what’s this one say?” He spoke over his mouthful of food.

Harry opened the envelope, the letter falling out of his hands with a gasp.

The death eaters have attacked the alley

Be safe, kid.

“Merlin,” Hermione said, skin palling. Diagon Alley? Attacked by death eaters? Why? 

“What is it?” Ron snatched the letter out of Hermione’s hands. They sat in silence for a moment, minds reeling. Neville walked over, eyebrows raised.

“What’s up?” Neville asked, sliding next to them. The boy was grateful he hadn’t piled any food on his plate; his appetite was lost the very next second. “Bloody hell.” 

“I wonder why,” Hermione mused silently. Harry pushed the eggs around his plate, and even Ron had stopped eating. It made no sense. 

A hand fell on Harry’s shoulder, making him flinch. McGonagall smiled down at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Mr Potter, I’m afraid you have a morning detention with Professor Snape. Now, don’t lose our house any more points and let's be on our way.”

“I do? I mean, yes, Professor. I’m sorry.” Harry nodded at his friends. If Snape was calling him for something so randomly it had to be important. 

They walked briskly down the hall, the dower professor urging him forward and faster as they neared Snape’s office. Harry’s heart dropped to his stomach, making him feel sick. What had happened to his dad the man?

“Professor, what is going on? What’s happening? Is he-...” Harry’s thoughts flashed with countless thoughts, each one worse than the last. He had seen what the prophet had posted, that means Voldemort had too. 

“Not here, Harry.” McGonagall said. “The walls have eyes and ears privy to all.” 

Harry was desperate for them to get to the potion maker. 

“I wonder what that was about,” Neville said, rubbing his stomach. His appetite didn’t stay gone for long. He had skipped dinner last night due to a headache, and he was starving because of it. 

“Who knows, probably Snape being Snape.” Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione’s glare. “What?”

“You know what.” 

“Do I? Enlighten me.” 

Neville snorted. “Who are you and what did you do with Ron?”

“What?”

“Since when do you use words like ‘Enlighten’?” Hermione couldn’t help her own giggle. Ron’s cheeks flushed. 

“I know big words! Besides, I’ve been reading.” 

“Didn’t know you could read,” Hermione teased. It was something their group joked about since second year, Ron and Harry having filled her in on what Malfoy had said when they were disguised as Crabbe and Goyle.

“Bugger off, arse.” 

The redhead was hit over the head softly, Ginny grinning as she sat down. 

“Is that any way to speak to a girl? Where’s Harry?” 

“Detention,” Neville told her, the flap of wings making the group look up. Mail had already been delivered today, what was going on? 

Owls flew in through the open windows left and right, dropping rolled-up newspapers on everyone, regardless of if they had a subscription or not. Ron caught one of the stray papers as it fell, taking off its binding in a hurry. 

Diagon Alley, attacked?

-

Rita Skeeter 

You read that correctly, ladies and gentlemen! As of last night, Diagon Alley was attacked. “By Whom?” You may be wondering. By You-Know-Who. His reign of terror has started once again. 

I beg all my readers to be safe. 

“The paper feels weird,” Ron said. Neville reached over and rubbed it. He was right. It felt almost slimy. 

“Let me see it,” Ginny took it from them. “Oh, I know what this is!”

“What is it?”

“It's false-message paper, just like Fred and George sell.” Hermione took it, frowning. “A couple of months ago they had an anon buyer buy their whole stock in bulk. It’s how they’re doing so well. They racked up the price two-fold and get a sum of money for it every month since.” Ginny explained.

“Why’d they tell you of all people?” Ron asked. 

“Because I actually listen to their plans. They’re some sneaky rats sometimes, I swear.” 

“Ugh, don’t use rats.”

“You can’t be traumatised by rat’s forever, Ron.” 

“I slept with one in my bed for-”

“How do you figure out the secret message?” Hermione interrupted. 

“It depends on the type of paper. Some need water, air, or fire. And, well,” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. ”I don’t know if they are selling them yet, but some require blood.”

“Nuh uh,” Ron denied. “It’s the twins, they couldn’t do something like that.”

“I’m serious. I know it was a concept of theirs but…it’s the twins, you’re right. I don’t know how serious they were, but if they set their minds to it, they’d do it.” 

The group fell silent, and Neville reached around, grabbing as many newspapers as he could. He looked around grimly, but it was obvious his friends shared the same idea.

“Let’s go test some elements.”

“Severus!” Harry shouted, rushing to the man. Snape was laying on his side, a look of pain clearly etched on his sharp features. “What happened?” 

“Why did you bring him here?” Severus asked McGonagall, clearly ignoring Harry. The teen dropped to his knees, trying to inspect his father’s wounds. 

“He deserves to know what happened - Merlin’s beard!” The old woman rushed to a cupboard, bottles clinking against each other as she looked through it. Harry’s eyes skimmed over Severus until he realised what was wrong. 

Severus’ side was bleeding profusely. 

Using the little training he remembered from muggle health class he took as a ten-year-old, Harry pressed his hands over the would, wincing as Severus cursed. He wasn’t trying to hurt him, but the bleeding needed to be controlled, even if only for a little bit. 

“That won’t do anything,” he panted. “It was made with dark magic.” 

“Something has to help,” Harry’s voice came out lower than he had expected. He took a spare potion from McGonagall, uncorking it and pressing it to the man’s lips. “Drink, please.”

“Harrison-”

“Please,” He begged. Severus swallowed thrice, finishing the potion. Harry’s thoughts began to race, the feeling of his father’s blood dripping off his wrist was not going to be forgotten anytime soon. It was horrid, but Harry tried to persevere. 

An idea struck Harry. 

If his magic could be used to harm, it could be used to heal. 

“Professor, I need to try something.” He gestured to where his hands were trying to clog Snape’s wound. McGonagall quickly dropped to her knees, replacing Harry’s hands with her own. 

“What are you going to do, Po- Harry?” the woman asked. 

“Putting my inheritance to good use.” Harry responded. His heart hurt when Severus tried to sit up, making him shout in pain. 

“Harrison, absolutely not.” The potion master gritted out. 

“I can try, Severus.” Harry finally met his black eyes. “I’m not going to let you die.” 

“These things happen, and I have my orders in place because of it.” McGonagall gasped. 

“What do you-no, not important, this can work,” 

“Like the phoenix did?” Snape groaned, having to lay back down. He was going to bleed out at this rate. “Harrison, I have a will.” 

“You don’t need a will!”

“You will get all of my assets, I made it a few weeks ago. All that is mine will go to you…son.” Severus took in a deep breath, and an involuntary sob left Harry’s throat. 

No, he wasn’t going to get a dad just to lose him a year later. He wouldn’t stand for this. 

Pressing his hands together, Harry concentrated with all his might, following the same process when making the phoenix. Except, instead of magic fuelled by his greed to end Voldemort, it was filled with the desperate need to save his father.

Please, he chanted in his head. 

“It’s no use,” Snape breathed shallowly. “No use at all.” 

Harry paid him no mind, focusing more on his magic. He needed something that would save this man, no matter what the cost. 

