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Chapter Text

1991, King’s Cross Station,

”— packed with Muggles, of course —“

Harry swung round. The speaker was a tall and slender olive-skinned woman with long black curls who was talking to four children. Three with silver hair, one with black. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry’s in front of him— and they had owls.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

”Get ready kids.” Said the mother. “All right, Egg, you go first.”

What looked like the oldest boy marched towards platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it— but just as the silver-haired boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

”Dany, you next.” The olive-skinned woman instructed. “Jon, you right after her.”

”Sure thing.” The very attractive girl replied, immediately setting off with her trunk, silver hair trailing behind her like a flag. One moment it was there, trailing behind her like a comet’s trail, and a second later it was gone. As had the girl.

Now the third sibling, black haired, unlike the other three, was walking briskly towards the barrier— he was almost there— and then quite suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

”Excuse me,” Harry said to the tall woman.

”Hello, dear,” She smiled. “First time at Hogwarts? Senya’s new, too.”

She pointed at the last and youngest of her children. She was short, skinny and small, with grey eyes set in a long face and silver hair that fell to her shoulders in a mop. Her older sister was easily the more beautiful, but Harry supposed that Senya was pretty enough.

”Yes.” Said Harry. “The thing is— the thing is, I don’t know how to—“

”How to get onto the platform?” She said kindly, and Harry nodded.

”Not to worry.” She said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best to do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous.

”Oh, and here.” The tall woman produced a wand from a sleeve and rapped it on Harry’s head and truck. Suddenly, there were a lot less people gawking at Hedwig. The eyes of the people around them passed over them like they were just another group of normal travellers. Beneath all but the most cursory of notice. “Notice-me-not charm. So the muggles won’t see you.”

She nodded, towards her daughter.

”Go on then. Before Senya.”

”Er— okay.” Said Harry.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk towards it. Harry was going to smash right into the barrier and then he’d be in trouble. Leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run, the barrier coming nearer and nearer. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

It never came.

He kept on running, and opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it.

”See? You did it!” A voice said, Senya rolling her trolley right beside him.

”Yes, guess I did.” Harry said, awestruck at the sight before him.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the windows to talk to their families, some fighting over seats.

”Come on.” Senya said. “Let’s find a seat quickly.”

She started off, and Harry followed the silver haired girl, passing through the crowd until they found an empty compartment near the end of the train. Harry put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk towards the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps, but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot. Beside him, Senya easily hoisted up her trunk with one arm and casually carried it aboard the train like it weighed no more than a bag of groceries, sliding it up into the luggage rack without difficulty.

”How?” Harry gasped, incredulous at the sight.

”Featherlight charm.” Senya explained. “Mama Elia put it on all our trunks.”

“Can you put it on mine?” Harry asked, kicking the heavy case.

”Sorry, but no.” Senya denied. “I’ll go fetch my brothers. They can help.”

The small girl dashed off, reappearing with the black-haired boy from before.

”Need a hand?” He asked. If Harry remembered correctly, it was Senya’s brother Jon.

”Yes please.” Harry panted.

”Oy, Egg! Need your help!”

The oldest boy seemed to pop out of the crowd. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it. He was pale, unlike his mother, with silver hair that was nearly white. Egg was taller than Jon, but Jon was the more muscular. Both of them easily picked up Harry’s trunk between them and tucked it onto a corner of the compartment.

”Thanks.” Harry panted, pushing sweaty hair out of his eyes. He noticed that the eyes of both boys— Wait, Egg had violet eyes! Harry had never seen that colour on a person before— flick up to his scar but they didn’t say anything apart from an acknowledging nod.

”Happy to help.” Egg said, walking off to assist another first-year, a girl with bushy brown hair.

”Aye.” Jon nodded, following his brother off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window, where half-hidden, he could watch Senya and her family on the platform and hear what they were saying. The Mother— Elia, was it?— was bending down, hugging her youngest child.

”Be good, sweetling. Don’t be naughty or give your professors too hard a time. Remember that even though we’re Targaryens—“

”We’re still human.” All of her children chorused, sounding as though they had to repeat that line countless times.

”We know, Mama.” Jon said.

”We’ll be good.” Dany promised.

”And totally won’t abuse our power.” Senya agreed.

”Unless, it’s someone that truly deserves it.” Dany piped up.

”Yeah. Some stuck-up git like Malfoy.” Senya chuckled, the girls laughing as their mother swatted them with fond exasperation.

“Don’t worry, Mama.” Egg said, glaring at his younger siblings. “I’ll keep them in line.”

”And I’ll keep you in line.” Jon retorted. “Make sure our future Minister for Magic doesn’t go mad with power now that he’s a prefect.”

”Do you really have such a low opinion of me?” Egg asked.

”Do you really want the answer to that question?” Jon asked back, their mother shaking her head in response.

”Just be good, kids.” Elia said. “Look out for each other and take care of Senya.”

A whistle sounded.

”Oh, hurry up!” The tall woman said, hastily hugging her children before pushing them towards the train, the children all clambering onto it.

Senya had barely gotten onboard when the train began to move, her mother waving her goodbye. Harry watched as they disappeared when the train rounded a corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn’t know what he was going to— but it was better than what he was leaving behind.

The door to his compartment slid open, and Senya entered.

”Anyone sitting here?” She asked. “Everywhere else is full.”

Harry shook his head, and Senya sat down opposite him, just in time for two of her brothers to pop by the doorway.

”Hey, Senya.” Jon said. “We’re heading to the center of the train to meet our friends. You fine by yourself?”

Their sister nodded, and the two boys pushed a bushy-haired girl in front of them.

”This is Hermione.” Egg said. “She’s a firstie like you are. Mind helping take care of her?”

Senya nodded, and patted the seat beside her, Hermione gratefully accepting it.

”Right. Thanks.” Jon said.

”Hermione, meet my sister, Visenya Targaryen. And the boy is Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.” Egg introduced smilingly. “Hope you guys can make friends.”

He stepped out of the cabin and gave them a wave.

”See you later.”

”Bye.” The three of them chorused as Egg and Jon walked off, sliding the compartment door shut behind them.

”Are you really Harry Potter?” Hermione blurted out. “I know about you of course. You’re in Modern Magical History and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

”Am I?” Harry asked, feeling dazed.

”You are.” Visenya confirmed.

They might have pursued the conversation in greater detail, had the compartment door not slid open just then. Three boys entered, and Harry recognised the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s robe shop. Though, Harry conceded, Egg, Dany and Visenya were infinitely paler, looking more like elves than someone whom just didn’t see a lot of sun. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he’d shown back in Diagon Alley.

“Is it true?” He asked. “They’re all saying down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, isn’t it?”

”Yes.” Harry said, eyeing the other two boys. Both of them were built like gorillas and looked quite thuggish. They flanked the boy, like bodyguards.

”Crabbe. Goyle. Malfoy.” Visenya greeted, voice cold like winter. “Don’t stare. Harry is a boy, not a zoo exhibit.”

”Oh, I was doing nothing of the sort, Lady Visenya.” The middle boy, Malfoy, said in an oily and sycophantic tone. “I was just here to offer our esteemed friend here guidance and opportunity. He really doesn’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort of people, you know.”

”I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.” Harry said cooly. Malfoy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his cheeks.

”I’d be careful if I were you, Potter.” He said slowly. “Unless you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t—“

“Finish that sentence, and you’ll regret it, Malfoy.” Visenya interrupted. She hadn’t moved an inch, and was easily one third of Crabbe and Goyle’s size, and yet she now radiated presence and authority like a bonfire. “Now get out before I take even more offence.”

”You do not command me!” Malfoy snapped, Crabbe and Goyle looming behind him. “My father is on the Board of Directors. Don’t make me write to him—“

Undaunted, Visenya shot a truly unimpressed glare at Malfoy.

”I will remind you that no matter how powerful and influential the Malfoy family is, the Targaryen family is considerably moreso.” Visenya’s tone was mild, as though she was discussing the weather, and yet Harry practically choked, unable to breath as he felt a great pressure fill the cabin. “So scram back to whatever hole you crawled out of, Malfoy, unless you want me to write to my father.”

Malfoy purpled, but heeded her words, storming out of the compartment, his bodyguards following him out mindlessly. Once he was gone, Visenya let out a long sigh, tension draining out of her like water down a sink.

“You’ve met them before?” Hermione asked, Visenya sighing once more.

”Unfortunately.” She grumbled. “Side effect of being wizarding royalty in all but name. You have to rub shoulders with all of the powerful and influential families.

”Most of whom are like him.” Visenya cursed. “Snobby, stuck-up, racist—“

”Well, that’s rather rude.” Hermione huffed.

”It’s not an insult if it’s true.” Visenya drawled. Hermione looked like she was about to launch into a tirade at the silver-haired girl, so Harry prudently decided that a change in topic was warranted.

”So tell me about your father, Visenya.” Harry spoke up. “I’d like to know just how he could send that git scurrying off.”

“Duke Rhaegar Targaryen.” Visenya replied, shooting Harry a relieved look. “He’s kind of like the Queen of England. His position is mostly ceremonial, but he commands a lot of power and influence in the wizarding world.”

Huh, the name sounded familiar, but Harry couldn’t place it. Maybe he overheard someone talking about this Duke Rhaegar?

”Oh!” Hermione said excitedly. “I’ve read about him. He’s known in the muggle world as an eccentric billionaire. He recently converted two old and obscure castles into hotels, with all the profits dedicated to various charities across the world.”

“Ah, now I remember.” Harry recalled. “Summerhall and the Red Keep, was it? My uncle and aunt were really excited about it. They really wanted to live in a castle, even for a little while.”

”That is true.” Visenya nodded. “Caused quite the ruckus in the wizarding world. Summerhall was a ruin, so the fallout wasn’t too bad, but the Red Keep was essentially our government building. We’ve had to move the entire Ministry for Magic down into the London underground, which didn’t go over well with much of the crowd.

”Never mind that the birth rate meant that the Red Keep was three-quarters empty and the upkeep was getting too costly.” Visenya grumbled.

“I see.” Hermione mused. “So there was a large amount of protests.”

”Indeed.” Visenya agreed. “Everyone expected my father to just be another easily controllable figurehead like most of his ancestors, so they were rather miffed that he decided to take an active interest in rule.

“But enough about my father. What about you, Hermione? What’s your family like?” The silver-haired girl asked.

”Oh. My parents are both dentists. Came as quite the shock when I got my Hogwarts letter.” Hermione spoke quickly, like her mind was faster than her mouth, and so she tried to get as much words out in the shortest period of time.

”Ah, a muggleborn.” Visenya noted. “And you Harry? No one knows what or where you’ve been since you were a babe.”

”I went to live with muggles.” Harry sighed. “My aunt and uncle and cousin. They’re pretty horrible though. Wish I had three wizard siblings.”

”Five.” Visenya corrected, sounding rather gloomy. “I’m the sixth and youngest in the family.”

”Five?” Hermione asked.

”Viserys and Daenerys are technically my uncle and aunt, but they’re so close to our age I consider them siblings.” Visenya replied.

”Oh.” Harry said. “Do you mind telling me about your siblings then? I’d love to hear about your family.”

”Viserys is the oldest.” Visenya shook her head. “Bit of a prissy prick, to be honest, but he was Head Boy. Graduated top of his class. He’s working under Barty Crouch in the Ministry now.

”My sister Rhaenys is next. Graduated last year. She was the Quidditch Captain and ace of the team. Never lost a game. She works on Dragonstone right now, as a Dragonkeeper.” Visenya continued. ”You’ve met my brother Aegon. He’s a prefect now, and seems on the verge of following Viserys’ path.

“Then there’s Jon and Dany— Jaehaerys and Daenerys— they’re the same age, though different years, due to the months, and practically inseparable. Jon is a brilliant Quidditch player, swordsman and magical duellist, and Dany— also another brilliant Quidditch player— is not only a ridiculously powerful sorceress, but also the most beautiful girl in school, so they’re really really popular.”

Visenya sighed.

”Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first.” The silver-haired girl lamented. “I mean, what is there left to achieve? With so many outstanding siblings?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Hermione earnestly said. “Maybe charity? Queen Elizabeth is patron of over half a thousand organisations and charities.”

”Margaery Tyrell already has that under lockdown, and Dany is running a big anti-slavery campaign down on the continent.” Visenya grumbled.

”There’s slavery on the continent?” Harry asked, aghast.

”Yes.” Visenya agreed. “Mostly muggles bewitched into service. Warlocks take the women as concubines to breed children, and use the men as labourers and cannon fodder. It’s horrible.”

”But surely your family is doing all they can to free them, right?” Hermione all but begged, looking green at the prospect.

”There’s an informal agreement between us and the continent to stay out of each other’s affairs. Even getting my father to sanction Dany’s anti-slavery racket took so much cajoling from both my mothers. And it nearly caused open war to break out between us.” Visenya sighed. “My father doesn’t want that. Not after the last war with You-Know-Who. Even now we’re still licking our wounds.”

Seeing that Hermione was about to launch into a tirade about how the Ducal family ought to be doing more, Harry quickly changed the topic.

”Both my mothers?” He repeated. “You have more than one mother?”

Visenya shot him a grateful look, acknowledging the way he’d thrown her a rope by changing the topic.

”Yes. I have two mothers. You’ve met Mama Elia at the station. Mama Lya is the other.” The silver-haired girl explained.

”Right. I’ve read about that.” Hermione nodded. “Duke Rhaengar has two wives. Elia Martell and Lyanna Stark. It caused quite the stir on both the tabloids and the mainstream media.”

“Two wives?” Harry repeated. “Is that legal?”

Visenya snorted amusedly at that.

“Legally speaking, my mother Lyanna is his mistress, but who’s counting?” The witch shrugged. “The main issue the wizarding world had with the match was that Mama Lya was a muggleborn.”

”Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked, alarmed, looking at Hermione.

”To the old families, like Malfoy’s crowd, yes.” Visenya agreed. “They don’t like muggle blood coming in and diluting ‘pure wizarding stock’.”

”Well that’s just stupid.” Hermione flatly stated. “We’re all human. It’s not like been born with wizarding parents makes you any different from someone with muggle parents.”

Visenya shrugged.

”Discrimination is everywhere.” The silver-haired girl sagely said.

———

1991, Hogwarts, Great Hall,

“I’d take you on anytime on my own.” Malfoy scowled at Harry. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only— no contact.”

“Ah-ah-ah.” Visenya chided, turning slowly around to face him. “Don’t tell me that the Malfoy heir has forgotten his etiquette lessons. You’re the challenger; you don’t get to set the terms.”

She paused, and sized him and both his goons up. Looking them up and down disdainfully.

”Tis a sad day when the heirs of three old and noble lines can’t remember the proper rites and traditions.”

Malfoy visibly reddened at Visenya’s words, swelling up like a balloon. Harry thought that he might just strike her there and then, but he mastered himself, and threw a glove down at Harry’s feet.

”Harry Potter! I demand satisfaction! I challenge you to a Wizard’s Duel!” Malfoy formally announced to the entire hall, many a head turning around to gape at him.

”Wait, that can’t be allowed. Isn’t duelling against the school rules?” Hermione protested.

“Not necessarily.” Daenerys answered, sidling over. “There’s a few archaic school rules regarding this. Hogwarts is required to accept formal honour duels, supervised and refereed by a professor. For example, last year, Jon duelled Daario Naharis when he… insulted my honour.”

The beautiful girl paused.

“This doesn’t fall in the same category though. Malfoy has not provided a legitimate formal grievance. And no, simple name-calling or disliking a person isn’t enough. I suppose this falls more under an exhibition duel or an informal duel. Which also requires teacher supervision. You can ask a teacher, but they don’t encourage violence, so they’re likely to decline to supervise.”

”In short, just say no, Harry.” Hermione warned. “Don’t get into silly fights.”

”I agree.” Harry nodded. “You’re not worth my time, Malfoy.”

He’d just turned back around to resume eating when Malfoy spoke once more.

”Fine then. In 1559, Lucius Malfoy I was prevented from winning the hand of Queen Elizabeth I in marriage by the dishonourable harlot Harriet Potter! I, Draco Malfoy, invoke this ancient grievance, and demand satisfaction from the last heir of House Potter, Harry Potter!”

There were gasps from the entire crowd, everyone goggling at Malfoy’s words.

”He didn’t…”

”But that’s ancient history… literally.”

”What does he mean by dishonourable harlot?”

”Lesbianism. He means lesbianism.”

“I thought that the failed Malfoy courting was one of those things vehemently denied by the family, and which everyone just politely agreed to pretend it never happened…”

Near the entire hall had turned to look at the them, murmurs breaking out. Unlike before, when Malfoy’s attempt to duel was laughed at, everyone was deadly serious now.

”Uh, can I deny this one as well?” Harry hopefully asked.

”Unfortunately not.” Daenerys looked like she’d bitten into a lemon. “This is a legitimate formal grievance, and a pretty big one at that. Turning it down will see you and your entire family branded as dishonourable cowards and cravens.”

”For something his ancestors did?!” Hermione shrieked, horrified.

”You’d be surprised how common that still is in the wizarding world.” Jon muttered.

Daenerys had gone very silent, contemplating options. She whispered something in a language that sounded similar to Latin but completely different to Visenya. Visenya’s eyes suddenly lit up at her aunt’s words and she nodded.

”Harry, accept the duel. Pick up the glove.” Visenya told him, winking subtly at him. “We’ve got a plan.”

———

After dinner that night, Dumbledore waved his wand, sending all the tables and chairs flying over to the walls and clearing a space for the fighters. Such was the severity of the grievance that the Chief Warlock of the Wizangamot had to personally preside over the duel.

“What’s the betting odds, Lee?” Aegon asked.

”Fifty-fifty, more or less. Malfoy probably knows how to duel, while Harry doesn’t. But on the other hand, it’s Harry freaking Potter.” Lee Jordan answered. “It’s an even split.”

Harry walked up to the duelling ring, feeling as though dinner was a solid lump in his stomach. Daenerys and Visenya had come up with a pretty foolproof plan, so long as he followed the script.

Both fighters entered the ring, their seconds— Senya for Harry, and Crabbe for Malfoy— a step behind them.

“Heir Malfoy, are you willing to settle your dispute with the Potter family peacefully?” Dumbledore asked.

”Not unless Harry Potter throws down his wand, leaves this school, and never returns.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Harry coldly said. “We will duel, Professor.”

”Very well then. As the challenger, Heir Malfoy has the right to demand the forfeit.”

”If I win, then Harry Potter will do as I say; Throw down his wand, leave this school, and never return.”

As rehearsed, Harry answered the way he’d been coached to by Aegon and Daenerys.

”If I win, then Heir Malfoy will have his mother Narcissa Black, proxy and regent to the incarcerated Lord Sirius Black, reinstate her disowned older sister Andromeda Black and her descendants into the Black Family.”

Harry had no idea what any of that meant, and had initially wanted to demand Draco’s expulsion instead. But every single Targaryen in the school seemed to think that this would be better and more painful to Malfoy.

This seemed to fly over most of the students’ heads as well, but quite a few of the older purebloods suddenly looked a lot more attentive.

”Very well then, the wager has been heard. As the challenged, Lord Potter has the right to set the terms.”

Harry took a deep breath, and remembered what he’d been told by Visenya.

Malfoy was quite bluntly, the superior wizard. Harry had no idea of what to do in a magic duel, save a few schoolyard jinxes he’d picked up from the older students. While Malfoy, at minimum, knew how to stun, shield and disarm. If Harry fought, he’d lose.

”No magic!” Harry declared, putting his wand in Visenya’s hands and raising his fists in a rough approximation of a boxing stance. “We settle this like muggles.”

Gasps.

Harry grinned as Malfoy visibly blanched at the terms. This was most certainly not the easy win Malfoy wasn’t expecting. With magic, Malfoy would wipe the floor with Harry. Without, Harry’s odds were far better. He, unlike Malfoy, knew the rough basics of fighting, based on his long experiences from Dudley’s Harry Hunting.

It was considered bad form and dishonourable, but Harry didn’t care about any of that. Malfoy was the one who started this fight.

For a moment, Harry thought that Malfoy might genuinely back down, surrender without a fight. But then, Malfoy’s face firmed up, and he ground out an agreement between gritted teeth, placing his wand in Crabbe’s hand and raising his own fists.

“Very well then.” Dumbledore said. “Both take your positions, and bow.”

Both Harry and Malfoy lowered their head by the barest fraction, before stepping backwards to the edges of the makeshift duelling field.

”This duel is not until the death. You will stop when we tell you to stop.“ Dumbledore reminded them both. “Cast on— oh, my apologies— fight on three. One… two… three!”

Harry ran forwards at Malfoy, and threw a punch, which Malfoy barely managed to block. Malfoy threw a punch back at Harry, but compared to Dudley and his gang, he was slow. It was easy to dodge and counterattack.

For a moment, Harry thought that he could win, but unfortunately things weren’t so easy. Chronically underfed, Harry was smaller and weaker than Malfoy, and while he’d had good meals over his time in Hogwarts, it was still not enough for him to overcome the physical gap. Experience, combined with catching Malfoy off-guard helped a bit, but once Malfoy realised that Harry couldn’t pack much strength behind his punches, he’d rallied.

Kicking Harry backwards, Malfoy rushed in, ignoring Harry’s blows and punching Harry straight in the stomach. He’d had far harder from Dudley, but Harry still felt the wind get knocked out of him.

”…Not so tough after all, Potter.” Malfoy panted, raising his fists once more. “You can surrender now, and I won’t hurt you too badly.”

”Not on my life.” Harry panted as well.

He’d wanted to settle this fair and square, but Jon had slipped him a secret trump card before the fight, just in case. Now it would seem time to use it.

As Malfoy lunged at him once more, Harry reached into his pocket, and pulled out a shrunken Quidditch Beater’s bat. It returned to full size in his hands a heartbeat later, and Harry swung it around, braining Malfoy in the head with a most satisfying ‘Thunk!’.

“What?” Malfoy stumbled backwards. “But— you’re— you’re cheating!”

”I only said no magic, not no weapons.” Harry pointed out, silently thanking Visenya for making sure he worded the terms properly. Another underhanded trick, but needs must. Harry absolutely refused to let anyone take Hogwarts away from him.

And then Harry went on the offence, whacking away with the bat. Whaling on Malfoy with all his strength. Three strikes, and Malfoy’s wrist broke. Another five, and he went down, knee bent nearly backwards. It took another four strikes on his downed opponent, before Dumbledore called an end to the duel, letting Harry limp back to his friends.

Bruised and bloodied, but more importantly, victorious. He would not have to leave Hogwarts behind.

———

1991, Hogwarts, Trophy Room,

Jon’s old Beater’s bat got immortalised in the Trophy Room.

The bloodstains and small bits of blonde hair stuck to it had been magically preserved, and a small plaque had been added beneath it. A mostly pithy thing, it briefly detailed the Potter-Malfoy duel, and how Harry had cleverly used the terms of the duel to humiliate Malfoy.

A lesson as to how cunning could triumph over a superior opponent. As well as a warning against biting off more than one could chew.

———

1991, Hogwarts,

Harry and Visenya swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Visenya got so impatient that she prodded it with her wand and set fire to it— Harry had to put it out with his hat.

The table next to them wasn’t having much more luck.

”Wingardium Leviosa!” Seamus Finnegan shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

”You’re saying it wrong.” Harry heard Hermione snap. “It’s Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, so make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”

”You do it then, if you’re so clever.” Seamus snarled.

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, flicked her wand and said: ”Wingardium Leviosa!”

The feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

”Oh, well done!” Cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s done it!”

Seamus Finnegan was in a very bad mood after class, storming out with black rage writ on his face.

”It’s a wonder how you two can stand her.” He told Harry and Visenya as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor. “She’s a nightmare, honestly. I’m actually surprised you two are her friends.”

Hermione knocked into Harry as she hurried past him, tears in her eyes.

“Seamus, that was uncalled for!” Visenya shouted, before hurrying after Hermione.

”Agreed. Seamus. Hermione is a great friend.” Harry glared at him, before hurrying off after the two girls.

They later found Hermione sobbing in a girls’ bathroom. Visenya went in to talk, but Hermione was pretty inconsolable. Harry left for their next class, telling Professor McGonagall about the girls and offering to take notes for them. It was the first time he’d ever seen their Head of House so angry, and Seamus Finnegan looked like he was facing down a dragon when Professor McGonagall asked him to stay behind after class.

Harry went back down to the girls’ bathroom, and waited outside for the girls. He pulled out Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them and began reading. Eventually, Visenya and Hermione finally emerged from the lavatory, Hermione still red-eyed, but a lot better.

”There, there.” Visenya was saying. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. Harry took notes for the classes we missed, and there should still be some food down at the feast. We can— wait, what’s that smell?”

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they head it— a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. The three of them turned around to see something massive lumber around the corner.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, with skin that was a dull, granite grey. It had a great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. It was holding a wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

”Troollll!” Visenya screamed, and the troll screamed back at her.

With screams of blind panic, the three first-years immediately turned and ran in the opposite direction, the troll lumbering after them. They must have run for ages, dashing through empty corridors and ascending staircases.

Despite its size, the troll was surprisingly fast. It was slow, but its size meant that each step covered a much greater distance than their tiny legs could.

The trio dashed past the Charms classroom, and as the troll lumbered after them, smashing and crushing everything in its way with its club or simple sheer bulk. They ran to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door— and it was locked.

”This is it!” Senya moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door. “We’re done for! This is the end!”

The troll was but thirty feet away now, roaring angrily as it swung its heavy club.

”Have you gone mad? Are you a witch or not?” Hermione shouted, tapping the lock with her wand. “Alohomora!” 

The lock clicked, and the door swung open. They piled through it, shut it quickly, locked it, and warily backed away from the door, which must have been enchanted, for the troll was unable to break in, banging and roaring to no avail.

“Whew, we’re safe.” Harry said, turning to face the girls, only for his face to fall as he took in the sight before him.

For a moment, he thought that he’d walked into a nightmare— this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

The three of them weren’t in a room as he’d supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren’t already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob, and the three of them ran screaming out of the corridor, and right into the troll. Visenya— the smallest of them— managed to slip between its legs, while Harry and Hermione had to duck under an angry club swing.

Then Harry and Hermione blindly ran right into Visenya. There was a crack as Harry’s forehead impacted hers, and the three of them toppled over in a heap of groaning limbs.

Roaring, the troll raised its club, slowly and inexorably. It would kill them, Harry could tell. The club would come down and pulp all three of them with a single swing.

Harry closed his eyes, held the girls, and braced for the inevitable.

It never came.

”Sectumsempra!”

Harry felt something fly over his head, and then there was a series of meaty thunks. Something rolled, and came to a stop right beside Harry.

The three of them opened their eyes to see the troll fallen over on its back. Its decapitated head right beside Harry’s shoulder.

Silently, dumbstruck at their fortune, the three of them eagerly turned to thank their saviour, only for their faces to fall on last time.

”Well, well, well. Why am I not surprised?” Snape drawled. “Potter and his friends. Please tell me why you thought fighting a full-grown mountain troll was a good idea? I am looking forward to what must be a truly enlightening explanation.”

Suddenly, death by troll didn’t seem so bad, compared to being saved by Snape.

———

1992, Hogwarts, Hagrid’s Hut,

“Hagrid— what’s that?”

But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

”Ah.” Hagrid fiddled nervously with his beard. “That’s er… an ostrich egg! Yes!”

Visenya raised a silver eyebrow at Hagrid.

”Hagrid, are you seriously trying to lie about dragons to a Targaryen?” She incredulously asked.

”A’ight, fine.” Hagrid surrendered. “It’s a dragon egg.”

”And how do you have a dragon egg, Hagrid?” Hermione faintly asked.

”Won it.” Hagrid said. “Las’ night. I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.”

”But what are you going to do when it hatches?” Harry asked.

”Well, I’ve bin doin’ some readin’.” Hagrid pulled a book out from under his pillow. “Got this outta the library— Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit— it’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but it’s all in here.”

”You’re keeping the egg in the fire.” Visenya noted, crouching over the fire to take a closer look. “Ah, good, you’ve made sure it’s sufficiently hot.”

She nodded approvingly.

”What are you planning on feeding it?” Senya asked.

”Bucket o’ brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour.” Hagrid replied, rapping a foul-smelling pewter bucket in the corner.

”I recommend instead sheep blood and milk, served hot.” Visenya replied. “Yes it’ll cause some digestive issues at first, but trust me, the dragon will be healthier in the long run for it.”

The silver-haired girl frowned as she ran a hand over the large egg, uncaring of the flames or heat.

“Ah, it’s a Norwegian Ridgeback.” She approvingly said. “They’re really rare. We don’t have any left on Dragonstone.”

Hagrid looked very pleased with himself, happily pouring Senya a bucket-sized mug of tea and getting into an animated conversation with her over the finer points of dragon raising, as Harry and Hermione stared at them in horror.

———

1992, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Grounds,

“So why do you know so much about dragons, exactly?” Harry demanded as they walked back to the castle.

”House Targaryen are the only dragonriding family in the world.” Senya happily said. “I’ve grown up alongside dragons in our ancestral home of Dragonstone.”

A sudden image of Senya gleefully cackling atop a massive winged reptile and laying waste to all that displeased her suddenly appeared in Harry’s mind.

”But isn’t it illegal to breed dragons?” Hermione asked. “The Warlocks’ Convention of 1709 made it illegal in Great Britain.”

“Not entirely true.” Visenya corrected. “You can get a permit. House Targaryen has one, as does Gringotts, and there are enclosures down on the continent where dragon breeding is allowed.”

”Please tell me Hagrid has a permit.” Harry all but pleaded.

“Dumbledore could feasibly get one.” Visenya evaded.

”That wasn’t yes.” Hermione said, alarmed.

”Fine, he doesn’t.” Senya sulked.

”Well, I think the next thing we should do is obvious.” Hermione declared. “We bring this up to Professor Dumbledore.”

”And get Hagrid into deep trouble?!” Visenya demanded. “No! He’s our friend, we can’t tattle on him like that.”

”Senya, it’s one thing to bring a school rule.” Hermione beseeched. “Another to break a law. We could all get imprisoned, or worse, expelled!”

Harry suddenly turned to Visenya.

”Rhaenys.” He said.

”No, I’m not Rhaenys, I’m Visenya!” Senya shot back irritably.

”No— Rhaenys— your sister Rhaenys. On Dragonstone. Working as a Dragonkeeper. We could send the dragon to her once it hatches. She can take care of it.”

”Huh.” Visenya frowned. “That might work, but we’re going to need extra help.”

———

1992, Hogwarts, Hagrid’s Hut,

“Hagrid, you’re a good friend and all, but this is just irresponsible.” Jon beseeched. “You live in a wooden hut.”

”Yeah.” Dany agreed. “And there’s a reason why we don’t bring our dragons down to school. They’re not pets, they’re dangerous creatures.”

Harry and Hermione had disagreed with Visenya when she suggested bringing her older siblings into the secret, but Jaehaerys and Daenerys were rapidly proving worth their weight in gold. The two of them were mature and calm. Charismatic and persuasive. And were slowly talking Hagrid around to Harry’s idea of sending the recently hatched Norberta to Dragonstone.

“You two own an’ ride dragons, don’t ya?” Hagrid pointed out.

”Which is why we know exactly how dangerous they are.” Dany flatly stated, violet eyes flicking over to the sleeping dragon in the corner. “And we’re Targaryens. The resident experts when it comes to dragons. We know what we’re saying.”

“Look, we’re not taking Norberta away from you. We’re taking her away from everyone else.” Jon sighed. “It’s really not safe to keep a dragon nearby eleven-year-old schoolkids.”

”Yeah.” Visenya piped up. “You can visit Dragonstone anytime you want. It’s like sending a child off to school. Just because they’re no longer at home doesn’t mean you can’t see them.”

That seemed to be what sold Hagrid on the scheme. He nodded shakily, and muttered an agreement.

———

1992, Hogwarts, Forbidden Corridor

“There’s still time to turn back.” Harry said. “I won’t blame you.”

”Don’t be stupid.” Visenya rolled her eyes.

”We’re coming.” Hermione insisted.

Harry pushed the door open, and as planned, Visenya began singing.

”High in the halls of the Kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts…”

———

The black king took off his crown, and Visenya put it on her head, taking his place on the chessboard.

“You two hang back.” She told Harry and Hermione. “I’ll handle this one.”

It was a long and furious match, and the silver-haired girl came harrowingly close to defeat more than once. But eventually, Visenya checkmated the white king.

He laid his crown by her feet, and the rest of the chessmen bowed and stood out of their way.

”That… that was brilliant, Senya.” Harry breathed.

”Don’t worry, I knew what I was doing. I was never in danger the whole time. I took the place of the king. If the king lost, we were scuppered anyway. Even in checkmate, the king is left unscathed.”

”But— but— “ Hermione was breathing very fast and quickly.

”Hey, calm down, Mione. It’s not so bad. I could have taken the place of one of the other pieces. Or worse, ask you two to join me on the chessboard as fighters.” Visenya paused. “I know I’m not the smartest person, but at least I’m not that stupid.”

They pushed open the next door, and stepped over the threshold. Fire immediately sprang up around them, purple flames around the door from whence they came, and black flames before the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

Hermione cracked the riddle pretty quickly, and found the appropriate bottle. Harry’s heart sank.

”There’s only enough for one of us.” He hoarsely said. “There’s hardly one swallow.”

They looked at each other.

”Which one will get us back through the purple flames?”

Hermione pointed out a rounded bottle at the right end of the line. Enough for all three of them, if need be.

”You two drink that.” Harry told them. “No, don’t argue. Listen, go back, grab brooms from the flying-key room, they’ll get you up the trapdoor. Senya will sing Fluffy to sleep again. Once you’re out, go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I’m no match for him, really.”

“But Harry, what if You-Know-Who is with him?” Visenya fearfully said.

”Well— I was lucky once, wasn’t I?” Harry asked, pointing at his scar. “I might get lucky again.”

Hermione’s lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him. Visenya was hugging him too a heartbeat later.

”Harry— you’re a great wizard, you know?” Hermione said.

”Yeah, the best friend. The bravest.” Visenya agreed. “Be careful.”

Chapter Text

1992, Number Four, Privet Drive,

“Stop it.” Harry muttered as the railing pounded in his sore head. “Leave me alone… cut it out… I’m trying to sleep…”

He opened his eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone was goggling through the bars at him: a freckle-faced, silver-haired, grey-eyed someone.

Visenya Targaryen was outside Harry’s window.