Suddenly, a white light began to emit from his hands, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. A ball began to form, making McGonagall gasp. 

“Harry,” she tried to reason with him. Snape’s eyes were closed, his breathing stalled. Harry paid it no mind, placing his hands over the wound. 

Please, he begged mentally. If not for him, then for me. 

Fine . Harry recognised the voice. Time. Just this once, I’ll intervene.

“Thank you!” Harry said aloud, trying his best not to cry. 

You lose your own chance for rebirth, child.

“I don’t care!” Harry shouted, pressing the magic ball deeper into Severus’ wound. 

“Harry?” McGonagall tried to reach out to him, but her fingers brushed against an invisible field. A spinning clock hand invaded her vision. 

You will die when the time comes, Harrison Snape. You will join them to rot.

“I don’t care!” He reiterated. “I’d die a thousand times over if I had to, just save him!”

So be it.  

The light in Harry’s hands was pressed inside Severus with a final heave. Harry slumped forward, suddenly exhausted. He hoped more than anything Severus was going to be alright, that Time had actually done as he had said. He knew the deity was good at keeping his word, yet he still shook with anxiety. 

Then, suddenly, the blood that had clogged the stone floor and couch began to seep back into his body. Harry watched through tired eyes as the last drops of red liquid retreated into his father’s skin. The skin etched together perfectly, folding over and healing at the same time. Slowly, the colour found its way back into the man’s skin. 

Wrist . Time’s voice shot through Harry’s head like a bullet, and Harry frantically looked at his own wrist’s, then Severus’. Harry gasped aloud, the dark mark was gone! 

Harry let go of the tears he was holding back, laying down on his father’s stomach as he heaved, stomach and heart twisting. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted on repeat. Tears flowed freely down his face, staining his face. His head hurt, his body was sore, but that didn’t matter Severus was alive. 

Snape gasped, eye’s snapping open in shock. He looked down at the boy on his chest, crying and dry heaving. 

“You’re alive, oh God, you’re alive.” 

“I am,” he said simply, his hand moving to Harry’s hair. It looked shinier, tamer so far. “I am alive thanks to you, my son.” 

Harry sobbed harder, but it was like something clicked into place. Both hearts felt lighter than ever.

The two comforted each other in silence, a hand carding through Harry’s curls as his sobs turned to whimpers. Snape was really alive. Harry didn’t care what it cost him, not now. 

Although, he soon would.

“So, why do we have so many newspapers?” Ginny asked, dropping the handful of newspapers she had onto the common room coffee table. “I mean, I get why, but there’s only five elements in this world.” 

“Not true, there are twelve natural elements of earth.” Ron corrected. 

“Mate, there’s one hundred and eighteen.” Neville looked confused. 

“Well, actually only ninety-two.” Hermione looked up from her book. 

“Riiiight, anyway, let’s get started.” Ginny sighed. “Where do we start?”

“Shouldn’t you know this, miss genius?” Ron chided. His sister just rolled her eyes. 

While the two red-headed siblings bickered, Neville and Hermione busied themselves with separating each stack into a separate pile, enough for all of them to have twelve, with one left over. Hermione set it aside. It was good to have an untouched copy just in case.

“How do you suppose we go about using the elements? Just rub some dirt on it or something?” Ginny questioned. 

“There are spells for each of the twelve elements in the magical world. Here, one second, I’ll go get my book.” Ron stood up, lunging up the stairs three at a time. Hermione and Neville shared a look. 

“He’s really serious about becoming one, then?” Neville answered Hermione with a nod.

“He’s been studying hard, especially once we found a spell for his dyslexia.” 

“Huh? What dyslexia?” Ginny asked the group. 

“Ron’s,” Hermione answered. “Didn’t you know? It’s why he struggled so hard in class. We only figured it out this summer.”

“Gran was able to locate a spell that would help. My dad exhibited symptoms of being dyslexic as a kid. Truth was he just hated reading, Gran wasn’t happy. I’m just glad she still had the spell book.”

“I am too,” Ron interrupted, bounding down the stairs with a book in his hands. “Still wish we would have tried the potion. Casting the spell all the time is so useless.”

“Useless he says,” Hermione sighed. “What’s the book for?” 

“Has a list of all the elements. Not spells, but we can figure it out for ourselves I think.” He plopped the book down, flicking through the pages before he settled on one. “Here it is.”

The list of elements in this world is ever changing, but there are twelve core elements that make up runes, and most of the magic we use today. They are our nature, or heart, and our peace. Each stroke of your brush, or carve of your knife, can change a rune’s meaning, so be wise with what you do.

Earth

Water

Wind

Fire

Thunder

Ice

Force

Time

Flower

Shadow

Moon 

Light

“Those make no sense,”

“Sure they do,” Ron told his sister. “You just gotta know what they mean.”

“Ron…how advanced is this?” Hermione asked her friend.

“Not very! I just- what I lack in reading I make up for in maths and runes. It makes sense, you know? So Babbling gave me some books.” 

Hermione nodded, mind wandering. Had Ron always been so smart? Probably not, but the idea of her having belittled him for years when he hadn’t deserved it made her cheeks heat up in shame. 

“Well… let’s get started.” 

After a few minutes of discussion, the group split off to work. Hermione and Ron hit the books researching together as Neville and Ginny worked on trying spells. With their only available source being a list of twelve elements, they had a lot of work to put in. Sometimes it was easy, and they all agreed to it. 

“ Aguamenti should work, right?”

Other times, not so much. 

“ Loszomrise wouldn’t work, it just summons flowers!”

“What about Terramorphus ?” 

“That just turns things into dirt!”

Even after an hour had passed, the group hadn’t come up with anything. Papers were torn, wet, electrocuted, crinkled, and left worse than wear. Hermione’s eyes hurt from speed reading too much, while Neville, Ron, and Ginny all groaned into their respective couch cushions. This was simply too much! 

An idea struck Neville. 

“Ginny, what was the other thing you said? That could unlock one of these papers?”

“Blood, why?” Her eyes widened. “No, absolutely not. It was just a prototype, I doubt they’d actually sell something like that.”

“I mean, it is worth a shot,” Hermione winced, even though Ron nodded along with her. “Do we still have a paper though?” 

“We should,” Neville said, looking around their area. He spotted their last paper in between two couch cushions and pulled it out, dusting it off. 

Hermione transfigured a quill into a needle, passing it to Neville with an encouraging smile. Neville took a deep breath, holding his hand over the newspaper, and pricked his ring finger. A few drops fell from the tiny wound, and the group of four stared intently as nothing happened to the paper. Neville sighed, let down. 

“Wait, let me try it.” Neville passed his friend the needle, and Ron was next to stab his hand. Drop after drop fell from his fingertips, painting the white paper red. Suddenly, small white letters began to appear. 

The entrance door swung shut, startling them all. Harry! Except- 

Neville clamoured from his spot, running up to the brunette. Without even seeing his family, the boy instantly knew something was wrong with his friend. His posture was off, his skin paler than he had ever seen it. When Harry looked u to give him a half-hearted smile, Neville noticed even his lips looked thinner. 

“Harry?” 

“Hi, Nev,” It was clear to the child that Harry was exhausted. “I gotta go do something.”

Neville's heart dropped to his stomach. 

“I’ll come with you,” Neville followed the taller boy, eyeing Harry as he ascended the stairs.

“Me too!” Ron called after them, wincing as he rubbed his hand across the bloody newspaper. “Uh here, you guy’s deal, be right back!” 

Hermione and Ginny just blinked. 

“Did they really just abandon us?” Ginny asked jaw dropped

“Seems like it,” The other girl replied. The blood on the page seemed to gurgle at them. Hermione assumed that meant it was working. “Now, while that does…whatever it’s supposed to do, why don’t we talk?”

“Harry? You okay?” Neville called out to him, Ron following close behind. “You look awful.” 

The only thing that alerted them to Harry’s presence in the room was the sound of soft sniffles.

“C’mon, Harry. Talk to us.”

“I-I can’t, you don’t understand.” 

“We don’t understand a lot of what you say, Hare, but we still listen anyways.” Neville said with a smile. 

“Sev- Snape, he almost…”

“He almost what?” Ron prompted. 

“He almost died today.” Harry told his friends the story of what had happened that morning; how McGonagall rushed him to Severus’ bedside, the deal he made with time, the magic that happened.

And the will. 

“Even Dad doesn’t have a will…” Ron said, shocked. 

“My father didn’t either,” Neville whispered. “Not that I need one in the first place, as he’s still alive, but, yeah.” 

“It caught me off guard. At the time I- I didn’t know what to think.” 

“I think you need to lay down,” Ron told Harry. The scarred boy sighed, shaking his head. 

“I can’t not yet. I still have so much to do, so much to prepare for.” 

“Like what?” Neville asked. 

“Like a will of my own.” 

“Harry…” 

“No,” Harry stood up, looking at his best friends, his brothers. “I could die any minute, we all could die at any minute! I need to be prepared, I need to have this back up, in case something happens. In case it all goes wrong.” 

His voice had lost conviction in the end, sadness overtaking it. He didn’t want to write a will. He was sixteen. He should be out snogging girls or something, focusing on school. Not his impending doom. 

“We’ll help,” Neville told him softly. “Whatever you need.” 

After a few hours of jotting down the things Harry owned, all three of them felt better. Harry laid on his back, eyes closed as Neville explained how their morning had gone. 

“How did you know that a different blood type would work?” Neville asked Ron as Harry began to finally relax. “How did you even know we had different blood types?”

“Ginny’s not the only one the twins tell secrets to. And, I didn’t. I just know that Mum said my blood type is the easiest to duplicate vials of because it's “O-negative”. Whatever that means. Plus, Fred and George used my blood for something a while ago, paid me a load of gold for it! It made sense it would be for this.”

“Duplicating blood?” Harry asked. 

“I was really sick once as a child, and they couldn’t figure out what it was. Turns out it was just a rareform of dragon pox, but we thought it was something dangerous. So to study it, they took some blood and duplicated it.” Ron explained. 

“I didn’t know that was something a person could do…”

“It’s not common, but it’s a good skill Medics have on hand, especially during times of-” Neville was cut off by a loud banging. 

“Guys!” It was Hermione! “We found something!” 

The three boys left their dorm, following the running girl down the stairs and back to the common room. It was a gorgeous day outside, even with the cold, so the common spaces were empty except for one or two seventh years studying. 

“ Mentioning tomboyish waters, elk unification willowy is superb- Hermione what the hell is this?” Ron deadpanned.

“An Anagram you bendable spoon, look!” Hermione moved the letters around with her wand, most forming a sentence while a few were pushed to the side. 

“Soon, this may not be me writing. I will let you know if I can.” Neville read aloud. “Wow…do you think…?” 

“Voldemort has taken over the press.” Harry muttered. 

His eyes darted around his friends' faces, watching as differing levels of shock and fear painted them. What were they meant to do? Voldemort was going further and further ahead each day. Harry steeled his resolve, swallowing the fear and guilt that lay just beneath his heart. 

“Hermione, we need to find the diadem, now .”

“You sure it’s in here, Dobby?” Harry asked the little house elf. The creature nodded, hopping from one foot to the next.

“Dobby is sure Master Harry Potter, sir. Dobby can feel the evil energy.” The elf assured. 

“Right, well,” Harry looked at his friends. “Guess we go in then?” 

“Are you sure it’s safe, Harry?” Hermione questioned. “We don’t know what sort of protections this diadem has, what if someone gets hurt?”

“That’s why we're all going in together, I reckon.” Ron said, giving Hermione a soft smile. Harry and Neville shared a look. So THAT was what was going on between them. The two boys allowed themselves to snicker as they thought of a plan. Dobby had opened the room of requirement for them, now it was their part of the plan. Go in, receive it, and destroy it. 

Easy as pie. Theoretically. 

“Now or never,” Neville muttered, pressing his hand to the door. It opened with a loud groan, making the four of them jump as it scraped against the stone floor. 

The building inside was dark, with piles and piles of meaningless objects stacked higher than they could possibly have imagined. They were careful not to bump into anything, especially the cages of animals. Some were still alive, while some were nothing but bones. 

It made Ron cringe. 

“Dobby?” Harry asked. “You coming?”

“No, no, Mister Potter sir, Dobby can’t go in the room. Not his area.” 

“Well isn’t that great,” Hermione rolled her eyes, pulling Ron’s hand away from a glowing red stone. “Don’t touch that! We don’t know what’s in here.” 

Hermione was right, they needed to be in and out as quickly and as safely as they could. 

“Keep watch, Dobby. We’ll be back soon.” Harry had started walking before the little guy had even responded. 

“Do you have any clue where it could be?” Ron asked. 

“Nope. I wish I still had the locket.” Harry winced instantly at his careless comment, but it seemed the other two boys were just going to ignore it for now. Harry was grateful.

Now, to just get through this never-ending labyrinth. 

As they walked deeper into the room, the usual smell of ancient oak and stone gave way to a strange, stale odour. Gone were the marble floors, now the floor is covered in dirty, old rags, and the air feels cold and damp. Ron checks out on the bookshelves, gagging as cobwebs cling to his skin. Harry feels his heart stop, just for a moment. 

They were getting closer. 

“Can you still feel it?” Neville asked, worried. Hermione was plucking cobwebs (and spiders, but no one was going to tell Ron that) off of the redhead, trying her best to hold in her laughter. 

“I don’t think so, it’s just that… I’m so used to how his magic felt, what his soul felt like. I feel like I’d recognise it anywhere.” Neville didn’t miss how Harry’s hands came up, grabbing at invisible air. He was missing the locket. 

“Right, yeah. Let’s keep going then.” 

A few minutes later, another sharp noise left Harry’s lips. His eyes blurred, and Neville had to help keep him upright. Harry knew what this was; the dizzying effects of dark magic. 

“It’s here, right next to us…” Harry mumbled. “Over…there?” Harry made a random gesture. Hermione and Ron quickly moved to that area, Nevill taking his time in placing Harry on the floor. 