”Senya!” Breathed Harry, creeping to the window and pushing it up so they could talk through the bars. “Senya how did you— what the—?”

Harry’s mouth fell open as the full impact of what he was seeing hit him. Visenya was sitting on the back of a black-scaled, orange-eyed dragon. A very familiar black-scaled and orange-eyed dragon, as it happened.

”Is that Norberta?” Harry got out.

”Yup.” Visenya grinned. “She’s grown nice and big, hasn’t she?”

That was one way of putting it. Last time Harry had seen the dragon, she could fit in a packing crate. Now Norberta’s wingspan stretched twenty feet, and she was even longer from head to tail.

Grinning at Harry from beside her, on a second and larger dragon— black with yellow eyes— were two women he didn’t recognise.

The first was tall and curvaceous, olive skinned like Elia, but was a violet-eyed teenager instead of a black-eyed woman. That must have been Visenya’s oldest sister Rhaenys. The other was short and skinny woman, with dark brown— almost black— hair and grey eyes. She must have been Lyanna Stark, Visenya’s mother.

”Oh, so you’re the boy that my sweet sister was mooning over.” Rhaenys teased, Visenya turning pink and glaring at her.

”What are you talking about you nymp—“ Visenya snarled, but was cut off by her mother.

”Hi Harry, nice to meet you at last!” Lyanna smiled, interrupting her daughters before they could start bickering. “I’m Visenya’s mother Lyanna.”

”Uh, nice to meet you too.” Harry replied, stunned.

”What’s going on?” Visenya demanded, leaning on the bars threateningly. “Why haven’t you been answering my letters? I’ve sent like twelve of them to you already, and then Father comes home and says you’ve gotten an official warning for using magic in front of muggles—“

”It wasn’t me!” Harry protested. “And how does he know?”

”Ahem, Duke Rhaegar Targaryen, head of the most powerful and influential magical family in the world? Oh no, he most certainly doesn’t have any contacts inside the Ministry of Magic.” Visenya sarcastically replied. “Oh woe is me, how could we have made such an elementary mistake?”

”Well, you should talk.” Harry grumbled, staring at the dragons.

”Oh, dragons don’t count.” Rhaenys smiled. “They’re magical creatures, not magical spells. There’s a difference.”

“I told you, I didn’t—“ Harry begun, but paused. “Never mind, it’ll take too long to explain now. Look, can you tell Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so—“

”Quit gibbering.” Senya waved away. “We’re here to rescue you.”

Harry turned to look at Senya’s sister and mother. Two overage witches.

”Ah. They’ll do.” Harry nodded approvingly. “Could one of you charm the—“

”Apologies, but we can’t.” Rhaenys denied. “Not here.”

”The Ministry’ll think you cast more magic.” Visenya denied. “So we can’t.”

”But if you can’t magic me out either—“

”We don’t need to.” Lyanna flatly stated. “We’ve got dragons.”

“You might want to step back a bit.” Visenya gleefully said, Norberta raising her long neck until she was face-to-face with the window.

Harry yelped and scrambled out the way, as jet-black fangs bit into the metal and ripped. The bars were wrenched straight out of the window, Norberta contemptuously crunching the steel between her jaws and spitting out a ball of crushed metal onto the flower patch.

The dragon turned around and presented the saddle on its back to Harry.

”Get on.” Senya ordered.

”But all my Hogwarts stuff— my wand— my broomstick—“

”Where?” Lyanna asked, climbing into Harry’s room with catlike grace.

”Locked in the cupboard under he stairs, and I can’t get out of this room—“

Lyanna pulled a sword out of her jeans pocket.

Three feet long, made of dark and smoky steel, with a crossguard shaped like spread dragon wings. It looked wickedly sharp and dangerous. Harry yelped once more, and got out of the way as Lyanna stabbed the blade hilt-deep into the wooden door, and with contemptuous ease cut out the lock.

The door swung open, and Lyanna put the sword back away, her pocket swallowing the entire blade up like it was a bottomless void.

”Anything you need in this room, pass to Senya.” Lyanna ordered. “Rhaenys, with me.”

As Harry gaped, Visenya’s mother and sister dashed straight downstairs, footsteps silent. He winced when they stepped on the creaking step at the bottom, but the Dursleys didn’t even stir.

Visenya had climbed in as well, pulling off her rugsack and opening it up wide.

“Everything in here.” The silver-haired girl ordered, Harry complying and grabbing everything he needed, the bag swallowing up even the biggest and bulkiest items with ease.

Just then, both Rhaenys and Lyanna returned into the room. Harry didn’t see any of his things, but Rhaenys bore an identical rugsack on her back, so he assumed that they had everything.

”Got everything?” Lyanna asked.

”Yup.” Harry agreed.

”Great.” Rhaenys said. “Then let’s scram before the muggles realise what’s happening.”

Harry nodded, and the two women leapt out of the window, landing on the back of the black dragon. Norberta leaned over next, and Visenya pulled herself into the saddle with practised ease.

”Okay, let’s go!” Visenya beckoned.

But as Harry climbed onto the windowsill there came a sudden loud screech from behind him, followed immediately by the thunder of Uncle Vernon’s voice.

”THAT RUDDY OWL!”

”I’ve forgotten Hedwig!”

Harry dashed back across the room just as the landing light clicked on, grabbing Hedwig’s cage. He’d just dashed back to the window and passed Hedwig to Visenya when Uncle Vernon hammered on the door and it crashed open, remnants of the lock crashing onto the ground.

For a split second, Uncle Vernon stood framed in the doorway, then he let out a bellow like an angry bull and dived at Harry, whom was desperately scrambling onto the chest of drawers, grabbing him by the ankle.

Visenya seized Harry by the arms and yanked as hard as she could, but she was but one small girl, and Uncle Vernon was a grown man. With a yelp, the silver-haired girl was dragged forwards, and if she weren’t seatbelted to her saddle, she likely would have been entirely pulled into the room.

“Petunia!” Roared Uncle Vernon, tugging Harry out of Senya’s grip. “He’s getting away! HE’S GETTING A—“

Uncle Vernon froze in utter shock and horror as Norberta stuck her reptilian head straight through the window. She growled threateningly, baring rows and rows of needle-sharp teeth. Norberta exhaled acrid smoke out of her nostrils, the gust of hot air washing over Uncle Vernon’s face.

”Mimblewhimble.” Uncle Vernon whimpered as he scrambled backwards, cowering in a corner of the room.

Seizing the opportunity, Harry grabbed ahold of the horns on the dragon’s head and let himself be pulled out of the window, the slender dragon turning and dropping him inelegantly onto Rhaenys’ saddle. Lyanna quickly seatbelted him in as Rhaenys shouted an order; both dragons took to the air with a lurch.

Harry laughed, disbelieving of his freedom. The wind whipped in his hair and the night coolness bathed his skin.

He looked back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley all hanging out of the window, all dumbstruck at the sight.

”See you next summer!” Harry yelled, waving them goodbye. The Targaryens roared with laughter and Harry settled into his seat as they ascended into the clouds.

”Let Hedwig out.” He told Senya. “She can fly behind us. She hasn’t had a chance to stretch her wings in ages.”

Visenya pulled a knife made of the same black rippled metal and a bare moment later the snowy owl was soaring through the starry sky, hooting happily.

”So what’s the story, Harry?” Visenya demanded, half shouting over the wind. “What’s happening?”

Harry told them all about Dobby, the warning and the pudding fiasco. There was a long and shocked silence when he finished.

”Now that was weird.” Lyanna muttered. “And believe me, I know weird.”

”It is definitely fishy.” Rhaenys agreed. “This sounds like a prank my cousin Arianne and I pulled on Viserys once.”

”Ah yes, sending a House-Elf with vague but dire warnings of the future and making him think that he was some sort of chosen one.” Lyanna fondly recalled. “You sent him scurrying around on a wild goose chase all across Dragonstone before he realised that we were just planning a surprise birthday party for him.”

”So you think that someone was pulling my leg?” Harry asked.

”Yup.” Rhaenys nodded. “Got anyone in school with a grudge against you?”

”Yes.” Visenya and Harry agreed immediately.

”Draco Malfoy.” Harry explained. “He hates me.”

“Lucius Malfoy’s son?” Lyanna asked. “Bleached hair. Pasty skin. Ferrety boy. About yay tall—“ She gestured around her shoulders. “—and looks like he’s constipated half the time?”

“Yup, that’s him.” Both twelve-year-olds chorused in agreement.

”Urgh.” Lyanna grumbled. “I knew we should have eliminated Lucius, damn the consequences. He was You-Know-Who’s second in command, did you know? But he was just so rich and well-connected, so the Ministry turned a blind eye and let him buy his way out of the consequences.”

Harry had heard these rumours about Malfoy’s family before, and they didn’t surprise him at all. Malfoy made Dudley look like a kind, thoughtful and sensitive boy.

”I don’t know if Malfoy owns a house-elf…” Harry begun.

”He does.” Visenya confirmed. “House-elves are only owned by rich wizarding families…”

”And the Malfoy family is second only to House Targaryen itself.” Harry finished, remembering their conversation on the train in First Year.

Yes, now that he thought about it, it made a lot of sense. He could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house. Sending the family servant to stop Harry from going back to Hogwarts also sounded like exactly the sort of thing Malfoy would do. Had Harry been stupid enough to take Dobby seriously?

The thought consumed him until he felt them begin to descend.

———

1992, Dragonstone,

They’d been flying north for quite a while now, and the air had definitely gotten colder. Underneath them, the North Sea glimmered. Waves of liquid darkness, crested with reflected starlight. In front of them was a black volcanic island, jutting out of the sea in defiance of the waves battering away at its black sand beaches.

”There it is.” Visenya proudly said. “Dragonstone castle. Home sweet home.”

At the foot of the volcano, nestled in a natural deepwater harbour, stood a castle. Fashioned completely out of black fused stone, held together without mortar. Grim and gothic, and covered with enough statues of mythological creatures to fill several zoos. Hogwarts was larger, and boasted taller towers, though Dragonstone’s indestructible curtain walls were thrice as high as Hogwarts’.

The dragons landed in a courtyard of the castle, the four of them dismounting.

”Now, we’ll take the secret passages upstairs real quickly.” Lyanna instructed. “And wait for Elia to call us for breakfast. Then Senya, you come bounding downstairs going ‘Mama, look who turned up in the night!’ and she’ll be too pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know of our midnight adventure.”

”Right.” Visenya agreed. “Come on Harry, I’ll show you my…”

Visenya trailed off, the already pale girl turning even paler, eyes fixed at the castle doors. The other three wheeled around.

Elia Martell was marching across the courtyard, and for a tall, slender and motherly woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a viper ready to strike.

Norberta and Balerion— Rhaenys’ dragon— took one look at her and immediately shot into the air, leaving the four of them out to dry.

“Ah.” Rhaenys glumly said.

”Oh dear.” Lyanna agreed, equally morose.

Elia came to a halt in front of them, hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the other.

”So.” She said.

”Morning love.” Lyanna tried, moving to kiss her, only for her sister-wife to hold her in place with an angry hand.

”Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?” Elia asked in a deadly whisper.

”Well, love, you see—“

“Don’t you ‘well, love’ me!” Elia snapped angrily. “Beds empty! No note! Taking the dragons out to a muggle neighbourhood! A midnight rescue! God, Lya, you’re thirty-two now! Act your age! Oberyn already gives me enough grey hairs; I don’t need you lot giving me any more!”

It seemed to go on forever. When they arrived, the sky was faintly pink, dawn on the verge of breaking. By the time she finished, the sun was peeking out of the horizon and casting golden sunlight onto the dark island. Finally, Elia had shouted herself hoarse before turning on Harry, whom instinctively backed away.

”Sorry about that, Harry dear. I’m very pleased to see you.” The olive-skinned woman smiled. “Come in and have some breakfast.”

She turned and walked back in, the three Targaryens sighing in relief and beckoning the boy that they’d technically kidnapped indoors.

Dragonstone Castle seemed to be filled with unending black hallways, but the four women navigated the place with practised ease, until they reached a dining room that appeared to have been carved into the mountain itself. One of the walls was bare basalt, the other three made from the same smooth crystalline stone that made the rest of the castle.

In the center of the room was a long and flat table that seemed carved from a single piece of polished obsidian, large enough to seat a dozen people. The workmanship was impressive. The tabletop was smooth obsidian, and polished enough that it could be used as a mirror. The legs were dragons snaking up and spewing fire, while the sides were done up in what appeared to be a stylistic depiction of the history of House Targaryen; a procession of dragonriders, wars, battles and magical prowess that seemed to stretch back for at least a quarter of a millennium, the carving so elaborate that Harry highly suspected that magic had been involved in its creation.

The twelve matching chairs surrounding the table were no less impressive, with snakelike dragons for legs, the sides inlaid with historical carvings and the back and seat polished until they were mirror smooth. Seated on them were Jon and Dany, the two of them leaning together and pouring over a newspaper. The two of them looked up and greeted Harry when he entered, before resuming their discussion.

Apparently this ‘Gilderoy Lockhart’, whomever he was, was a very engrossing topic.

Harry claimed an obsidian chair, and looked around. This was the first time that he had been into a wizarding home.

There was a fireplace in the corner, and on the mantelpiece sat a clock that had planets instead of numbers. The wrought-iron chandelier above was set with glowing crystals in place of candles.

Then Aegon entered the room, yawning slightly. He picked up an obsidian tablet from a small side table and tapped a few runes on it. Next thing Harry knew, the wall opposite Aegon’s chair lit up and began showing BBC.

Once Elia had seated herself at the head of the table, she rapped her wand onto it, and food magically appeared on their plates. Freshly baked bread, sausages and fried eggs. Harry dug in ravenously, having been living off soggy vegetables that barely provided any sustenance for the past few days.

He’d just finished his eggs, and was about to tuck into the toast when Harry heard someone speak to him.

“So you’re the famous Harry Potter.” A voice drawled, Harry looking up to see a man sat opposite him.

He was silver-haired and purple-eyed, making his relation to Aegon and Visenya obvious. He was thin, clean-shaven with sharp cheekbones and an immaculate appearance. His perfectly coiffed hair reached down to his shoulders, lightly brushing the well decorated robes that he wore.

For one instant, Harry thought that this was Duke Rhaegar, Senya’s father, but on second look, he realised that the newcomer wasn’t the eccentric billionaire that Harry had seen on the TV. He wasn’t as tall or as handsome, his hair thinner and more brittle, his cheeks hollow and his frame more skinny than lithe.

”Viserys, is it?” Harry asked. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Visenya.”

”Lady Visenya.” Viserys insisted, his voice half a hiss. “Do not forget that as a Targaryen, she outranks a mere Lord like you.”

”Oh can it, Vissy.” Rhaenys dismissed. “We’re at home, not the Wizengemot. Ditch the formalities.”

”Without formalities, the world would fall apart.” Viserys irritably replied. “Understanding hierarchy and order is of utmost importance, lest the world degenerate into chaos.”

“Enough.” Elia ordered, voice colder than the North Sea. “Harry is a guest of ours, and while he is under our roof, to be treated as an equal. Understood?”

”As you wish, Duchess Targaryen.” Viserys stiffly said.

”Prick.” Visenya remarked to Harry later, as she showed him the way to his room. “Sorry about my uncle, he’s been like that for forever, with a stick so far up his ass that he can touch it with his tongue.”

”It’s alright.” Harry waved away. “At least he isn’t Malfoy.”

“Yeah, that is his one redeeming factor.” Visenya mused. “However much of a dick he is, Viserys is immensely loyal to the family. He wouldn’t be caught dead in Death Eater robes, no matter how much he agrees with their ideals.”

”But I get the feeling that he doesn’t like you all that much.”

”Well, he doesn’t look too kindly on Mama Lya.” Visenya growled. “He thinks it’s disrespectful that my father’s ‘mistress and illegitimate children’ can sit at the same table as ‘trueborn stock’.”

Something told Harry that whatever Viserys had said was far ruder than the rendition Senya had given him. Regardless, where their conversation might have gone, Harry wouldn’t know, as they’d finally reached his room.

Like the rest of the castle, the room was made completely out of the crystalline rock, though this room was partially panelled in warm mahogany to break up the gothic grimness, with glass windows that gave a nice view of the North Sea; bleak waves crashing on a black sand beach. Enchanted crystal lights were set in the ceiling, and a fan spinning above made the room feel far less stuffy.

The furniture within the room was also made from mahogany, with a well stocked bookshelf, writing desk, chair and closet for his clothes. The bed in the corner was larger than the small and lumpy secondhand cot he made do with in Privet Drive, with crimson sheets.

There was a small fireplace in the corner, with a mirror atop the mantelpiece. Right beside it was a door that led to a rather nice bathroom, with black marble sinks and a bathtub large enough for three.

”Well, what do you think?” Visenya asked. “I know this castle seems very dark and cold, and it’s no Hogwarts but…”

”It’s perfect.” Harry assured his friend, whom went pink in the ears at that.

———

Harry met Duke Rhaegar Targaryen that night, at dinner.

Silver haired and indigo-eyed, a long and slender face set with sharp cheekbones. A dancer’s physique, lean yet taut with muscles. Six feet tall and with a charming smile.

He looked prettier than his wives, a thought which Harry had barely managed to avoid giggling at.

”Lord Potter, it is very nice to meet you.” Duke Rhaegar formally said, shaking Harry’s hand. “Your parents were brave people, and their sacrifice will be remembered.”

”Thank you.” Harry replied. “But uh, you can just call me Harry. I’m not lord of anything.”

There was a long beat of stunned silence from the rest of the table, broken only when Rhaenys started letting out a hyena laugh.

”Wait, you don’t know?!” She exclaimed, doubling over in laugher.

”Rhaenys! This is inappropriate behaviour towards a guest.” Viserys scolded, only for Rhaenys to redouble her laugher.

”Don’t know what?” Harry asked, frowning.

”The Potters are one of the fifty families with a hereditary seat in the Wizangamot, our equivalent of the muggle House of Lords.” Duke Rhaegar patiently explained. “And as the last scion of that family, you are the heir to both their lordship, as well as their seat.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the table, everyone unanimously agreeing with his words.

“I- I’m a lord?!” Harry half stammered, half exclaimed. He knew the Potters had money and prestige, but he never imagined that it went so far as an actual lordship. “I can vote in the government?!”

”Not yet.” Viserys shot him down. “You are yet a minor. Until you come of age at seventeen, you are ineligible to claim your seat and vote. Those will instead be held in trust by your magical guardian. Who will act as both regent and executor of your inheritance.”

”And who is my magical guardian?” Harry asked, before a horrifying thought struck him. “It can’t be Aunt Petunia, can it?”

”Muggles are ineligible.” Viserys immediately denied, Harry letting out a small sigh of relief at that.

”I believe that with the deaths of your parents, your magical guardian should be Sirius Black, but he’s in Azkaban prison under life sentence.” Duke Rhaegar thoughtfully said. “In practise— like all underage muggleborn students— your magical guardian is the Headmaster of Hogwarts. But he does not have the right to vote or contest custody on your behalf.”

”Indeed. That was a bit of legal drama over that particular succession.” Elia agreed. ”After Black, the next person in line for the Potter guardianship— Peter Pettigrew— was killed in the last days of the war. By Black himself, as things would happen.”

”I was fresh to the dukedom, then.” Rhaegar recalled. “Completely out of my depth for such a complicated case. In hindsight, it was obvious that Lucius Malfoy was trying to block the Potter succession to keep his majority from being overturned.”

”Uh, you’ve lost me.” Harry admitted sheepishly, all this talk of politics starting to boggle his mind.

”Put it this way, at the end of the war, with the deaths or incarceration of so many Wizagamot heirs, that was a lot of votes up for grabs. And when only twenty-five votes are needed for a majority, every single one counts.” Aegon spoke up.

”What he said.” Daenerys nodded at Aegon. “And for various reasons, Lucius Malfoy wound up with quite a few votes to his name. But not enough to be able to outright dictate law to the wizarding world as a whole. In a full majority of forty-nine votes, that is.”

“So then, how do you win a majority, if you have the biggest voting bloc, but not enough votes anyway?” Aegon asked.

Harry frowned over the issue for a bit, before he gave his answer.

”You make allies. Compromise. Get more people on your side.” He said.

There was a lot of raucous laughter from the room at that.

“No, no.” Rhaenys cackled, pounding her fist on the table as she laughed. “You definitely don’t do that!”

”Oh you sweet summer child.” Lyanna sighed, almost pityingly.

”That’s the type of things Dumbledore would do. It’s the type of thing I would do.” Rhaegar said. “But do you think that Lucius Malfoy would do such a thing?”

”… If he’s anything like his son, then no.” Harry reluctant agreed. “So what did he do?”

”He reduced the number of votes in the Wizangamot.” Visenya answered sulkily. “He and his coalition got involved in every single inheritance and succession dispute there ever was. Made up false scandals or frivolous reasons to dismiss magical guardians. Raised the criteria for eligibility for magical guardianship. Bribed every single judge and lawyer in the country. Came up with tortured excuses to give the seats to people just as bigoted and horrid as he is.”

”The Longbottoms, the Arryns, the Prewetts, the Bones, the McKinnons, the Potters…” Rhaenys listed out on her fingers. “He’s meddled in every single one of those successions, and more.”

”Yeah. Your parents had a list of people they trusted to look after you, Harry. And Lucius Malfoy found some excuse to remove or disqualify every single person on that list. Until custody landed straight into your muggle aunt’s lap.” Lyanna all but snarled.

Harry suddenly felt a great upswell of hatred towards Lucius Malfoy. Were it not for his meddling, he could have been living a life free from the Dursleys.

”The good news is that Lucius Malfoy’s preeminence is now coming to an end. In no small part thanks to you, Harry.” Jon suddenly spoke up, for the first time in this meal. “With Andromeda reinstated, we’ve stripped the Black vote from Lucius’ wife Narcissa. Andromeda’s the older, after all.”

Ah yes, Harry did wonder what the consequences of his duel with Malfoy were, last year. He’d been given an explanation then, but barely understood anything. With all the additional details now, it all made sense.

“And moreover, we were able to track down a muggleborn descended from a McKinnon squib last year.” Aegon added. “She’ll turn of age by next summer, and inherit the dormant McKinnon seat, allowing us to finally rid ourselves of Malfoy.”

”With only a year left before his majority crumbles, I’d say that Lucius Malfoy must be a very, very desperate man right now.” Elia savagely smirked.

———

1992, King’s Cross Station,

The end of summer vacation came too quickly for Harry’s liking. He was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but his month at Dragonstone had been the happiest of his life. It was difficult not to feel jealous of Senya when he thought of the Dursleys and the sort of welcome he could expect next time he turned up on Privet Drive.

They’d flooded to London on the last day of August, and stayed a night at an apartment belonging to Rhaegar before heading out for King’s Cross the very next day. Lyanna had driven them there in her Ferrari, the tiny sports car having been magically expanded such that its interior was several times the size of its exterior.

”You know a station wagon would have been more practical, dear?” Elia chided, as they sat waiting at a traffic light.

”Yeah, but it’s not cool at all.” Lyanna childishly whined.

The younger woman then leaned over the dashboard.

“Don’t listen to mean little Elia, my dear awesome machine. She didn’t mean that about you. You’re a fantastic car with tons of gadgets and special features.” Lyanna crooned to the car.

”Most of which are useless, Lya. Flight and invisibility aside, why do you need a submarine mode? And more importantly, under what circumstances would you ever use the self-destruct function?!”

”This car has a self-destruct?” Harry asked, rather concernedly.

”Oh yeah, and loads of other magical special features.” Lyanna casually agreed.

”Special features that are technically against the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Act of 1977, subsection—“

”Oh look everyone, we’ve arrived!” Lyanna loudly said, interrupting her sister-wife. “Everyone out, please! We don’t wanna be late!”

They all tumbled out of the car, Aegon and Jon dashing off to retrieve trolleys, and into the station they hurried. Lyanna threw one final wave at the departing family and blew them all a kiss, before driving off.

“Egg first.” Elia said, looking nervously at the clock overhead, which showed that they only had five minutes to disappear casually through the barrier. They’d run late, due to a combination of oversleeping, forgotten items and bad traffic on the way to King’s Cross.

Aegon strode briskly forwards and vanished. Jon and Dany went through next, and Elia a heartbeat behind them.

”Let’s go together, we’ve only got a minute.” Senya said to Harry.

Harry made sure that Hedwig’s cage was safely wedged on top of his trunk and wheeled his trolley around to face the barrier. He felt perfectly confident: this wasn’t as hard as using Floo powder. Both of them bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and—

CRASH.

Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; Senya’s trunk fell off with a loud thump, Harry was knocked off his feet, and Hedwig’s cage bounced onto the shiny floor, and she rolled away, shrieking indignantly. People all around them stared, and a guard nearby yelled, “What in blazes d’you think you’re doing?”

”Lost control of the trolley.” Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Senya ran to pick up Hedwig, who was causing such a scene that there was a lot of muttering about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd.

The notice-me-not charms Elia had stuck onto them had vanished. As did the featherlight charms on their trunks, making hauling them back onto the trolleys quite the challenge for the two scrawny twelve-year-olds.

”Why can’t we get through?” Harry hissed to Visenya.

”I dunno—“

Senya looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.

”We’re going to miss the train.” She whispered. “I don’t understand why the gateway’s sealed itself…”

Harry looked at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ten seconds… nine seconds…

He wheeled his trolley forward continuously until it was right against the barrier and pushed with all his might. The metal remained solid.

Three seconds… two seconds… one second…

”It’s gone.” Senya said, sounding stunned. “The train’s left. Oh no, Mama Elia wouldn’t find us. She normally just apparates straight back to Dragonstone after dropping us off…”

”So we’re stuck here.” Harry glumly said.

They looked around. People were still watching them, mainly because of Hedwig’s continuing screeches.

”I don’t suppose we can find Lyanna and have her drive us to Hogwarts in her car.” Harry asked.

”Drive… drive… that’s it!” Senya suddenly exclaimed. “I know how to get to Hogwarts!”

———

1992, Hogwarts,

“… That was a surprisingly reasonable explanation as to why you’re late to the Sorting Ceremony.” Professor McGonagall finally said. “It was certainly better than some of the things you could have done.”

“Well, what else could we have done, Professor? Stolen my mother’s car and flown it all the way to Scotland?” Visenya scoffed. “Even if by some miracle half of England didn’t see us flying overhead, we’d probably crash the damn thing into the Black Lake or the Whomping Willow when we tried to land.”

“What you could have done was send us a letter by owl. I believe Mr Potter has an owl?” Professor McGonagall retorted. “It would certainly have saved us a long and stressful manhunt for you two.”

There was a long and embarrassed beat from the two second-years. In hindsight, that seemed the perfectly obvious thing to do.

She sighed in tired exasperation, but relief shone through clearly.

”Still, the Knight Bus was not a bad decision, at least you both arrived at Hogwarts safely in the end. Now off to bed you two…”

———

“At least nobody on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in.” Hermione said sharply. “They got in on pure talent.”

The smug look on Malfoy’s face flickered.

”No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.” He spat.

Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something very bad because there as an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Wood from tackling the smaller boy. Alicia and Katie both shrieked “How dare you!”, as Angelina swung her Beater’s bat at Malfoy’s face, blocked by the Slytherin Beaters. They retaliated by swinging their own bats back at her, prompting Jon to wade into the melee with his own bat.

A free-for-all soon broke out, Harry and Hermione both yelping and retreating backwards as both Quidditch teams started whaling on one another, with fisticuffs, with Beaters’ bats, with slung curses.

Wood and Flint were wrestling on the ground. Jon was clobbering Slytherin Beaters Derrick and Bole two-on-one, while Angelina whaled on opposing Keeper Miles Bletchley with her bat. Alicia and Katie were on the losing end of a wizard duel with Adrian Pucey, even as his partner Graham Montague fell with a scream to Daenerys’ wand.

“You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!” Visenya yelled, black rage writ on her face as she finally got a clear shot towards the new Seeker. “Eat slugs!”

A jet of green light shot out of her wand, nailing Malfoy in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

The pale boy groaned, only to suddenly give an almighty belch, as several slugs dribbled out of his mouth into his lap.

———

Everyone except Harry and Hermione got given detention by Professor McGonagall in the aftermath of that little fight, with Visenya being assigned to polishing all the silver in the trophy room without magic.

”Oh, Senya, you didn’t need to do that for me.” Hermione said as Senya was escorted away by Argus Filch for her detention. “There was no need to get into such trouble.”

”Yes, I did, Hermione! That’s what friends are for!” Senya defiantly replied.

”But—“

”But nothing! It was worth it. Especially as Colin Creevey got photos of Malfoy belching slugs.” Visenya insisted. “Luna has already promised it’ll go up on the Quibbler newspaper tomorrow. The whole country will be laughing at Malfoy.”

It was at this point Harry and Hermione took the fork back towards Gryffindor Tower as Visenya and Filch went up a staircase towards the trophy room.

”That girl, I swear.” Hermione sighed, though not without a degree of fondness.

”Visenya’s awesome, Hermione.” Harry smiled. “I’d do the same too, if I knew what ‘Mudblood’ meant.”

”Worth it!” Senya’s voice echoed down the stairwell she went up.

———

1993, Hogwarts, Forbidden Forest,

Desperate times called for some seriously desperate measures.

Despite her arachnophobia, Visenya agreed to go after the spiders in the Forbidden Forest with Harry.

”For Hermione.” Senya grimly said, as they both threw on the invisibility cloak and began the trek down to Hagrid’s Hut.

———

1993, Dragonstone,

Visenya’s emergency portkey unceremoniously dumped two second-years and one boarhound in Dragonstone’s infirmary, the three of them landing in a heap of groaning limbs.

It was a miracle they’d gotten out of there alive. Aragog’s nest must have been so deep into the Forbidden Forest that it was past the Hogwarts ward lines. Deep enough that Visenya’s small dragonbone brooch was able to get them out of there before they were eaten alive.

Fang immediately took off out of the room, squealing and hiding under a table not too far away. Harry retrieved the boarhound and returned to the infirmary, seeing Senya being violently sick in a bedpan.

”Follow the spiders.” Visenya said weakly, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “I’ll never forgive Hagrid. We’re lucky to be alive.”

”I bet he thought Aragon wouldn’t hurt friends of his.” Said Harry.

”That’s exactly Hagrid’s problem!” Visenya shouted, thumping the wall of the infirmary. “He always thinks monsters aren’t as bad as they’re made out, and look where it’s got him! A cell in Azkaban!”

She was shivering uncontrollably now, collapsing onto one of the beds.

”What’s the point of sending us in there? What have we found out, I’d like to know?”

Small sobs escaped her mouth, as droplets of water hit the bedsheet.

”That Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets.” Said Harry, sitting down beside Senya and throwing an arm over her shoulders. “He was innocent.”

Senya gave a loud snort. Evidently, hatching Aragog in a cupboard wasn’t her idea of being innocent.

The two of them remained like that for a while, holding each other in silence, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Eventually, Visenya’s trembling and sobs subsided, and she recomposed herself.

”Wait a second…” She suddenly said. “That girl who died. Aragog said she was found in a bathroom…”

Harry rubbed his eyes, frowning through the moonlight.

”What if she never left the bathroom?” He said with dawning comprehension. “What if she’s still there?”

The two second-years looked at each other, wide-eyed and disbelieving of their luck.

”We need to get back to school.” Harry decisively said.

”Agreed. Hogwarts isn’t too far away. Norberta’s been trained enough to return back here by herself. We can fly her to the castle and be back in our beds before sunup.” Visenya nodded.

”Then we go talk to Myrtle, and after her…”

”Slytherin’s monster.”

Visenya gave Fang a gentle nudge with her foot, waking up the boarhound.

”Should be a walk in the park, after Aragog. I can’t imagine anything scarier.” She confidently said.

The two of them walked out of the infirmary, and right into Elia Martell.

”And just what do the two of you think you are doing here, so late at night?” She softly asked, Harry and Visenya’s faces rapidly falling in response.

Suddenly, Aragog’s lair didn’t seem so bad after all.

———

1993, Hogwarts, Chamber of Secrets,

Lockhart got to his feet— then dived at Visenya, knocking her to the ground.

Harry jumped forwards, but too late— Lockhart was straightening up, panting, Visenya’s wand in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his face.

“The adventure ends here, children!” He said. “I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save poor Miss Lovegood, and that the two of you tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body— say good-bye to your memories!”

He raised Visenya’s wand high above his head and yelled, “Obliviate!”

“Expelliarmus!”

Harry’s spell struck Lockhart with barely a second to spare. The wand spun into the air, tip over handle, and a second later shot Lockhart straight in the head with his own spell, throwing the Professor off of Visenya and sending him sprawling across the grimy floor.

Visenya caught her wand, and shakily rose to her feet.

”Harry, you saved me.” She breathlessly said.

”You would have done the same for me.” Harry replied.

”But Lockhart… without our human shield…”

”In your own words; Worth it.” Harry firmly said. “Now let’s go save Luna Lovegood.”

Chapter Text

1993, Hogwarts Express,

Head Boy Aegon had been very eager to introduce Harry to a certain Professor Remus Lupin.

”I would have been your magical guardian, my dear boy.” Professor Lupin sadly said. “But alas I was disqualified by Lucius Malfoy. And to add insult to injury, his toady Umbridge slapped a particularly nasty restraining order on me, preventing me from even coming close to you. Rescinded partially now, of course. Thanks to your father’s newfound majority in the Wizangamot.”

The last part was said to Visenya, whom grinned at the praise.

”So, does that mean you can take me in?” Harry hopefully asked. “I’d do anything to leave the Dursleys.”

”Alas, no.” Professor Lupin sighed. “It is regrettable that I am still ineligible as a magical guardian. A medical condition— nothing life threatening— but enough that Lucius Malfoy was able to use it as an excuse to disqualify me.”

Now that he mentioned it, Professor Lupin was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard’s robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey.

”I thought we overturned his majority now.” Harry asked.

”Yes, but a two-thirds supermajority is required to rescind laws in the Wizangamot.” Visenya sulkily said. “Which means that although he can’t pass any more bigoted laws…”

”Lucius Malfoy can still filibuster any and everything he doesn’t like.” Hermione finished.

”Father and Dumbledore have started undoing the worst of the damage, but it’s slow going. It won’t be until we turn seventeen that the majority of the absent heirs come of age and can retake their ancestral seats, that we can acquire a true filibuster-proof supermajority.” Visenya replied.