“Don’t go anywhere,”

“Wouldn’t if I could,” Harry snipped back. He could, however, close his eyes for a few minutes. The magic made him so sleepy! 

We could be great together, Harry. It’s not too late.

The voice sang in his head, and Harry tried his best to ignore it. Even though Voldemort wasn’t in his head anymore, his words still ran through it whenever he thought he had a moment of peace. It wasn’t fair, but Harry had learned to live with the constant hell.

I am not hell, Harry. I am truth . 

“Just shut up,” Harry spoke aloud, exhausted. Perhaps it was the emotional outbursts he had had that day, but Harry didn’t want to do anything but sit in bed and stare at the ceiling. 

“Harry! Harry, I think we found it!” Hermione’s voice was so filled with emotion, it even managed to wake Harry up long enough to give her a “whoop!” of encouragement. 

“What do we do?” Ron asked, staring at the glass casing of the tiara.

“Should we take it out?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Neville.” Hermione reasoned. A soft snore sounded. 

“Harry?” Neville called out. “I’ll check on him, you guys decide.”

Neville headed back to his friend, gasping as he saw the state Harry was in. Though sleeping, the teenager was panting as if he was running a marathon, a pained look on his face. His body twitched randomly, and he didn’t even shake when Neville shook his arm. 

“Guys! I’ve gotta take Hary to Pomfrey!” He shouted. 

“Why?!” Hermione stumbled, jogging up to them. “Oh shit,” 

Not one to swear, Hermione covered her mouth, Ron’s eyes widening as he approached them. 

“We can do it later, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” 

“..o” A small noise left Harry’s parted lips, his breathing quickening. “Now,..it.” His partially opened eyes closed again. 

“We have to get him out of here,” Hermione frantically said. 

“We’ll destroy it,” Ron assured. “Get him out of here.” 

Neville nodded, letting Ron hoist Harry up on his feet. He could feel the heat radiating off of Harry’s body through their clothes. What had caused this? 

Going back the way they came, Neville exited the Room with a sigh and a heave. Harry was a lot heavier like this; barely able to support himself and practically being dragged through the halls of Hogwarts. 

“Longbottom!” A sharp voice called out. 

“Snape? How did you-?”

“The elf, give him here.” Neville only hesitated for a moment, passing Harry over to his father. “What happened?” 

His voice was stern, frightening even. First year Neville would have pissed himself hearing it. Now, Neville was older, and he had both his own confidence and Harry’s power backing him. He could hear the worry in Snape’s voice. It was uncanny how similar the two sounded, Neville realised. When Harry was worried, he sounded exactly like Snape did now.

“We found a horcrux. We’re going to destroy it.” 

“Idiot child!” Though he insulted Harry, the lines on his face deepened, showing his true worry. Gran was like that too, she insulted him when she was worried.  Like when she insulted him for being pushed out of a window. 

Snape picked up Harry gently, carrying the boy bridal style. It shocked Harry. That’s how one was carry a sleeping child to be-”

Ah.

“Are you taking him to Pomfrey?”

“No, this isn’t a regular sickness.” Seeing Neville's expectant look, Snape continued. “Exposure to dark magic” 

Neville followed, hot on his heels, as Severus went downstairs. The normally moving stairs seemed to still for the man, allowing him to quickly pass. 

“There won’t be- is your dorm empty?” Snape questioned, voice sharp. 

“Uh, should be? I can make it empty.” Snape nodded, and they headed to Gryffindor Tower instead. 

Thankfully, the common room and dorms were empty besides a single girl napping on the couch, and Snape was able to bring the boy up the dorm stairs and to bed. 

“ Accio bottle twenty-eight, no! Bottle twenty-nine” Two bottles flew upstairs after a moment, Snape catching them both. He tossed the unneeded one to Neville. He approached Harry’s bedside, the boy looking worse than he did ten minutes ago. 

“It’s alright, it’ll be over soon,” Snape soothed. Neville pretended not to hear. Snape opened Harry’s mouth, pouring the contents down his throat. The little that was left in the bottle was smeared on the boy's forehead. As he did, a soft, blue glow surrounded Harry, encapsulating him in a strange, magical aura.

Slowly, purple traces of… something began to rise from Harry’s body, mixing with the icy blue of the magic that was around him. 

“Da..?” Harry muttered, exhaustion in his features. The sound of his voice made Neville jump, He sounded…different. A little deeper, but also…smoother? Neville was in no state to deny it. 

“Relax, Harrison, it’s almost over.” Harry closed his eyes again. Neville watched as Snape frowned. 

“What is it?” His eyes followed Snape’s gaze. His jaw! “Bloody hell, is he?”

“It seems like it.” 

Harry was beginning to look like an exact copy of Snape! 

“This should have been done when he first stabbed himself in the head,” Snape grumbled, watching more purple aura rise out of Harry’s mouth. After a few minutes of silence, the only thing leaving Harry’s mouth was the same blue that had started this all. Snape waved his wand, dragging the now black substance back to the vial it was in. “He’ll be better after he rests.”

“What was that? What happened? What did you do?” Neville didn’t wince even when Snape levelled him with a glare. “Please, he’s my…” 

There was no word that described what Harry truly was to Neville. He was simply everything. 

“When one becomes used to being around, or using, Black Magic, it becomes an addiction. It’s harder to catch being around it, say, living with the House of Black, or living with it in your head as Harrison had.” 

“So he was addicted to it?” 

“In a sense. Thus, when he took care of the Horcrux, he was ‘freed’ from his addiction. However…”

“Being near it again, and for so long was like relapsing.” Neville concluded. Snape gave a nod. “So what did you do to him?” 

“An old Japanese finding- using purified spring water infused with purified magic. It has darker origins itself, but it works on clearing leftover dark magic from a victim's body.”

With how he sounded, Neville figured he had had to use it on someone else before. Maybe even himself.

“So it just takes out the bad stuff and replaces it? And how do you purify magic?” 

“You ask far too many questions, Longbottom.” Snape sighed, pulling the ends of his hair slightly. Neville’s eyes widened. Harry did that too! “I will not tell you how it is made, as in today’s standards it is a crime to craft this certain ‘potion’. What it does is infiltrate the body. Think of it as a vaccine. It goes in, taking out the left over dark magic, or most of it at least, and rendering the being ‘pure’.” Snape bit his thumb as he turned to look at Harry again. “It doesn’t explain why his looks suddenly became like this.”

Snape paused for a moment, looking the boy over once more. 

“He’ll be fine as long as he’s not around any dark magic for at least a year. It’ll be like relapsing over again.” 

“You have the same mannerisms, you know.” Neville pointed out, enjoying seeing the shock on Snape’s face. “Harry does the hair pulling and thumb biting as well.” 

Severus Snape did not storm out of the fifth-year Gryffindor dormitory, but when Neville told Harry what had happened, Snape totally had.

“Dobby?” Ron called out, holding a box wrapped in a cloth. The elf appeared in front. 

“Mister Wheezy!” 

“Can you teleport us while we are in Hogwarts?” Hermione asked, the elf shook his head. 

“Dobby can do in and out, Miss Hermy, but no throughout. Dobby is a useless-” 

“You can take objects though, right?” Ron quickly interrupted. 

“Yes! It is how we House-elves do laundry!” 

“Great, take this to the chamber.” Ron handed the package over to the elf, watching him pop away. Sharing a look, Ron and Hermione ran to the second-floor bathroom as quickly (and as safely) as they could. 

“Sahhh, hissss, uhh” Ron made random snake noises at the sink. 

“Hisssss.” Hermione tried. They were at it for a while before some sound Ron made had struck gold. They slide down the slide, walking through the tunnels of the underground. Dobby awaited them in the first open room. 

“Think a fang will work?” Ron asked, picking one up. “Uh, Dobby?”

“Yes Mr Wheezy?” 

“If I asked you to test if this had any venom, would you?” 

“Yes Mr Wheezy! Dobby will bes testing it on a vermin.” 

“A rat if you can.” Ron said, one hundred percent serious. Dobby popped away for a few moments, coming back with a shake of his head. 

“Dobby is fearing there is no more venom in the tooth!”

“Well shit,” Ron cursed, beginning to pace. 

“There’s one other way,” Hermione said quietly. 

“No, Hermione. That’s dangerous.” 

“And Harry trying to heal himself with illusion magic isn’t?” She challenged. 

“That’s different, he was deluded. No one supported him.” 

“Well, support me.” They stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity before Ron finally nodded. 

“ Fiendfrye! ” Hermione cast with a passion. Ron wouldn’t have been able to do it. For all that he hated rats, Ron still brought them outside when they ended up in greenhouses or Hagrid's hut, or even classrooms. He couldn’t even cast Imperio when they had tried. Ron was good, for all of his faults and anger. 

Hermione was too, but she had something in her that called out higher than being good. She was self-seeking in a way no one else was. The single trait that had qualified her for the Slytherin house. 

The black flame devoured the box and table that held the diadem, the shrill screams of a soul being released grating on their ears. The flame flicked the walls. 

“Retreat.” Hermione commanded. “Retreat!” 

The black shame shot at the two of them; Ron standing and fear and Hermione in confidence. 

The flame went right back to Hermione’s wand. She let her arm fall to her side with a gasp. She looked into Ron’s eyes. A shared disbelief crossed their faces until suddenly they were laughing, wrapping each other in hugs that screamed of something more going on. 

“Hermione, you’re incredible.” Ron said, almost breathlessly. “Absolutely wonderful, powerful, Merlin, you’re-”

“Just kiss me.” 

Ron did as he was told. 

“Severus?” Harry said, knocking on the door. A single hum of a response let Harry push open the classroom door, closing it behind him. “Are you okay?” 

“I should ask you that, Harrison. What were you thinking!?” 

“Uh…” 

“We’ll talk about this later. You need to rest.” 

“So do you,” Harry countered. Severus sighed. 

“I was, until a frantic house elf jumped on my bed screaming my son was in danger.” 

His son . The words swirled around Harry’s chest, tight and pulsing. Tears filled his eyes. 

“You- I’m sorry.” Harrison needed Slughorn's memory as soon as possible, with what Snape had been through he-

“Harrison, I’m fine. You’re the one I’m worried about. That was an exhausting process-”

“So was yours!” Harry barely kept from shouting. “You were- you were going to die.” 

“So were you, if I hadn’t been there to help.” He sounded stern, but not mad. Harry wasn’t used to that. “An obscurus can be made from more than one way, Harry. A re-addiction to dark magic is one of those things!”

Harry raised his eyes to meet his father's. Exhaustion was evident on his face. SNape’s thoughts mirrored his own. 

“You need rest.” 

“So do you.” 

“I can’t, not yet. Ron and Hermione haven’t filled me in yet.” 

“They can do so after you rest .” Harry paused. 

“Can I rest here? With you?” 

Snape paused, staring at him, eyes wide. Did Harrison really want to spend his time with him? His eyes searched Harry’s green ones he was so glad they were still green, the boy still held a trace of LIly and found nothing but truth. His son actually wanted to be in his presence! Snape managed a soft smile, barely on his face, but he knew the boy saw it.

“Always.”

That night, hours later, one Draco Malfoy would creep into the Room of Requirement.

Chapter Text

“Harry! Harry!” A banging on the door had Harry shooting out of bed, the other boys besides Seamus waking up as well. “Please, it’s important.”

“Who in the hell,” Neville groaned, getting out of bed.

“It’s not even light outside,” Ron covered his head with a pillow. Harry headed to the door, opening it slowly. 

“Collin, it’s too early for this, can it wait till the morning?” Harry asked as he rubbed his eyes. 

“No! It’s important, I… there’s people in Hogwarts!” 

Harry froze. Meanwhile, everyone that was up turned to the door, staring at the blonde boy. 

“What do you mean, Collin?”

“I was sneaking around because I was,” his cheeks flushed. “I had a date with a girl in Ravenclaw, and on the way back, I saw these strange people on the seventh floor!” 

“Couldn’t they be teachers?” Neville asked, coming to stand next to Harry. Even as he said that, Neville still passed Harry his shoes. 

“No, they had the same masks as what attacked Diagon!” 

Bloody hell. 

“Alright, Collin! Go bang on the girls door, get Hermione. We’ll- we’ll figure this out.” Collin nodded, rushing down the steps. Harry turned to face his year mates, all of them sharing the same look on their face; grim determination. 

“What do you need from us, Harry?” a now awake Seamus asked. 

“Get everyone up, find upper years to fight, keep the younger ones in the common room or dormitories, but keep them together. Upper years that don’t want to fight, put them in charge. Neville?” 

“I’ll join you later, let me help strengthen the house.” 

“Ron?” The redhead was already pulling a knife out of his pocket. 

“Strength, fortification, and resilience.” Harry nodded. 

“Dean, Seamus?” 

“I’m good with kids,” Seamus said. 

“I’m good at yelling.” 

Harry felt like a general walking straight into battle. 

The boys ran down the stairs, meeting a wet Lavender Brown and a sleepy looking Hermione. A few other students were up, Seamus and Dean running to the other dorms and waking all the students up. 

“Lavender, Hermione.” He greeted them.

“Parvati is getting the rest of the girls up,” Lav said, tying her hair up. “I’m going to get the teachers.”

“Right, be quick. And safe.” The blonde girl nodded, running out of the common room as Hermione sighed. Slowly, students trickled into the room, tired and scared. 

Harry stood up on the table, counting heads, but he knew that was useless. He was good at remembering faces, but he wasn’t going to remember all of them. Lavender came back in, 3 students right behind her. Ron carved the last part of his runes into the door frame, a magic ripple going over the front of the room. He turned, nodding at Harry. 

“I brought a member of each house, all the ones who can cast a patronus. That way we can communicate. McGonagall said she’d deal with it but..” 

“I get it.” Harry spoke. The commotion slowly started rising, voices talking over each other. Pointing his wand at his throat, he continued. “Quiet!” 

“Harry,” a small girl at the front asked. “What are we going to do?”

Harry didn’t know. All of these people looking up at him scared him. He had to do something, come up with a plan. 