”Yeah. There’s you, Harry. Neville. Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. Ginny Prewett from the year below us… quite the number.” Hermione ticked off on her fingers.

”You forgot Pamela Poshman from Ravenclaw.” Visenya added. “Father and Dumbledore are looking into propping her up as Heiress Lestrange. If that succeeds, we can not only gain another vote, but pull one off Lucius Malfoy’s faction.”

”Poshman?” Professor Lupin asked. “Never heard of the family.”

”Half-blood. Her mother Destiny Lestrange is a squib cousin. Disowned from the family, of course. But with both Lestrange brothers heirless and in Azkaban…” Visenya answered.

“Worse claimants have succeeded on less.” Professor Lupin agreed.

The four of them chatted aimlessly for a while, before the conversation turned to Hogsmeade.

”Won’t it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?” Hermione eagerly asked.

”’Spect it will.” Said Harry heavily. “You’ll have to tell me when you’ve found out.”

”What do you mean?” Visenya slowly asked.

”I can’t go. The Dursleys didn’t sign my permission form, and your Dad said he couldn’t either.”

Visenya looked horrified.

”You’re not allowed to come? But— no way— someone will give you permission—“ Her grey eyes then found Professor Lupin, and she immediately looked hopefully at him. ”Professor Lupin…”

”Unfortunately not. Still disqualified.”

Harry felt his nonexistent hope get further quashed.

”McGonagall then.” Senya tried. “Or we can ask Rhaenys. She, Arianne and the rest of the Sand Snakes must know every secret passage out of the castle—“

“Visenya!” Said Hermione sharply. “I don’t think Harry should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose.”

”Yeah, I expect that’s what McGonagall will say when I ask for permission.” Harry said bitterly.

”I agree. As a teacher, I can’t condone this kind of reckless behaviour.” Professor Lupin agreed, and it sounded like the final nail in the coffin.

”But if we’re with him.” Visenya soldiered on. “Black wouldn’t dare—“

”Oh, Senya, don’t talk rubbish.” Snapped Hermione. “Black’s already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. Do you think he’s going to worry about attacking Harry because we’re there?”

Professor Lupin shifted uncomfortably, but stared pointedly at Visenya Targaryen nonetheless. Seeing no victory, Senya slumped back down in her seat and gracelessly surrendered. 

She’d barely sat back down when the train started slowing down.

”We can’t be there yet.” Hermione said, checking her watch.

”So why’re we stopping?” Visenya asked, looking worriedly at the windows, which had turned pitch black.

———

1993, Hogwarts, Hospital Wing

“Lucky the ground was so soft.”

”I thought he was dead for sure.”

”But he didn’t even break his glasses.”

Harry could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. He didn’t have a clue where he was, or how he’d got there, or what he’d been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten.

”That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Scariest… the scariest thing… hooded black figures… cold… screaming…

Harry’s eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, splattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his bed. Visenya and Hermione were also there, looking as though they’d just climbed out of a swimming pool.

”Harry!” Said Daenerys, who looked extremely white underneath the mud. “How are you feeling?”

It was as though Harry’s memory was on fast forward. The lighting— the Grim— the Snitch— and the dementors…

”What happened?” He asked, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

”You fell off.” Jon answered. “At least fifty feet.”

”We thought you died.” Dany shakingly whispered.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

”But the match.” Harry insisted. “What happened? Are we doing a replay?”

No one said anything. The horrible truth sunk into Harry like a stone.

”We didn’t— lose?”

”Diggory got the Snitch.” Angelina Johnson sighed. “Just after you fell. He didn’t realise what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square… even Wood admits it.”

”Where is Wood?” Harry asked, suddenly realising he wasn’t there.

”Still in the showers.” Jon answered. “We think the poor chap is trying to drown himself.”

Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. He lay there, not saying a word as the rest of the team debated a comeback. They had lost… for the first time ever, he had lost a Quidditch match.

After ten minutes or so, the team left, after Madam Pomfrey came over to tell them to leave him in peace. Visenya and Hermione moved closer to his bed, on either side of him, both girls taking one of his hands in theirs.

They were shaking, trembling. Holding onto him like they couldn’t believe he was still there. Looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.

”Did someone get my Nimbus?”

Visenya and Hermione looked quickly at each other.

”Er…”

”What?” Harry asked, looking from one girl to the other.

Visenya gulped, and took the plunge.

”After you fell, it got blown away. It flew off and hit— and hit— the Whomping Willow.” She shakingly said. “And well…”

Hermione reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry’s faithful, finally beaten broomstick.

———

1994, Hogwarts

”It’s my fault.” Visenya abruptly said, punching a nearby wall. “I persuaded you to go. Lupin’s right, it was stupid, and we shouldn’t have done it. I really am my mother’s daughter, aren’t I? Just as stubborn, foolish and wolfsblooded as she ever was. Moreso! I’m an idiot. A stupid, reckless—“

She broke off. They’d reached the corridor where the security trolls were pacing, and Hermione was walking towards them. One look at her face convinced Harry that she had heard what had happened. Harry’s heart plummeted. Snape and Lupin were already bad enough, but if McGonagall got involved, then this was really really going to suck.

But then she opened her mouth, and it was a hundred thousand times worse.

”Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed.”

She passed them both a parchment stained with enormous teardrops, and as he read it, Harry felt as through the ground beneath his feet was crumbling.

”They can’t do this. They can’t.” Senya stammered out. “I-I’ll owl my father. He’ll make— make this go away.”

”Jon and Dany have already tried.” Hermione said, wiping her eyes. “But he can’t. He’s already spent too much political capital on a dozen important bills. The Muggle Protection Act. A fund to help the squibs to acquire a muggle education. Subsidising rare potion ingredients to make lifesaving cures more available to the poor. Repealing discriminatory laws from your grandfather Aerys’ time. And that big werewolf bill upcoming in the summer… Fudge and the Ministry are digging their heels in though. They’re looking for any excuse to throw mud at your father, slow down his agenda. And unfortunately Buckbeak is their angle of attack.”

”Of course.” Visenya grimly said, connecting the dots quickly. “If Father throws his weight around and gets the Committee to overturn what is— legally speaking— a rightful verdict, he’s opening himself up to an inquiry that Malfoy could use to destroy his reputation.”

”The sad sad truth is that the life of one Hippogriff is not worth that much, compared to all the good that he is currently doing.” Hermione’s lips trembled when she said that horrible truth, and it was the worst sound Harry had ever heard.

“No, no. We can’t give up.” Harry insisted. “There’s got to be some way. An appeal, or—“

”There’s an appeal. There always is one. Only, I can’t see any hope… Nothing will change.”

”Yes it will.” Visenya fiercely said. “Because this time you won’t have to do all the work by yourself, Hermione. I’ll help you. Mama Elia is one of the best lawyers in the country, and I’m her daughter! As much as I am also Lyanna Stark’s bullheaded wolfsblooded daughter. I’m not going to let some committee of doddering old fools stop us from saving Buckbeak!”

Hermione flung her arms around Visenya’s neck and broke down completely. A heartbeat later and Visenya was hugging Hermione back, also crying.

”I’m… I’m really sorry about the Firebolt. I shouldn’t have gone behind your backs.”

”No, no. You’re right. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Never trust a gift, especially if it’s too good to be true.” Senya paused. “An—And I’m sorry we were both pigheaded fools about Hogsmeade. We should have listened to you, as always. Safety first, and all that.”

”Yeah, sorry Mione. We really were being childish idiots. Too reckless for our own good.” Harry apologised, awkwardly patting Hermione on the back.

She let out another loud sob and pulled Harry into the hug, Visenya throwing her arms around him as well.

”Don’t… Don’t leave me out. Ever again.” Hermione insisted. “The next time you think of about doing something stupid, tell me. I can’t help you if I’m not in on it.”

”Yeah, yeah. We promise. Next time we think about breaking the rules, we’ll ask you first. And if you’re unavailable, we’ll think ‘What would Hermione do?’ first, before we actually do it.” Harry agreed, Visenya nodding her head frantically in response.

They all got swatted with silver hair, given their proximity in the group hug, which prompted a round of laughing as they split and collapsed onto the ground, backs to a wall as they stared out of the window on the other side.

Visenya on Harry’s left leaned her head on his shoulder, and Hermione did the same on his right a heartbeat later. The three of them staying close, enjoying their company in comfortable silence.

”And about Scabbers…” Hermione began.

”Nothing to forgive.” Visenya insisted. “Ginny Prewett was overreacting, and I shouldn’t have been so quick to take her side. Cats eat rats all the time, and well, even she agrees that he was old and slow. And pretty useless.”

”We’ll pool our allowance. Buy her a new pet to make up for it.” Hermione said.

“Yeah, yeah! An owl or something.” Visenya agreed.

They all fell back into silence, leaning together and holding one another.

“And Hermione, I’m sor—“

”No more apologies. We’ve all made mistakes this year. So long as we’re all friends again.”

“Friends again.” Both Harry and Visenya agreed, their hands meeting Hermione’s in a three-way fistbump.

———

“Look at him blubber!”

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening.

”Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?” Asked Malfoy. “And he’s supposed to be our teacher!”

Harry and Visenya both made furious moves towards Malfoy, but Hermione got there first— CRACK!

She’d punched Malfoy straight in the face with all the strength she could muster, sending him sprawling to the ground as his nose broke with a most satisfying sound. Harry, Visenya, Crabbe and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione started kicking the boy on the ground.

”Don’t— you— dare— call— Hagrid— pathetic— you— foul— evil—“ She shouted, punctuating her every word with a kick to Malfoy’s face or stomach.

“Hermione!” Visenya weakly said, looping her hands under the taller girl’s armpits and trying to pull her back.

”Geroff Senya!” Hermione shouted, breaking free and whipping out her wand.

Malfoy stumbled and crawled behind Crabbe and Goyle, whom looked thoroughly bewildered.

”Eat slugs!” Hermione thundered, raising her wand high.

”Get me out of here!” Malfoy ordered, both his minions picking him up like a sack of grain and hightailing it back to the dungeons as Hermione flung jinxes at their backs.

”Hermione!” Visenya said again, sounding both stunned and impressed. “But, you could get in trouble— Detention—“

”As my best friend once said; Worth it.” Hermione savagely said.

She then rounded on Harry, and was it wrong that despite Hermione being all angry and disheveled, in that moment he found her really attractive?

“Harry, you’d better beat him in the Quidditch final!” Hermione shrilly ordered. “You just better had, because I can’t stand it if Slytherin wins!”

And she then set off for Charms, leaving both Harry and Senya goggling at her.

“Is it weird that I’m kinda turned on by her right now?”

”If you’re weird, then I’m also weird as well.”

———

1994, Hogwarts, Hagrid’s Hut,

“Senya! I— I— don’t believe it— it’s Scabbers!”

Both Harry and Visenya gaped at her.

”What are you talking about? Crookshanks ate—“

Hermione upended the milk jar, and with a frantic squeak, and much scrabbling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.

”Scabbers!” Visenya said blankly. “What are you doing here?”

She grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out, leaving bald patches, and he writhed in Senya’s hands, as though desperate to free himself.

”Calm down, Scabbers. It’s me, Visenya. You know me, I’ve been friends with Ginny since— Ow, hey! Don’t bite me!— Stop!— Stop, you mangy rat!” Scabbers bit Visenya once again. “Stop it! It’s me, Visenya!”

He bit her again, and she had to struggle not to drop him.

”Oh screw it! Harry, stun him!”

“Stupefy!”

Harry lowered his wand, and the rat fell onto the table, unconscious. Stunned.

”Is he…” Harry hesitated. Lupin had warned them on the dangers of overpowering stunners, and while he didn’t put in enough power to harm a person, rats were far smaller, and Scabbers already pretty weak.

”No, no.” Visenya shook her head, poking the rat experimentally. “He’s good. But he might make another break for it again. Anyone have a bag we can lock him in for a bit?”

“My pockets have zips.” Harry answered. He always wore his jeans beneath his robes, and this particular pair had zipped pockets.

He placed the rat into his left jeans pocket and zipped it up.

”We’ll pass this little guy back to Ginny Prewett when we get back to the tower. She’ll be really pleased.” Harry said.

———

1994, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Grounds,

They’d just made it halfway back to the castle, when they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws… something was bounding towards them, quiet as a shadow— an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog. And it was beelining straight towards them.

It could smell the three of them, cloak or no. Harry suddenly realised.

Harry reached for his wand, but too late— the dog, the Grim, had made an enormous leap and bowled all three of them over. Harry, Hermione and Visenya collapsed onto the ground in a sprawling heap, dazed. The cloak sliding off them as they fell.

The Grim loomed over them, sniffing them one-by-one.

Harry screamed in pain as the Grim sank its teeth into his left leg, dragging him away from the girls, as easy as if he were a rag doll. Harry punched and kicked and screamed, but nothing worked. He was being dragged away by the Grim.

There was a sudden blow to the back of his head, and Harry knew no more.

The last thing he saw was Hermione and Visenya, frantically fighting as the Whomping Willow whaled on them.

When he came to, he was being carried upstairs, and placed onto a bed.

He heard an incantation muttered, and there was a feeling of cool relief, as his leg— injured from the dragging by the Grim’s teeth and dragging— snapped back into place. Healed.

Harry opened his eyes, and saw Sirius Black looming over him, Harry’s wand in his hand. 

Chapter Text

1994, Hogwarts, Great Hall,

“The Hogwarts champion is Jaehaerys Targaryen!”

It felt like a bomb had gone off in the Great Hall, as every single Hogwarts student leapt to their feet, screaming and stamping in joy. Harry slapped Jon on the back, in between hollering and whooping. Dany and Visenya were hugging each other and shooting celebratory sparks into the air. Even Hermione was on her feet, screaming herself hoarse as she cheered.

”Jon! Jon! Jon!” The school chanted, as Head Boy Jon made his way down the aisle, grinning broadly.

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw… even Slytherin, so great and so all-encompassing was Jon’s popularity that for this one glorious moment, House divisions didn’t matter, the entire school united as one. All celebrating the triumph of their Head Boy.

Unfortunately, that one glorious moment died a premature death, when a fourth piece of parchment flew out of the Goblet of Fire, and Dumbledore read the name on it.

”Harry Potter.”

———

“Harry, Jon. I suggest you go up to bed.” Dumbledore said, smiling at both of them. “Two champions, from the same house even, is a magnificent achievement. I am sure Gryffindor are waiting to celebrate with the both of you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise.”

Harry glanced at Jon, who nodded, and they left together.

”I… I didn’t do it.” Harry finally said, when the silence got too deafening.

”… I believe you.” The tall and muscular seventh-year gravelled. “I’ve known you since you were a first-year, Harry. You, you’re not the type of person who would do so.”

”I’m hearing a ‘but’ coming up.”

”Aye, as my uncle Ned put it; Nothing someone says before the word 'but' really counts.” Jon sighed. “But I’m going to say it anyway, and I mean it.”

”I’m listening.”

”I believe you. And I’ll vouch for you in front of everyone. In front of a court of law— the whole Wizangamot!— if I have to. But the court of public opinion is a terrible thing. Even with my help, you’re gonna have a tough time convincing the rest of the house and the rest of the school. My sister— Visenya even!”

Harry felt his stomach drop. What would happen with his friendship to Senya? She was loyal, and stuck with him through thick and thin. But would she still stand steadfast, when it was him against her brother?

”I’ll try talk her around. But talking isn’t my strong suit. And even if I succeeded with her, I definitely won’t with Dany. You’re going to be in for a rough time.”

———

1994, Hogwarts, Potions Classroom,

Each of the Slytherins pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around Harry. He felt heat rise in his face and neck.

”Oh very funny.” Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone. “Really witty.”

Visenya was standing against the wall with Parvati and Lavender. She wasn’t laughing, or wearing a badge, but she wasn’t sticking up for Harry either.

”Want one, Granger?” Malfoy asked, holding out a badge to Hermione. “I’ve got loads. But don’t touch my hand, now. I’ve just washed it, you see; don’t want a Mudblood sliming it up.”

Some of the anger Harry had been feeling for days and days seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. He had reached for his wand before he’d thought about what he was doing. People all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.

”Harry!” Hermione warned.

”Go on, then, Potter.” Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. “Moody’s not here to look after you now— do it, if you’ve got the guts—“

For a split second, they looked into each other’s eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.

”Slugulus Eructo!”

”Densaugeo!”

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles— Harry’s hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy’s hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed, and started vomiting out fat ugly glistening slugs, while Hermione, whimpering in a panic, was clutching her mouth.

“Hermione!”

Visenya hurried forward to see what was wrong with Hermione. Harry turned and saw Visenya dragging Hermione’s hand away from her face. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Hermione’s front teeth— already larger than average— were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, towards her chin— panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

”And what is all this noise about?” Said a soft, deadly voice.

Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamoured to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long sallow finger at Malfoy and said, “Explain.”

”Potter attacked me, sir—“

”We attacked each other at the same time!” Harry shouted.

”— and he hit Goyle— look—“

”Hospital wing, Goyle.” Snape said calmly.

”Malfoy got Hermione as well!” Visenya shouted. “Look!”

Hermione’s teeth had grown past her collar now. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape’s back.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, “I see no difference.”

Hermione let out a whimper, her eyes filled with tears and she turned on a heel and ran, ran all the way out of the corridor and out of sight.

There was a single beat of stunned silence, before both Visenya and Harry rounded on Snape with snarls of inarticulate rage. They both fired curses at the horrible Professor in the same heartbeat, but alas Snape casually deflected the curses and disarmed them both with contemptuous ease.

They both attempted to tackle him, but a flick of his wand and the two of them were now dangling from the ceiling by their ankles.

”Let’s see.” Snape said, in his silkiest voice. “Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Targaryen.”

He flicked his wand once more, and dropped both fourth-years in a painful heap on the floor.

”Now get inside, or it’ll be a week’s worth of detentions, with Granger right beside you both.”

Harry’s ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. Beside him, Visenya seemed tempted to make another run at Snape, but the thought of Hermione getting punished alongside her gave her pause. 

The two of them tromped into the dungeon, slamming their bags down onto the tables as they both shook with rage. For a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them. But that moment passed, when Visenya picked up her bag and sat down beside Parvati and Lavender instead, leaving Harry alone at his table.

———

1994, Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room,

“Hey Jon, can I talk to you for a bit?” Harry asked. He looked at the other students surrounding Jon, including Daenerys and Visenya. “In private, please.”

Daenerys hissed hostilely at Harry, but Jon waved her down.

”Of course. What is it?”

The two of them went up the stairs and into Jon’s room, which was a lot closer to the bottom of the stairs than Harry’s was, at the top of the tower.

”Manticores.” Harry said, as soon as the door was closed and locked, and Harry was certain no one else was in the room. “The first task is Manticores.”

“What?”

”Manticores. They’ve got four of them. One for each of us. Huge insects even larger than Dany’s Drogon or Rhaenys’ Balerion. They have four of them, and we have to get past them.”

Jon stared at him, and there was no mistaking the look of fear in his faintly violet-tinted eyes.

”Are you sure?” He asked faintly.

”Dead sure.” Harry answered. “I’ve seen them. Chained up in the Forbidden Forest. Rhaenys, the Sand Snakes and your uncle Oberyn are wrangling them. I heard Obara complain that their initial plan to use dragons was scuppered because you got picked as champion, and it would be an unfair advantage.”

“Fuck me.” Jon swore. “Rhaenys never told me that… guess she couldn’t. Must have been sworn to secrecy.”

“No kidding.” Harry fervently agreed. “But I’m not the only one who knows. Fleur and Krum will know by now— Maxine and Karkaroff both saw the manticores too.”

“You’re a good lad, Harry.” Jon said, clapping Harry on the back. “You didn’t need to tell me, you know?”

”Like I could let anyone face those monsters unprepared.”

”Not even Malfoy or Snape?”

“… almost anyone.” Harry amended.

Jon let out a bark of laughter and gave Harry’s shoulder a shake.

”I’ll make it up to you anyway. Promise.”

———

1994, Hogwarts,

Harry had barely gotten out of the healer’s tent when he two missiles crashed into him, bowling him over. A larger, bushy-haired one, and a smaller silver-haired one.

”Oh my god, Harry, you were brilliant!” Hermione said, squeakily pulling herself off of him. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. “You were amazing! You really were!”

But Harry was looking at Visenya, who’d buried her face into his collar, sobbing. She pulled herself free a heartbeat later, and her eyes were read and puffy.

”I—I’m sorry for doubting you, Harry.” Senya finally said, the already pale girl paler still, staring at him like he was a ghost. “Who-whoever put your name in that goblet— I— I reckon they were trying to do you in!”

“Finally caught on, have you?” Harry asked coldly, Senya letting out another great sob and burying herself once more in his robes.

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Visenya surfaced once more, and opened her mouth. Harry knew that she was about to apologise once more, and suddenly he found he didn’t need to hear it.

”It’s ok.” He said, before she could speak. “Forget it.”

”But—“

”Nothing to forgive!” Harry insisted, getting to his feet and pulling the small girl into a hug. He felt her grin by his shoulder.

Hermione burst into tears and Visenya followed suit a heartbeat later.

”There’s nothing to cry about!” Harry told her, only to find his resistance swiftly crumbling as warm fat tears slipped out of his eyes.

The three of them pulled one another into a group hug, tears splashing down their front.

”Friends again. And this time for real!”

Chapter Text

1994, Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room,

Hermione or Visenya?

Which girl was he to pick? Which girl was he to bring to the Yule Ball?

Harry wasn’t stupid. As soon as the ball was announced, both girls had immediately turned their attention towards him. Hermione had looked calculative, as though he were a Math problem that she expected to solve, no doubt already working out how and when and why Harry would pick her, and unimpressed that he hadn’t solved it yet. Visenya meanwhile, looked downright predatory, like Norberta or some of the other dragons, eyeing Harry up like a piece of meat.

He knew that he had to pick one, there could be no other option.

It was times like these that Harry seriously wished that he had Jon’s suave confidence. The other Hogwarts champion had unhesitatingly asked Daenerys out for the ball. On bended knee with a bouquet of flowers no less!

“Isn’t she his sister?” Dean Thomas had goggled.

”Aunt, actually. Even though she’s the younger.” Seamus Finnegan answered.

”But… but… they’re blood relatives!”

”Well, let me tell you about the Doctrine of Exceptionalism…”

That particular conversation had led down a rabbit hole Harry did not need to know about. Especially after Dany and Jon’s roommates had joined in and started swapping tales of the times and places they’d caught the happy couple going at it like rabbits.

And however bad things were, it got an entire magnitude worse when Visenya noticed their little group, and gleefully began regaling them all with tales of her brother and aunt’s sex life.

”Was there a place in Dragonstone where they didn’t shag?” Daenerys’ best friend Missandei morbidly asked.

In the end, Harry had picked Visenya, for he’d dithered too long that Hermione had found another date, leaving him to choose Senya by default. For some reason, Harry didn’t feel relieved that he hadn’t been forced to make a decision. And somehow, Senya herself didn’t seem happy at snagging Harry for the ball either.

———

1994, Hogwarts, Great Hall,

“Holy cow.” Harry got out.

”What?” Visenya agreed.

The Champions and their respective dates had come out dressed to the nines. Aegon with Fleur. Jon with Dany. Krum with a girl he didn’t recognise.

Harry had thought Visenya really pretty, when he first saw her in a frilly but somehow still regal garish red cocktail dress, with gold braided in her short silver hair and gold bangles around her wrists. For such a short and tomboyish girl, Harry was surprised to see that she actually had skin to bare.

But then they saw the others, and Harry couldn’t help but agree to Visenya’s sullen statement that she was but an ugly duckling, compared to the swans that were the other three females. Compared to them— all tall and graceful and curvy, with flowing locks of long hair— Visenya (short, ungainly and flat-chested, with a mop of shoulder-length scraggly hair) looked like a child playing dress-up.

Fleur was wearing a sheer dress of silver-grey satin, with a long slit at the side that exposed her long and creamy legs. Beside her, Daenerys wore a specifically tailored mermaid-style dress. Elegantly slender and form-fitting, the white silk dress hugged her body, showing off her curves and lithe figure. And unlike Visenya’s silver hair, their’s seemed to flow and shine, like liquid moonlight. Undulating and beautifully alive in a way completely alien to Visenya’s dull locks.

Harry hadn’t recognised Krum’s date at first, but then something clicked, and both of their jaws dropped in disbelieving recognition. It was Hermione.

But she didn’t look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing a dress made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow— or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was also smiling— rather nervously, it was true— but the reduction in the size of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever; Harry couldn’t understand how he hadn’t spotted it before.

”Hi Harry!” She said. “Hi Senya!”

Visenya was just as stunned as Harry, gazing Hermione up and down with incredulous disbelief. She wasn’t the only one either; when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum’s fan club from the library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn’t seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her.

———

1994, Hogwarts, Music Room,

Professor McGonagall had spent the past week drilling dance moves into every single Gryffindor’s head, and Rhaenys had even popped her heads in a few times.

”But I don’t like to dance.” Harry had protested.

”Doesn’t matter.” Rhaenys flatly shot down. “When you are at a ball with a pretty girl, it matters not if you don’t like to dance. If your date asks you to dance, you damn bloody well dance, no matter how tired or uncomfortable you feel.”

“But—“

”No buts! You will dance, and you will like it! If I find out that you mistreated my sister, or any other girls in the Yule Ball…”

”You’ll sick Oberyn or the Sand Snakes on me.”

”No, I’ll sick Mama Elia on you.”

”…”

”…”

”…you wouldn’t.”

”Try me.”

”…”

”…”

”I love dancing!” Harry loyally exclaimed.

“Good boy.” Rhaenys praised.

———

1994, Hogwarts, Great Hall,

With that horrifying consequence in mind, Harry whirled around the dance floor with Visenya, never once complaining when she stepped on his feet, even as he carefully avoided stepping on hers.

Thankfully, Harry’s nightmares of being forced to dance until his limbs fell off never came to pass, for Visenya seemed just as distracted as he was, unable to tear her eyes away from Hermione, as she and Krum waltzed alongside them.

After three songs, Hermione and Krum decided to take a break, and Harry and Visenya followed them soon after. Hermione found a chair by the side of the hall, and Krum went off to get drinks, kissing her on the hand before he left.

Almost immediately, it was as though something large and scaly erupted into life in Harry’s stomach, clawing at his insides. Hot blood seemed to flood his brain, so that all thought was extinguished.

He and Visenya sat down beside Hermione, and he tried to look away as the two girls beside him started quarreling over ‘fraternisating with the enemy’, ‘who’s the one who has a Krum action figure on her bedstand?’ and ‘he’s after your brain for his golden egg’.

Harry felt dizzy and disoriented, as though he’d been struck by a lightning bolt. She’s my friend. That’s why I’m angry. She’s my friend, and I’m worried for her. He was telling himself.

But unbidden into his mind came an image of himself dancing with Hermione, instead of Krum. The beast inside his chest purred. But then he saw an image of Visenya dancing with Krum as he and Hermione whirled past them, and the beast snarled once more.

Hermione or Visenya? Picturing either with someone else made his blood boil.

Visenya shouted something loud, which caused Harry to return to the now and present.

”Uh, Senya.” He quietly said. “I haven’t got a problem with Hermione going with Krum…”

It was a lie, and clearly both Hermione and Visenya could see that. Seeing that the situation was fast going downhill, Harry got to his feet and took Visenya by the hand.

”Let’s dance.” He curtly said.

”But—“

”Let’s dance.” He even more firmly said, pulling her away from Hermione. As the two of them whirled across the dance floor once more, he pretended not to see Krum and Hermione kissing in a corner.

———

“I don’t get it.” Hermione mulishly said, as she and Harry danced. Visenya had sulked off somewhere, and Hermione had begged off Krum to dance with Harry. “I don’t know why she’s so angry.”

”Jealousy?” Harry suggested.

”Of who, me?” Hermione incredulously asked. “I already let her have you as her date! And she’s one of the very few girls in Hogwarts who doesn’t have a thing for Krum!”

”… not of you, no. Of Krum.” Harry slowly said.

”What?”

”It took me a long while to figure out. A long walk by myself in the rose garden. But I think I know the reason why she’s so angry now.”

Harry took a deep breath.

”I think Visenya loves you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, and her breaths came faster and ever shorter.

”What? No! No, no. That can’t be. She likes you!”

Harry’d figured that out as well.

”Her father has two wives, and they love each other as much as they love him.”

As Harry spoke, he nodded over to where Elia Martell and Lyanna Stark were spinning around the dance floor in each other’s arms, giggling like schoolgirls, kissing each other every other whirl. It was really titillating, and more than one boy was staring slack-jawed at them. Quite a few were drooling.

“So she— she feels the same way— with the two of us?” Hermione incredulously asked.

But as soon as she said the words out loud, Harry could see in her eyes her brain quickly processing the new information, ticking off a hundred checkboxes with that single statement.

”Yes, she does.”

”How— how do you know?”

In for a penny, in for a pound.

”Because I feel the exact same way, about you and her.”

There. Harry said it. His feelings laid bare.

”… This… this has to be some kind of a j-joke.” Hermione stammered.

”I’m serious.”

Harry leaned over, and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek.

“I like you, Hermione Granger. You’re a smart, brilliant and exceptionally beautiful witch. And more than that, you’re kind, caring and have a wonderful sense of justice. You’re my best friend, and I love you. I love you.”

Hermione had gone silent for a long while, before she finally spoke.

”And I love you too, as well, Harry.”

It felt like a great weight had left his shoulders. Harry’s heart swelled as his footsteps grew softer, practically gliding across the dance floor in glee.

”Will… will you go out with me?” He asked her.

”Yes! Yes, I will!”

They kissed, and the beast in Harry’s chest roared in triumph. They broke for air, all too soon, and Hermione’s face was worried, fretful.

”Oh, oh god. But what about Visenya? I— I can’t steal you from her. And—“

”I know. You don’t love her in that way.” Harry gently said, giving his girlfriend another kiss. “We can worry about that, as well as my feelings for her tomorrow. But could you at least give her a dance tonight?”

”Of course. Yes! Where is she?”

———

They found Visenya not too far away, in a girl’s bathroom which the trio had once encountered a troll at. She was even crying in the exact same stall where Hermione once was, all those years ago.

Once again, Harry had waited outside, so he didn’t hear what words were spoken between the two girls. But Hermione emerged with a tearful Visenya in her arms, and they all went back down to the Grand Hall just in time to hear the bell chime midnight.

Duke Rhaegar had stepped onstage with a massive silver harp, and beside him, looking so small and so nervous, was Alice Smith from Hufflepuff.

”It’s the last dance.” Pamela Poshman said, hurrying past the trio, pushing two of her friends forwards. “Alice is singing, you have to dance!”

”The last dance.” Visenya wondrously repeated.

Harry caught sight of Krum on approach, beelining towards Hermione, but Rhaenys swooped in to waylay the Quidditch star before he even came close.

”Yes.” Hermione nervously said, before clearing her throat. “Ahem, Lady Visenya, may I have the honour of this dance with you?”

Tears pooled in the shorter girl’s eyes. Not of sadness, like her previous ones, but ones of joy.

”Yes, yes, I accept!”

The two girls set off, hand in hand. Harry slumped down in the nearest chair, beside Poshman.

”Not dancing?” She asked him.

”Oh no, I’ve had enough for an evening. My legs are killing me.” He denied.

Poshman let out a snort of laughter.

”You?” Harry asked.

”Alas, my date has left me for another, older and even prettier girl.” She overdramatically mourned.

”Oh, me too.” Harry chuckled.

The Weird Sisters began playing their instruments, striking up a slow, nostalgic song.

Chapter Text

1995, Grimmauld Place,

“So, why not Dragonstone?” Harry asked, as they sat down for bed.

Despite some concerns from the adults, Sirius and Lupin had both vouched for Harry’s integrity, allowing him to share the guest bedroom with Hermione, Visenya and Daenerys. Though Oberyn had taken Harry aside for a bit, and loudly threatened to poison him with some truly nasty brews if he dared do anything… untoward to the girls.

Then, much softer, Oberyn said that Harry could be as untoward as he wanted, as long as he got consent from the girls first.

Harry must’ve blushed so red at that that his head could have been mistaken as a Quaffle.

”Too widely known. And too open. Everyone knows of the Targaryen seat.” Visenya answered. “Grimmauld Place, though in terrible condition, is obscure and well-defended, making it a far better location for clandestine meetings.”

”Yeah. The Ministry’s cracking down on anyone too friendly with Dumbledore at the moment. And routinely visiting Dragonstone for Order meetings is a good way for them to get sacked.” Hermione added.

She then started ticking off on her fingers.

“Algenon Croaker and Amos Diggory both got sacked…Madam Bones is facing an inquiry… Dirk Cresswell was nearly removed from office… Renly Baratheon was demoted… The Hogwarts Board of Directors purged and replaced with Ministry yes-men… Even the Quibbler got targeted. Forced to close due to some law from the Dark Ages about ‘sedition’. Xenophillius Lovegood is currently under trial.”

Well, that explained why Harry had only been able to acquire the conservative mouthpiece that was the Daily Prophet.

”My family was no exception.” Visenya grimly said. “Egg got punted out of the DMLE… Mama Elia was disbarred… Mama Lya was kicked out from the Department of Magical Sports and Games… Even Father had to face a no-confidence vote, that he barely survived.”

“What about Viserys?” Harry asked. Last Harry heard, he was a rising star in the Ministry, and slated for a managerial position soon.

Both Hermione and Visenya exchanged darkly significant looks.

“What happened?” Harry asked fearfully. “He’s not…”

”No, no. Viserys and Father had a big row. You see… he’s been promoted to Junior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic.”

“After what happened with Crouch? That seems…”

”Fishy? Dubious? You’re right. It was.” Visenya agreed. “There was an inquiry and everything, but apparently Fudge and his crony Umbridge vouched for Viserys, and he not only got off, but was taken into Fudge’s personal office.”

“How does that add up to him and Duke Rhaegar fighting?”

“You see, Duke Rhaegar thought that Fudge was buttering Viserys up… so that he’d spy on his own family and inform him of Dumbledore and Rhaegar’s movements.” Hermione answered.

”Oh, oh Merlin.” Harry realised with dawning horror.

”Yeah. It went over with Viserys about as well as expected. He went berserk, shouted all sorts of horrible things. Called Jon and I half-breed mongrel bastards whom are shaming the family, and Mama Lya a Mudblood whore whom seduced her way into power.”

”No, he didn’t!”