“For now, we need to be quiet. I’ll think of something but for now, if you don’t want to fight, raise your hand.” A majority of the lower years raised their hand, only one seventh year and two fifth years raising their hands as well. “Right, if you don’t want to fight, you three are in charge. Uh…”

“Seventh and sixth years that want to fight, you’re on offence. We’ll track them ourselves. Fifth years, and the fourth years confident in themselves, you’re on defence under Neville.” Ron interrupted. Harry was grateful. 

“Younger years with us,” Lavender gestured to herself and Hermione. The chatter quickly started again, Harry walking up to the three students Lavender had brought. Terry Boot, Susan Bones, and Daphne Greengrass. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, not unkindly. He knew where she and Blaise stood in this upcoming war, and would accept them with open arms. 

“The past two years we’ve had an influx of halfblood and even muggle born students. Half of this year's Slytherin first years were Muggleborns. I won’t watch them slaughter children.” 

Harry understood. 

“Relay the information back to your house. Those who want to fight with us, bring them here. Daph…”

“I get it,” She said with a nod. “Blaise is hiding the younger Slytherins in Snape’s old room. It’s not as secure as this, but…”

“Harry, my vines are going to close over the door in a few minutes, you’ve gotta go.” Neville said, panicky. 

“Right,” He brought his wand up once more. “Those fighting, follow me! We’ve gotta go!” 

The group paused just long enough for Harry to cast two illusions; one dragon and one sphinx. They sat in front of the house, guarding it from any intruders. It took a toll on his magic, but it was worth it. Those students, this school, was worth it.

They ran out of the house area, and down to the second floor, joining the group of seventh year Ravenclaws. All of the sixth years had stayed back, sending on the best of the best (and a really overpowered fifth year). When they got to the duelling room, they didn’t have to wait long for a cluster of Hufflepuffs to show up. 

“Alright, groups of two, I don’t care what house. We need to have each other's back and-” a loud explosion sounded, the room shaking. “Shit- okay, fight for your life. Kill if you must.”

“Kill?” A ravenclaw at the front questioned. “Why would we have to do that?” 

“Those Death Eaters wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to AK you in the front.” Ron said toughly. “If you wanna die, be my bloody guest.” 

Nothing else was said on the topic, mostly because a small blue squirrel ran through the air. 

“ Lindsey McMarson is missing! Slytherin first year!”  

“We’ll find this girl!” Harry shouted. “Protect each other and yourself!” Everyone gave a grim cheer. Some sneakily left the room under disillusionment charms, others ran forward, wands at the ready like they were holding swords. 

Harry and Ron were the latter, running back up to where the infiltration had first started. They looked around for any sign of a girl, top to bottom. 

“If she’s a Slytherin, wouldn’t she be near the Dungeons?” Ron asked, wand at the ready. 

“Who knows, but it’s best to cover all of our bases.” Harry told him, peering around a corner. No one site. “I also don’t wanna put the other Slytherins in danger.” 

What an odd thing to say. 

The sounds of battle had finally arisen around them, signifying the Death Eaters had been found. Two floors down, they finally heard something. It sounded wet, squelching. It put Harry on edge. He gestured with his hands, Ron covering his side as they followed the sound. Groans and huffs were drowned out by the wet sounds. Harry smelt it before he saw it; the metallic tang of blood. 

“ Bombarda .” Harry cast, the door exploding. A man’s voice cried out, cursing. Harry followed in, the dust settling quickly. His eyes widened as he saw the bloody face of a man he recognised. Fenrir Greyback. 

“ You .” He hissed. 

“Harry Potter. Or should I say Harry Snape?” 

Sectumsempra the page said. For enemies . His wand and mouth moved faster than his mind. 

“ Sectumsempra!” Harry yelled, a red hex hitting the wolf straight in the chest. The older man grimaced, falling back, panting as his chest rapidly expanded. He began bleeding out, his blood mixing with what was already on the floor. Ron and Harry pulled the door that had landed on her off, Ron gagging as he saw the girl. 

Or what was left of her. 

Her chest seemed to have been clawed open and devoured, her heart and a few chunks of her other organs missing. It was obvious Fenrir had been grazing, maybe even playing around with her if the blood on his hands was any give away. Ron turned around, heaving in the corner as Harry inspected her. Part of her neck was missing as well, her eyes glazed over in fear. 

Harry hoped it had at least been quick. 

Summoning Prongs, Harry sent off a quick message to Daphne. 

“ Unidentified deceased Slytherin. Fenrir Greyback .” 

Harry steeled his nerves. This was actually happening. Here and now, this was going down. He wasn’t ready. This was all too soon. 

As Ron carved a rune on the side of the door frame, Harry looked at what his spell had done to Greyback. The beast looked like he had been a Jack The Ripper victim, his whole entire chest ripped open and bleeding. Served the bitch right. 

Maybe Harry should use it on Malfoy?

“Harry, we’ve gotta move on.” 

“Right,” Harry slipped off his nightshirt, covering the girl's gaping chest. She deserved this much, at least. 

They ran through Hogwarts, following the voice of the loud, repeating announcement. 

“ This is Hermione Granger. Death Eaters have invaded Hogwarts. I repeat, Death Eaters have invaded Hogwarts. This is Hermione Granger speaking, Death Eaters have invaded Hogwarts. ” 

The sound repeated over and over. As the ran, they passed countless duo’s fighting off death eaters one by one. Still, it seemed like they would never stop coming. 

“Harry! I need to seal off the room!” 

“I’ll go with you,” Harry said. Ron shook his head. 

“They need you to fight. If they bring any more people…” 

“Be safe,” he clasped Ron’s hand, bringing his brother in for a hug. 

“Always am.” 

That’s when Harry spotted a glint of overly blonde hair. He nodded at Ron before chasing after it. 

“Malfoy!” Harry spat the name like a curse. Malfoy, the idiot, turned around, pausing to cast a shield charm. Like that would do anything against Harry’s fists. 

The two tumbled, Harry landing a punch square in his jaw. Malfoy flailed around, trying and failing to land a hit on the Gryffindor. Harry was like a man possessed, landing punch after punch on Malfoy’s. Harry had never been trained in fighting, but he had taken enough beatings from Dudley to get the gist of it. 

Strike hard, strike fast, and don’t get hit back. 

Harry sat atop the blonde, panting. Draco’s shoulder twitched, making Harry slam his fist down. The Slytherin called out, a small clattering sound ringing as he dropped his wand. Malfoy was smart, but not smart enough. Harry’s eyes flashed with rage, and his hands found Malfoy’s neck. 

“How does it feel,” Harry hissed, fingres digging into soft flesh. “Getting killed by someone who looks exactly like your teacher?” 

His fingers pressed against Malfoy’s larynx, pressing harder. He watched as the fight in his silver eyes drained, his body thrashing. Draco’s nails dug into Harry’s wrist, but the boy didn’t stop. If Harry had been a pro, he could have had Malfoy dead in twenty seconds, but it wasn’t working like that it seemed. Harry squeezed harder. 

Do it, do it, do it do it do it doit doit doitdoitdoitdoitdoit

Malfoys fist collided with Harry’s shoulder, snapping him out of his craze. Moving his hands off of Malfoy’s neck to grab his pained shoulder, Malfoy struck. 

“ Difindio !”

Harry cursed, his shoulder bleeding profusely. That bastard! 

Harry tried to stand, but the pain in his shoulder was almost incapacitating. Malfoy ran off, wand in hand, the coward. Harry stood up, leaning against the wall. His shoulder bled, each step displacing the wound. It had gotten him good. That only made him more pissed off. 

He should have killed the brat when he had the chance. 

And so, Harry followed. He was much slower, but he didn’t care. Let Malfoy think he had escaped. He’d get what was coming to him. 

Harry followed Draco all the way up to Dumbledore's tower. What was left of an exploded gargoyle nodded at the bloodied teenager, letting him pass. Harry climbed the stairs as quietly as he could. When the door opened, Harry was pulled in, a hand covering his mouth. The shout he almost let out was more to his shoulder being so roughly handled. 

“Harrison,” The voice said quietly. Harry instantly relaxed. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“Followed Malfoy.” He grunted quietly. “What’s happening?”

“Draco challenged Albus.” Snape paused, touching his soaked shoulder. Harry knew he looked like a sorry sight; shirtless and covered in blood. “You’re hurt. Is this yours?”

“Malfoy, cutting hex.” Harry explained his shoulder. “The blood is Greybacks.” 

“That’s why he looks like that,” Snape mused, whispering a healing spell Harry didn’t recognise. His shoulder knitted together nicely, but the stench and feeling of blood was still on him. 

“You don’t have to do this, Draco,” Dumbledore's voice announced. “You don’t have to follow the whims of a madman. Hogwarts stands tall, even after what you brought in. You will be safe here.” 

Snape looked to his side, meeting the green eyes of his son. They shared no words, just a look. He turned, going under a specific staircase, covering himself in the shadows thanks to his illusions. Snape stepped forward, just enough that Dumbledore looked at him. Harry knew what was coming next. 

If Malfoy couldn’t kill Dumbledore, Snape would have too.

Chapter Text

“You don’t have to do this, Draco,” Dumbledore's voice announced. “You don’t have to follow the whims of a madman. Hogwarts stands tall, even after what you brought in. You will be safe here.” 

“Don’t you see?” Malfoy’s voice quivered as he spoke, his wand arm beginning to falter. “I have to do it. He’ll kill me.” 

“He won’t reach you here.”

“He’ll kill my mom.” Draco’s voice cracked. For once, Harry felt like he understood the blonde. If he had someone threatening Severus like that, Harry would have joined the dark side too. The thought shook something in him. NO, no, no, this was not the time for a self-evaluation. He could do that after this was over. 

“She’ll be safe here as well, young Draco. Even your father, should he want to be here.” 

“No, no, no, you promise that but it’s not true! You’ll just kill us! Put us in jail! You don’t mean a thing.”

“I mean everything I say with sincerity, Draco.” 

“No you don’t!” Harry was sick of this.” 

“ Stupefy.” Harry cast, knocking the blonde unconscious. Dumbledore turned, eyebrow raised.

“Harry,” The old man said simply. 

“Dumbledore.” 

“What are you doing here?”

“That would be my fault.” Snape said, stepping out of the shadows. “He knows.”

“Couldn’t keep secrets from your son, Severus?” Dumbledore’s words could almost be seen as teasing if the situation was lighter. Now though, they carried a heavy weight. A final question, a test.

“Not anymore.”

Clambering on the stairs got their attention, both Albus and Severus raising their wands against each other. 

“Harrison, leave.” Snape commanded. 

“But-”

“I will be alright, Harry.” Dumbledore offered a small smile. “Death is but the next great adventure.” 

Green eyes met blue, then black, and with a final prayer- to what God, he didn’t know. Perhaps to Time, his father’s savior- Harry returned to his hiding spot.

Just in the nick of time, as countless Death Eaters ran into the room. 

“What do we have here?” A sickly sweet voice rang out. Harry’s blood instantly boiled. Bellatrix. 

“Ah, Miss Lestrange,” Dumbledore said, offering her no smile even if his tone suggested otherwise. 

“Can it, old man.” She turned to Severus. “Pray tell, why is my nephew on the ground?” 

“He began to give into Dumbledore’s words.” Severus said, jerking his wrist slightly. “As expected, he used Narcissa against Draco.”

“Should have known,” Bellatrix took a step forward, kicking Malfoy. “How he managed to survive a year like this is beyond me.” 

“Indeed.” Was all Severus said. “Where's Greyback?” 

“Dead, gaping chest wound. Dolohov found him. The idiot must have been caught feasting.”

Snape had to resist turning to look at his son. Harry had seen that horror so young? Severus was a grown man, and even then seeing Greyback eat was a sight he would never wish on anyone.

“And where is your spawn, Severus?” 

“I have no ‘spawn’” The potion master glared at the laughing woman. Just a son , he thought to himself. 

“Aww, I expected ickle Potter to be here! Perhaps then I could have seen you torture him! The rotten brat, he deserves it!” 

“I would rather not be near that thing at all.” 

“If only the boy could see his father now, choosing power over blood, how fitting! History repeats itself.”

“Bellatrix,” Snape said coolly, trying to cut her off. 

“You know, with you having killed your own father for power and all,” She sent him a crazy grin. “Or would you rather not be reminded of that.” 

Severus, wisly, said nothing. 

“How would Potter feel, knowing his father was choosing the right side? Would he be oh so disappointed?”

No, not after all I know . Harry thought.

“Would he try to kill you?”

“He doesn’t have the spine,” Severus said. 

“Harry is not a murderer,” Dumbledore chimed in. “Harry is a good boy, even if he came from a bad seed.”

Ironic , Severus thought. Seeing as he was a murderer before even I was.  

“Shut it~” Bellatrix sang. “Let’s just get rid of him, our Lord is calling.” 

Harry watched, fear rooted in his stomach, as Severus straightened his wand arm. Dumbledore smiled, backing up to the edge of his tower.

“I will see you soon, Severus.” 

“ Avada Kedavra.”

Harry’s hand covered his mouth. Dumbledore fell, eyes glazing over as the green light hit him square in the chest. The Death Eaters cheered, running out to look at the falling old man. Severus did not follow, instead turning his gaze to where he knew Harry was hiding. Their eyes met. 

I’m sorry , Snape mouthed. The only kindness he could offer Harrison at the moment. Harry pushed himself deeper into the shadows, letting his magic do what it did best: protect him. 

A second Harry appeared from his magic, looking as tired and haggard as he knew he felt. It was his magic doing this for him. His illusions had begun taking a mind of their own a long time ago. 

It was called Illusion Sentience. It usually required vast concentration, or the loss of one's sanity. Harry didn’t know which one applied to him in this stance. 

“ Morsmordre !” Bellatrix shouted, a black light leaving her wand as their shape appeared above Hogwarts. Around the school, those fighting paused, all looking up. 