”Oh, yes he did. And it got worse. He said Father was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Father was dragging the entire family down with him, and that he— Viserys— knew where his loyalty lay, and it was with the Ministry. And if Father and the family was going to become traitors to the Ministry, then he was going to make sure everyone knew he was not buying into our lies, so that once Father eventually gets both himself and the rest of the family killed or imprisoned, then House Targaryen would at least have one last loyal scion left to take the dukedom.”

Visenya took a long rattling breath.

”Viserys packed his bags the same night, and left. He’s living with his girlfriend Elizabeth Runcorn now.”

Harry swore under his breath. He had always liked Viserys the least of Visenya’s siblings, and was aware of his views, but he’d never expected him to say such horrible things to Duke Rhaegar.

“But surely he knows Jon’s death wasn’t natural. And that your parents wouldn’t risk everything without proof. He’s not stupid.”

“He doesn’t think the word of a fourteen-year-old with a history of mental illness is good enough.” Visenya sarcastically said. “You know him. He takes the Daily Prophet very seriously, and Skeeter spent most of a year writing lies about your sanity.”

“So what? Viserys and the Ministry are just going to bury their heads in the sand over this?” Harry incredulously demanded.

”We’re pretty sure it’s Voldemort’s strategy. His supporters are fanning the flames, exploiting Fudge’s unwillingness to budge against us. They’re using the Ministry as both sword and shield, attacking us while they muster strength.” Hermione accessed.

”Dany has been keeping us up-to-date on as much as she’s allowed to.” Visenya paused, seeing the look on Harry’s face. ”She’s a member, by technicality. She’s of age, and although still in Hogwarts, has no living parents. She’s free as a bird now, meaning that Dumbledore couldn’t say no to her joining.”

It was times like this that Harry only remembered Daenerys was Visenya’s aunt and not her older sister. They were so close in age, and acted just like actual sisters that it was hard to remember sometimes. Hell, he’d even caught Dany calling Rhaegar ‘Father’ a few times.

And speak of the devil, here she was.

Daenerys Targaryen swept into the room with the sudden smell of ozone. And however horrid and angry and frustrated Harry felt, it was clearly nothing compared to the sheer rage on her face. Her eyes were like shining jewels, afire with inner rage, and her long silver hair was unkempt and disheveled. Her clothes were rumpled and tear-stained, with the only semblance of order being the chain around her neck, from which Jon’s engagement ring hung.

She’d been beautiful once. Was beautiful still. But there was a hint of madness in her visage now.

And it felt like a storm was constantly brewing all around her— that was not hyperbole, Harry had seen her in the aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament, her magic sparking out of control, wind whipping all around her as lightning and thunder roiled between her fingers and through her hair. Even now, two months later, she was still raw with grief, her magic no longer actively storming, but visibly threatening to.

Though only seventeen, she looked at least a decade older now, and an entire magnitude more fearsome.

“How was the meeting?” Visenya asked Dany, who paused before she sat down on her own bed.

”A new Supreme Mugwump has been voted in.” Daenerys grimly said. “Babajide Akingbade. Malicia owns him body and soul, possibly literally.”

”Wait what?” Harry asked, as both Visenya and Hermione cussed.

”Dumbledore got ousted from the International Confederation of Wizards. Dread Empress Malicia— ruler of magical Africa and parts of the Middle East— has been angling to bump him off for decades, and she’s seized on the opportunity to do so.” Visenya explained.

“Oh no, does that mean Voldemort is getting international support?”

”Not really. Malicia is all plots and schemes, but she has no follow-up. Her one and only goal is to indirectly sow wars abroad, such that her enemies are all too divided and too weakened to trouble her. She might prop up Voldemort with gold and mercenaries, but she’d do the same to us if he started winning. Anything to perpetuate the war.” Daenerys denied.

”Kaiserin Degurechaff— ruler of the Eastern Bloc— is more worrying. With Britain looking inwards, and Dumbledore disgraced, she’s now starting to expand westwards in the continent. Our own allies in Western Europe— the French, the Dutch— are out of the picture thanks to her.” Visenya added.

”The good news is that she’s a staunch supporter of muggleborn rights, and loathes purebloods. The exact opposite of Voldemort, and a lot more moderate in her positions. She’s a problem, to be sure, but a more distant and more manageable one.” Hermione said.

”So we won’t have to worry about them teaming up and netting us two Dark Lords to deal with.” Visenya explained. “And the rest of the world are distant enough that they don’t really care enough to get involved.”

”Stalemate, then.” Harry accessed. “No foreign help for Voldemort, but none for us either.”

“Yes and no.” Daenerys answered. “Speaking of foreign help, we got a report from Hagrid in Germany today, but that’s the last we’re expecting to get. At least in any timely manner. He’s going off the grid now.”

”Hagrid’s in Germany?” Harry asked.

”Oh yeah. With Madam Maxine. They’re tracking down the larger giant colonies in the Balkans and Scandinavia. We’re hoping to get an alliance with them before You-Know-Who gets there.” Visenya explained.

”The rest of the meeting was same old, same old. Nothing new.” Daenerys replied. “Except a few discussions about Harry’s upcoming hearing. Elia will be your defence, and she’ll drill you intensely on what to say and do starting tomorrow morning, so I recommend you get a good night’s sleep Harry.”

———

1995, Ministry of Magic, Wizangamot Chambers

“Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe: Viserys Targaryen.”

”Representing the Defendant, Attorney Elia Martell.” Elia coldly said, standing beside Harry.

”Objection! Lady Martell was disbarred from practicing law in this jurisdiction. She is ineligible to represent the accused, Mr Potter.” Dolores Umbridge objected, standing up.

”Senior Undersecretary, according to the Muggle Guardianship Act of 1938, the muggle guardians of an underaged wizard or witch may request that a muggle attorney represent them and/or their charges in trials carried out under magical law. As such, I stand before you not as a wizarding attorney, but as a muggle attorney.”

There was a bit of awkward shuffling, before a member of the audience raised his wand.

”The court recognises Professor Tofty, Legal Expert.”

”Attorney Martell speaks true. While the law was meant for muggleborns and their parents, the wording does allow for muggle-raised wizards, such as Mr Potter, to be covered under the law. However, the muggle attorney called must have equivalent qualifications of law recognised by the appropriate muggle authorities of the underaged wizard or witches’ home state or country, and have a signed affidavit by the muggle guardian consenting to their representation.”

”I have both right here.”

Elia first produced a sheaf of documents certifying that she was a legally qualified attorney in the United Kingdom, and a longtime member of the Bar Association.

“Here is the appropriate documentation of my qualifications to practice muggle law, and here is a signed affidavit by Potter’s guardian, a certain Petunia Dursley nee Evans.”

She then pulled out a single piece of paper from her briefcase, and Harry recognised Aunt Petunia’s signature on the form.

Both were handed over to the judges for observation.

“Objection, the Muggle Guardianship Act of 1938 was repealed in 1957.”

”Incorrect.” Madam Bones replied. “The 1957 amendments merely stipulated that the muggle attorneys called in had to have been legally sworn into the Statute of Secrecy. These amendments, in practise, banned nearly all muggle attorneys from practicing in the Wizarding world. However, this amendment does not constitute a full repeal of the law, and does not cover wizards or witches whom work as muggle attorneys, such as Attorney Martell.”

”Technicalities!” Umbridge shrieked.

”The law is nothing but technicalities, Madam Umbridge.” Elia said, smiling coldly.

”You have been disbarred!”

“Not by the muggle Bar Association.”

Harry couldn’t help it, he felt a grin spread across his face. One matching the exact same smug smile on Elia’s face, as she stared down the prosecution.

”The court recognises Attorney Martell as representative of the Defendant.” Fudge finally said, rather reluctantly.

The frog-faced witch looked like she was swallowing a fly, but sat back down on her seat.

”Watch and learn, Harry. I am going to destroy these fools.” Elia whispered, leaning over with a savage smile exceptionally similar to Visenya’s.

———

1995, Grimmauld Place,

They’d barely gotten into the house when a silver-haired bullet tackled Harry.

”I knew it!” Visenya yelled. “You always get away with stuff. Glad to see that your luck’s still holding strong, even out of Hogwarts.”

She then kissed him, full on the lips, laughing as a red-faced Hermione chased her away from Harry.

”That girl…” Harry’s girlfriend sighed, though not without a degree of fondness.

They relocated to the dining room, where lunch was served, courtesy of the team of House-Elves on Dragonstone.

”They were bound to clear you.” Hermione said, leaning over beside Harry. “There was no case against you. None at all.”

Harry noted that his girlfriend’s hands were shaking, while Visenya had looked positively faint with anxiety when he’d first arrived.

“Everyone seems quite relieved though, considering you all knew I’d get off.”

”Elia’s the best lawyer I know.” Lyanna said. “But there is always an element of doubt.”

”Are you seriously doubting my lawyer skills?” Elia threateningly asked. “Answer carefully, or you might find yourself sleeping on the couch tonight.”

”I’m not doubting your magical law skills— I’m doubting your muggle lawyer skills, Elia. You’re a lawyer whom specialises in corporate fraud, not custody or criminal defence or whatever you call this whole mess.”

”Well, it’s not my fault Petunia Dursley chose a lawyer with such dubious expertise to represent her beloved nephew.”

“Speaking of Aunt Petunia, how did you get ahold of a signed affidavit from her?” Harry asked Elia.

”Dumbledore produced it. I don’t know how, and frankly, I don’t want to know how.”

”Fair enough.”

———

On the very last day of the holidays, the booklists came. And with them, came several special surprises.

”Prefect.” Harry numbly said, holding the badge. “I forgot that prefects were chosen this year.”

Hermione had been absolutely delighted once she’d realised they both got the badges, grabbing Harry and breaking into an impromptu waltz across the living room. She’d pushed him down onto the sofa, and the couple had gotten pretty engrossed in a snogging session when they were interrupted by a pointedly cleared throat.

The two of them looked up to see two things.

1) Daenerys ‘Stormborn’ Targaryen

2) The Head Girl badge pinned on her left breast

“I have no issue with such… entanglements among my servants.” Head Girl Daenerys said in an uptight and haughty manner. “But I expect professionalism and chastity, when in the presence of one such as I.”

There was a long beat before they all broke out laughing.

Dinner that night was a fun event.

Visenya had promptly started deploring the tyrannies her aunt— with Harry and Hermione as her faceless enforcers— would enforce onto the entire school in a truly hammy and over-the-top method.

Sirius and Lyanna had started bawling, lamenting how Harry and Hermione had become ‘Uptight rule-abiding swots’ and overdramatically mourning ‘Where did we go wrong in raising them?’.

Even Daenerys was smiling, a rarity, considering how Jon’s death still weighed heavily upon her.

———

1995, Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room,

“And this is your common room, where you will all spend your—“

Harry’s voice trailed off as he took in the scene before him.

Gryffindor tower was a great warzone, half the house firing spells or brawling the other half.

Dean Thomas was getting beaten up by Angelina Johnson. Alicia Spinnet turned Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown’s hair into snakes. Eloise Midgen was hurling hexes at the Creevey brothers. Neville Longbottom was running around with the seat of his pants on fire. And Katie Bell had Ginny Prewett in a headlock, even as bogies grew bat wings and flew out of Katie’s nose to attack her. 

Visenya was in the thick of it, slinging spells at Seamus Finnegan, whom was retaliating by setting anything he could see on fire. Above them all, sofas and armchairs were flung across the room, as fireworks and spells shrieked through the air.

It was pandemonium. Utter and complete pandemonium.

“Uh, I think we should postpone the tour of the common room for a bit.” Harry said to the group of terrified first-years, and they all beat a hasty exit out of the common room.

The Fat Lady swung shut, and the chaos was contained once more.

”I’ll get Mcgonagall.” Hermione faintly said, before sprinting off. “Or Daenerys.”

———

"By the power of Pertho, Hagalaz, Eihwaz and Thurisaz, I beseech you, thunder of heavens! Fulmen Imperator!”

Lightning lashed out of Daenerys Stormborn’s entire body, guided and shaped by her wand.

Tendrils of electricity shot out all around her, forking out like the branches of a giant tree, ignoring all the Gryffindors on the ground or hiding in corners and striking only those whom were actively fighting.

“Krakathoom!”

The was a great rumble of thunder, a round of screams, and half the house collapsed to the floor, twitching as the residual electricity zapped through their bodies. Only Visenya was spared, having been fast enough to shield herself before the storm hit.

“Visenya! Explain.” Daenerys thundered, lightning flickering through her silver hair.

”Seamus called Harry a liar!”

”She had a go at my mother!” Seamus Finnegan yelled from the floor, his hair standing straight up in all directions.

”I’ll have a go at anyone that calls Harry a liar!”

”Your boyfriend—“

“Enough!” Daenerys shouted, and thunder boomed to punctuate her shout. The air around the Head Girl was growing thick with the smell of ozone, as stormclouds began frothing behind her.

”I see what happened.” She slowly said, voice nary a whisper, yet carrying through the room. “So apparently some people here vocally disagrees with the cause of my late boyfriend’s death. And instead chooses to believe the corrupt Ministry and the garbage they’re printing in the Daily Prophet.”

Harry shivered, and beside him, Hermione was trying to secret the terrified first-years up into the dormitories and away from the furious Head Girl.

”It is your right to be a blind sheep, and obey the propaganda. But when you drew a wand on your own housemates, you crossed a line.”

The Stormborn swept a sweeping, disdainful gaze across the room.

”The Ministry is taking a very close look at Hogwarts this year, and I will not have House Gryffindor shame the whole school by acting like a bunch of punch-drunk hooligans. I expect all future disagreements to be kept both verbal and civil. And the next person whom steps out of line…”

“Krakathoom!”

Lightning streaked out of Daenerys’ wand, disintegrating a nearby armchair to char and ash instantly.

”You will have to answer to me.”

There was a lot of fearful nodding.

”Now dismissed, all of you! I expect this common room to be in perfect shape by the time I return! Anyone who is not in bed by the time I get back will receive a detention!”

———

1995, Hogwarts,

Harry had never before considered the possibility that there might be another teacher in the world he hated more than Snape, but as he walked back towards Gryffindor Tower he had to admit he had found a strong contender.

She’s evil. He thought, as he climbed a staircase to the seventh floor. She’s an evil, twisted, mad, old—

“Senya?”

He had reached the top of the stairs, turned right and almost walked into Visenya, who was clutching a broomstick. She gave a great leap of surprise when she saw Harry, and tried to hide the broom behind her back.

”Is that Jon’s?” Harry couldn’t help but blurt out, staring at the broom.

There was a long beat, before Senya sighed and showed it to him. Yup, as expected. That was Jon’s old Drakon II, a custom-made broomstick commissioned for him by Lyanna, when he’d first joined the Quidditch team, oh so long ago.

Harry’s Firebolt beat it, but not by a lot, and it was loads better than his old Nimbus 2000. The only other brooms in school that rivalled it were the other custom-made ones, like Rhaenys’ old Drakon I— donated to the school as an heirloom broom for the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain— and Daenerys’ Drakon III.

”Were you flying on it?”

”Yeah. Don’t tell Dany. She’s basically set up a shrine for all of Jon’s old stuff in her room— the Head Girl’s one in the Prefect Dorm, I mean. She’ll be furious if she found out I was using this.”

”But… why?”

”I— well— well, Ok, I’ll tell you, but don’t laugh, all right?” Visenya said defensively, turning redder with every second. “I— I thought I’d try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

Harry let out a laugh, but it was not one of derision, but of joy.

”Oh, that’s brilliant, Senya.” He leaned over and kissed her, enjoying the way she squealed in surprise. “It’d be really cool if you got onto the team! Which role are you trying out for?”

”All of them. Wood graduated. Jon’s… you know. And Dany is quitting the team, wants to focus on her Head Girl duties. So we’re short a Keeper, Beater and Chaser respectively. And Angelina’s been making noise about getting a substitute Seeker, just in case.”

”Dany’s quitting?”

”Yeah. She joined mostly because of Jon, to be honest. She’s more of a broom racer than a Quidditch player. She said that she’ll play if we really really need a substitute, but yeah, she’s quitting.”

Well that was a punch to the gut. Half of Harry’s old Quidditch team was gone now. Graduated, dead and retired respectively. He’d always imagined that they’d fly together till the day he left Hogwarts.

“And don’t we already have a substitute Seeker?” Harry asked.

”McLaggen? You do realise that the only reason why he never made the team under Wood was because he was just that unpleasant? Do you even comprehend just how terrible one has to be, to get someone like Wood to drop you solely based on something like personality?”

There was a long beat as Harry remembered Wood saying he didn’t care if Harry’s Firebolt threw him off as long as he got the snitch first. Things like ‘personalities’, ‘sleep’ and ‘safety’ mattered less than dust in Wood’s eyes. He cared solely for skill and results.

That McLaggen, competent or otherwise, was disqualified on something as unnecessary as personality by the fanatic Wood was a glaring red flag.

”When you put it that way…” Harry chuckled, bringing his hand up to his mouth.

”Yeah. He’s just tha— Harry, what’s that on the back of your hand?” 

Harry immediately tried to hide his hand, but had as much success as Senya did with Jon’s broom.

”It’s just a cut, it’s nothing, it’s—“

Visenya let out a roar more animal than human when she saw the blood on Harry’s hand, and for one moment, Harry could have sworn that he’d seen Visenya’s face turn reptilian, her teeth turning into vicious fangs as sharp yellow light shone from between slitted eyes.

“Dany. We’re getting Dany.”

———

“Krakathoom!”

Thunder raged and stormclouds roiled as Daenerys took in the sight of Harry’s hand.

”I must not tell lies.” She growled out, hair whipping as her magic spiralled around her. “That horrible toad!”

Dany let out a long and angry breath, a streak of fire flicking out of her mouth and setting the table afire. Visenya extinguished the flames with a wave of her wand.

”Visenya, you did good getting him here for me. Take ten points to Gryffindor. Now please excuse us.”

She immediately grabbed Harry by the hand and dragged him bodily out of the room, hauling him to straight towards McGonagall’s office with surprising strength, ignoring Harry’s continued insistence that this was a battle of wills between him and Umbridge.

A twitch of her fingers, and Harry’s protests were forcefully silenced, Dany’s magic pressing down and halting all words from leaving his mouth.

They arrived at Professor Mcgonagall’s office, and were let in swiftly.

”Courtesy of Umbridge.” Dany said, before she slammed Harry’s forearm and hand on their Head of House’s desk, tendrils of kinetic force holding his hand in place. Preventing him from hiding the wounds on the back of his hand.

Professor McGonagall was silent for a very long while, eyes closed as her lips narrowed and her nostrils tightened.

”Barbaric.” She finally said. “Absolutely medieval. I can’t believe— Nobody has—“

She shook her head and took a long calming breath.

”Twenty points to Gryffindor, Head Girl Targaryen. It was very good that you’ve brought this to my attention.”

”I trust that this matter will be handled?” Dany all but snarled.

”Oh yes. The headmaster will be livid to find out what has happened to Mr Potter. No student, no matter what their crime, deserves to be on the receiving end of such brutality. Mr Potter, consider the rest of your detentions with Professor Umbridge voided.”

Professor McGonagall stood up, and her face could have been carved out of stone.

”Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall be going to see the headmaster now. Would you kindly take Mr Potter to the Hospital Wing, Head Girl?”

”May we have use of your office for a bit, Professor?” Dany silkily asked. “I’d like a word with Harry first.”

”By all means. But remember to take him to Madam Pomfrey before he goes to bed.”

As soon as Professor McGonagall left the room, Dany waved her wand. Privacy spells went up, and the door locked shut. The spells holding Harry released, and Dany sat down in Professor McGonagall’s chair, looking far older and more tired than he’d ever seen.

”You didn’t need to tell her.” Harry sullenly said.

”Yes, I did.” Dany flatly replied.

There was a long pause, as the two of them stared at each other. Wills colliding in a fierce battle.

”How… How can you stand this?” Harry finally asked, slumping in his seat. “See that horrible toad lie about Voldemort— lie about Jon’s death!”

”Do you think you are the only one who is angry, Harry?” Dany asked, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “The only one who is frustrated? The only one who is upset?”

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. There was no magic involved this time. Yet it felt as though Dany had rendered him dumb and mute once again.

”I have to listen to that horrible hag lie every single day about my boyfriend’s death. Hear her sway more and more of the school into thinking that he wasn’t murdered. Hear her talk as though the world is alright, and that everyone telling anyone otherwise is overreacting or mad.

Viserys— my own brother!— is completely against me too. Do you know how many owls I’ve gotten from him begging me to abandon Rhaegar and quit before it’s too late? Saying that I’m ‘distraught over the tragic death of my lover’ and that the Ministry will be lenient, due to my ‘unstable’ mental state.”

She paused, letting out a long hiccough.

”You lost a friend that day, in the graveyard. But I lost my boyfriend— oh what a shallow word that is. It doesn’t even begin to encapsulate a millionth of what Jon meant to me!

He was my other half. My better half. He comforted me at nights when I was scared, and held me back whenever my temper or magic got out of hand. He helped me improve in Quidditch. He assisted me with my homework when I was stuck. He pulled me back onto my feet every time I fell, and gave me a push on the back every time I faltered.

We were together since birth. He was my brother. He was my nephew. He was my lover. And were the gods not so terribly cruel, he would have been my husband. We would have had beautiful children together. Children we would have raised lovingly, children that would have inherited all that we were, and surpassed us in time.

He was my sun and stars, and now he’s gone. Ash in the family mausoleum.”

Shame burned on Harry’s face at Dany’s words. He’d been so preoccupied with Voldemort, with the truth, that he’d forgotten he wasn’t the only one struggling. However hard things were for him, it was easily a thousandfold for Dany. Before her grief, he felt like a petulant child, throwing a tantrum.

”I… I don’t know if I’m even still alive anymore.” Dany wept. “More than once, I’ve considered just ending it. Slit my wrists and join him in death. But he wouldn’t want that.”

“He’d… he’d tell you to keep going.” Harry hoarsely said. “Not to give up. Never to give up.”

”Yes, and so I pull myself back together, and remember my duty.”

Dany was gone now. And in her place stood Daenerys Stormborn, the unyielding and fearsome Head Girl, whose mighty sorcery forced those around her to bend the knee.

”It is my duty to make sure that his killer dies. Dies horribly and unmourned. Until that day, I will do anything in the furtherance of this goal. Nothing is beneath me.” Daenerys Stormborn declared, voice ringing with eldritch might and fury.

“If I must kneel, bow and scrape and repeat lies about Jon’s death, then so be it, I shall endure. I shall survive.

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus. The motto of our school; Do not tickle a sleeping dragon. I have endured so many tickles for the last summer, and shall continue to do so for however long is necessary.

But one day, there will be a reckoning. For Voldemort. For the Death Eaters. For Lucius Malfoy. For Umbridge. For the entire corrupt Ministry. For Viserys, even.

And on that day, they will find that I am a truly powerful and fearsome dragon, more than willing to serve Fire and Blood to my enemies. Small slights begat long prices, and the Lannisters are not the only ones whom pay their debts. I shall have my due, come hell or high water. No matter even if the entire world or all the gods in existence are against me!

This, I, Daenerys Stormborn, do solemnly swear.”

———

If someone as temperamental and grieving as Daenerys could hold her tongue, then it should be easy for Harry to hold his.

After their little talk, Harry felt considerably better and worse at the same time.

He felt shame at how he’d been handling the situation, for before Daenerys, what was he but a petulant child throwing a tantrum? His feelings about the truth felt base, petty.

If Umbridge wanted to suppress the truth and bury her head in her sand, ignore his warnings about Voldemort, then good luck to her. With an attitude like that she deserved to die at Voldemort’s hands.

As such, it was with an air of detached enlightenment that he attended Friday’s DADA class, ignoring Umbridge’s remarks and slander, while studiously focusing on the book before him.

Lucky Wong from Ravenclaw had figured out a spell that allowed one to overlay the contents of a book with that of another. Everyone else whom read the book would see the overlaid text, while the caster alone got to see the true words.

The spell had spread from Wong to his girlfriend Mochizuki, from her to Susan Bones, from Bones to Hermione, and from Hermione to Harry now.

As such, instead of Defensive Magical Theory, Harry was now reading an actual book about Defence. A truly comprehensive set of notes. Lesson plans and notes written by Lupin and Moody. Lessons that they would have conducted, had either stayed at Hogwarts for more than a year, with the occasional add-on from Oberyn or Lyanna. All wrapped up in a nice backing that looked exactly like Wilbert Slinkhard’s useless book.

Chapter Text

1995, Hogwarts, Quidditch Pitch,

After DADA was Quidditch tryouts. Umbridge had glowered at Harry as he left her class, forced into rescinding her detentions by Dumbledore.

The team and the hopefuls all gathered by the Quidditch pitch.

About two dozen people were vying for the three empty spots on the team. Most of them knew how to fly, Harry was pleased to see, with clear prior experience on a broom.

Chaser were first, where the hopefuls came three at a time, attempting to get past opposing chasers Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, while Harry acted as keeper.

This was the longest round, and lasted over an hour, but eventually they had a chaser candidate.

Fourth-year Ginny Prewett. Daughter of Fabian Prewett, and last scion of the Prewett line. She was using the Cleansweep Nine Harry and Sirius had bought her in compensation for losing Scabbers. Her guardian, her grand-aunt Muriel Prewett, supposedly despised brooms and all manner of flying, so in some ways this was her teenaged rebellion against her.

She’d outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot, beating even Cormac McLaggen, which was a relief.

”It’s alright. Chasing isn’t for me anyway.” Visenya had airily said afterwards.

After the chasers were the beaters. Harry tagged out for this one, taking Angelina’s role as impartial observer from above. Ginny joined Alicia and Katie as the opposing chasers, while Angelina would be the beater covering them. The hopefuls would come two at a time against them.

”I never had the upper body strength for beater, but I was hoping to channel some of Jon’s spirit for this, you know.” Visenya casually said, after losing the trial.

Third-year Gendry Baratheon was their new beater. Tall, muscled and with quite the swing behind his bat. Gendry wasn’t as good as Jon, or even McLaggen, but he was willing to learn and eager to please. He’d grow better with practice, and Angelina seemed pretty pleased with him.

McLaggen hadn’t been pleased though, and had angrily demanded that he be given Gendry’s position. Angelina Johnson had furiously refused, and threatened to ban him from the remaining trials. That didn’t work, so Harry used his powers as a prefect to threaten McLaggen with detention. And when that also didn’t work, Visenya threatened to sick Daenerys on him, which finally made him shut up and fall back in line.

Harry gave her a quick kiss as a reward, and back into the air he went for the seeker trials.

For the seeker trials— to determine substitute seeker, not replace Harry— forty practice snitches were released into the Quidditch pitch, and the seeker hopefuls had to catch as many of them as possible, competing against one another and Harry. To even out the playing field, Harry borrowed a Comet 260 from one of the hopefuls, and off they went. 

Ginny Prewett once again outflew the competition, with thirteen snitches caught, netting her the role of substitute seeker in addition to chaser. Visenya hadn’t done too bad either, with ten snitches caught, beating McLaggen by a significant margin.

“Well, it’s not like I was seriously going to replace you.” Visenya muttered, looking rather green after losing three out of four trials.

Keeper trials were last, with the hopefuls going up one at a time as the chasers tried their damndest to score.

”I— I can do this. K-keeping is my specialty.” Visenya was saying to herself. She was trembling, Harry saw. Looking rather nauseous.

It wasn’t that she was a bad flier, far from it. Harry would place her in the same ballpark as McLaggen. Slightly worse in some aspects, but significantly better in others.

But it was nerves. For such a brash and headstrong girl, he’d never expected her to falter under pressure. To seize up on the Quidditch pitch, when the entire school was watching.

”You can do it.” Harry said, putting his arm around Visenya and pulling her close.

She was still so small and petite, even though she was nearly sixteen now. Then again, her mother Lyanna was nearly as short and nearly as petite as she was, as though puberty had decided to leave the job unfinished and leave her stuck halfway between a child and a grown woman. Visenya seemed to have inherited this particular gene from Lyanna, instead of her father’s tall genes, as Jon did.

”I believe in you. We all believe in you.” Harry sincerely told her. “You just have to believe in yourself.”

”I— I—“

Harry kissed her, silencing her protests. And this wasn’t like before, where their kisses were more playful than anything else. This one was long, searing, with tongue involved.

They eventually broke for air, Visenya flustered and red-faced.

”H-how did you get so good at k-kissing?” She stammered out.

”Well there’s this nice spot in Grimmauld Place’s attic with a really nice loveseat…”

”Dang it Hermione, you’ve been holding out on me.”

Harry looked Visenya straight in the eyes, green meeting grey.

”There’s more where that came from, if you get into the team.” He seriously told her.

Almost immediately, it was as though an inferno blazed to life within Visenya, shining through her eyes and infusing her entire body with strength. The nervous and jittery girl was gone now, and in her place was someone as confident as Jon and as powerful as Daenerys Stormborn.

”Accio Drakon II!” The broomstick slapped itself into her hand, summoned wandlessly.

Visenya mounted it.

”I’ll show you just how good I really am!”

And with that, she kicked off and shot into the sky.

Five flawlessly saved goals later, and she was the new Gryffindor Keeper. And as promised, Harry snogged her long and hard afterwards.

Hermione had been prickly later, after seeing the hickies on their necks, but she forgave them both in the end.

——— 

1995, Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room,

It was nearly midnight when Harry left Umbridge’s office, his hand bleeding so badly it was staining the scarf he wrapped around it. The new Hogwarts High Inquisitor had taken full advantage of her new position to stick Harry back in detention at the first excuse. And this time, there would be nothing McGonagall could do about it, for that very same Educational Decree had given the High Inquisitor powers to punish students as they saw fit, greater than the rest of the teachers.

Harry’s blood boiled. He’d held his tongue, nodded along to whatever drivel Umbridge was saying, didn’t pick any fights, had been on his best behaviour possible, and promptly thrown back into detention.

He expected the common room to be empty when he returned, but Hermione, Visenya and Daenerys had stayed up waiting for him. He was pleased to see the three girls, especially given the looks of sympathy on their faces.

”Here.” Hermione anxiously said, sliding over a bowl of yellow liquid towards him. “Soak your hand in that. It’s a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles. It should help.”

Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, then leapt into his lap and settled down.

”Thanks.” He gratefully said, scratching behind Crookshanks’ ears with his other hand.

”I’ve spoken to Mcgonagall.” Daenerys grimly said. “And Dumbledore. They’re furious, of course, but Umbridge is too powerful now, and can’t be stopped.”

”I’ve tried to go above Umbridge and report her to the authorities, but the Hogwarts Board of Directors is stacked with Ministry sycophants, and the Ministry itself is dismissing the case as more lies.” Hermione let out a long sigh. “Normally, when muggle schoolteachers abuse their powers like this, and the authorities cover it up, the traditional response is to go to the media, but…”

”The Prophet is in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket, Witch Weekly doesn’t want to get involved, and the Quibbler is still proscribed.” Visenya glumly listed out. “The rest are all conspiracy gossip rags hardly even worth the paper they’re printed on.”

“Speaking of the Quibbler, we have an update on the situation.” Daenerys told them. “Xeno Lovegood lost the case. Elia tried her best, but there was no real fighting it. He’s headed to Azkaban now.”

”Azkaban?!” Harry incredulously asked. “For printing the truth? What happened to the loose standards for libel last year?”

”They used an old sedition law dating back from the Dark Ages to convict him. It was never repealed, but hasn’t been used in half a millennia. The punishments are beyond draconian. Frankly, I’m surprised that Mama Elia got Xeno into Azkaban, instead of being summarily thrown through the Veil of Death.” Visenya gravely said.

”It is a gross miscarriage of justice. But you won’t hear a single peep of that from the Prophet.” Daenerys snarled. “The Order is planning on springing him before he gets there anyway.”

“I’ve talked to the Ravenclaw prefects. They’ll look out for Luna Lovegood. She’s not taken the news of her father very well, and we’re pretty sure Umbridge is just waiting for an excuse to come down hard on her.”  Hermione sighed, sitting down beside Harry. ”She’s an awful, awful woman. And we were just discussing before you came in… we’ve got to do something about her.”

“I suggested poison.” Visenya grunted. “Wouldn’t even be too hard… just head back down to the Chamber of Secrets and get some of the Basilisk’s venom, then slip it into her morning tea or something.”

”Senya, Hermione meant doing something about what a dreadful teacher she is.” Daenerys snapped. “Of the seven DADA teachers I’ve had, she is by far and away the worst of the lot. And I am including Pree and Lockhart in that number!”

”Wasn’t Pyat Pree a pedophile?” Visenya asked. “He kidnapped you in your first year.”

”And he was still better than her!”

“Hem hem.” Hermione cleared her throat in such a convincing Umbridge-like manner that both aunt and niece jumped. “Like I was saying, we’ve got to do something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we’re not going to learn any Defence from her at all.”

”If we could sack her, we would.” Visenya morosely said. “She’s got the job, and Fudge’ll make sure she’s here to stay.”

”Hermione and I were considering something a bit more… informal.” Daenerys answered. “Do it ourselves.”

”Do what ourselves?” Harry asked suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.

”Well, learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves.” Hermione told them.

”You can’t be serious? More work?” Visenya groaned. “You do realise Harry and I are still behind on homework, and it’s only the second week?”

”But this is so much more important than homework!”

Harry and Visenya both goggled at Hermione, glanced at each other to double-check that they’d heard correctly, then resumed goggling at her.

”Uh, Hermione, you feeling all right?” Harry asked concernedly.

”Yeah, yeah. Do you need a lie down or something? A back rub perhaps?” Visenya paused. “Or a front rub?”

”This is serious, you two! There are of course things more important than homework!”

Hermione’s eyes, Harry saw with an ominous feeling, were alight with the same fanatic fervour that Dany’s anti-slavery crusade inspired in her.

“It’s about preparing ourselves. Like Harry said in Umbridge’s first lesson, for what’s waiting for us out there. It’s about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don’t learn anything for a whole year… we’re going to die, when Voldemort decides to finally come out of the shadows.”

”Hear hear!” Dany agreed.

Harry frowned at his girlfriend’s words, mulling them over.

”Like the training Jon gave me for the Triwizard tournament. Just, made larger. For everyone, this time.” He slowly said, coming around to Hermione’s point of view.

”Precisely. No more book learning. But practical lessons.”

”We’ll need a teacher of course, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we’re going wrong.” Dany added.

Harry looked Daenerys Stormborn up and down, and nodded approvingly.

”Yeah, you’ll do.”

”Unfortunately, as Head Girl, I cannot be privy to any illegal activities.” Dany reluctantly sighed. “Cedric and I have agreed to cover for you lot, and mislead Umbridge, but unfortunately we can’t get involved. Plausible deniability and all that.”

”But… who else will do? Who then can teach everyone?”

Why were all three of them looking straight at him?

”Well, we were thinking that you could do it. Teach us Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Hermione hesitantly said.

Harry stared at his girlfriend, then he stared at Daenerys and Visenya, only to find both Targaryens nodding along.

”I think that’s a brilliant idea.” Visenya agreed.

”What? Senya— I — I’m not a teacher.”

”Harry, you’re the best in the year at Defence.” Hermione said.

”Me? You’ve beaten me in every—“

”Actually, I haven’t.” Hermione said coolly. “You beat me in our third year— the only year we both sat the same test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But it’s not about the test results. I’m talking about what you’ve done!”

“What do you mean?”

”You saved the Philosopher’s Stone from You-Know-Who in our first year.”

”You killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle the next year.”

”You saved us all from like a hundred dementors in our third year.”

”You fought Voldemort last year, and before that won the Triwizard Tournament!”

”Listen to me!” Harry shouted, almost angrily. “Just listen, all right? I know it sounds like I did all those great things, but all that stuff was luck and a lot of help. Fawkes, or the time-turner or Jon—“

”I agree. Jon would have done better than you.” Dany softly said. “But he’s not here now. You are.”

Daenerys Stormborn approached Harry, and knelt in front of him, placing her hands on his left hand.

”He will never become the great man he was destined to be, so it is on you to do it in his stead.”

The world seemed to fall away all around them, leaving only Harry and Dany as the only splashes of colour.

”Were Jon still here, would he have tolerated Umbridge’s incompetence or abuses?”

”He’d start a riot, throw her out of class, and have himself voted into becoming the new DADA teacher. And then prove so popular and so successful that the students would rally behind him and name him God-King-for-life of Hogwarts.”

”Precisely. I’m not asking the same of you. But can you at least do this one thing? Honour his memory and make sure that everyone is as prepared as possible for the wars yet to come?”

“I— I promise.”

———

1995, Grimmauld Place,

“Occulumency?” Harry asked.

”Indeed. The magical defence of the mind against external protection. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one.” Elia told him.

”But— but I thought—“

”No, you’re not being possessed by Voldemort, have no fear.” Elia reassured him. “But it is undeniable that your scar links you to him, and while you are capable of seeing out of his eyes at times, there is a fear that he might be able to similarly influence you.”

“Furthermore, Voldemort is highly skilled at legilimency, the ability to extract feelings and memories from another mind. The muggles call it ‘mind-reading’ which is a pretty accurate description.” Lyanna added.

”Voldemort can read minds?” Harry asked, horror-struck.

Lyanna wiggled a palm.

”Technically no, but in practice, yes.”

”At any time?”

“No, eye contact is often necessary for legilimency. However, the usual rules do not seem to apply to you and Voldemort, given your… connection.” Lyanna answered.

”Evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable— when you are asleep, for instance— Voldemort’s thoughts and emotions can bleed into you.” Elia said. ”Naturally, this is inadvisable.”

”But why not? It’s been useful, no? I saw the snake. I saved Tonks!”

”Yes, but unfortunately that incursion into Voldemort’s mind did not go unnoticed. Our spies suggest that contrary to what we’d previously believed Voldemort had in truth been unaware of your connection. Up until now, you have been experiencing his thoughts and emotions without his knowledge.” Elia patiently said.

”And now that he knows, we’re worried that he can turn the connection around and invade your mind instead.” Lyanna grimly finished. “This is the reason why we’ve been keeping you out of the loop for a lot of the Order’s dealings, and why Dumbledore has been stringently avoiding you this year.”

Thoughts of Voldemort taking control of his body and slaying Hermione and Visenya flashed though Harry’s mind. His heart hardened, and his resolve firmed up.

”I’ll do it.” He grimly said.

“Wonderful.” Elia smiled. “Lyanna and I will teach you this skill as best as we can. Unfortunately, time is limited, and there’s only a few weeks before school resumes.”

Harry let out a long sigh.

”This is going to be like the trial prep again, isn’t it.” He morosely said, envisioning his holidays flying away from him.

”If you need some encouragement, be warned that if you return to Hogwarts without mastering this skill, it will not be us but Professor Snape whom will be teaching you.” Lyanna warned.

Horror pooled in Harry’s stomach.

”I recommend you learn this skill fast.” Elia gently said.

———

1996, Hogsmeade,

Hogwarts had been steadily growing more and more dismal, as the year went on, Umbridge determined to keep stripping away each and everything that Harry loved about the place. Letters to Sirius… visits to Hagrid… spending time with his friends…

First was his place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

He and Malfoy had jostled for the snitch at the very end, no more than was normal by Quidditch standards. The Slytherins routinely committed far far worse offences during play.

Umbridge had slapped him with detention for ‘unnecessary roughness’, confiscated his Firebolt and given him a lifetime ban on the sport.

Next was his flying. 

Elia had cleverly noted that a ban on Quidditch didn’t equate to a ban on flying outright, which meant that he could still participate in the Gryffindor team training, borrowing Dany’s Drakon III.

Umbridge had slapped him with another week’s worth of detention, banned him from flying at all, and confiscated not just the Drakon III, but Angelina’s Drakon I and Visenya’s Drakon II as well, depriving the Gryffindor Quidditch team of their best brooms.

Next was his prefectship.

It had become a source of solace for Harry in these trying times. Helping the younger students as Aegon and Jon did when he too was new to the school. Their looks of joy and gratefulness were a balm on his soul, and he could understand why this position was considered a privilege.

Malfoy and his goons had attacked Harry in the hallways. And although the only spell he cast was a shield charm, Umbridge still slapped him with more detention for ‘fighting’ and stripped him of his prefectship.

Malfoy didn’t even lose a single point.

It didn’t seem to matter that he kept his head down, and tried his damndest to be a model student. Umbridge clearly didn’t care, and never ceased on her attempts to make his life a misery.

The one of the few bright spots left in his life at Hogwarts was the D.A., and he threw himself wholeheartedly into the effort.

After the mass breakout of Death Eaters, the D.A. had been spurred on to work even harder than ever before, even ornery Zacharias Smith. Recruitment had gone up too, with a slow but steady trickle of new members. Determined to learn either to defend themselves from the inevitable, or to finally achieve a decent DADA mark in time for their O.W.Ls.

The other bright spots in his life were Visenya and Hermione.

While still nervous and prone to stagefright atop the broom (A new Cleansweep Eleven, courtesy of her father), Visenya had been improving by leaps and bounds. Harry and her spent every weeknight he didn’t have detention on at the Quidditch pitch, with him coaching her one-on-one from the ground to the best of his abilities.

They also spent a lot of time after these sessions snogging underneath the stands, or aimlessly chatting as they took the scenic route back to the castle. 

Hermione and him spent time together as well, usually in the Room of Requirement, after the D.A. left. They’d been both horrified and amazed, not to mention deeply embarrassed, to find out that the Room could in fact, transform into the magical equivalent of a muggle love hotel.

The last of the bright spots left were Hogsmeade visits, and Harry made sure to enjoy it as much as he could, before Umbridge inevitably stripped that too away from him.

As a reward to Senya for helping bring the Quidditch team to victory against Hufflepuff, Harry had agreed to take her out on a date in the village. Even Hermione agreed Senya deserved it, though she did insist on Harry meeting her at the Three Broomsticks later on.

It soon became obvious that neither Visenya or Harry had much dating experience, with no idea what to do once they’d arrived.

In the end, they decided to just wander the shops, hand-in-hand.

They had fun experimenting with cool knick-knacks at Dervish and Bangs, laughed at each other as they tried on increasingly ridiculous outfits at Gladrags Wizardwear, got sick trying out some of the weirder candy at Honeydukes, throwing up together in an alleyway, only to stumble into a hidden hole-in-the-wall restaurant that served amazing Italian food.

After lunch, they got recommendations about Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop from a passing Alice Smith, and decided to check the place out. An adventure that ended with both Harry and Visenya running away as fast as possible in the opposite direction, after gagging at the tacky decor and kissing couples.

They’d run so far that they were halfway to the Shrieking Shack, and the two of them decided to hike up the hill to the Shack, reminiscing about tossing mud at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

As they returned to the village, they got caught up in an impromptu snowball fight; one of the last this school year, for in a week or two, the last of the snow would all melt.

They’d done pretty well, in Harry’s opinion. They’d teamed up with the Ravenclaws to take down Cedric Diggory, then knocked Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan out of the melee. Senya had gone down to a powerful throw by Mochizuki Yuuki, but Harry had pelted Lucky Wong pretty badly in retaliation.

Then Pamela Poshman cheated, and used magic to lift half a field’s worth of snow into the air, before dropping it onto all of their heads.

Harry got her with a tickling charm though, and threatened worse at the next D.A. session, before he and Senya executed an attack in the opposite direction, running away as Poshman’s friends threw playful hexes at their backs.

Still laughing, and drenched with snow, the two of them decided that it was time to end what had been an amazing date and go meet Hermione at the Three Broomsticks.

“Holy cow.” Harry got out.

”What?” Visenya agreed.

Hermione was easy to find in the pub. She was sitting at a table with the unlikeliest pair of drinking mates he could ever have imagined: Luna Lovegood and none other than Rita Skeeter, ex-journalist of the Daily Prophet and one of Hermione’s least favourite people in the world.

”What’s she doing here?” Visenya snarled, moving in front of Harry defensively.

“I’ll tell you in a bit, please sit first.” Hermione said, and the two of them did as bid. “Oh, let me dry you two.”

She waved her wand, and all the snow and dampness vanished from their robes. It felt like their clothes had been freshly laundered and dried. Both Harry and Senya let out a pleasured sigh at that.

”So how was your date? Enjoyed yourselves?”

”A date? With little Miss Targaryen here? You’re cheating on—“ Rita eagerly asked, already rummaging around inside her purse.

”It’s none of your business if Harry has been with a hundred girls.” Hermione snapped.

”And for the record, the date was very fun.” Visenya coldly added. “And we’re not cheating. This was done with Hermione’s full knowledge and consent.”

Rita had opened her mouth to speak again, but was silenced when Hermione raised a warning finger.

”One more word about Harry’s love life, and the deal is off.” She threatened.

“What deal?” Rita Skeeter asked, glaring at Hermione. “You haven’t mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy. You just told me to turn up. Oh, one of these days…”

”Yes, yes. One of these days you’ll write more horrible stories about Harry and me.” Hermione indifferently shrugged. “Find someone who cares, why don’t you?”

“They’ve run plenty of horrible stories about Harry this year without my help.” Said Rita, shooting a sideways look at him over the top of her glass and adding in a rough whisper. “How has that made you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?”

”He feels angry, of course.” Hermione cut in with a hard, clear voice. “Because he’s told the Minister for Magic the truth, and the Minister’s too much of an idiot to believe him.”

”So you actually stick to it, do you, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?” Said Rita, lowering her glass and subjecting Harry to a piercing stare while her finger strayed longingly to the clasp of the crocodile bag. “You stand by all the garbage Dumbledore’s been telling everyone about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness?”

”He wasn’t the sole witness.” Snarled Visenya. “There were at least a dozen Death Eaters there as well.”

”Want their names?” Harry semi-jokingly asked. “And a recounting of the ritual that brought him back?”

”I’d love them.” Breathed Rita, face flushed and looking alive for the first time in forever. “Yes, I can already see it. A great bold headline: Potter Accuses…”

The Quick-Quotes Quill was actually in her hand and halfway to her mouth when the rapturous expression on her face died.

”But of course.” She acidly said, lowering her quill and glaring daggers at Hermione. “Little Miss Perfect wouldn’t want that story out there, would she?”

“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want.” Hermione sweetly said.

Rita stared at her. So did Harry. Only Visenya and Luna did not. Luna was dreamily stirring her drink with a cocktail onion on a stick, while Visenya had an almost Elia-like look of contemplation on her face.

”Oh, but that’s genius!” Visenya gleefully said, as light dawned in her eyes.

She reached over and pecked Hermione on the cheek, Hermione pushing the silver-haired girl away with exasperated fondness.

”It’s the right time, the right place… ah. Problem. We don’t have the right medium.” Visenya cussed. “The Quibbler is still proscribed, and none of the other outlets would touch us with a six-foot pole.”

”That part is easy; we make our own.” Hermione firmly said. “Xeno Lovegood is still on the lam, but Luna here knows most of his old staff and contacts. She’s secured us the necessary equipment; printing press and papers… Not a lot escaped the Ministry’s purge, but enough for one last huzzah.”

”Ah, I see.” Visenya nodded approvingly. “Alas for the reporter, but I suppose life is all about compromises. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

They’d lost Harry some time back, but clearly Rita had no trouble following the girls’ conversation.

”And what of my payment? I’m putting quite a lot on the line now. My reputation, for one. And I have no intention of being proscribed like the Quibbler for writing such a thing.”

”Your usual rate— whatever that is. That’s fair.” Visenya immediately replied. “And I’ll even throw in a bonus; my mother Elia will represent you pro-bono if you get into legal hot water over this.” 

“She’s been disbarred. Twice over! And failed to get Xeno Lovegood off. I want double or nothing!”

“Not if you make a big enough stink beforehand.” Hermione evenly said. “Harry is the star of the show. But you can’t make a newspaper with a single act. We’ve got a whole load of other content to help pad it out. Umbridge’s abuses in Hogwarts. Xenophillus’ sedition trial. Voldemort’s— Oh don’t flinch, it’s just a name— as I was saying, Voldermort’s overtures to the giants…”

”Hmm… yes. That might work. But I still want double. Hazard pay, you know.”

”Your usual rate.” Visenya coldly repeated. “Or Hermione here will let slip your little… buggy secret.”

Rita Skeeter turned a truly horrid shade of red, and started twitching. Harry thought she might be having an aneurysm. Seeing as the conversation had lulled, he decided to ask what was going on.

”I’m sorry, you’ve lost me. Some while back.” He admitted. “Could you please explain things to me?”

”Dearest Rita here, is going to interview you.” Hermione said in a saccharine sweet voice. “You’ll give her all of the details about what went down in the graveyard— leave nothing out. She’ll then write a proper article about you, one that actually reflects the truth of what happened, instead of those laughable excuses of journalism that the Prophet is printing.”

”Didn’t the Quibbler already try that over the summer?”

”Yeah, so we’re going to run an underground newspaper. Luna’s contacts will liaise with Oberyn and our other contacts in the underworld… Varys, Littlefinger, Mundungus… get it to every single wizarding household in the Isles.” Hermione continued.

“The situation is markedly different as well. Back then, you were in no state to give a coherent accounting of what happened, and under heavy suspicion of killing my brother. The Quibbler tried, but there was no appetite for the news. But now, with the Death Eaters loose, people are starting to come around.” Visenya added.

”Won’t I be called a liar once again? Or our paper dismissed as come conspiracy rag?”

“Exactly. Which is why we need a— and I can’t believe I’m going to say this— a reliable writer. Someone whom the public will put their trust in.” Visenya said.

All eyes, save Luna’s, turned to face the sole overage witch at the table.

”Like the conservative press’ darling.” Harry slowly said, understanding the scheme. “That’s— that’s brilliant! Hermione, Senya’s right. You are a genius!”

He pulled her into a long searing kiss, and when he broke away, Visenya kissed Hermione on the lips as well, causing Harry’s girlfriend to blush and splutter, before pushing them both away.

“It gets better though. Positively devious, our Hermione.” Visenya grinned, licking her lips. “With Rita’s interview as the front page, we can tack on the rest of the stories that the Prophet hasn’t been printing. Umbridge, the Quibbler, the giants… hell, we might even be able to tack the dementors that attacked you in summer onto it.”

Now Harry was grinning, from ear to ear.

”The only problem is that Umbridge won’t take this lying down.” Hermione fretted.

”Ack yeah.” Senya grimaced. “You’re in for quite a bit of hurt, Harry.”

”In your own words; Worth it.” Harry firmly said.

———

1996, Hogwarts, Room of Requirement,

They had finally started work on Patronuses, which everybody had been very keen to practice, though, as Harry kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they were not under threat was very different from producing it when confronted by something like a dementor.

”Oh don’t be such a killjoy.” Visenya smiled, as her silvery wolf-shaped Patronus bounded through the air around her, during their last lesson before Easter. “They’re so pretty.”

”She’s right, you know.” Hermione said, fondly looking at her own shining silver otter, gamboling around her. “They are sort of nice, aren’t they?”

Just then, another Patronus burst into the room. This one was a breathtakingly beautiful silver mare. She paused in the middle of the room, and opened her mouth.

”Umbridge has found out. You have a traitor. Burn the evidence, run away! Cedric and I will delay her as long as possible. Run!” The silver mare announced, in Daenerys’ voice.

The silver mare then dissolved, leaving behind a room full of motionless and terrified people.

”WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!” Harry bellowed. “RUN!”

As everyone pelted towards the door, Harry whirled around. Visenya had already incinerated the parchment with their names on it in a flash of fire, while Hermione was frantically running around the room, making sure that all evidence was destroyed.

They split up after they left the room, Visenya and Hermione heading for the closest female toilet while Harry dashed for the owlery. Alas, his luck was not holding strong, for he whirled around a corner only to run right into Umbridge, flanked by both the Head Boy and Head Girl and dozen-odd students, most of them Slytherins.

Reluctantly, Dany swung her wand at him, and Harry was stuck in a full body-bind curse.

———

1996, Hogwarts,

The only upside to this whole fiasco was that it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

Dany’s warning meant that over half the D.A. didn’t get nabbed. Not that Umbridge or the newly formed ‘Inquisitorial Squad’ hadn’t tried their damndest, sticking every single person they caught in the general vicinity into detention, regardless of reason.

Harry himself had been thoroughly amused as to how Visenya and Hermione had gotten off the hook.

Seeing that they weren’t about to make it to the girls loo, Visenya had dragged Hermione into an empty classroom, forcibly stripped the other girl down to her underwear, before removing her own clothes, and promptly started making out passionately with Hermione on the teacher’s desk.

They were caught by Blaise Zabini, whom took one look at the two of them and promptly chalked their sweaty and out-of-breath state to their… amorous activities, instead of them fleeing the scene of the crime, and decided not to report them.

In fact, he even said ‘Apologies for interrupting. Enjoy your evening.’ before leaving them alone in the classroom.

But unfortunately, Harry was the only one they had concrete proof was running the D.A.. He’d been stuck in detention for every single evening until the O.W.Ls, and Umbridge had tried on at least five occasions to force-feed him verisatum.

The first time, Dany had derailed the interrogation by asking Harry who killed Jon, getting him to admit under verisatum that Voldemort was back, and that he’d killed Jon.

Umbridge had been furious, and naturally disbelieved all claims, chalking it up to a faulty batch of verisatum. There was after all, no way that Voldemort was truly back, no?

She’d rounded on Dany after that incident, but Dany pulled off the act of a grieving lover consumed by emotion so well that Umbridge was forced to let it go.

The second time, Visenya set off a massive crate of enchanted fireworks right outside of Umbridge’s office, hundreds upon hundreds of pyrotechnics marvels that burned for days and were nigh-impossible to stop.

The third time, Harry had palmed a verisatum antidote brewed by Hermione.

The fourth time, Ginny Prewett had somehow transformed an entire corridor into a massive, foul-smelling swamp, interrupting the interrogation.

The fifth time, Peeves swatted the drink right out of Harry’s hands and splattered Umbridge with the contents of the mug, before upending the contents of a chamber pot all over her head.

That was the last time Umbridge had tried to slip Harry verisatum, for she’d exhausted Snape’s entire supply trying to interrogate Harry, and this was a potion that took an entire month to brew.

Not that it stopped the new Headmistress, for she’d doubled down on the detentions, keeping him in her office longer and longer. His right hand was perpetually bandaged, these days, and even nightly Murtlap soaks had been unable to keep it from scarring.

On Saturday morning, Harry was forced to bid farewell to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, as they marched down to the final match of the season.

As Ginny Prewett was the new seeker, Cormac McLaggen had taken her old spot as chaser. Visenya had filled Harry’s head with rants about what a terrible team player and general all-around unpleasant jerk he was, and Harry had seen firsthand during the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match how McLaggen’s lack of unity with the rest of the team seriously hampered their chances of winning.

But luckily, for today, Visenya had finally convinced Dany to make a reappearance on the team, allowing them to ditch McLaggen at long last. And just in time too, for this was Ravenclaw Captain Roger Davis’ final year. They’d always been the Gryffindor’s most skilled opponents in the whole school, and this was their swan song.

It would be their toughest match ever, and Visenya had been visibly fretting over it as the hours passed and the match came ever closer. Not even Harry’s usual promises of snogging and dates was enough to sway her.

Thankfully, Hermione had succeeded where Harry failed. His girlfriend had whispered something in Visenya’s ear, and then the fire was back in the smallest dragon.

———

1996, Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room,

Umbridge had only let Harry go well past lunchtime, and he’d trudged back to Gryffindor tower with a hand bleeding worse than ever before.

“Quid agis?” Harry tentatively asked the Fat Lady, wondering what he would find inside.

Her expression was unreadable as she replied, “You’ll see.”

And she swung open.

A roar of celebration erupted from the hole behind her. Harry gasped as people began to scream at the sight of him, several hands pulled him into the room.

”We won! We won!” Angelina Johnson was yelling, brandishing the silver Quidditch cup. “We won, Harry!”

Harry looked around, Visenya Targaryen was running straight at him. She had a hard, blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, she kissed him.

After several long moments— or it could have been half an hour, or several sunlit days— they broke apart. The room had gone very quiet. Harry’s eyes caught sight of Hermione, beaming at them both.

”She’s given permission.” Visenya softly said.

”What?”

”We won the cup, so I’m now your girlfriend too.” 

And with that, she kissed him once again. There were wolf-whistles, an outbreak of nervous giggling, a few awkward laughs, and then somebody started to applaud, and before Harry knew it, the whole room was offering congratulations, slapping their backs and cheering.

Not that they stayed for long, for Visenya grabbed Harry’s hand in a vice-like grip, and began dragging him to the Room of Requirement for a private celebration of their own.

———

1996, Ministry of Magic,

This couldn’t be happening.

Harry had barely finished his final O.W.L exam when Umbridge and a team of a dozen aurors arrested him. Someone had sent a letter to Harry. A really, really incriminating letter.

Purportedly from Sirius, it outlined a plot by Dumbledore to free the imprisoned Death Eaters. In exchange, they would cause madness and mayhem in Great Britain, pretending to be Voldemort back from the grave, intent on scaring the public into flocking to Dumbledore as their saviour. Thus allowing Dumbledore to gain power and become Minister for Magic, before turning Magical Britain into his personal fiefdom.

The letter claimed Harry as Dumbledore’s heir to the as-of-yet untaken throne, and informed him that ‘All was in place’. 

A blatant lie. For one, that was not Sirius’ handwriting. Too neat.

And for another, did they seriously think Dumbledore or Sirius were stupid enough to openly send such a provocative message to Harry, knowing that the mails were being read by the Inquisitorial Squad, without bothering with the most basic form of encryption? For all that they were making Dumbledore out to be some evil mastermind, they sure believed that he did all sorts of stupid things.

Not that Umbridge had particularly cared, joyfully ordering the aurors to arrest him on the spot. He’d fought back, with Cedric and Dany backing him up. They’d managed to incapacitate ten of the twelve, but went down due to sheer numbers.

Umbridge had stripped the Cedric and Dany of their status, and ordered them sent to the dungeons, while she flooed Harry straight to the Ministry, where he was thrown straight into a holding cell. He’d be tried for treason first thing the next day.

As he turned over on the stone-cold floor, clutching his threadbare blanket, Harry tried to get some sleep, hoping that Dumbledore and the Order would do something quick.

He’d barely managed to doze off, when there were fists banging on the bars. Harry looked up, hoping for a rescue, only to find himself staring into the masks of a dozen Death Eaters.

———

1996, Ministry of Magic, Department of Mysteries

"By the power of Pertho, Hagalaz, Eihwaz and Thurisaz, I beseech you, thunder of heavens! Fulmen Imperator!”

Harry immediately threw himself to the ground as lightning struck above him, knocking all the Death Eaters down. Alas, most were still alive, having shielded themselves from the worst of the blast.

“Harry! Here!” Visenya shouted, tossing his wand over.

Harry caught it, and they all began running away. Hermione, Visenya, Neville, Cedric and Dany. Dany flicked her wand at the shelves, causing row upon row of them to start toppling down. Hundreds if not thousands of glass orbs shattered, dozens of seers speaking their manifold prophecies.

Chapter Text

1996, Dragonstone,

Seconds later, or so it seemed to Harry, he was woken by what sounded like cannon-fire as the door burst open. Sitting bolt upright, he heard the rasp of the curtains pulled back; the dazzling sunlight seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand, he groped hopelessly for his glasses with the other.

”Wuzzgoinon?”

”We didn’t know you were here already!” Said a loud and excited voice, and a hand slapped him on his back.

”Senya, don’t hit him.” Said a softer and more calm voice reproachfully.

Harry’s hand found his glasses and he shoved them on, though the light was so bright he could hardly see anyway. He blinked a few times, and his two girlfriends, Hermione and Visenya came into focus.

”All right?” Senya cheerfully asked.

”Never been better.” Harry answered, slumping back onto the pillows. “You?”

”Mione still refuses to date me, even after wheedling all summer!” Senya pouted. “I mean, she’s dating you, and I’m dating you, but she still won’t let me date her.”

”Enough you.” Hermione fondly swatted Visenya upside the head. “So Harry, when did you arrive? Elia only told us just now.”

”About one o’clock this morning.”

”Were the muggles all right? They didn’t lock you up again, did they?” Senya asked.

”Same as usual. They didn’t talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How’re you, Hermione?”

”Oh, I’m fine.” Hermione said, sitting down on the edge of his bed, scrutinising Harry as though he were sickening for something.

He could tell that she was worried for him. He’d been pretty temperamental last summer after Jon’s death, and Sirius was closer to him than even Jon was.

“What’s the time? I didn’t miss breakfast, did I?”

”No, no.” Hermione shook her head. “We’ve barely started. There should be some once we head downstairs.”

The three of them got up and started heading downstairs.

”So Harry, what happened with you and Dumbledore last night?” Senya asked, as they walked.

”It wasn’t that exciting. He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name’s Horace Slughorn.”

”Oh.” Senya said. “We thought—“

Hermione flashed a warning look at Senya, and she changed tack faster than a Firebolt.

”— we thought it would be something like that.”

”You did?” Harry amusedly asked.

”Yeah… yeah. Now that Umbridge has been sacked, obviously we need a new DADA teacher, don’t we? So, er, what’s he like?”

”He looks a bit like a walrus and used to be Head of Slytherin.”

”Do you think he’ll be a good teacher?”

”Dunno. But he can’t be worse than Umbridge, can he?”

Their conversation ground to a halt, for they’d arrived at the dining room, and seated at the table was one of the last people he’d expected to see.

”Viktor?” Harry gaped.

Viktor Krum, Bulgarian National Quidditch Team MVP and fellow Triwizard Champion, was seated at the table.

”Hello, Harry.” Viktor greeted. “It is good to see you.”

”What— what are you doing here?”

”I see, so you did not know.” Viktor noted. “Rhaenys and I are getting married.”

”Oh, uh, wow. Congratulations.” 

He did not need to turn around to know that Hermione was currently trying to hide herself behind Harry, while Visenya was hissing like a cat.

Right then Aegon and Fleur Delacour suddenly entered the room, arm-in-arm. There was an engagement ring on her finger.

”Oh, you guys too, huh?”

Good Merlin, it was the Yule Ball all over again.

———

1996, Hogwarts Express,

The new fifth-year prefects had first shift for patrolling the train, so after the briefing in the Prefects’ Carriage by Head Boy Oakes and Head Girl Mercian, Harry and Hermione went to go find Visenya.

It wasn’t too hard, as things happened, they just had to find the largest concentration of pandemonium and screaming.

”And just why did you attack that gang of fourth-years?” Harry dryly asked.

”We leave you alone for twenty minutes and you’ve already gotten into another fight, honestly, Senya, we really can’t take our eyes off you, can we?” Hermione huffed at the exact same time.

Visenya snorted dismissively at their words, plonking back down into her seat.

”Those girls were asking me just how did I get Hermione to allow me to be your girlfriend as well.”

”I know that’s personal, but that’s no excuse to set their hair on fire.” Hermione flatly replied.

“No, you don’t get it. Those girls were asking how to get your permission to date Harry, as they want to be part of his ‘harem’ or whatever.”

Harry choked, and looked at the other people in the compartment in disbelief. Beside him, Hermione seemed to be doing her best goldfish impression.

”Oh yes, it was true.” Luna Lovegood airily said. “Lots of wrackspurts around them, you know. They were asking how pretty they had to be, or what dirty things they had to do to be accepted into your harem.”

”You aren’t creating a harem, are you, Harry? Because I’ll be insulted if you didn’t invite me.” Ginny Prewett semi-seriously asked.

”No! No! He’s not creating a harem!” Hermione insisted, Harry shaking his head alongside her. “We’re— our relationship is— arrgh!”

“It’s alright. We understand. It’s complicated.” Neville sympathetically said.

The two prefects sat down beside Visenya, and shut the compartment door.

”Oh, congratulations, by the way.” Ginny suddenly said, noting the second badge on Harry’s robes. “I always knew you’d make Quidditch Captain.”

”Thank you.”

”Prefect, Quidditch Captain, and quite likely to get Head Boy next year.” Ginny noted, ticking them off on her fingers. “You’re well on track to get the full suite.”

“I try my best.” 

“For us.” Visenya giggled, pecking Harry on the cheek. “Our boyfriend is amazing.”

”Only the very best for you, dear.” Harry jokingly replied.

On his other side, Hermione let out a snort of laughter.

Just then, one of the fourth-year girls that Senya had attacked returned. Romilda Vane from Gryffindor. She held in her hand a series of parchment scrolls tied by fancy violet ribbons.

”I’m supposed to deliver these to Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom and—“ Looking as though she’d bitten into something truly nasty. “— Visenya Targaryen. They’re lunch invitations from Professor Slughorn.”

———

1996, Hogwarts,

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins’ faces, and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione’s. Visenya looked simply dumbfounded.

”How did you do that?” She whispered to Harry as they left the dungeon.

”Got lucky, I suppose.” Said Harry, because Malfoy was within earshot.

Once they were safely back in the Prefect Dorm, however, he felt safe enough to tell them. Hermione’s face became stonier with every word he uttered.

”I suppose you think I cheated.” He finished, looking at Hermione’s expression.

”Well, it wasn’t exactly your own work, was it?” She said stiffly.

“I think it’s perfectly fine.” Visenya shrugged dismissively. “It’s not the Slytherins don’t do the same anyway.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t know.” Visenya blinked. “I forget neither of have older siblings to tell you this sort of thing. At the end of every year, Slytherin will discreetly approach all of the top NEWT students to buy their notes off of them.”

”What!?” Hermione repeated.

”Oh yeah. Dany was asked to sell her notes on DADA, Care and Ancient Runes last year. As well as Jon’s notes on transfiguration and charms. She didn’t sell, but the amount of gold offered is not small.”

“But— that’s—“ Hermione flailed.

“Huh, now that you mention it, they do the same thing in muggle schools as well.” Harry mused contemplatively. “I know Dudley once paid a small fortune to buy the notes off of the valedictorian. Joke was on him though; he barely understood most of it, and wound up failing anyway.”

“Exactly! At the end of every year, the Slytherins will do pretty much the same thing as your cousin. Buy the notes from the best students in the year before, and use all of the shortcuts and improvements that these students have come up with to score better in class.” Visenya exclaimed.

Hermione let out a scandalised noise.

“Oh, I did always wonder how Crabbe and Goyle scored higher in potions than Neville. They’re even more unskilled at potions than he is, yet they’ve together only made about a tenth as many catastrophic blunders as Neville has. It makes a lot more sense, if they’re using a safer or easier recipe.” Harry agreed.

”Uh huh. They do the same in all classes, but it’s most obvious in potions. Little changes in the recipe can make a big difference, as you’ve found out today.” Visenya paused. “But it’s a big risk. Most modifications result in a worse effect than a better one, and the Slytherins have been known to slip decoy ones around. Doreah from Dany’s year once tried a supposedly ‘improved’ recipe, only for her cauldron to explode. It’s usually safer to stick to the textbook. But if you’ve gotten ahold of an untampered source…”

“We can turn it back around on them! Slytherin’s century-long domination on potions can come to an end!” Harry exclaimed.

The two of them looked eagerly at each other, then turned to face Hermione, whom looked rather conflicted. Outrage, disapproval and disappointment warred with temptation and vindictiveness.

“I don’t approve of doing this. It feels like cheating.” She paused, and closed her eyes for a very long time before speaking. “But then again, they started cheating first, so this can be considered evening the playing field.”

Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself.

”We will show this book to Professor Slughorn, and ask his opinion on the matter. If he agrees that it’s safe to use, then we’ll use it. However, I will be distributing copies of these improved recipes to everyone. We will not be Slytherin, and hoard this precious knowledge.”

Harry mulled it over a bit. Sharing the improved recipes would be giving up quite the advantage, an advantage that had already won him the Felix Felicis. 

But at the same time, Harry remembered the uphill battle against the Slytherin Quidditch team back in his second year, after Malfoy had bought them all superior broomsticks. Was this not more of the same? Someone had acquired an unfair advantage, and now could choose either to profit off of it, or spread it out and even the playing field. Win fair and square.

”Very well then. But I’m still making a copy of this first, in the unlikely event that Slughorn does take it away from me.”

———

1996, Hogwarts, Quidditch Pitch,

After two hours, many complaints and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet 260 and several broken teeth, Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell and Ginny Prewett both retained their spots on the team, after two very excellent trials. And Demelza Robins, a new find who was particularly good at dodging bludgers, would be taking the graduated Alicia Spinnet’s old position.

Pleased though he was with his choices, Harry had also shouted himself hoarse at the many complainers and was now enduring a similar battle with the rejected Beaters.

”That’s my final decision, and if you don’t get out of the way for the Keepers, it’s detention!” He bellowed.

McLaggen turned red, and growled menacingly. Harry idly palmed his wand, noting that McLaggen looked like he might try hit him, but he contented himself with storming back into the line for Keepers while muttering curses into the air.