Death Eaters cheered, most turning and running from their battles. A few were forced to keep fighting, either by their own greed or an overzealous student. 

Ron cursed, firing off hex after hex as his other hand as his other carved runes into a door. Ravenclaw had been compromised, all of the students running to Hufflepuff. They would have gone to Gryffindor if they had the choice, but no one, not even Ron, was getting near there with Harry’s illusions guarding the door. 

“Weasley!” A Ravenclaw yelled out. “She’s not breathing…” 

Ron said nothing, drawing the last line of the rune Algiz, the rune of protection. He finished at the right time, infusing his magic quick enough for two blue spells to launch off the shield. Soon, the Death Eaters he was fighting looked away, cheering. What was going on? 

Ron turned to inspect his Ravenclaw group. Out of fourteen people, 3 were injured, one critically. And another was… poor girl. Ron had barely even learned her name. Paige Fitzgerald, a fourth year who was labelled a transfiguration genius. 

“Why is this happening,” A first year student cried out. 

Ron wished he knew. 

“Look! It’s-”

“Neville!” Hermione yelled. “Harry’s illusions!”

“What is it?” He ran forward, wand at the ready. 

“They’ve fallen…” Lavender said, pale.

“What?!” Neville peaked through the hole in his vines. A Death Eater had used fire magic against their door, ruining the portrait and some of Neville’s vines. He had kept them growing, even if it was taxing, and he was glad he did so. A Death Eater ran passed, laughing. Finally the big beasts had fallen. 

A second later, Neville’s vine struck the man in the heart, killing him instantly. 

“Neville!” Hermione yelled, catching the boy as he fell. 

“Hermione, we have to find Harry,” Neville said, grasping her wrist. “If the illusions fell, he’s either magically exhausted, or he’s doing something else.” 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” a voice said.

“Where am I?” Harry asked, eyes closed. He knew the answer to that, but he figured he’d ask anyways. 

“Wherever you want to be, Harry.” 

“Hello, Time.” Harry slowly opened his eyes, gazing at the familiar white room. “Am I dead?”

“Not yet, child.” Time took a sip of his tea. “You are simply exhausted, so I figured I would talk to you.” 

“About what?” 

“You have questions, like always. I will answer if I can.” 

“You always say that, and yet you never do.” Harry mused grumpily, taking a seat across from the being. 

“You always ask questions I cannot answer.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments, Time drinking his tea as Harry stared at his hands. Was it always going to be like this? All this blood, sacrifice, and death? No, he couldn’t ask that. He’d go insane if the answer was anything but what he wanted. 

“Was it Dumbledore’s time?” He decided to ask. 

“It was far after. Dumbledore had avoided Death’s hand for a long time now. He’s a tricky thing.”

“Oh.”

“So is your father.” Time added, capturing Harry’s attention. “The man was never meant to live past thirty, yet here he is, surviving.” 

“What’s keeping him alive?” 

“Loyalty.” 

“What’s that even mean?” Harry asked. 

“All three men he has served are people who Death has yet to reach, even if it was their time.” Time explained.

“All three?”

“Tom, Albus, and yourself, Harry.” 

“He doesn’t serve me.” This made Time chuckle. 

“All parents serve their children, Harrison. It is how the cycle goes. He is loyal to none other than you now, child. You, who have escaped Death yet again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your illusion was just destroyed in your steed. Had you chased after Severus, he wouldn’t have killed you, but Severus knew it was the illusion of you.” 

“How?” This barely made sense to Harry.” 

“He wasn’t covered in blood.” 

The silence returned once more, Harry taking a sip of the offered tea. It tasted like nothing, like always, but Harry didn’t mind. It gave him something to do with his hands. 

“Time, I’m begging you.”

“You’re going to wake soon.”

“Please! How can we beat this? He’s going to end countless lives!”

“Lives must always be lost in the search for peace,” Time took another sip. 

“Time!” 

“I offer you one last thing, child. One fact that leads to the fate of those you love.” 

“Yes! Anything, what is it?!” 

“Severus Snape is the true owner of Death’s wand.”

Dumbledore's funeral was quiet, and sad. Nobody but Hagrid cried, mostly out of shock. The one person able to stand up to Voldemort was dead. What were they going to do now?

“Not just a friend, but a teacher and mentor too. He- he did the best he could, until the very end, playing chess on a checkerboard.” McGonagall spoke, voice breaking slightly. “We send you off to Lady Magic, Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. May you find solace on the other side.” 

Harry couldn’t wait to escape the stuffy room. He was overwhelmed, to put it lightly. Ron stayed back, hugging a silent Hermione. Not much had been said between the four of them, Neville currently residing in the hospital ward. 

Fifteen people had died; four students, eleven Death Eaters. 

Harry was not happy with those odds. 

The only other funeral to happen at Hogwarts was that of Lindsey McMarson, the Slytehrin which Greyback had eaten. She had been abandoned by her muggle family and was residing with another during the holidays. Harry had paid his respects to the girl, having been the one to find her. It hurt him more than anyone knew. 

The next few days passed in a blur, and suddenly, it was time to go home. 

Home…what even was that? 

Neville was much better, at least physically. He had exhausted his magic keeping Gryffindor protected, but he was mostly healed from that, even if his magic was a little finicky. 

“Are you ready, Harry?” Neville asked quietly. 

“Almost. I need too…” His head turned to the entrance to the dungeons. Neville nodded. 

“We’ll meet you there, take your time.” 

Harry turned, walking down the dungeon's halls as Neville headed to the entrance. They were going straight to the burrow, all four of them, but first… 

He needed to say goodbye. 

Goodbye to the place where he would sleep after a nightmare, to the place he would help Severus make potions, to the place he would read, to the place where he confided the truth. 

Goodbye to his home. 

Turning, Harry saw a note on the coffee table, a small key sitting on top of it. He picked it up, reading the rushed handwriting.

My son, this is the key to my house in Spinner's end. It also acts as a portkey. You may stay here if you need to. It is hidden under wards keyed to you and you alone. The activation sequence is ‘Second Prince’.  Be safe, my son, and do not let them catch you. 

Harry’s fist crumbled around the paper, a single tear leaving his eye. He would be safe, but no matter what, Tom Riddle would pay.

“Severusss…” 

“My Lord,” he said, kneeling beneath him. If he was to die, at least he would die with his son alive. 

“So you have finally chosen your side. How did you survive?”

“I simply used the last Breath of Life I had. There is no other side than yours, My Lord.” 

“Potter?” Voldemort questioned. Severus knew what the man was asking.

“The very thought of him disgusts me, my lord. He means nothing to me, just a moment of fun with a mudblood that resulted in him.” Saying this hurt him, but Severus pushed on.

“I’m glad you chose the winning side, my potion maker. If only your spawn had been as smart.” 

“My Lord?” 

“I had a way to get inside his head, you see… he is almost as dark as you were, Severus.” 

It made sense. After what Harry had been through if he was perfectly fine after that…

“He’s a weak fool, My Lord. Worth nothing.”

“Nothing you say?” 

“Nothing at all.” Harry meant everything to Severus, that’s why he was doing this. For his newfound family. For his son.