Good grief, but Harry would have given up all the gold in his vault for Daenerys Stormborn’s unparalleled ability to terrify half of Gryffindor into submission. Even someone as bullish and pigheaded as McLaggen had tread lightly around her.

To be fair, McLaggen had outperformed the competition by a clear margin, but as always, his personality meant that Harry was keeping up the age-old tradition of Gryffindor Captains only ever picking him as a last resort. While neither of his chosen Beaters had anything on Jon or even Angelina, he was reasonably pleased with the three he found.

Gendry Baratheon had returned to the team, having grown even larger and stronger over the past summer. After Gendry, inheriting Angelina Johnson’s old position, was Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry’s head with a ferociously hit Bludger. And finally, earning a spot as reserve beater was Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well. Jimmy and Ritchie now joined Katie, Ginny and Demelza in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member, while Gendry joined the line for Keepers.

Harry had deliberately left the trial of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately, however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now, so that it was larger than ever. As each Keeper flew up to the goalhoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure.

Beside him, Visenya was a delicate shade of green. Harry had been hoping that a consistent string of victories from last year, as well as her new relationship as his girlfriend would have cured her. But apparently not. She looked just as nervous and anxious as the first time they played a match.

“You’ll do fine.” Harry whispered in her ear. “I know it.”

“But… but… There’s so many people. What happens if someone out there is better than me?” Senya stammered. “What happens if I can’t win fair and square? I don’t want people to think I only got in cuz I’m your girlfriend.”

”Hey, I’ve seen you play from last year. You were amazing then, and you’re amazing now.” Harry told her, putting his forehead on hers. Not an easy feat, given that Senya was over a foot shorter than he was. “None of them have anything on you.”

”You can’t be sure—“

”I’ll treat you to a really special surprise if you get in.” Harry promised, pulling her into a kiss and interrupting her bellyaching.

He’d hoped that his old trick of promising intimacy in exchange for results would put the fire in her belly, but alas, his girlfriend had wisened up to his tricks.

“Like you wouldn’t give it to me anyway, even if I failed.” Visenya grunted. “Alright. I… I can do this.”

Harry believed her.

But he didn’t think she believed herself.

Thankfully, it soon became apparent that the overwhelming majority of hopefuls were utterly hopeless. Out of the five shots the Chasers threw, only three of them managed to save more than two apiece; Visenya, McLaggen and Gendry.

Gendry saved four out of five, while the other two both saved the full set, prompting a tiebreaker.

Harry was tempted to ditch McLaggen there and then, but Visenya was right. She needed to prove she got onto the team on her own merits, not because of her relationship with Harry.

Five more shots.

McLaggen went first, and managed to save four out of the five. On the last one, however, he shot off in completely the wrong direction. The crowd laughed and booed, as McLaggen returned to the ground grinding his teeth.

”Good luck!” Hermione called out, as Senya went up once more, looking ready to pass out.

Yet Harry need not have worried. Visenya saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row.

”Visenya is Keeper!” Harry announced. “McLaggen, you’re her substitute.”

They’d barely landed when there was a bellow of rage. Harry turned to see McLaggen charging him like a bull, fists raised, only for a stunner to take him straight in the face, causing him to faceplant into the ground.

Behind Harry, Visenya twirled her wand like a gunslinger, before returning it into her sleeve. A massive shit-eating grin on her face.

“I stand corrected. Gendry, you’re her substitute. I know you were disappointed not to make the team, but that’s no excuse to take it out on others, McLaggen. In fact, that’s completely the wrong attitude for a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team to have. We work together and support one another here. Enjoy your detention.”

Chapter Text

1996, Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room,

“Harry, we’re going off to the Slug Club now.” Visenya informed him.

His two girlfriends had always looked lovely, but they looked especially radiant tonight. Both Hermione and Visenya had done their hair up, as well as put on makeup. They were also wearing matching dresses, with Hermione in a flowing red dress, while Visenya wore an identical one in black.

”All right, have fun you two.” Harry waved as his two girlfriends clambered into the portrait hole.

”It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.” Hermione said, hand on the door. “Slughorn will be happy to have you.”

”No thanks. I don’t like attending all these boring parties. Moreover, I don’t like being the center of attention, of being some show horse that Slughorn trots out for his favourites.”

”It’s your loss.” Visenya shrugged, taking Hermione by the arm. “Come on, Mione, it’s a date.”

”No it’s not!” Hermione insisted, blushing red. “We’re just going to a party… together… as friends.”

”In short, it’s a date, darling.” Visenya drawled.

Harry chuckled as his girlfriends left the common room, bickering fondly as they left. Despite Hermione’s flustered insistence that they were just friends, Harry couldn’t help but note that they were leisurely ambling towards Slughorn’s office, arm-in-arm and with a lot more skinship than was strictly platonic.

Slughorn had been trying to invite the three of them into his little exclusive club. Him in particular.

Harry had initially wanted to use Quidditch practise as an excuse to decline, but was stymied in the fact that Visenya did want to attend, despite his silver-haired girlfriend professing a thorough disinterest in ‘pretending I actually care who so-and-so is and what so-and-so can do for me’. This forced Harry to make up increasingly tortured excuses as to why he could not attend, much to his consternation.

It took Harry an embarrassingly long time to realise that while Harry’s silver-haired girlfriend was disinterested in the Slug Club, she was very interested when it came to Harry’s bushy-haired girlfriend, whom did enjoy attending the Slug Club.

Hermione and Visenya didn’t go on dates together; not for lack of trying on Senya’s part. And by dates, Harry meant the lovey-dovey kind, not the platonic ‘going out as friends’ kind. Those they did. But for actual romantic dates? Harry went with Hermione. Harry went with Visenya. Harry went with both Hermione and Visenya at the same time.

But Hermione never went with Visenya.

Until now. Despite Hermione’s insistence otherwise, it absolutely was a date between the two of them.

Senya’s efforts seemed to be paying off, for as of late, she and Hermione were arm-in-arm more oft than not, and Hermione had grown considerably more tolerant of Visenya’s advances.

In fact, just the other day, Hermione had actually let Senya kiss her, instead of batting the other girl away as usual, much to Harry and Senya’s surprise.

Alas, Senya’s Quidditch endeavours were far less successful than her romantic ones.

Harry had known all along that Visenya was an inconsistent player who suffered from nerves and a lack of confidence, and unfortunately the looming prospect of the opening game of the season seemed to have brought out all of her old insecurities.

Particularly after Katie’s incapacitation.

While Dean Thomas was a good player, and worked flawlessly with Ginny and Demelza, he had nothing on Katie. This meant that in absence of Gryffindor’s best Chaser, a correspondingly greater burden had been laid upon Keeper Visenya’s shoulders.

After a series of disastrous training sessions, Harry’s girlfriend seemed on the verge of quitting the team.

Nothing Harry said made any difference. He tried boosting her confidence by bringing up all of her games won, but she pointed out that he couldn’t motivate her like he used to. He tried to claim that she was an irreplaceable member of the team, but that was undermined by the fact that Gendry had quite the newfound talent for Keeping, and they had a reserve Beater waiting in the wings. He tried anger, to provoke Visenya into a defiant, and hopefully goal-saving, attitude, but this strategy did not work any better than encouragement.

Harry needed something. Something that would make Visenya pull herself together. Something that would make her play at the top of her form. Something that would put the fire in her belly. Something that would motivate her to go beyond and surpass her previous limits.

Promising intimacy wouldn’t work. Not anymore. Unlike last year, Senya was now neither inexperienced, nor a virgin. As his girlfriend, she already had all he could give, and no matter how desperate for a victory he was, Harry would never stoop to withholding or withdrawing such privileges to motivate her.

If only there was some miracle potion that he could feed to Visenya…

And then the answer came to Harry in one, sudden, glorious stroke of inspiration.

——— 

1996, Hogwarts, Quidditch Pitch,

Visenya and Harry were the last two in the changing room. They were just about to leave when Hermione entered. She was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked upset but determined.

“I want a word with you, Harry.” She took a deep breath. “You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it’s illegal.”

”What are you going to do, turn us in?” Demanded Visenya.

”What are you two talking about?” Harry asked, turning around to hang up his robes so that neither of them would see him grinning.

”You know perfectly well what we’re talking about!” Hermione shrilly said. “You spiked Senya’s juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!”

”No I didn’t.” Harry said, turning to face them.

”Yes you did, Harry. And that’s why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing, and Senya saved everything.”

”I didn’t put it in!” Harry grinned. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen in his hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. “I just wanted Senya to think I’d done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking.”

He looked at Senya.

“You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself.”

He pocketed the potion again.

”There really wasn’t anything in my pumpkin juice?” Visenya gaped, astounded. “But the weather’s good… and Vaisey couldn’t play… I honestly haven’t been given lucky potion?”

Harry shook his head, and took several steps forward, before kissing her on the forehead.

”No, it was all you. You see, you’re a good player. One of the best I’ve seen. You just have to believe in yourself.”

Harry looked over Senya’s head at his other girlfriend.

”I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Hermione. But I needed you to fall for it as well. I needed you to react that way, otherwise Senya wouldn’t have bought it.”

“You— you—“ Hermione stammered, seemingly lost for words.

She eventually shook her head and sighed.

”Well, at least it all worked out. I suppose there’s an important lesson to be learnt here; If you believe in yourself, anything is possible.”

Hermione let out another sigh, then glared daggers at Harry.

”But don’t ever do that ever again. I don’t appreciate being used as a pawn.”

”Hey, you know what they say; To deceive your enemies, you must first deceive your friends.” Visenya grinned, pulling Harry and Hermione into a group hug. “And you’re no pawn, Mione. More of a bishop.”

———

1996, Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room

“Incidentally, Harry, you need to be careful.” Hermione said as the two of them walked back to Gryffindor Tower. “I went into the girl’s bathroom just before our patrol and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. She and her friends seem to have come to the conclusion that if you can have two girlfriends, a few more wouldn’t hurt. I’m not sure how effective those love potions really are, but better not risk it.”

”Why didn’t you confiscate them, then?” Demanded Harry. It seemed extraordinary that Hermione’s mania for upholding rules could have abandoned her at this crucial juncture.

“They didn’t have the potions with them in the bathroom.” Hermione scornfully said. “They were just discussing tactics. So be very careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business.”

Harry let out a long sigh, and said the password to the Common Room.

”Hi, Harry!”

Speak of the devil. Harry had barely clambered inside when Romilda Vane approached.

”Fancy a Gillywater?”

”No thanks.” Harry quickly said. “I don’t like it much.”

”Well, take these anyway.” Said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. “Chocolate Cauldrons, they’ve got firewhiskey in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don’t like them.”

”Oh— right— thanks a lot.” Harry stammered, who could not think of what else to say. Thankfully, he spotted Visenya out of the corner of his eye. “Er, I have to go talk to Visenya about something now, see you.”

And he immediately hurried off to his girlfriend, resolving to get rid of those Chocolate Cauldrons at first possible opportunity.

———

1997, Hogwarts, Prefect Dorms

One of the biggest upsides to being a prefect was the fact that prefects got private rooms in the Prefect Dorm. However, most of the prefects didn’t actually live there, many preferring to stay with their friends in their original dorms.

Harry and Hermione were no exception, both preferring the proximity and companionship of their roommates in Gryffindor Tower, as well as a strong desire not to live next-door to Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, whom did live full-time in the Prefect Dorm. That being said, they still occasionally made use of their private rooms, particularly for private matters.

Panting from the exertion, Harry collapsed onto the bed in his private room, rolling over such that he was facing up a heartbeat later. His two girlfriends cuddled into his sides, Hermione on his right, and Visenya on his left. All three of them naked as the day they were born.

It wasn’t the first time they’d had sex.

Harry and Hermione had lost their virginities to each other shortly after the D.A. was founded, and Harry had taken Visenya’s right after the final match against Ravenclaw last year.

But it was the first time they’d all done it together. A birthday treat for Visenya.

”That…” Hermione panted. “That was surprisingly enjoyable.”

”I think it was better with three instead of just two.” Senya agreed, fingers dancing across Harry’s chest.

”You two were amazing.” Harry breathlessly told them. “I could get addicted to this.”

The three of them lay together, basking in the afterglow of the sex for a while.

”So, was this a good birthday present?” Hermione asked.

”The best ever!” Visenya grinned, practically glowing like a million watts. “I love you two, you know?”

Harry and Hermione both laughed at how easy to please Senya was.

“You’re just easy to please.” Hermione laughed. “We know what you like.”

”Sex, Quidditch, dragons, more sex, kissing, romantic dates, and sex afterwards, blowing stuff up, food, even more sex—“ Harry began listing on his fingers before Visenya smacked him with a pillow.

”Hush you.” She chided, blushing.

Though as Harry wryly noted, not denying that she did like all of those things.

“Pity Slughorn isn’t as easy a nut to crack.” Visenya lamented, cuddling closer.

”I’ve been trying for over two months.” Harry sighed, leaning back on the pillows. “I’ve gone to his parties, I’ve talked to him after class, I’ve tried flattering him… buying gifts… buying him gifts that flatter him… everything. And nothing has worked, nothing!”

”It’s as I’ve said. Slughorn is most likely deeply embarrassed at whatever incriminating contents that memory contains.” Hermione said. “He’s refused Dumbledore, whom, pardon me, is far better at persuasion and manipulation than you’ll ever be, Harry. I just don’t see a way to do it.”

”Yeah, but I—“

Crack!

Hermione let out a great shriek and clutched the blankets to her chest, Visenya toppled off of the bed and Harry yelled: “Dobby!”

“Oh, Dobby is deeply sorry for interrupting Harry Potter’s mating. Dobby will come back later.”

Crack!

After several highly embarrassing moments, the three of them had put their clothes back on and were decent again.

”Dobby.” Harry called, and the elf responded, apparating back into the room with another crack.

”Dobby is again sorry for disturbing Harry Potter and his lovelies. Dobby brings apologies.” He said, shamefully offering a small tray with two small bottles atop it.

”Oh, uh… we don’t need any Moon Tea.” Visenya blushed. “We were using contraceptive spells.”

”Thanks anyway, Dobby.” Hermione, ever polite towards elves, said. “But what was it you needed to tell us?”

”Ah, yes. Dobby is giving Harry Potter and friends this letter.”

Harry had initially expected it to be from Dumbledore, but instead it was from Hagrid.

“Aragog died.” He noted, reading the tear-stained parchment. “Hagrid is asking us to attend the funeral tomorrow evening.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Hermione sighed.

”He’s mental!” Visenya incredulously exclaimed. “That thing told its mates to eat Harry and I! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!”

“He seems really distraught, though. He’s my friend, and I—“

This precipitated a short but furious argument between Harry and his two girlfriends, which he reluctantly conceded.

”Fine, I suppose Hagrid will have to bury Aragog without us.” Harry sighed. “Tough luck for him, I—“

”Lucky.” Visenya suddenly said. “Harry, that’s it— get lucky!”

”What do you mean?”

”Use your lucky potion, to get the memory off Slughorn!”

”Senya, that’s— that’s it! Of course! Why didn’t I think of it? You’re a genius!” Hermione exclaimed, and to their surprise, kissing Visenya on the lips.

”Yeah, you’re a genius. I was sort of saving it, but what else is more important than this memory?” Harry agreed, kissing Visenya as well.

———

1997, Hogwarts,

There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded. Harry attempted a leg-locker curse that backfired off the wall behind Malfoy’s ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly. Water poured everywhere and Harry slipped over as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried “Cruci—“

”Fulmen Imperator!” Harry bellowed from the floor, a torrent of lighting bursting out of the tip of his wand and striking Malfoy.

Unlike Daenerys’ use of the spell, Harry’s was uncontrolled, wild. Raw electricity cackled out and struck everything, smashing entire cubicles to kindlings. Harry screamed as the water electrified, tendrils of pain shooting up his arm and legs as the current flowed through them, boiling his blood.

Malfoy collapsed to the floor, covered nearly head-to-toe in electrical burns. Harry fell to the ground a heartbeat, strength failing him.

The last thing he saw before he passed out was an approaching bat-like figure.

———

Harry lost his prefect’s badge.

After he’d gotten out of the hospital wing, Professor McGonagall had summoned him to her office, where she’d given him a fifteen-minute long dressing down on ‘Why you don’t fool around with spells you do not fully understand or know how to cast’, how ‘Ancient Magic is not some schoolyard hex you can throw around willy-nilly’ and ‘You are very lucky you’re not expelled, or worse, dead!’.

To his horror, she’d wholeheartedly supported Snape’s punishment of detention every Saturday morning until the end of term.

By far and away the worst was the looks on the Gryffindor team when he told them that he couldn’t play for the final match of the season. He’d been unable to meet their eyes, unwilling to see their disappointment and anger.

”Ginny, you’re Seeker.” He listlessly said. “Dean will rejoin as Chaser in your spot.”

Harry pulled off his Captain’s badge, stared at it longingly for a second, before he pinned it onto Visenya’s robes.

”Visenya, you’re in charge now. Keep up the good work. We already beat Slytherin and Hufflepuff easily, and we can— or more accurately, you can— beat Ravenclaw just fine.”

———

They’d won, overwhelmingly, but neither Hermione nor Visenya were in Gryffindor Tower. Nobody had seen either of them since the match ended hours ago.

Harry had begged off the raucous party, one of the wildest he’d ever seen at Hogwarts.

A dozen Gryffindors were tossing Ginny into the air repeatedly. Gendry and the Beaters were doing a sort of war dance that went to the tune of ‘We won big! We won big! We won big!’, and Katie Bell had filled the Quidditch cup with firewhiskey and was trying to chug the whole thing down in a single go.

As soon as he was clear of the Common Room, he pulled out the Marauder’s Map and searched for his two girlfriends, but was unable to find them anywhere. He’d searched and searched and searched, before he kicked himself and realised that there were two parts of Hogwarts not on the map; the Chamber of Secrets and the Room of Requirement.

The door to the Room was visible to him, which meant that Harry was expected, or at least allowed inside.

He’d barely entered, only to see two female bodies deeply entangled on a bed conjured by the Room, naked as the day they were born. There was an empty bottle of Dornish Red and two wineglasses on the table, as well as the distinct smell of passionate lovemaking in the air.

Both Hermione and Visenya were asleep, holding hands and facing each other, faint smiles on both their faces.

———

1997, Hogwarts, Great Lake,

The funeral-goers were slowly dispersing.

Viktor was helping Rhaenys limp back to the hospital wing. Beside her, Fleur was doing the same for Aegon. Elia’s two blood-children had insisted on attending, grievous wounds or no.

”It’s just a scratch.” Rhaenys insisted. “And it wasn’t the full moon anyway. It’s not that bad…”

”You look like someone dragged you kicking and screaming out of bed, before stabbing you half a hundred times with a knife.” Visenya had bluntly told her elder sister.

She’d then turned to face Aegon.

”And you look like someone has smashed your head on a wall.”

”Because that is exactly what happened to me.” Aegon grumbled. “Fucking Gregor Clegane…”

Regardless, those two had clearly inherited Lyanna’s stubbornness as well, and had, after a lot of shouting and screaming, managed to browbeat their way into being allowed to attend.

Harry turned and walked away slowly as well, leaving behind Dumbledore’s tomb, waiting for them to catch up. It pained him, to lose his best sources of comfort in this world hurtling so headlong into tragedy, but he had to. It was his duty.

”Look, let me go back and hit Viserys.” Senya was begging.

”No, you can’t do that.” Hermione firmly said, grabbing onto her arm.

”It’ll make me feel better!” 

“Harry, help me—“ Hermione begun.

”Mione, Senya, listen…” Harry interrupted her, turning to face his two girlfriends. “I can’t be involved with either of you anymore. We’ve got to stop seeing one another. We can’t be together.”

”No.” Visenya flatly said.

”Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He’ll—“

”No.” Hermione agreed, just as firm. “We’re in this together now, sink or swim. We don’t care if he’ll come after us. We’ll be right by your side until the bitter end.”

”We can’t. I’ve got things to do now. Things I have to do alone. I’m not returning to school next year, even if it does reopen.”

”You’ve said to us once before, all the way back in our first year.” Hermione quietly recalled. “That there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We’ve had time, haven’t we?”

”We’re with you whatever happens.” Visenya agreed. “And there’s nothing you can say to change our minds.”

There was a long silence, as Harry looked from one girlfriend’s face to the other. He could always tell when they’d hold firm and refuse to budge, the way their faces would set in stubborn determination. This was more than that. They were committed to the hilt, no matter how dangerous this journey would be.

”Very well then.” Harry reluctantly acquiesced.

”Excellent.” Visenya nodded. “So, what’s the plan?”

”I’m going back to the Dursleys’ once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to. But it’ll be a short visit, then I’ll be gone for good. Next, I was thinking of visiting Godric’s Hollow, where it all began. I’ve got a feeling that I need to go there. And I can visit my parents’ graves, I’d like that.”

”Afterwards?”

”Then I’ve got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, don’t I? That’s what he wanted me to do. That’s why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right— and I’m sure he was— there’s still four of them out there. I’ve got to find them and destroy them and then I’ve got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort’s soul, the bit that’s still in his body, and I’m the one that’s going to kill him. And if I meet Severus Snape along the way, so much the better for me, so much the worse for him.”

Hermione let out a long breath, and slowly nodded her head.

“We’re with you whatever happens. But there’s one thing you have to do first, before any of that.” Visenya told him.

”And what’s that?”

”Rhae and Egg’s weddings, remember? It’s going to be a single ceremony, both of them, and Mama Elia will probably murder you if you miss it. And Mama Lya would help her!”

Harry looked at his girlfriend, startled. The idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful.

”Yeah, anything to avoid your mothers’ wraths.” Harry finally agreed.

Chapter Text

1997, Number Four, Privet Drive,

Under the cover of darkness, Seven Potters set off for seven different safehouses.

Mad-Eye with a disguised Mundungus on a broom.

Lyanna with a disguised Visenya in her flying Ferrari.

Rhaenys with a disguised Viktor on her dragon Balerion. To help sell this particular deception, Viktor had been lent Harry’s Firebolt.

Aegon with a disguised Fleur on his dragon Rhaegal.

Dany with a disguised Hermione on her dragon Drogon.

Lupin with a disguised Tonks on threstal.

And finally, Hagrid with the real Harry himself. Both leaving on the very same motorbike that first brought Harry to Privet Drive.

“Good luck, everyone.” Shouted Moody. “See you all in a few hours at Dragonstone. On the count of thee. One… two… THREE!”

There was a great roar from the motorbike and Harry felt the sidecar give a nasty lurch: he was rising through the air fast, his eyes watering slightly, hair whipped back off his face. Around him, brooms were soaring upwards as well; most heading for the dragons hovering in the air, too large to land in Uncle Vernon’s backyard.

For the first five minutes, all was calm.

Mad-Eye and Balerion broke off to the south. Lyanna’s Ferrari activated its invisibility booster and vanished from sight. Rhaegal and Lupin both peeled off towards the west a heartbeat later.

Drogon and Hagrid’s motorcycle both flew northwards, not particularly close, but Daenerys’ mount was the size of a plane, making it easy to spot.

And then all hell broke loose.

There was a flash of magic, and Lyanna’s Ferrari rippled back into view with the sound of shattering glass, invisibility booster shredded. Killing curses were fired, so many and so much that the sky was tinged green for a brief moment.

Hagrid gave a yell, and the motorcycle rolled over. Harry felt his rucksack— magically expanded to hold all his belongings— slip out from beneath his knees. He barely managed to seize the strap of the rucksack, pulling it back into his lap with a sonorous crash.

”Hold on Harry!” Hagrid yelled as he floored the throttle, performing evasive manoeuvres to evade the twenty or so Death Eaters chasing after them.

Not too far away, Lyanna was heading back down to the streets of London with her Ferrari, hoping to lose the Death Eaters in traffic.

On their other side, Daenerys had summoned a massive tempest. A hurricane of grey stormclouds positively incandescent with lightning whirling into existence around her and her mount. She took about ten Death Eaters with her, all heading to the northeast.

———

1997, Dragonstone,

Harry and Hagrid collapsed unceremoniously into Dragonstone’s courtyard. He’d landed on his hands and knees, and rose to his feet with swaying steps.

They were surrounded on all sides by walls of fused black stone, with nearly a hundred siege engines pointed down at them from every conceivable angle. Trebuchets, catapults, scorpions, ballistae and even a few cannons. All of them manned by animated statues, all aimed at Harry and Hagrid.

”Dilligrout!” Hagrid roared.

Elia Martell waved her wand, and the siege engines disarmed. Returned to standby position instead of actively aiming at them. Hagrid must’ve said the right password.

”Harry, you’re the real Harry? What happened? Where are the others?” Elia Martell worriedly asked.

”What do you mean? Isn’t anyone else back?” Harry panted.

The answer was clearly etched on Elia’s pale face.

”The Death Eaters were waiting for us.” Harry told her. “We were surrounded only a few moments after we took off— they knew it was tonight— I don’t know what happened to anyone else. Four of them chased us, it was all we could do to get away, and then Voldemort caught up with us…”

He could hear the self-justifying note in his voice, the plea for her to understand why he did not know what happened to her wife and children, but—

“Thank goodness you’re all right.” Elia said, pulling Harry into a hug he did not feel he deserved.

“Haven’t go’ any brandy, have yeh, Elia?” Asked Hagrid a little shakily. “Fer medicinal purposes?”

”Yes, yes. It’s in the dining room. Ask the elves to guide you there.”

Hagrid lumbered off, and Harry and Elia both walked to one side, behind a fortified barricade.

”What happened to the others?” Harry asked.

”Remus and Tonks were supposed to be back first, but their portkey came back with nobody on it.” Elia informed him. “Next was Mad-Eye and Dung, but once again, their portkey arrived with nobody.”

She gestured at a rusty oilcan, right beside the blue hairbrush that was Harry’s.

“Third was you and Hagrid.” Elia checked her watch. “If they made it, next should be Lya and Senya…”

She’d barely finished the words when there was a ripple of blue light, and Lyanna and Visenya appeared in the courtyard.

Harry knew at once that something was wrong. Visenya was supporting her mother, who was unconscious and whose head was covered with blood.

”Winterfel!” Visenya screamed the password, and Elia hastily lowered the defences once more.

They both sprinted towards mother and daughter. Elia levitating her wife into an antechamber off the courtyard, where a makeshift infirmary had been set up. As the light fell over Lyanna’s, Elia gasped and Harry’s stomach lurched: Lyanna’s left ear was missing. The side of her head and neck were drenched in shockingly scarlet blood.

Senya fell into Harry’s arms a heartbeat later, shaking as she wept and cried.

Elia seemed to have staunched the bleeding, and vanished the blood. A flick of her wand and bandages wrapped themselves around Lyanna’s head, as a house-elf poured potions down her mouth.

”What happened?” Elia asked, as she laid her wife down to rest.

”It… it was Snape!” His girlfriend choked out from between sobs. “He cursed Mama Lya’s ear off!”

”Snape?” Shouted Harry. “He did this?!”

”Yeah, he— he lost his hood during the fight.” Senya stammered out, trembling in Harry’s arms. “Hit Mama Lya with a—with a Sectumsempra, you know, his favourite curse?”

She took a long and deep breath, and steadied herself.

”It cut straight through the car roof and struck Mama Lya. I had to take over and drive… dove the Ferrari into the River Thames— thank goodness for submarine mode— and hit the self-destruct. I then grabbed Mama Lya and my broom and apparated us away. They must’ve thought we died when we hit the river, because we weren’t pursued the rest of the way. I managed to fly us both to Uncle Ned’s house completely unmolested.”

There was a long pause as Elia took in her youngest child’s words.

”And to think I gave Lya so much grief about those ‘useless’ features.” Elia ruefully muttered, shaking her head. “Self-destruct, I swear… I can’t believe it saved your lives.”

Another portkey materialised in the courtyard, with no one on it.

”Oh no, that was Dany and Hermione’s.”

Harry felt a great lurch in his stomach at Elia’s words. His bushy-haired girlfriend was still unaccounted for. Beside him, Visenya looked a rather green with anxiety as well.

Just then, there was a great shrieking cry, and a threstral descended out of the sky, landing in the courtyard. Lupin and Tonks slid off, windswept but unhurt.

”Chameleon!” Lupin yelled, and the defences let them in.

“Oh thank goodness.” Harry and Senya breathed, running out to face them. “What happened? Why did you miss your portkey?”

”Bellatrix!” Tonks exclaimed. “She wants me quite as much as she wants Harry. She tried very hard to kill me, to kill us both. We had to take a detour in order to lose them.”

Tonks fell to her knees a heartbeat later, hand over her mouth as she turned green. Visenya hurriedly put an arm under Tonks’ and took her away.

”By the time we reached Benjen’s place, the portkey was gone.” Lupin tersely said. “We’ve been betrayed. Voldemort knew you were being moved tonight and the only people that could have told him were directly involved in the plan.”

”None of the Order would have told Voldemort we were moving tonight.” Harry insisted; the idea was dreadful to him, he could not believe it in any of them. “Voldemort only caught up with me towards the end, he didn’t know which one I was in the beginning. If he’d been in on the plan, he’d have known from the start I was the one with Hagrid.”

“Voldemort caught up with you?” Lupin sharply asked. “What happened, how did you escape?”

Harry explained, briefly about the chase, and how he’d disarmed Stan Shunpike, which allowed the Death Eaters to recognise him and summon Voldemort. This prompted an argument with Lupin over how the time was long past for mercy and pulling punches, an argument which only ended when the next portkey materialised.

”Sunspear!” Rhaenys yelled the password, as she and Viktor stumbled towards them.

Viktor threw over Harry’s Firebolt, which he gratefully caught. Elia ran out of the infirmary, weeping as she hugged her oldest daughter.

”Mad-Eye is dead.” Rhaenys grimly announced.

Nobody spoke, nobody moved. Harry felt as though something inside him was falling, falling through the Earth, leaving him forever.

”We saw it.” Rhaenys told them, Viktor nodding, looking stricken. “It happened just after we left the charm’s radius; we were flying in the same direction. You-Know-Who— he can fly!— went straight after them. Dung panicked, disapparated. Mad-Eye got hit by the killing curse instead. Fell off his broom… there was nothing we could do, nothing, we had half a dozen of them on our own tail—“

Rhaenys broke down crying a heartbeat later, her mother and fiancé holding her tight as she bawled.

”It’s alright. We understand that you couldn’t do anything.”

They all stood looking at each other. Harry could not quite comprehend it. Mad-Eye dead; it could not be… Mad-Eye, so tough, so brave, the consummate survivor.

The small fugue state they were all in was only broken when the last portkey finally arrived.

”Griff!” Aegon shouted, as he and Fleur took a few unsteady steps forward.

They paused, seeing the looks on everyone’s faces.

”Oh… what happened? Who’s—“

”Mad-Eye.” Lupin said. “Dead.”

Both Aegon and Fleur grimaced in shock.

“Dany and Hermione are currently still unaccounted for.” Elia added. “We don’t know if—“

The sound of wingbeats reached their ears, and a large shape descended from the clouds.

Drogon was badly battered. The largest dragon in House Targaryen’s stable was bleeding boiling blood from a dozen wounds, including a particularly nasty six-foot-long gash under his left wing.

The black dragon landed unsteadily in the courtyard, and Harry’s breath hitched as two people descended from the saddle. Hermione flung herself into Harry’s arms, while Dany stumbled when she touched solid ground, exhausted.

”Khaleesi.” Dany weakly wheezed out her password, Rhaenys and Aegon catching her as she stumbled.

”Dany, are you alright?” Aegon asked, as his aunt sagged, her eyes closing. Harry couldn’t help but note that Daenerys Stormborn’s omnipresent aura of ozone and sparks was absent.

”Magical exhaustion. She fought a running battle against ten Death Eaters. ” Hermione told them all. “And we— we fought Voldemort! He— he can—“

”Fly.” Harry supplied. “I saw him too, he came after Hagrid and I.”

”Oh— oh, so that’s why stopped chasing us.” Hermione breathlessly said.

“This fits. Voldemort acted exactly as Mad-Eye predicted. Mad-Eye said that he’d expect the real Harry to be with the toughest, most skilled protector.” Lupin grimly said. “He killed Mad-Eye first, then switched onto Daenerys…”

”Mad-Eye is dead?” Hermione weakly repeated.

”And Lyanna lost an ear.” Elia said. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s get inside. No point staying out in the cold…”

———

“‘The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore’ … yes, here we are… ‘to Visenya Lyarra Targaryen, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that it will keep her and her loved ones safe from the hellfires of evil.’”

Scrimgeour took from the bag an object that Harry had seen before: it looked like a silver cigarette lighter but it had, he knew, the power to suck all light from a place, and restore it, with a simple click. Scrimegeour leaned forward and passed the Deluminator to Visenya, who took it and turned it over in her fingers, looking stunned.

“That is a valuable object.” Scrimgeour said, watching Visenya. “It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore’s own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?”

Visenya shook her head, looking bewildered.

”Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students.” Scrimgeour persevered. “Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you three. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator to, Lady Visenya?”

”To put out the lights, I suppose.” Mumbled Visenya. “What else can I do with it? Unless the Ministry has found any other features on this thing.”

From the look on Scrimgeour’s face, the Ministry had not, in fact, found any other features on the Deluminator. After squinting at Senya for a moment or two, he turned back to Dumbledore’s will.

”’To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.’”

———

Wandering through the crowd after begging off the dance floor, Harry spotted a truly old and ancient wizard sitting at a table, beside a large and fat man. The wizard was bald, wrinkled and shrunken, his eyes two pale globes of milky white. He was dressed fully in a robe of black, with the only splash of colour being the long chain of many metals around his small neck.

He looked vaguely familiar: racking his brains Harry suddenly realised that this was Aemon Targaryen, older brother of Duke Rhaegar’s great-grandfather Duke Aegon V, oldest wizard alive now that Nicholas Flamel was dead, former Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts and ex-Gryffindor Head of House for a young Dumbledore, and the writer of Dumbledore’s obituary.

Harry approached him, and the young man seated by his side.

”May I sit down?”

”Of course.” Aemon Targaryen had a soft tremulous voice. “And who might I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

”Professor Targaryen, I’m Harry Potter.”

Aemon let out a small gasp.

”My dear boy! Rhaegar told me you’d be here. It is so nice to finally meet you, at last. But oh, where are my manners? I am Aemon Targaryen, and my companion here is Samwell Tarly, one of Jon’s closest friends.”

“Were you at Hogwarts?” Harry asked the large man by Aemon’s side. “I can’t seem to recognise you.”

“Oh no, I’m a squib. That’s the easiest way to put it.“ Samwell Tarly shrugged. “Jon got me out of a tight spot, placed me under Professor Aemon as an assistant and caretaker.”

“He’s been a very helpful lad, Samwell. No magic, but he has the sharpest mind I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.” Aemon fondly said.

”And yet I come to you a student, old man.” Samwell chuckled. “Don’t let his age and frailness deceive you, Harry. Aemon here is still as sharp as ever. He’s taught me so much about magic, done things I never believed possible with a wand.”

”You flatter me. I am but an old man on the verge of death. But it pleases me to teach a soul as eager as yourself.” Aemon smiled toothlessly.

”Um, Mr Tarly, do you mind if I talk to Professor Targaryen privately for a bit?” Harry asked.

Samwell Tarly shrugged, and got to his feet.

”By all means.” He turned around and went to a tall woman in a flowing red dress. “Lady Melisandre, have you seen where Gilly is?”

With surprising dexterity for a blind man, Aemon poured a drink for Harry, and slid it across the table.

“Now then, what might you wish to ask of me, my dear boy?”

”I saw the obituary you wrote for the Daily Prophet.” Harry said, sipping at the champagne. “I didn’t realise you knew Professor Dumbledore so well.”

”As well as anyone.” Aemon softly said, dabbing at his eyes with a napkin. “Certainly I knew him longest, if you don’t count Aberforth— and somehow, people never do seem to count Aberforth.”

”Speaking of the Daily Prophet… I don’t know whether you saw— oh I’m sorry— read, Professor Targaryen—“

”Oh please, call me Aemon, dear boy.”

”Aemon, I don’t know whether you read the interview Rita Skeeter gave about Dumbledore…”

Aemon’s soft face seemed to harden almost immediately.

”Oh yes, Harry, I read it. I don’t like to speak ill of people, but for her, I shall. A terrible vulture, she positively pestered me to talk to her. I am ashamed to say that I became rather rude, called her some terrible names, which resulted, as you may have seen, in aspersions cast upon my sanity and lucidity.”

”Well, in that interview,” Harry went on. “Rita Skeeter hinted that Professor Dumbledore was involved in the Dark Arts when he was young.”

”Perhaps he was. I think not.” Aemon evenly said. “And even if he was, it would likely be some youthful indiscretion. We were all young and reckless, once. We’ve all made mistakes. Made decisions we regret in later years. I personally believe that a person should not be judged for what they did in their past, but instead for what they chose to do with their futures.”

“So you think Dumbledore made mistakes in his youth?”

”Who has not? Everyone has a skeleton or two in their closets. But one’s past mistakes should not define who they are as a person. What matters is who they choose to be, in spite of those very same mistakes. Some sleeping dogs are best left asleep, Harry. And I think it’s terrible that some people are so eager to unearth old secrets best left in the past, trying to throw mud at Albus’ memory. Tarnish his legacy.”

———

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.” The silver lynx announced in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Everything seemed fuzzy, slow. Harry and Hermione jumped to their feet and drew their wands. Many people were only just realising that something strange had happened; heads were still turning towards the silver cat as it vanished. Silence spread outwards in cold rippled from the place where the Patronus landed.

Then there was a great shattering sound, like a glass broken. If the glass were as large as the whole castle.

Almost immediately, cloaked and masked figures started apparating into their midst, landing on the towers, battlements and walls of Dragonstone castle. And in their lead was a pale, snakelike figure.

Screams ensured, as jets of green light fired from all directions.

The entire castle courtyard filled with cracks as the guests all began disapparating.

Rhaenys shouted something in High Valyrian, every single statue on Dragonstone coming to life and attacking the Death Eaters.

Daenerys was spinning her arms like windmills, summoning another tempest of storm and lightning. 

Oberyn Martell and his two oldest daughters charged at the towering plate-clad figure of Gregor Clegane.

Muriel Prewett grabbed ahold of her great-niece Ginny’s arms and disapparated, Xeno and Luna Lovegood a heartbeat behind them.

Samwell Tarly immediately shepherded Old Aemon Targaryen out of the crossfire and to safety, shielding the frail old man with his own body.

Rhaegar charged Voldemort, the blade Blackfyre in one hand, and his wand in the other.

Harry drew his wand and tried to join the fray, but Lupin blocked him from coming close with a Protego spell, and Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. There was a twist, and they vanished.

———

1997, Grimmauld Place,

Viserys had been crowned as the new Duke, with Rhaegar’s progeny all deemed illegitimate by the Death Eater-controlled Wizangamot and Ministry. He’d already stamped out special pardons for Voldemort and the Death Eaters, naming them heroes and upstanding citizens, while declaring the Order of the Phoenix and all Light supporters ‘terrorists’ and ‘traitors to the Realm’.

Rhaegar wasn’t the only one that had died fighting Voldemort at Dragonstone, holding him off in a desperate rearguard action to save the fleeing guests.

Oberyn Martell, Obara and Nymeria were dead, as was Oberyn’s uncle Lewyn. Visenya’s uncles Eddard and Benjen Stark were also dead. Though both Stark brothers were muggles, the two ex-soldiers had not hesitated to join the fight and defend the children.

There were other casualties as well. Rickon Stark had been shot in the back by Death Eater Ramsay Bolton. Quentin Martell had been accidentally torched by Rhaegal alongside three Death Eaters. Daenerys’ best friend Missandei was slain by Death Eater Cersei Lannister. And Bran Stark was rendered paraplegic from a stray curse.

Lyanna had tearfully informed Visenya of the news using a muggle cellphone. Betting that the Death Eaters wouldn’t know how to intercept muggle communications.

“But what’s left of the family is as safe as we can be. We’re hiding out at Ellaria’s home in Cornwall for now. We’ll lay low for a bit, lick our wounds, then figure out what to do. Catelyn says she’ll take her children and flee back to her father’s home in the Netherlands.”

”I see. Thank you for telling us, Mama.” Visenya tearfully said, before hanging up.

Chapter Text

1997, Umbridge’s House,

Tracking down Umbridge’s home was easier than they’d thought.

Varys the Spider was one of the underworld’s biggest spymasters, and was a staunch Targaryen loyalist. Visenya had gotten in contact with him, and he’d supplied her the address after a mere three days of searching.

Another three weeks, and he’d gotten ahold of the ward schematics for the house as well.

While Hermione had initially been favouring breaking into the Ministry and ambushing Umbridge there, she’d rapidly changed her tack once Varys had come through with the plans.

They apparated just outside the ward lines, under the cover of a new moon. Hermione cast the right spell at the right time and place, and undid a small portion of the wards, allowing them to enter the premises undetected.

All the doors save the front door had been sealed shut, and the front door was charmed to resist magic. The only way to open it was to use a physical key. It was a clever spell, but it had one glaring weakness; the lock could be picked, muggle style.

Harry had learnt the skill from a young age out of necessity, when Uncle Vernon would lock him in the closet underneath the stairs for days on end. In order to avoid starving to death, Harry had been forced to learn how to open locks with paperclips, hairpins and all other manner of improvised lockpicks.

It took fifteen stressful minutes before Harry turned the last tumbler, and the door popped open.

The three of them snuck into the house, and would have been busted by the muggle burglar alarm were it not for the fact that they’d crammed themselves under the invisibility cloak.

”A muggle burglar alarm.” Visenya incredulously muttered as Hermione deactivated it. “Who would’ve thought…”

”It’s quite clever, actually. The infrared beams can detect disillusioned people, as a disillusionment charm isn’t true invisibility, but camouflage. But for an invisibility cloak, the light just passes straight through.” Hermione whispered, reluctantly impressed. “Umbridge is more cunning than she let on.”

Once the burglar alarm was off, the three of them snuck into the basement of the house. Hermione switched two runes on the wardstone, and the anti-apparation jinx on the house was flipped. Now instead of nobody being able to apparate in or out, save Dolores Umbridge, everyone could apparate freely, save Umbridge herself.

Next up was the sleeping House-Elf. Visenya found the badly-beaten elf sleeping in an alcove near the boiler, and muttered an apology before stunning him.

Satisfied that Umbridge wouldn’t be getting away, the three of them crept up the stairs, and found the master bedroom.

”Alohamora.”

The door opened, and they entered.

Umbridge was curled up on the bed, in a lurid pink nightgown. And there, around her neck, was the locket.

Harry carefully took Umbridge’s short, stubby wand from the bedside table, sliding it into his pocket. Hermione silently cast a full-body bind on Umbridge’s sleeping form.

Their old DADA teacher’s eyes shot open as she found her limbs snapping to her body, frantically roving here and there as she realised what was going on.

Hermione quickly slid the locket off of Umbridge’s head, and threw it into her bag.

“I’d like to say that I’m sorry. But the truth is, I’m not.” Harry coldly said, standing over Umbridge as she lay, petrified and helpless before him. “If there is one person in all of magical Britain that deserves to die for her crimes, it is Dolores Jane Umbridge, Head of the Muggleborn Registration Committee.”

”This is not justice.” Hermione added, just as cold. “But unfortunately justice is in short supply these days. It brings me no pleasure to do this, but needs must. You’ve seen us, and we cannot leave any witnesses.”

Umbridge’s eyes were frantic now, fear apparent as they darted wildly in their sockets.

”Goodbye, Professor Umbridge. And good riddance.” Visenya declared.

She slit Umbridge’s throat with a knife stolen from the kitchen below, and as her lifeblood bled out and stained the sheets red, the three of them immediately began ransacking the house of any and all valuables.

They threw one of Umbridge’s cardigans over the stunned Elf, then beat a hasty retreat.

With any luck, the Ministry would chalk this up to a robbery gone wrong.

———

1997, Godric’s Hollow,

The snake struck as he raised his wand: the force of the bite to his forearm sent the wand spinning upwards towards the ceiling, it’s light swung dizzyingly around the room and was extinguished: then a powerful blow from the tail to his midriff knocked the breath out of him. He fell backwards onto the dressing table, into mounds of filthy clothing.

Harry rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding the snake’s tail, which smashed the table he’d been on to kindling, the mirror above coming down and shattering into a thousand tiny pieces, raining down upon him as he hit the floor.

”Harry?” Hermione called from below.

Harry’s call for help was quickly silenced as the snake lunged at him, knocking him to the floor. Thick, scaly, muscular tendrils looped around his neck and torso, slowly constricting, preventing him from drawing breath.

”Yessss.” Nagini hissed. “Yesss… hold you… hold you…”

Harry reached out, trying desperately to nonverbally and wandlessly summon his wand back to him, but it was a futile effort. Already, the room around him began to blur and fade, as the lack of oxygen got to him.

Desperate, Harry struck the floorboards beneath him. With his feet, with his fists, with anything that could reach it.

Three short beats, three longer ones, and three short beats once more. SOS.

”Harry!” Hermione cried from below.

There was a pattering of feet, and the door banged open. Visenya silhouetted in the light like an angel or Valkyrie of old.

”Let go of my boyfriend!” She cried, brandishing her wand.

With a bang, Nagini was blasted off of Harry. The snake released him, none too gently. Harry’s head collided with the wall with a crack, and as his vision swam, he felt his Occulumency shields slacken for a brief instant.

It was like seeing double.

From one pair of eyes, he saw Hermione burst into the room right behind Visenya, as the snake lunged at his two girlfriends.

From another pair, he saw the clouds shoot by beneath him, as he flew with triumph in his heart, flew without need for broomstick or Thestral.

A stray curse flew past him, ricocheting off the wall and striking the curtained window, blasting it apart. That jarred Harry back into the present, and he snatched up his wand, while forcing the connection between himself and Voldemort shut.

The snake sunk her fangs into Hermione’s forearm, thrashing about and swinging the bushy-haired girl around like a rag doll. Visenya’s stunning spells were bouncing uselessly off the iridescent scales, sorcery sliding off like water off a duck’s back.

”Hermione! No you — Stupefy!— let go of — Incendio! — her! Impedimenta!”

”Confringo!” Harry shouted.

The blasting curse slid right off Nagini’s scales, but the snake was still blown aside by the kinetic force of the explosion. She whirled around, smashing Hermione into a cabinet, before lunging at both Harry and Visenya.

Dodging in opposite directions, Harry and his girlfriend pincered the snake between them, wands raised to cast.

”Confrin—“

Nagini spat black gunk into Harry’s face, as her tail lashed out, swiping the wand out of Visenya’s hands.

Harry screamed as he felt the poison burn him like acid, eyes swelling and shutting in pain as his glasses melted from the spit. It was luck more than anything that allowed him to dodge the follow-up bite, Nagini springing straight towards his throat, fangs bared.

Stumbling backwards onto his rear, the world swimming before him, Harry grabbed ahold of the first thing his hands found— a leg of the shattered dresser— and used it to block the next snakebite, Nagini’s fangs sinking into the wood like it was Play-Doh. With her fangs caught, Harry immediately tackled the snake, forcing her head down.

It was a Herculean task. The massive snake seemed to be made of so so many heavy and muscular coils. It required two hands to hold down, meaning that he couldn’t use his wand. Not unless he wanted Nagini to break free and resume biting.

On the other side of the room, Visenya was grasping futilely for her wand, as the snake’s lower body wrapped around her, squeezing and constricting her.

Hermione wasn’t even stirring, still slumped on the ground beside the smashed cabinet, arm bent at an unnatural angle and slowly bleeding out.

A ball of light flew across the room. The landing light gone.

Visenya had snaked a hand out from Nagini’s coils. And in it was Dumberdore’s silver put-outer. Senya was clicking the Deluminator desperately, trying to get it to do something— anything— that could help.

Shattering the table leg in her jaws, Nagini lunged forwards, Harry’s grip slipping for a second.

Harry backpedaled and brandished his wand, but the snake shot up and with a snap of her monstrous jaws, broke the Holly and Phoenix feather wand in two.

Screaming in grief and fear, Harry seized the snake by the neck as she lunged at him, snapping jaws mere inches away from his face. Using his body weight, Harry wrestled the snake down, pinning her head to the floor.

Her coils looped around his neck, and began to contract.

They were about to die, Harry realised.

Hermione was out cold. Visenya was turning blue and slackening in the snake’s grip. Harry himself was half-blind, and losing strength by the second. His wand was broken. And struggle though he might, the snake was freakishly strong. Sooner rather than later, his desperate strength would fail, and the snake would be free.

And just when he thought that the situation couldn’t get any worse, a pale, snakelike figure swept into the room, wand raised triumphantly.

”Avada Kadava!”

The killing curse never hit, sliding right through Harry’s body like he was a ghost.

Light bled out of the world, like a colour TV being reduced back to black and white, leaving Harry, Hermione and Visenya as the only splotches of colour. Light and colours were sucked straight into the silver cigarette lighter in Visenya’s hand, which was shining brighter than Harry had ever seen before.

Voldemort and Nagini were still there, in the fetid room, but they were distant. Like a reflection on the water of a lake. Unable to touch or perceive this monochrome world. Separate.

“Hermione!” Harry gasped. “The window— jump!”

Visenya nodded, and they immediately began moving, half-limping, half-running. They picked up Hermione, Harry noting with immense relief that she was still breathing, and slung her arms over their shoulders. They reached the broken window, and leaped out of it. Out of the dead historian’s home and out of the anti-apparation wards laid upon it.

Click. Colour returned into the world. Both Harry and Senya twisted and spun, and the last thing he heard before he entered nothingness was Voldemort’s scream of rage.

———

1997, Grimmauld Place,

Thank god for Kreacher.

Harry and Visenya, carrying Hermione, had barely managed to stumble back into the house before they passed out, and were it not for the House-Elf’s swift intervention, it would have been a sleep none of them woke from.

After performing what medical treatment he could, and ensuring that they were stable, Kreacher had immediately apparated to the Tonkes’ home. Andromeda Tonks was a trained Healer, and a pretty skilled one, at that. Moreover, she was a Healer whom knew the antidote to Nagini’s venom— from when her daughter had been bitten by Nagini in Harry’s fifth-year.

They gone to visit Godric’s Hollow on the anniversary of Harry’s parent’s deaths, on Halloween. But the severity of their wounds meant that it was only in late November that they were back on their feet. Harry’s eyes had to be partially regrown after the venom and Hermione’s spinal injuries required a strict potions regimen for three weeks.

Visenya was the least wounded of the three of them, and back on her feet within two days of the fight. She’d kept herself busy in the meantime, brewing the potions for Hermione, finding Harry a new pair of prescription glasses, scouting around Diagon Alley and the Ministry under the invisibility cloak, and most importantly, experimenting with the device which had saved their life.

Harry and Hermione had helped where they could, mostly by scouring Grimmauld Place’s library for every single spellbook that looked even tangentially relevant. They must have read half the library by the time their convalescence was over.

”It’s a trap.” Hermione finally declared, tapping the Deluminator. “And a well designed one, at that.”

”What do you mean?” Visenya curiously asked.

”There are three functions that we’ve so far been able to figure out on this thing.” Hermione began.

”The put-outer function, the dimensional pocket function and the ability to find one’s loved ones and apparate straight towards them.” Visenya listed off on her fingers.

The last one was a function that they’d found only in the last three days. Harry had been experimenting with the Deluminator when he’d heard Visenya’s voice coming out of it, screaming for help.

He’d clicked the Deluminator, and instead of releasing light, it had instead spat out a sphere of the exact same blue light that a portkey created. Harry had grabbed Umbridge’s wand, sprinted out of the house, and the blue light had entered his heart the instant he’d cleared the anti-apparation wards.

Instinctively, he’d suddenly knew exactly where he’d have to apparate to, in order to find Senya.

And just in time too, for she’d been ambushed and kidnapped by a gang of Snatchers.

Umbridge’s wand didn’t work as well as Harry’s old Holly one— every spell weaker and less precise— but it wasn’t like he had any other choice. Even if Ollivander’s was still open, he couldn’t exactly sneak into Diagon Alley to buy a new one.

Still, Harry was a skilled enough duellist to make do. Harry had stunned all the Snatchers, inexpertly but thoroughly wiped their memories, and rescued Visenya.

“The ability to bring the user, and those the user desires, into a pocket realm, impenetrable by magic or any other known means, hidden from the world and ability to find those the user cares about.” Hermione elaborated. ”I suspect that the put-outer function, as you so put it, is a small part of a larger whole. Specifically; the absorption of energy.”

“Lights aside, it can’t extinguish Lumos though.” Visenya pointed out.

”However, it can extinguish fires, including Incendio. But not my Bluebell flames.” Hermione countered. “Nor can it absorb most forms of spells and curses.”

”So what are you saying?” Senya frowned confusedly.

”I think that this device is designed to absorb wild or unfocused magic. Magic that is more energy than anything else. Magic that is wild and not held in a specific shape by a spell formula. The ability to extinguish lights is likely more of a useful side effect than the real purpose of it.” Hermione explained.

”Well, that’s sounds oddly niche. And very obscure. I can’t see what use such a function would be in a fight.” Harry frowned, thinking through his entire (fairly sizeable) repertoire of defensive or offensive spells. “I can’t think of many curses or spells that are mostly raw magic.”

”Yes, that stumped me a bit, until I found this.” Hermione slammed a heavy tome down onto the table.

It was a book about Obscurials, their origins, their abilities, the symptoms of the disease— so to speak— and a record about Obscurials through history, with the final entry being about a certain Credence Barebones, whom had fought at Grindelwald’s side. Barebones’ record was pretty extensive, with him leaving trails of destruction through New York, Berlin and half a dozen other places during his servitude to Grindelwald. Barebones was a natural disaster contained in the form of a man.

”I suspect that the Deluminator was a weapon designed to counter Obscurials such as Barebones.” Hermione revealed. “The ability to absorb raw magic— such as those wielded by an Obscurial— to neutralise their powers.

The ability to call forth an impregnable pocket dimension, to trap the Obscurial somewhere it couldn’t harm innocent bystanders, and/or cause collateral damage. Furthermore, this pocket dimension was hidden from the rest of the world, potentially preventing violations of the Statute of Secrecy by the rampaging Obscurial.

And a way for loved ones to call for help, such that Dumbledore could arrive immediately to save them from the threat.”

Hermione took a deep breath from how fast she was talking at the end, while Harry and Visenya gathered their thoughts.

”But how does that help us?” Senya finally asked, leaning back in her chair. “Last I checked, You-Know-Who was a monster, but not that kind of monster.”

”Because one of the precious few foolproof methods to destroy a Horcrux involves wild magic, and lots of it.” Hermione solemnly stated.

Silence reigned.

”You’re— you’re serious?” Harry asked.

”Fiendfyre is relatively easy to conjure up, but very, very hard to stop. And even then, most of the methods to stop such a blaze revolve around trapping the flames and letting them burn out by themselves. Unchecked, Fiendfyre will burn and burn and burn until everything is consumed.” Hermione gravely revealed. “Grindelwald once set a blaze of Fiendfyre that would have destroyed all of Paris, had it not been for the swift intervention of Nicholas Flamel and the aid of dozens of Aurors.”

”But that’s not a problem, in a pocket dimension impregnable to magic, and with a device that can absorb wild magic like Fiendfyre.” Harry slowly said.

”‘to Visenya Lyarra Targaryen, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that it will keep her and her loved ones safe from the hellfires of evil.’” Visenya quoted, thunderstruck. “The hellfires of evil… that can only mean Fiendfyre.”

The three lovers looked at one another, eyes alight with hope and awe.

Hermione had flatly refused to cast Fiendfyre in Grimmauld Place, or anywhere nearby any inhabited settlement, pocket dimension or no. So the three of them, plus Kreacher, took a short jaunt to the Forest of Dean, far far away from any humans.

By the time they returned to Grimmauld Place, an hour later, they were down one Horcrux, and Kreacher was swearing eternal loyalty to Hermione, after she let him watch the immolation of the locket.

———

1998, Malfoy Manor,

The Order of the Phoenix was striking out. Elia and Lyanna had negotiated with the Queen, and had secured some much-needed backup from Her Majesty’s armed forces. 

Malfoy Manor was well-known to be the headquarters for Voldemort and the Death Eaters. While they’d since moved the bulk of their operations out to the Ministry or captured Dragonstone, the place was as symbolic and important to them as Dragonstone had been for the Order of the Phoenix. Destroying the manor would send quite the message to the Death Eaters.

And more importantly, Varys’ spies had dug up news that Malfoy Manor served as a sort of prison for the Death Eaters. Unlike Azkaban, crammed full of muggleborns, Malfoy Manor held prisoners whom were too useful to be sent to a remote island out in the North Sea.

First and foremost; Garrick Ollivander, whose wand-making abilities had been pressed into Death Eater service.

And secondly, but more personal to Harry and his girlfriends; Luna Lovegood. Whom the Death Eaters were using as hostage to subvert the Quibbler, forcing the liberal newspaper to bend to their views.

Varys had done his best, but Malfoy Manor was several orders of magnitudes more well-defended than Umbridge’s house. It was only when Harry recommended Dobby as a potential source, that the eunuch spymaster was able to make a breakthrough.

The plan to attack Malfoy Manor had several phases. First, a diversionary attack would be launched on Dragonstone by House Targaryen. Ostensibly, House Targaryen’s goal was to liberate their dragons from Death Eater confinement. Rhaenys and Aegon were leading this attack, backed by half a dozen of the Royal Air Force’s fighter aircraft, a destroyer and two detachments of marines. Visenya was heading with this group.

Next, when the guard was thinned from Malfoy Manor, Dobby and Kreacher would bring a smaller crew— Harry, Hermione, Lupin and Robb Stark— deep into the bowels of Malfoy Manor, where they’d slip past the defences, evacuate the prisoners, and destroy the wardstones.

Once the wards were down, Malfoy Manor would be wide open, and completely visible to muggles. Harry and company would evacuate, and a pair of RAF bombers would raze the place to the ground.

Harry and company had been in position at a ridge overlooking Malfoy Manor for the better part of an hour, awaiting the signal.

At the stroke of midnight, Lyanna phoned Robb, informing him that House Targaryen had begun their attack. Fifteen minutes later, a dozen masked and hooded Death Eaters rushed out of Malfoy Manor. They were lead by Bellatrix Lestrange, who was the only one not masked.

The Death Eaters exited the grounds of Malfoy Manor, and disapparated.

“Grey Wind to She-Wolf.” Robb phoned. “Around a dozen Death Eaters just apparated away from Malfoy Manor. Including Bellatrix Lestrange.”

”This is She-Wolf, copy that.” Lyanna replied. “Death Eaters confirmed, including Bellatrix. Dany is—“ There was a deafening rumble of thunder. “—I repeat, Dany has engaged them. You’re good to go.”

”Copy that. We’ll see you on the other side. Grey Wind out.” Robb hung up and shouldered his rifle. With a nod, he and Lupin both took Dobby’s hands as Hermione and Harry took Kreacher’s.

A heartbeat of suffocating nothingness later, and the six of them landed in the bowels of Malfoy Manor. Dobby had brought them as close to the wardstones as possible, but the ward room itself was shielded beyond even Elf apparation.

Lupin and Hermione immediately drew their wands and covered the back of the wine cellar they were in, as Dobby fiddled around behind a large shelf for a bit.

There was a click, and one of the walls rippled, revealing a pair of heavy wrought-iron doors.

Like Umbridge’s home, these doors were spelled against all magical means of ingress, and could only be opened by a special key.

Harry pulled out a pair of lockpicks and immediately set to work.

Twenty stressful minutes later, and the doors popped open, revealing a bare room with a single pillar of carved granite rising up from the floor to the ceiling, festooned with runes and positively shining with magical energy.

”That’s the lodestone.” Lupin informed Robb. “Destroy that, and the wards will come crumbling down.”

Robb nodded, and warily entered the room.

Though seemingly undefended, Dobby had revealed that a cunning trick had been laid onto the threshold of the ward room. A simple sensor ward, nearly invisible, would trip whenever a magical signature entered the room, be it a wizard, Elf or even a squib. Not even spells could pass the threshold without tripping it. And once tripped, the ward would then trigger an alarm, alerting the residents to the incursion and activating the Manor’s defences against them.

However, there was one glaring blind spot in this little defence; it could not detect humans with no magical signature. In short, it could not detect muggles. Clearly the designers of Malfoy Manor had never foreseen mere muggles penetrating so deep into their stronghold.

The redheaded muggle crept across the room, approaching the lodestone. With shaking hands, Robb nervously extracted brick after brick of C4 plastic explosives from his backpack. He then carefully attached the C4 to the lodestone, and rigged up a detonator.

Once satisfied, he crept back out of the room, and Harry closed the doors, which automatically locked themselves.

“We’re good to go.” Robb nodded.

”You can blow up the lodestone?” Harry asked.

”Yeah. I’ve got it rigged up to a remote detonator. And set a timer just in case.” Robb told him, showing the small remote. “We’ve got half an hour to get clear.”

”More than enough.” Lupin nodded. “Let’s go get the prisoners.”

Harry, Hermione, Lupin and the elves disillusioned themselves, while Robb threw the invisibility cloak over himself. The six of them then set off, following Dobby’s lead.

He lead them first into a small cramped room in the basement. It was locked, and Harry didn’t have the time to pick it. Luckily, the other side of the room wasn’t warded against House-Elves. Kreacher and Dobby popped in with Harry, who was shocked to find more prisoners than expected.

In addition to Luna and Ollivander, there was also Dean Thomas and the goblin Griphook, both of them seemingly out cold. Luna mentioned that they’d only arrived an hour ago, caught by Snatchers led by Fenrir Greyback. It wasn’t rare for prisoners to be temporarily held in Malfoy Manor apparently, which in addition to holding Luna and Ollivander, occasionally served as a ‘holding cell’ for prisoners pending transfer to Azkaban or summary murder.

Kreacher evacuated the four prisoners to the Longbottom Manor— their designated fallback point— while Dobby took Harry back out of the cell.

Following Dobby, the five of them then snuck up several flights of servant stairs, before arriving at Lucius Malfoy’s personal study. Robb and Hermione then stuffed every single piece of paper and parchment they could find into her beaded bag, before they moved onto the drawing-room.

Unfortunately, their luck ran out, for when they opened the door to the drawing-room, they found that they weren’t alone. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco were all there, seated around the fireplace. And in a corner not far from them, stood Wormtail and Fenrir Greyback.

There was a long beat as both sides stared at one another, stunned, before they all began casting.

”Expelliarmus!” Harry shouted.

“Stupefy!” Hermione followed a beat later.

Wormtail’s wand flew into the air, arcing away from the rat-like man, and Lucius Malfoy collapsed onto the hearth. Jets of light flew from Draco’s, Narcissa’s and Greyback’s wands, the five of them scattering to dodge them. Dobby vanished with a crack, while the rest all dove behind pieces of furniture.

Robb rolled to his feet, raised his rifle, flicked the safety off, and fired once. Greyback fell over in a spurt of blood. Robb pulled the bolt of his rifle back and chambered another round, firing it at Wormtail. But the ex-Marauder simply raised his metal hand, and the bullet sunk into the quicksilver, all momentum lost.

Cussing, Robb chambered another round, but Draco hit him with a disarming charm before he could fire again, sending the gun flying across the room.

Harry and Hermione returned fire, but Draco ducked behind a sofa.

Lupin swung his wand at Wormtail, but he turned into a rat to avoid the attack. Sprinting across the room to his wand, Wormtail transformed back into a human, wand in hand.

He fired a blasting curse at Harry, whom barely managed to shield in time. 

The force from the explosion blew Harry and Hermione off of their feet, and destroyed half the room in the process. Stunned, dazed, his ears ringing, Harry was unable to block or defend as he and Hermione were hit by disarming spells. Their wands flew across the room, far out of reach.

Lupin raised his wand, and Robb pulled out a handgun, but Wormtail tackled Harry and Hermione. He slammed into Harry’s girlfriend, knocking her to the ground, and before Harry could react, Wormtail seized Harry by the neck with his silver hand, wandtip digging into Harry’s temple.

”Stop or he dies!” Wormtail threatened, as Narcissa and Draco approached.

Lupin and Robb stood rigid, clutching their weapons, while Hermione snarled, whirling back to her feet.

”I said, drop them!” Wormtail screeched. Harry felt the world blur around him, as Wormtail’s fingers closed even tighter around his neck.

”All right!” Robb snarled, dropping his handgun. Lupin followed suit a heartbeat later, reluctantly dropping his wand. Both of them raised their arms to shoulder height. Hermione joined them a heartbeat later, black rage writ on her face.

Draco flicked his wand, summoning Remus’ wand to his hand, as Narcissa conjured ropes to bind Robb, Lupin and Hermione. Staggering to his feet behind them all, Lucius Malfoy pressed his forefinger to his Dark Mark.

At once, Harry’s scar felt as though it had split open again. His true surroundings vanished: He was Voldemort, and the skeletal wizard before him was laughing toothlessly at him; he was enraged at the summons he felt— he had warned them, he had told them to summon him for nothing less than Potter. If they were mistaken…

Forcing his Occulumancy shields back into place, Harry returned to the here and now, just in time to head a peculiar grinding noise. All of them looked upwards in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble; then, with a creak and an ominous jingling, it began to fall. Wormtail was directly beneath it; with a yelp, he jumped to the side to avoid it, dragging Harry with him. Glittering shards of crystal flew in all directions: Draco doubled over, his hands covering his bloody face.

Seizing his chance, Harry elbowed Wormtail in the gut, forcing him to release Harry with a whuff. Leaping over an armchair, Harry tackled Draco and wrested the two wands from his grip, pointed both of them at Draco and his father and yelled: “Stupefy!”. Both Lucius and Draco Malfoy fell over, unconscious.

Wormtail brandished his wand at Harry, only for there to be a loud crack, and his wand to fly out of his hands, across the room.

”Dobby!” Narcissa screamed, looking stunned at the Elf. “You! You dropped the chandelier?”

The tiny elf trotted into the room, his shaking finger pointed at his old mistress. 

”You must not hurt Harry Potter!” He squeaked.

”Kill the elf!” Wormtail shrieked, but there was another loud crack, and Narcissa’s wand, too, flew into the air and landed on the other side of the room.

”You dirty little monkey!” Shouted Narcissa. “How dare you take a witch’s wand, how dare you defy your masters!”

”Dobby has no master!” Squealed the elf. “Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”

Harry’s scar was blinding him with pain. Dimly, he knew that they had moments, seconds before Voldemort was with them.

”Robb! Blow the wards! Lupin, catch— and go!” He yelled, throwing Lupin’s wand back to him. There was a great roar as Robb detonated the C4 charges, and like a great weight lifted off of their shoulders, the wards broke and shattered. Lupin spun and vanished with Robb and Hermione, while Harry grabbed onto Dobby and disapparated himself, only to find Wormtail dashing across the room, swiping up his wand as his silver hand closed on Harry’s wrist.

———

1998, Longbottom Manor,

Harry landed on a grassy field outside of Longbottom Manor. He’d barely landed when a silver fist connected with his nose, knocking him down. Dobby let out a shriek or rage that—

“Avada Kadava!”

— that was cut short halfway, his lifeless corpse landing right beside Harry, wide eyes glassy in death.

Roaring in rage, Harry got to his feet, only for Wormtail to punch him once more, knocking Harry’s wand out of his grip. Wormtail raised his wand to cast, but Lupin rushed in, forcing Wormtail’s wand arm upwards. Shouting and grunting, the three of them struggled: Wormtail’s wand emitted sparks, and his silver hand closed around Harry’s throat, slowly and inexorably crushing his windpipe.

”You’re going to kill me?” Harry choked, unable to breathe. “After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!”

The silver fingers slackened. Harry had not expected it: he wrenched himself free, astonished. He saw the rat-like man’s small, watery eyes widen with fear and surprise: he seemed just as shocked as Harry at what his hand had done, at the tiny merciful impulse it had betrayed, and he continued to struggle more powerfully, as though to undo that moment of weakness.

“Give me that!” Hermione joined into the struggle, wrenching Wormtail’s wand out of his other hand.

She then flicked the wand, and Wormtail was knocked down as though punched in the stomach. Harry’s girlfriend raised the wand once more, Lupin joining her. All around them, the others surrounded the ex-Marauder. Wands were raised, guns were aimed, and Kreacher brandished a meat cleaver almost as large as his own head.

Wandless, helpless, surrounded on all sides, Pettigrew’s pupils dilated in terror. His own silver fingers were inexorably moving towards his own throat.

”No—“ Lupin said, trying to drag back the hand, but there was no stopping it. The silver tool that Voldemort had given his most cowardly servant had turned upon its Disarmed and useless owner: Pettigrew was reaping his reward for his hesitation, his moment of pity; he was being strangled before their eyes.

Harry might have helped, but that was before Wormtail had killed Dobby. Instead, all he did was stand and watch, as Pettigrew slowly turned blue.

”Relashio!” Lupin desperately tried, pointing his wand at the silver hand, but nothing happened. Pettigrew dropped to his knees, as Lupin let out a strangled scream of grief and pain. Wormtail’s eyes rolled upwards in his purple face, he gave a last twitch and was still, body slumping over into his friend’s arms.

The Marauders now numbered but one.

Chapter Text

1998, Gringotts,

Sorting through the documents stolen from Lucius Malfoy’s study proved most illuminating. There was a motherload of information there, crucial information about Death Eater activities and operations. Vital intel that would go a long way in the Order of the Phoenix’s war effort.

But most important, was a folder full of documents, each listing the full inventories of a dozen Death Eater Gringotts vaults. And written right there, on the parchment for the Lestrange Vault, were two unbelievably important items; the Sword of Gryffindor, and an enchanted golden cup decorated with a badger.

They’d found another Horcrux.

Initial hopes to use Griphook as a guide were rather futile, for he’d refused to help them without payment of rare goblin-made heirloom items. And they had precious few of those lying around.

There’d been some serious debate about stealing unpleasant Muriel Prewett’s goblin-made tiara as payment, but the bottom line was that Griphook wasn’t trustworthy. His eyes had a certain glint that Visenya and Dany both agreed meant the goblin would double-cross them as soon as it became convenient.

They’d turned back to Varys instead, handing Griphook over to his custody. Harry didn’t know how Varys came up with a list of Gringotts defences a month later, and quite frankly, Harry didn’t want to know.

Even so, it was only in July, towards the end of the school year, that Harry and his girlfriends felt secure enough to break into the bank.

After a lot of debate, it was decided that they’d break in at early morning. Late enough that most of the additional night-shift guards were gone, early enough that the bulk of Gringotts day workers hadn’t arrived yet.

It would have been suicide to enter the bank via the front, but luckily Varys had found them a backdoor.

For an incredibly large fee, it was possible to get a private portal into the bank, for one’s home or other place. Few people ever opted for this service, and fewer still of these portals were unguarded.

But as things happened, there were records from Ranrok’s Goblin Rebellion a century past, about one such portal being discovered in the Scottish Highlands, in the ruins of the home of wizard Percival Rackham.

While records a century past stated that when Professor Eleazar Fig found the place, the better part of the house was still intact, by 1998, all that was left of Percival Rackham’s home was the Portal to Gringotts. A lone spit of stone, standing defiant against the churning sea beneath. The Ancient Magic which the portal was imbued with preserving it from Mother Nature’s wrath.

None of the trio could use Ancient Magic, however, so they had to outsource the work to someone who could use Ancient Magic; Luna Lovegood.

The world shivered as the portal activated, and Harry, Hermione, Visenya and Luna crossed time and space to enter Gringotts bank.

Harry quickly Imperiused the clerk on duty— A goblin named Ricbert— and down the minecart they all went.

The Thief’s Downfall washed down onto them all, but Harry and Ricbert both wore special Shield Hats developed by Aegon, shielding them from the pouring potion.

With no disguises or enchantments to trigger the Thief’s Downfall, the minecart passed through harmlessly, and continued downwards. Ricbert drove them through the catacombs of Gringotts, until they reached the Lestrange Vault. Vault 666.

Vaults 664, 665, 666, 667 and 668 were some of the most heavily guarded vaults in Gringotts. And though Harry had been prepared for what was coming, he still fell to a halt at the sight of it.

A gigantic dragon, larger even than Drogon, was tethered to the ground in front of them, barring access to five of the deepest vaults in the place. The dragon’s scales had turned pale and flaky during its long incarceration under the ground; its eyes were milkily pink: both rear legs bore heavy cuffs from which chains led to enormous pegs driven into the ground. Its great, spiked wings, folded close to its body, would have filled the chamber if it spread them, and when it turned its ugly head towards them, it roared with a noise that made the rock tremble, opened its mouth and spat a jet of fire that sent them running back up the passageway.

”A Ukrainian Ironbelly, largest dragon species in the world.” Visenya identified. “Bipedal, slow flyer, not particularly aggressive, but really, really armoured. Its scales are tough, even by dragon standards.

“In the First World War, Tsarist forces used to strap incredibly heavy steel armour to them, so heavy that they couldn’t fly anymore, only lumber forwards slowly. But those ‘Hostbreakers’ as they were called were nigh-invincible. Magic was useless against them, and nothing short of a muggle heavy artillery barrage or an airstrike by heavy bombers were able to stop them.”

“Interesting.” Harry drily said. “But can you subdue it?”

“Naturally.” His girlfriend confidently said, flipping her short silver hair cockily as she strode out. She conjured a torch with her hands, holding it over her head.

Visenya sung in Old Valyrian, an old and slow tone, soft yet hauntingly familiar.

The dragon roared at her, belching flames into the air, but Visenya strode forwards, unhurried and unafraid. She didn’t even change the tune of her song, keeping it at that same calming pace.

Harry’s hands clenched as the massive Ukrainian Ironbelly loomed over Visenya, like a cargo plane looming over a child. It roared, baring rows upon rows of needle-sharp teeth, but Visenya didn’t falter, continuing to approach the dragon.

The dragon lowered its head, nostrils the size of Senya’s upper body sniffing her cautiously.

Senya stretched out a hand, and the dragon let her place her hand on its scarred scales, exhaling softly as it enjoyed her touch.

Visenya pushed forwards, and the dragon retreated, the titanic beast letting her push it back into a corner. Senya muttered a few more coaxing words, and the beast slumped over in a heap of heat and scale, snoring softly as it went to sleep.

”We’re clear.” The silver-haired girl called out. “Open the vault!”

Harry hurried Ricbert forward. The goblin placed a palm on the metal, and the door melted away to reveal a cave-like opening crammed from floor to ceiling with golden coins and goblets, silver armour, the skins of strange creatures, some with long spines, others with drooping wings, potions in jeweller flasks, and a skull still wearing a crown.

”Search, fast!” Harry ordered, and they all hurried inside the vault. Senya stayed outside, by the dragon.

He’d described Hufflepuff’s cup to Hermione and Luna, and the Sword of Gryffindor was easy to recognise. Luna had confessed to being one of the three students whom had attempted to steal the blade from Snape’s office, causing it to be sent down here in the first place.

“Remember, don’t touch anything. There’s curses laid upon all objects here, which will activate unless held by the rightful owner.” Harry barely had time to say the reminder when there was a muffled clunk from behind them: the door had reappeared, sealing them inside the vault and plunging them into total darkness.

”Don’t worry, Ricbert will be able to release us.” Luna reassured them, lighting her wand. “Let’s search quickly, shall we?”

Harry shone his lit wand around the vault; it’s beam fell upon glittering jewels, endless piles of gold and a high shelf full of heavy chains, where a rubied sword rested upon.

”There’s the sword.” He said. “Hermione— no, Luna— I’ll boost you up.”

Nodding, Hermione produced a pair of fire tongs from her beaded bag and handed it to the smaller girl. Harry bent down and let her climb onto his shoulders, before hoisting her up.

Luna was taller than Visenya, and not as skinny, but she was somehow lighter than Harry’s silver-haired girlfriend. Perhaps it was because Visenya was an athlete with a lithe body taut with muscle, while Luna seemed entirely made of soft flesh.

Using the fire tongs, she grabbed ahold of the Sword, and carefully navigated it out of the shelf, deliberately making sure not to send anything tumbling down onto them all.

Hermione opened the beaded bag down below, and Luna dropped the Sword into it, blade-first.

”Ooh, is that the cup, Harry?” Luna suddenly asked, pointing at something else before he could lower her to the ground.

Both Harry and Hermione whirled around, wandlight passing over shields and goblin-made helmets set on shelves rising to the ceiling. Higher and higher he raised the beam, until he saw an object that made his heart skip and his hand tremble.

”Yes, that’s the one.”

Hermione and Harry’s wands converged on the Horcrux, so that the little golden cup sparkled in a two-way spotlight: the cup which had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, which had passed into the possession of Hepzibah Smith, from whom it had been stolen by Tom Riddle.

”It’s too high to reach.” Luna noted from atop Harry’s shoulders. “Think you can fly up and get it?”

”Brooms don’t work in Gringotts.” Harry reluctantly said. “They’ve got a sort of jinx that causes any broom in the premises to buck their rider off.”

”Ooh, do you mean the Loser Lurg—“

”I’ve got a plan.” Hermione interrupted, brandishing Wormtail’s wand. “Harry, we both levitate Luna up. She’ll grab the cup.”

Nodding, Harry put the small sixth-year down and swished and flicked.

”Wingardium Leviosa!”

Gently, cautiously, the couple levitated Luna up higher and higher, delicately avoiding any objects that she might accidentally touch during the ascent. Eventually, they reached the appropriate height. Luna grabbed the cup in the fire tongs, and they slowly lowered her back to the ground. She dropped the Horcrux into the beaded bag.

”Good. We’re done. Let’s get out of here before anyone notices.” Harry nodded.

Ricbert touched the door and it vanished once more, opening up into a warzone.

Shouting and screaming, a horde of goblins and wizards were fighting a losing battle against the Ukrainian Ironbelly, which was roaring furiously as it unleashed dragonfire. Several of the Gringotts staff were using a number of small metal instruments that when shaken made a loud ringing noise like miniature hammers on anvils.

The dragon seemed to rear back from the sound, however…

”Silencio!”

The clankers fell silent, Visenya carefully keeping the dragon between herself and the attacking force as she cast.

”What the hell?” Harry yelled, ducking under a stray spell. “Senya?!”

”Not my fault!” Visenya yelled back. “You guys must have tripped some alarm or something!”

”Us?!” Harry incredulously demanded, firing stunners into the crowd.

”We leave you alone for twenty minutes and you’ve already gotten into another fight, honestly, Senya, we really can’t take our eyes off you, can we?” Hermione shrieked at the exact same time.

”It’s probably got something to do with all the Nargles around her— Stupefy!— she’s got one of the worst infestations I’ve ever seen.” Luna airily said, joining the fight. “Stupefy!”

Jets of red light flew into the crowd of goblins, and some toppled over. But others advanced, and Harry saw more wizard guards running around the corner. They were outnumbered, and couldn’t fight them all. The only reason why Senya had held on for so long was because of the dragon—

Inspiration, or madness, came to Harry like a jolt of lightning. Pointing his wand at the thick cuffs chaining the beast to the floor he yelled, “Relashio!”

The cuffs broke open with loud bangs.

”Harry— Harry — what are you doing?” Cried Hermione, but he ignored her in favour of grabbing his other girlfriend by the shoulder.

”Can you fly this thing?” He asked, jerking a thumb at the Ukrainian Ironbelly.

”What— no— I’m not bonded to it— even if I get it to fly, it’ll throw us off sooner rather than later!”

A volley of blasting curses sailed high above their heads, causing stalactites and rubble to rain down upon them.

”Protego Maxima!” Hermione screamed, barely shielding them from the falling rock, her knees buckling under the weight.

More and more wizards were entering the fray, and they couldn’t fight them all off.

”Do you have a better idea then?” Harry demanded.

Senya didn’t.

———

1998, Unnamed Lake, Northumbria,

The Sword was unable to destroy the Cup.

It was a fake, Luna realised. She’d been one of the three students whom had broken into Snape’s office in an attempt to steal the blade, resulting in the Sword getting sent down to the Lestrange Vault in the first place.

She’d gotten a good look at it then, and now that Luna could properly look at the blade under the summer daylight, she pointed out a few subtle differences in the Swords.

“It’s a copy.” She exclaimed, rather shocked. “A very well-made one, at that. It’s not goblin-wrought silver, but extremely close to the real deal. Closer than any other replica I’ve ever seen. Close enough to fool any casual observer. Oh, I’d love to meet whichever wizard or witch made this blade— they must be the finest magical blacksmith to ever live—“

As Luna started rambling in awe, Visenya shook her head and pulled out the Deluminator.

”Plan B, then.” She sighed, Hermione grimly nodding.

A click and both of Harry’s girlfriends vanished. Just in time for Harry to fall to his knees, as pain cleaved his head like a sword stroke, Voldemort’s fury and fear bleeding into him like ink in water.

———

1998, Hogwarts, Room of Requirement,

“They’re evacuating the younger kids and everyone’s meeting in the Great Hall to get organised.” Harry informed them. “We’re fighting.”

There was a great roar and a surge towards the foot of the stairs; he was pressed back against the wall as they ran past him, the mingled members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbeldore’s Army and Harry’s old Quidditch team, all with their wands drawn, heading up into the main castle.

The crowd was thinning: only a little knot of people remained below in the Room of Requirement and Harry joined them. Lyanna was struggling with Arya Stark. Around them stood her wife, children, Dany, Viktor, Fleur, Lupin and Robb Stark.

”You’re only fourteen! You’re underage! Moreover you’re not even a witch!” Lyanna was shouting at her niece. “I won’t permit it. Robb, yes, but you, you’ve got to go home!”

”I won’t!”

Arya’s hair flew as she pulled her hair out of her aunt’s grip.

”Jon was my cousin as well, I’ve got every right to avenge him!”

”He was my son! And he wouldn’t want you to die for his sake!” Lyanna whirled around to face Robb. “She’s fourteen! What were you thinking, bringing her with you? I know I’m in no place to talk, given my youthful escapades, but still! Think of Cat! Think of what she’ll say!”

Both Stark siblings looked slightly ashamed of themselves.

”Lyanna is right, Arya.” Elia gently said. “You can’t do this. Everyone under-age will have to leave, it’s—“

There was a scuffling and a great thump: someone else had clambered out of the tunnel, overbalanced slightly and fallen. He pulled himself up on the nearest chair, shook silver hair out of his pale lilac eyes. “Am I too late? Has it started? I only just found out, so I— I—“

Viserys spluttered into silence. Evidently he had not expected to run into most of his family. There was a long moment of astonishment, broken by Fleur turning to Lupin and saying, in a wildly transparent attempt to break the tension, “So — ow eez leetle Teddy?”

Viserys and the other Targaryens were still staring at one another, frozen.

”Here, I’ve got a picture!” Lupin shouted, pulling a photograph from inside his jacket and showing it to Fleur, Viktor and Harry, who saw a tiny baby with a tuft of bright turquoise hair, waving fat fists at the camera. Not too far away, Robb and Arya were tiptoeing away from the Targaryens, sidling towards the stairs up into Hogwarts.

”I was a fool!” Viserys roared, so loudly that Lupin nearly dropped his photograph. “I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a— a—“

”Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry, bigoted, blood-obsessed moron.” Snarled Rhaenys. She didn’t brandish Dark Sister at her uncle, but her knuckles were white around the hilt of the Valyrian steel sword.

Viserys swallowed.

”Yes, I was! I should not have said all of those hurtful things. Lyanna, you and your children are wonderful additions to House Targaryen, and I am proud to be related to you all.”

He turned to Aegon, and pulled a Valyrian steel bastard sword out of his pocket.

”You’re the rightful Duke, Aegon, and I am but a pretender. I yield the throne back to you.”

”Thank you.” Duke Aegon said, taking Blackfyre from his uncle.

Viserys turned to Daenerys, whom wore an expression that could have been carved out of stone.

”Dany, I am sorry, so deeply sorry for everything I’ve said and done to you. Jon was the best of us all, and I am the worst. An unworthy brother who didn’t respect your choices. Will you forgive me?” He asked, falling to his knees before his sister.

”You’re forgiven.” Dany softly said.

She took a single step forward, and slugged Viserys straight in the chin, knocking him off his knees and backwards into the nearby wall. She then grabbed him by the collar and forced him back onto his feet, snarling.

”But don’t ever, ever do that again.” Daenerys Stormborn threatened, before enfolding Viserys in a hug.

The rest of the family joined a heartbeat later, welcoming Viserys back.

“What made you see sense, Vissy?” Rhaenys enquired.

”It’s been coming on for a while.” Viserys said, mopping his eyes with a corner of his travelling cloak. “But I had to find a way out of Dragonstone. For all that I was supposedly the Duke, they kept me under house arrest and made sure I knew the consequences of defiance. Elizabeth tipped me off an hour ago that the Dark Lord was mustering forces at Hogwarts, and asked if I could take Viserion and join him. Unfortunately for my girlfriend, I’m joining you instead.”

———

1998, Hogwarts,

Harry and Malfoy shot out of the Room of Requirement, a step behind Visenya, Hermione and Goyle on the other broom. Pulling out a Basilisk fang from his pocket, he brought it down on the Diadem, before kicking the bleeding tiara into the approaching Fiendfyre.

Almost immediately, the cursed flames burst into the shape of Voldemort’s face, swooping towards them, out of the Room of Requirement, into the corridor beyond.

Visenya clicked the Deluminator, and the flames were all sucked into the silver lighter, vanishing into the tip of the device like dust into a vacuum cleaner.

With a shout, Harry and Hermione both slammed the doors of the Room shut, sealing the Fiendfyre away from the rest of the castle.

”C— Crabbe…” Choked Malfoy, kneeling on the floor beside Goyle. “C— Crabbe…”

”He’s dead.” Senya said harshly.

There was silence, apart from panting and coughing.

”Must’ve learned from the Carrows.” Harry grimly said.

“Shame he wasn’t concentrating when they mentioned how to stop it, really.” Visenya said, whose hair like Hermione’s was singed, and whose face was blackened with ash and soot. “If he hadn’t tried to kill is all, I’d be quite sorry he was dead.”

”But don’t you realise?” Whispered Hermione. “This means, if we can just get the snake—“

But she broke off as yells and shouts and the unmistakable noises of duelling filled the corridor. Harry looked around and his heart seemed to fail: Death Eaters had penetrated Hogwarts. Daenerys and Viserys had just backed into view, duelling masked and hooded figures.

Dany fought a dozen all at once, a small hurricane of whirling storm and wind whipping around her. Viserys was engaged with their leader, a single woman.

Harry, Hermione and Visenya ran forwards to help: jets of light flew in every direction and the woman duelling Viserys backed off, fast: then her hood slipped, revealing a tall and attractive woman in her early twenties, with long black hair and a chiselled face.

“Hello, Elizabeth.” Viserys greeted, sending a neat jinx straight at the young woman, who dropped her wand and rapidly clawed at the front of her robes, apparently in awful discomfort. “Did I mention I’m breaking up with you?”

”Krakathoom!”

”You’re joking, Viserys!” Dany incredulously said, vaporising her opponents with a single flash of lightning. Elizabeth had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over her; she seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin. Dany looked at Viserys with glee, who laughed back at the sheer joy on her face.

”You actually are joking, Viserys… I don’t think ever heard you joke since you were—“

The air exploded. Harry felt himself flying through the air, and all he could do was hold as tightly as possible to that thin stick of wood that was his one and only weapon, and shield his head in his arms: he heard the screams and yells of his companions without a hope of knowing what had happened to them—

And then the world resolved itself into pain and semi-darkness: he was half-buried in the wreckage of a corridor that had been subjected to a terrible attack: cold air told him that the side of the castle had been blown away and hot stickiness on his cheek told him that he was bleeding copiously. Then he heard a terrible cry that pulled at his insides, that expressed agony of a kind neither flame nor curse could cause, and he stood up, swaying, more frightened than he had been that day, more frightened, perhaps, than he had been in his life…

He looked around, and to his relief, saw Hermione and Visenya struggling to their feet out of the wreckage, battered but alive. But the cry had not come from them, but from Daenerys, whom was cradling a silver-haired body that was not moving, lifeblood spilling out and dyeing the flagstones red.

Viserys had jumped in front of Dany and the blast, shielding his younger sister at the cost of his life. His pale lilac eyes stared without seeing, his face set into an expression of love and duty to his younger sister.

———

1998, Hogwarts, Great Hall,

The dead lay in a row in the middle of the hall. Harry could not see Viserys’ body, because his family surrounded him. Aegon was kneeling at his head; Dany was lying across Viserys’ chest, her body shaking, Fleur stroking her hair while tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Without a word to Harry, Visenya walked away. Harry saw her fall to her knees before Robb Stark’s body, where Lyanna was holding a weeping Arya. Hermione joined her a moment later, kissing Senya and whispering gentle nothings to their girlfriend. Elia, Rhaenys and the surviving Sand Snakes were crying over the corpses of Doran, Arianne and Trystane Martell.

And then Harry caught sight of the bodies lying beside Arianne’s, and the Great Hall seemed to fly away, become smaller, shrink, as Harry reeled backwards from the corpses of Lupin and Tonks.

Wordlessly, he turned around. He could not draw breath. He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies, to see who else had died for him. He could not bear to join the Targaryens, could not look into their eyes, when if he had given himself up in the first place, Lupin, Tonks, Viserys— freshly returned to the family, and so quickly ripped away from them once more— and so many others might never have died…

———

1998, Hogwarts,

“Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me.” Voldemort coldly said, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move, and Harry could no longer bear it: he must act—

And then many things happened in the same moment.

They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted towards the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering round the side of the castle and yelled, “HAGGER!” His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort’s giants: they ran at Grawp like bull elephants, making the earth quake. Then came hooves, and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise.

But everything paled before the sight to the east, where six dragons flew over the castle walls. Drogon, Viserion, Rhaegal, Balerion, Norberta, and in their lead, riding Ghost, was Old Aemon Targaryen. Blind, frail, and unbelievably ancient, but still determined to protect his family and save the country.

Roaring with rage and fury, they all unleashed blazing fire upon Voldemort’s army, torching half to char and ash in an instant.

Taking his chance, Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak from inside his robes, swung it over himself and sprang to his feet, as Neville moved too.

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle—

The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd, or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke, Neville sliced off the great snake’s head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the Entrance Hall, and Voldemort’s mouth was open in a scream of fury nobody could hear, and the snake’s body thudded to the ground at his feet.

———

1998, Hogwarts, Great Hall,

Harry sped between duellers, past struggling prisoners, and into the Great Hall.

Voldemort was in the center of the battle, and he was striking and smiting all within reach. Harry could not get a clear shot, but fought his way nearer, still invisible, and the Great Hall became more and more crowded, as everyone who could walk forced their way inside.

Harry saw Arya shanking Ramsay Bolton repeatedly with Robb’s knife, saw Dolohov fall with a scream at Flitwick’s hands, saw Walden Macnair thrown across the room by Hagrid, hit the stone wall opposite and slide unconscious to the ground. He saw Ginny freeze Greyback in place with a spell, just in time for Neville to decapitate the murderous werewolf, Aberforth stunning Rookwood, Kingsley flooring Thicknesse, Rhaenys and Viktor taking out Gregor Clegane, Aegon and Fleur defeating Cersei Lannister, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy running through the crowd, not even attempting to fight, screaming for their son.

Voldemort was now duelling McGonagall, Slughorn and Daenerys all at once, and there was cold hatred in his face as they wove and ducked around him, unable to finish him—

Bellatrix was fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she duelled three at once: Hermione, Visenya and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Harry’s attention was diverted as a Killing Curse shot so close to Senya that she missed death by an inch—

He changed course, running at Bellatrix rather than Voldemort, but before he had gone a few steps he was knocked sideways.

”NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!”

Elia Martell threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms. Lyanna Stark a step behind her. Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challengers.

”OUT OF MY WAY!” Elia shouted to the three girls, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel. Harry watched with terror and elation as Elia Martell’s wand slashed and twirled. Elia had never been a fighter, Harry knew, she had a frail constitution as a child, and even as an adult preferred to stand by the sidelines during a fight. But now, today, in defence of her youngest daughter, Elia was unleashing fury surpassing anything that even Daenerys could bring to bear.

Bellatrix Lestrange’s smile faltered and became a snarl as Elia and Lyanna pressed her back, the two wives moving in perfect sync. Jets of light flew from all three wands, the floor around the witches’ feet became hot and cracked; all three women were fighting to kill.

“No!” Elia cried, as a few students ran forwards, trying to come to her aid. “Get back! Get back! She is mine!”

”By ‘mine’, you mean ‘ours’, dear.” Lyanna quipped, throwing up a shielding spell to block as Elia fired back.

Hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching the two fights. Voldemort and his three opponents, Bellatrix and her two, and Harry stood, invisible, torn between both, wanting to attack and yet to protect, unable to be sure he would not hit the innocent.

”What will happen to your children when I’ve killed you?” Taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Elia and Lyanna’s curses danced around her. “When Mummy has gone the same way as Jonnie?”

”You—Will—Never—Touch—Our—Children—Again!” Screamed Elia, punctuating her every word with an increasingly lethal curse.

Bellatrix laughed, the same exhilarated laugh her cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backwards through the Veil, and suddenly Harry knew what was going to happen before it did.

Lyanna’s spell disarmed Bellatrix, the wand flying out of her hands as Elia’s curse flew, unopposed, and hit Bellatrix squarely in the chest, directly over her heart.

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: for the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, body melting into a pile of bile and blight. The watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

Harry felt as though he turned in slow motion; he saw McGonagall, Slughorn and Daenerys blasted backwards, flailing and writhing though the air, as Voldemort’s fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at the two wives.

”Protego!” Roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak at last.

Chapter Text

2000, Dragonstone,

Harry stood nervously by the tall Weirwood tree, resisting the urge to fiddle with his tie for the umpteenth time. Though Elia and Lyanna had drilled him intensely on what to say and what to do at least a hundred times, now that the day was upon them, he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d been hit by an Obliviate. He was nervous, as jittery and anxious as Visenya was, before a Quidditch match.

”Hey, it’ll be alright.” Neville spoke up, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “They won’t stand you up, not after all that you’ve been through.”

”I know, intellectually speaking. But still…” 

“But nothing! You’re a good man, Harry. There’s nothing to fear. You defeated Voldemort, saved the world, remember?”

“Voldemort was easy. If I flub this one, Elia will have my head. And she’s a hundred thousand times scarier than Voldemort. Especially after she became Minister for Magic. Not only is she my mother-in-law, but she’s now my boss’ boss’ boss. She’s got more leverage than ever before over me.”

“Well, even if you flub— which you won’t— I’ll be by your side helping you the whole way.” Neville smiled. “Hogwarts still doesn’t have a competent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I’ll talk to McGonagall and she’ll bump Drescher in favour of you immediately.”

”You— you mean it?”

”Oh yeah. Hogwarts is untouchable by the Ministry. Elia can’t get you there. And although only the deputy Herbology Professor, I’m head of Gryffindor House now. I’ve got the Headmistress’ ear.”

Harry paused and mulled it over. He’d admit, while being an Auror was and always would be his lifelong ambition, there was a certain charm to teaching as he did back in Dumbledore’s Army.

”Thank you, Neville. I’ll think about it. You’re the best.”

“What’s the point of a best man otherwise, eh?”

The two young men were cut off when the orchestra began playing. Here came the brides.

Hermione was resplendent in a mermaid-cut white dress made of flowing silk. It was sleeveless, showing off her long and creamy arms, and hugged all of her curves just right. She was escorted by Daniel Granger, her father. Harry was amused to note that— lacking a coat of arms for her House— Hermione’s bridal cloak was embroidered with the sign of her parents’ dental clinic.

A step behind her was Visenya, in a ballgown-style white dress. Like Hermione, Senya’s dress was sleeveless. But unlike Hermione, Senya had a shorter skirt, the pleated hem fluttering around her knees. She was escorted by Lyanna, and she wore a black cloak, upon which the Targaryen coat of arms had been embroidered— not with red thread, but with genuine rubies— onto the fabric.

Harry’s two girlfriends had always been beautiful, but today? They were positively radiant, like goddesses of beauty or angels from the heavens descended onto the mortal plane.

”Who comes before the Gods, Old and New, today?” The officiating priest ceremonially asked. 

”Hermione, of the House Granger, has come here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn. She comes to beg the blessing of the gods. Whom comes to claim her?”

”Visenya, of the House Targaryen, has come here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the gods. Whom comes to claim her?”

Hermione had wanted a Christian marriage, but Visenya was just as adamant about getting a traditional magical wedding with the pagan rites. They’d compromised in the end, with the wedding being an interfaith mix in Dragonstone’s Godswood, officiated by an ordained Christian priest.

“Harry, of the House Potter, Lord of House Potter.” Harry recited. “Whom gives them?”

“Daniel of the House Granger, who was her father.”

”Lyanna of the House Targaryen, who was her mother.”

“Hermione/Visenya, do you take this man?”

”I do.” Both of Harry’s girlfriends said.

“If anyone here has any lawful objection as to why these three should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The Priest challenged.

Beside Harry, his best man— Neville— drew his wand and levelled it at the crowd, daring anyone to challenge the marriage.

None did, and both Hermione and Visenya stepped up to the small altar set up in front of the Weirwood. They divested themselves of their cloaks, Daniel and Lyanna taking it off their shoulders and carefully folding it up, before releasing their respective daughters.

“You may now cloak the brides and bring them under your protection.” The priest declared.

Harry waved his wand, summoning from a temporary dimensional pocket a pair of cloaks with his family heraldry embroidered onto them, and delicately draping them over Hermione and Visenya’s shoulders.

They both stepped up by his sides. Hermione on his left, Visenya on his right. The world seems to fall away, apart from the three of them and the priest. All three with eyes only for one another.

“Harry James Potter, do you take Hermione Jean Granger and Visenya Lyarra Targaryen to be your wedded wives? To have and to hold, from this day forward?”

”I do.”

“Hermione Jean Granger, do you take Harry James Potter and Visenya Lyarra Targaryen to be your wedded husband and wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward?”

”I do.”

“Visenya Lyarra Targaryen, do you take Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean Granger to be your wedded husband and wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward?”

”I do.”

“Do you swear to stand by one another’s side? In times of better and in times of worse?”

”I do.” All three of them said as one.

”Do you swear to share life’s joys and challenges with one another? In times of richer and in times of poorer?”

”I do.”

”Do you swear to support and care for one another? In times of health and in times of sickness?”

”I do.”

”And do you pledge to love and cherish one another, from this day until your last day, till death do you part?”

”I do.”

“Then I declare you bonded for life, as husband and wives. You may now kiss the brides.” The officiant said, raising his wand high over the heads of the three of them. A shower of stars fell over them, as Harry, Hermione and Visenya’s lips met one another in a three-way kiss.

There was dancing, there was feasting. There was music and song, food and wine and laughs all around.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had staunchly refused to attend, but Dudley had chosen to come. Harry’s cousin was cracking jokes with Cedric Diggory and his pregnant wife Cho Chang. Oddly enough, Harry caught sight of Sansa Stark laughing at Dudley’s impressions of the Targaryen siblings and giggling at his self-deprecating jokes.

Sansa had a long and lousy streak of bad boyfriends, Harry knew. Handsome, rich and cockily suave boyfriends, but each of them terrible deep down. Perhaps that was why she was gravitating towards Dudley, whom after maturing and changing greatly for the better ever since the Dementor attack five years ago, was humble, kind and thoughtful. The polar opposite of all her horrid exes.

On another table, Andromeda Tonks was trying and failing to corral her two-year-old grandson Teddy Lupin, who was pulling at Aegon and Fleur’s one-year-old daughter Victoire’s silver hair. Unlike the rest of the guests, the two toddlers were uninterested in the grand spectacle occurring in the skies above.

High above, the Dragonstone Destroyers flew a dazzling airshow, lightning and fireworks illuminating the skies. Captain and Chaser Rhaenys Targaryen in the lead, followed by Vice-Captain and Keeper Oliver Wood, Seeker Viktor Krum, Chaser Daenerys Targaryen, Beater Gendry Baratheon, Beater Angelina Johnson, and last but most certainly not the least—still in muggle high school—Chaser Arya Stark.

A thoroughly controversial appointment at the time, letting a muggle onto the team, but the newest team to the British and Irish Quidditch League had silenced all critics and naysayers when they resoundingly defeated all of their rivals and finished first place by an impressive margin. Word was that Captain Rhaenys was going to make a bid to represent Scotland in the next Quidditch World Cup, taking the Dragonstone Destroyers international.

Harry and his wives made the rounds, stopping by the rest of the tables to greet friends and family alike.

Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas and Justin Finch-Fletchey were creating a small fireworks company, harnessing their pyromaniac abilities for the better.

Luna Lovegood and Parvati Patil were going on a World Tour together, intending on learning new forms of Divination as well as obscure and esoteric branches of magic and (hopefully) discovering new and never seen before magical creatures.

Padma Patil rolled a long-suffering eye at her sister’s antics and mentioned that she’d begun a career in the Ministry. Far more financially reliable than whatever Parvati was getting up to.

Susan Bones was preparing to join the Auror corps in honour of her late aunt.

Ginny Prewett and Demelza Robbins had signed up with the Hollyhead Harpies, the one and only team on the Isles that could rival the Dragonstone Destroyers. 

On the other hand, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell joined the Dragonstone Destroyers as reservists, which meant that any hypothetical showdown between the Harpies and the Destroyers would involve half of the ex-Gryffindor Quidditch team fighting again the other half.

———

2000, Grimmauld Place,

As the party wound down, Harry and his wives bade the guests all goodbye, before flooing back to Grimmauld Place, where Kreacher had prepared a new marital bed for them to break in.

Despite all their passion and ardour for one another, and the wine they’d all imbibed, Hermione and Senya both wanted to properly change out of their wedding gowns and freshen up before the lovemaking, so Harry was left in the master bedroom by himself.

As he slowly removed his tuxedo, Harry caught sight of a tall mirror in a shadowed corner of the room.

”Now how did you get here?” Harry wondered aloud, reaching a hand out to touch the Mirror of Erised. 

The door clicked open, and Hermione and Visenya blushingly entered the bedroom, clad in nothing but bathrobes. They disrobed, and Harry met their lips in a fervent kiss. They tumbled onto the bed, bodies entwined, and soft hands slowly stripped Harry of his remaining clothes.

A very satisfying hour later, Harry laid in bed with his hands behind his head, his two wives sleeping peacefully by his sides, content smiles on their faces.

Harry looked into the Mirror of Erised, for the first time in eight years, and his reflection looked back at him. Unchanged and exactly like he currently was. With not a hair out of place.

Stroking the hair of his wives one last time, Harry laid down and went to sleep. Enjoying the end of one beautiful day and awaiting the dawn of yet another.

All was good.